“Rebekah, the paperwork has arrived. I have sent for the vicar.”
“What?” She exclaimed, sitting up quickly. The twins sat up as well, their pillow gone.
“You are to be married today.”
“Who are you marrying, Aunt Bekah?” Zachary asked.
“Are you going to stay with us?” Worry crept into Ivy’s voice.
“Of course, I am staying with you. I am marrying your Uncle Thorn.” There, she had finally admitted it out loud, and there would be no going back now. Their future was now entwined whether she liked it or not.
“Uncle Thorn’s here?” The children squealed in delight, jumping up from where they still sat. They had seen him less than a handful of times, but his visits were special times for the children.
“No, he isn’t here,” their father answered the question.
“Oh,” Zachary said, unable to hide his dejection.
“Then how are you going to marry him?” Ivy asked.
“Teddy, would you care to answer this?” Rebekah asked, her brow arched at her brother-in-law. She stood up and swiped at the grass and leaves that clung to her dress and hair.
Teddy lowered himself to a chair on the veranda and his children ran to him. They stood patiently in front of him awaiting his explanation. “You see, Uncle Thorn is working on something very important.” He looked up and saw the way that Rebekah stood, her arms crossed. She rolled her eyes at his explanation. “He cannot be here, so I am going to stand in his place.”
“You’re marrying Aunt Bekah?” Ivy queried, her head cocked to one side.
“Yes and no.” The children looked at each other for a few moments as if they were communicating without saying a word, then shrugged at each other. “I will represent your Uncle Thorn since he can’t be here. It is called being married by proxy.”
“Proxy?” Ivy asked. “Who’s proxy? Is that the vicar?”
Finally taking pity on Teddy, Rebekah intervened hoping her explanation would make more sense. “It isn’t a who, but rather a what.”
“Oh,” the little girl said, her nose scrunched up.
“Do you know when we play make-believe?” Rebekah waited for the twins to nod before continuing. “Remember when you have me play a knight, even though I am not a boy?” Again, the twins nod. “This is the same thing. Your papa is pretending to be Uncle Thorn so that we can be married. You see, he is all the way in London, working very hard and cannot be here. Now do you understand?”
Both children nodded their agreement. “Aunt Bekah is going to marry a knight,” the twins chorused.
Rebekah stood up straight, hands on hips, and stared at her brother-in-law. “Well, what have you to say about this?”
“You did better than I did. And perhaps they speak some truth. You could be marrying your knight in shining armor,” he added mischievously.
“I doubt that very much,” she gave an indelicate snort before spinning around and heading inside. “I am going to make myself more presentable since we are to have guests.” Rebekah escaped to her room and shut the door. She thought she had more time to prepare herself for this fate that awaited her -- at least several days, not the hours that she faced. By the end of the day she would be Lady Rebekah Wulfe, wife of Lord Thornton Wulfe, rogue extraordinaire. How had fate led her to this? Her mind attempted to dredge up memories from the past, but she fought them back, refusing to allow them to surface.
She pushed away from the door and walked across the room to study herself in the mirror. A plain woman stared back at her. She had straight dark-brown hair and darker skin from spending time in the sun that most society women would frown upon. Her eyes were perhaps her best feature, rimmed in long, dark lashes they were what one would term hazel. She had a scar that bisected the brow over her left eye, and served as a reminder of that long ago incident that she faced every day. Her eyes tended to change color with her mood, making them mercurial and difficult to hide how she felt about something or someone. Her lips were bow-shaped and naturally lush. Her nose was thin and just a bit upturned at the end.
She slowly undid the buttons of her dress and let it slide down her arms, followed by the chemise underneath. Rarely did she look at her body, but today she studied it. One might describe her as looking virginal, but looks could be deceiving. She walked over to her dressing table and picked up the hand mirror that lay there. She walked back to the cheval mirror. Her breasts were small with pink-tips. Her waist nipped in and her hips flared slightly. Her stomach was flat and she could see the dark hair that peeked from the apex of her legs. She leisurely turned until her back faced the mirror and pulled her silky straight hair over one shoulder.
Rebekah lifted the mirror in her hand, adjusting it so that she could see what she wanted. Lines crisscrossed her back. Scars from a childhood filled with rebellion. Scars from a foray into adulthood that left her bloody but unbroken. These scars are why she found herself willing to become the Lady Thorn Wulfe and marry a man she despised. Because as much as she might despise Thorn Wulfe, she could not allow Zachary and Ivy to ever suffer what she and their mother did growing up in that awful house.
***
Two hours later Rebekah sat at the dining table with Teddy, the twins, and the vicar and his wife. They had been allowed to join the adults on what Teddy considered a special occasion. She reached for her glass of wine and paused as the ring on her left finger sparkled in the candlelight. It felt heavy on her hand, reminding her of all that had transpired today. She felt relief that Teddy had had the foresight not to put on her hand the ring that Sarah had worn. If he had done that, she would have been unable to hold back the tears that she currently fought. Instead, her husband’s signet ring encircled her finger. Ignoring it, she took her glass and drank deeply. Her life would never be the same.
“Lady Wulfe, are you all right?” The vicar asked at her elbow.
“Yes, I’m sorry, Vicar. It isn’t every day that a woman finds herself married, is it?”
“No, it isn’t. I just wish your young man could have been here.”
“Yes,” she murmured before taking another deep drink.
“You will be the envy of all the women,” the vicar’s wife, Mrs. Young, said. “Wulfe is such a handsome man, and there is such mystery surrounding him.”
“Mystery,” Rebekah huffed before taking another drink, only to find her glass empty. She caught the eye of a footman who quickly refilled it. She let the conversation flow around her, not contributing overly to it. The wine continued to flow and before she knew it, the vicar and his wife were leaving.
“You are going to have a hell of a headache in the morning, Bekah,” Teddy said as he helped her up the stairs.
“That is Lady Wulfe to you,” she slurred and stumbled up two stairs before standing upright with the help of Wulfecrest and the bannister. “Not even a proper wedding night, but there was that one night.”
“What night? What are you talking about?”
“I don’t kiss and tell, Teddy,” she waggled her finger at him in mock reprimand.
“Perhaps I should break the news of this marriage to my brother in person,” Teddy said.
“He doesn’t know?” Rebekah giggled uncontrollably. “That’s rich!” She continued giggling. “I’m married to a man who doesn’t know he’s married. He’s going to murder us both when he finds out,” she singsonged.
“He will not. How many glasses of wine did you have?” Teddy demanded.
“I lost count. Why is the room spinning?” She asked curiously as they entered her bedchamber.
“Just climb up on your bed,” Teddy instructed.
“Wanted a marriage like you and Sarah. So happy. But now I’m stuck with Thorn. Will always have a thorn in my side,” she giggled and flopped back on the bed. Soon she slept the sleep of the truly inebriated.
“You, dear sister, are going to have a terrible headache in the morning,” he told the inert form sprawled across the bed. He looked around the room and spied a shaw
l draped over a chair. He grabbed it and covered her with it rather than fighting with the bedcovers. “Thank you for all you have sacrificed for my children,” he whispered and brushed a kiss across her forehead.
“Thorn, kiss me again,” she mumbled.
“What secrets are you carrying?” he asked the sleeping woman. Knowing he would get no answer, he turned and left her room, closing the door so as not to disturb her sleep. He walked up another set of stairs and paused, catching his breath before he entered the room that the twins currently shared. “Why aren’t the two of you asleep?” he asked teasingly.
“We want a story,” Ivy demanded.
Teddy settled on a chair between the two and preceded to tell them the story of how a charming duke had rescued a beautiful fair maiden. He made his and Sarah’s courtship sound like a fairy tale to the twins. It would be his last gift to them before leaving them in the care of their aunt. Eventually they drifted off to sleep and he spent most of the night watching them, committing every little detail about them to memory. In the early hours of the morning he let himself out of their room and moved to his room to pack a bag. He picked up the bag and carried it downstairs to his study. He sat at his desk and composed three letters, two of which were to be opened years from now. He also left a book with the third letter. The book contained all the important information that Rebekah would need to know about the estate. He turned and placed two of the letters in the safe and left the remaining one and the book on his desk.
Teddy gathered up his bag and left the house for the stables. He saddled his favorite horse, mounted, and left Wulfecrest Manor for the last time.
***
A few hours later, Rebekah awoke to a pounding head and nauseated stomach. Now she regretted every last glass of wine she drunk last night. Her head pounded even louder as the sound of wailing reached her ears. Her door flew open and two little bodies launched themselves at her, not having a care for the physical agony she currently found herself in.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Her mouth felt dry and her eyes were gritty. She tried to bring the twins into focus, but let her head fall back on the bed once more instead.
“Papa’s gone!” Ivy cried.
“What are you talking about?”
“Aunt Bekah,” Zachary said, his little hands fisted on his hips, “Ivy told you. Papa’s gone. He took Mama’s picture.”
Rebekah knew at that moment that sometime during the night, her brother-in-law had taken the coward’s way out and left for London. Looking at her niece and nephew, she could not blame him in the least. Instead of raging at him, she gathered the twins close and let them cry out their sorrow, allowing them to think he had just been called away for a few days and had not gotten to say good-bye before he left. She, too, took the coward’s way out.
Chapter 2
June 1811
Wulfecrest looked around him at the sights he passed. London had changed over the years, but in some ways it had not. New buildings were being built, and a foggy haze seemed to perpetually live over the city, but the smells remained the same. You could smell the perfumes and colognes of the upper class masking the unwashed bodies of all levels of society. The Thames had its own smell of fish, sea, and waste. A wracking cough overtook Teddy at that moment and he quickly brought a handkerchief up to his mouth. He was getting worse, and the journey to London had not helped.
He had left Wulfecrest Manor two months ago, not wanting to force his children to watch his decline. He had traveled to an old hunting lodge that belonged to the family and had stayed the last two months there, with only an old family retainer knowing where he was and seeing to his needs. Only when he began worsening did he decide it was time to come to London and see his brother.
Once he reached his London townhouse, he asked his butler there for directions to the Lady Luck. The older man looked appalled that he would want to know the whereabouts of such an establishment.
“Why, Your Grace, I wouldn’t know where to begin to look for such an establishment.”
“Never mind, Grigsby, I will seek out the establishment myself.” Teddy found himself standing in front of the War Office. He walked up the sidewalk when he saw a man coming out who looked familiar. “Mack,” he yelled twice before the man in question turned, a perplexed look on his face.
“Wulfecrest, it’s good to see you. I didn’t know you were in London,” the man’s Scottish accent sounded thick and heavy.
“Just arrived. I need to speak to my brother, and I don’t know where the Lady Luck is.” He saw the look of consternation that crossed his friend’s face. They had gone to school together, both outcasts. Teddy had always been sick and unable to be rough and tough like the other boys. Mack had been the illegitimate son of an English duke raised by a Highland laird, who had sent him off to school and out of his sight as soon as possible. Somehow the two had found a friendship in each other.
“I don’t know that you should go there. Thorn is deep in intrigue and it would not be good for a well-respected duke to be seen there.”
“I’ve little choice, Mack. I’m dying,” there, he laid out the truth.
“No,” Mack shook his head.
“Yes. I’ve come to terms with it, but there are things, new developments, that I must tell Thorn about.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Extremely.”
“I’ll go with you.”
They strolled down the sidewalk, getting caught up with one another when Theodore saw something that did not look right. He almost wasted precious seconds wondering why someone would have a hunting rifle on the streets of London when he realized Mack was the intended target. “Mack! Look out!” He grabbed his friend and spun him so that he stood between Mack and the shooter. A blast filled the air, and people screamed and scattered. Teddy fell against his friend causing the man to have to quickly grab at him to keep him from falling.
“What the hell?” Mack asked and saw a look on his friend’s face that he had seen too many times in his life. He felt Teddy’s weight pull on him as he went slack. Blood bloomed on his friend’s chest. Mack lowered him to the sidewalk, looking around but seeing no one. Whoever had taken the shot had long since disappeared. “Teddy, you’ve got to hang on,” Mack said, cradling the man’s head in his lap.
“Too late,” Teddy coughed, bloody spittle running out of his mouth. “Better this way,” he said. “Tell my children I died a hero.”
“Of course. Your brother, what were you going to tell Thorn?”
“Proxy married. Bekah. Raise twins…together.”
“I think it might be a good thing that you met that bullet,” Mack mused.
“I know,” Teddy laughed before it quickly turned into a cough. “I see Sarah.”
“Go, my friend,” Mack said as he watched the life drain out of one of the best men he had ever known. A group had gathered around after the people realized that a threat no longer remained.
“Director! Director!” Mack could hear a voice calling and the sound of thudding boots coming. Someone slid to a halt, and Mack looked up to see one of his agents standing there, sides heaving. He registered some surprise that they were only a few blocks away from the Horseguards. “The shooter got away. Do we need to send for a physician?”
“No, send for an undertaker,” he said solemnly and remained where he sat, cradling his friend’s head, unwilling to leave him alone until the undertaker arrived.
***
“Good afternoon, Director,” Thorn Wulfe greeted Mack in the obscure coffee house. He had made sure no one followed him. Very rarely did he get summoned to meet the Director, and he wondered what could cause the man to risk their connection being made public.
“Wulfe, have a seat,” Mack nodded at the waiter, and the man brought over two cups. “I have some news to share with you.”
“Will it help with Glandingham? I swear that man is as slippery as an eel.”
“No, this is of a more personal nature.”
> “What is it?” Wulfe asked, noting the solemn tone that had entered the man’s voice.
“There is no easy way to say this. Your brother was in London to see you. We were on our way to the Lady Luck and someone took a shot at me. Your brother saved my life.”
“Where is he?”
“He didn’t make it. He told me he was dying and had some things he needed to tell you. He went very quickly.”
“Teddy’s dead?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Where?”
“A few blocks from the Horseguards. I believe it was an assassination attempt on me.”
“I see.”
“Take a drink of your coffee. I had them put something a bit stronger in it.”
Wulfe mechanically took a drink of the coffee, welcoming the whisky he could taste in it. He just as quickly put the cup down. “The twins. I have to get to the twins. Sarah’s parents will be like vultures,” he knew he was rambling, but could not stop.
“The children are being well cared for at the moment by your wife.”
In the process of standing, Wulfe paused, hands braced on the table and looked at McKenzie. “I’m sorry, Director, but I don’t think I heard you correctly. Did you say they were being looked after by my wife? And before you answer, please remember that I am very much single and have a beautiful mistress that is very demanding of my attention.”
“The children are being cared for by your wife,” Mack repeated.
“And just who the hell is this wife?”
“Your brother said the name ‘Bekah’.”
“Bloody hell! How in the hell am I married to that waspish woman when I am in London and she is at Wulfecrest Manor?”
“Proxy marriage.”
Wulfe dropped back on the chair. He would have had to sign some sort of papers, wouldn’t he? Then he remembered a night several years ago when he had not been thinking clearly. A night that had changed the lives of several people. Barkley, his valet had presented papers for him to sign and passed them off as “estate business”. Bloody hell, he had signed his life over to a fishwife. Never again would he sign something without reading it thoroughly. “Damn, damn, damn,” he muttered before pounding his fist on the table. His head began to pound.
Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) Page 2
