Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents)

by Tammy Jo Burns

  “I’ll be fine, Jackson. He won’t kill me with all those witnesses out there.” Glandingham waved the young man away.

  “See that we’re not disturbed while you’re out there holding up the wall,” Wulfe commanded.

  “I don’t take my orders from you.”

  “Oh, do as he says, Jackson.” Glandingham waited until he heard Wulfe slam the door shut before turning and asking, “Now, what is all this about?”

  “You want to know what all this is about? You have turned my gaming hell into a damn brothel!”

  “Not fully.”

  “Not fully? Is there a degree of separation? And if so, please inform me, because I would be ever so happy to know what it is,” he said sarcastically, moving to his chair behind the big desk. He sat down in it, welcoming the familiarity. It had been his father’s favorite chair and Teddy had been kind enough to allow him to have it.

  “The degree of separation is that we do not provide rooms, and we do not pay these women. I merely allow men to bring their light of loves with them, whether it be a courtesan, a mistress, or a married lady they currently have an assignation with. Did you not see the masks that some of the less bold women wore?”

  “I saw.”

  “They still have their privacy, should they choose, though most of the ton knows who is mingling with whom, as they always do.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “It keeps the men happy, Wulfe. We’ve brought in more clientele this way. And some of the women have even begun to gamble. Relax, what could go wrong?”

  “An irate wife could go wrong. Or an irate husband. You are playing with fire.”

  “Perhaps, but isn’t life a gamble?”

  “Fine, we’ll go along with your idea for a while. But at the first sign of trouble, no more women. Do you understand?”

  “You won’t regret this, Wulfe.”

  “I already do.”

  “Come, see it in action.”

  “I’ll be out momentarily. I must see to the correspondence, and I need a drink.”

  “Take your time, take your time,” Glandingham said and eased through the door.

  Thorn stared at the far end of the room, not seeing anything. Now, not only was he running a gaming hell, but he was only one step above running a brothel. If Rebekah ever found out about this, she would take the children back to the country and keep them there forever. Could he blame her? If he did not know about his true mission, he never would have allowed the children to leave the estate in the first place. He slammed the palm of his hands on the surface of his desk, needing to feel the sting.

  Thorn sorted through the correspondence, none of which could not wait another day. Then he stood and crossed the room to grab the whisky decanter. He poured himself a healthy amount and tossed it back, letting it burn down his throat and into his stomach. The warmth began to spread to his limbs. He poured once more before he recapped it. This time he walked back to the desk and his chair, sat, and took some time to sip it and enjoy its flavor. When we felt himself relaxing, he knew he was ready to go out and greet the masses. Ready to begin his act once more.

  Thorn grabbed the cane he carried when in the Lady Luck, and left his office, retracing his steps back to the main room. He took a moment to gaze around the room, enjoying the look of it once more. This room may have been created by someone else, but he had made it his own. They had set up the room to look perfect, opulent, but not enough that it would scare away those that were not as monetarily endowed as others. It gave the wealthy the sense that they were being adventurous without the danger attached to most thrill seekers. He loved the smell of the rich wood, leather, and various scents of tobacco that assailed his senses whenever he entered the room.

  He studied the dozen or so women that shadowed the men they were with. Most wore simple dominos to hide their identity, others wore more intricate masks. All had their assets on full display, going about with low bodices and damp dresses that followed their curves. He found himself looking at them through the eyes of his wife, or rather, trying to. What would she think of them? He could only imagine what vile names she would call them. Thorn began making the rounds, visiting with the men and flirting with the women. Glandingham stood at the front personally welcoming two new men he had never seen before, each had a woman on his arm. Working his way through the crowd, he finally came up beside his partner.

  “Good evening, gentlemen. I don’t believe I have had the pleasure,” Wulfe came up to the group, interrupting their murmuring. He noticed the irritated look that the earl shot his way. “I am Thornton Wulfe, proprietor of The Lady Luck,” he bowed at the waist and kissed each woman’s free hand in turn.

  “That would be co-proprietor,” Glandingham blustered.

  “Yes, yes,” Wulfe waved Glandingham off. “Introduce us, Glandingham.” He found himself looking intently at the women. Did one of them seem familiar? How could he tell with only the tip of her nose and lips showing?

  “Lord Jacob Dashiel,” he indicated the man on Thorn’s left, “and Sir Thomas Eason, may I introduce you to Thornton Wulfe? Lord Dashiel is the grandson of Viscount St. Sebastian and Sir Eason has recently been knighted for duty while serving on the continent.”

  “Lord Dashiel, it is a pleasure, and Sir Eason, it is an honor to meet a war hero.” Both men murmured their thanks. “Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy yourselves this evening, and let me know if you require anything.” More murmuring followed Thorn’s speech before the men led the women off. “Glandingham, I must admit, allowing the women in seems to be working.”

  “I told you, old chap,” the other man clapped Thorn on the back. “And what have you to say of the new clientele?”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “I told you this would be a great partnership between you and me.”

  “So you did.”

  “Ah, I see someone I must speak with. Won’t you excuse me?”

  “Of course,” Thorn agreed. He watched his partner move through the crowd. Thorn surreptitiously nodded to a man dressed in livery and carrying a tray of drinks around the room. The man eased his way in the same direction of Glandingham and the other man, fading into the background. Wulfe studied the two couples that he had just met. Of course, he had not been introduced to the women for fear of ruining their reputation, but he could not help but wonder who hid beneath those masks. In fact, who hid beneath every mask in this room? He also made a mental note to look into just how Sir Eason received his new title, and what other perks had been bestowed upon him.

  Upon arriving home that night, he did not know what to expect, especially after having directed the maid to put their clothes together. He found a bedroom empty of all but his clothes and a note. Thorn took up the note and read it.

  I would rather fall into a pit of vipers than remain in this room with you. R

  Thorn crumpled the note in his fist and threw it against the wall, getting no satisfaction from the way it lightly sailed through the air.

  Chapter 8

  Several days had passed since they arrived in London. Rebekah spent most of her time letting her head heal from the carriage accident, and found she felt much better. She decided it would be a perfectly wondrous day to take the children to the park in the middle of the square where the house was located. Rebekah sat on a bench as she watched the children and the dogs play, chasing one another and squealing with laughter.

  She let the warmth of the day seep into her bones. She tilted her head back and basked in the sun kissing her face. Refusing to conform to societies’ dictates, she wore no hat and her hair was piled loosely on top of her head. Somehow she focused only on the noise the children made and tuned everything else out until she felt a shadow fall across her. Rebekah delicately raised on eyelid only to jump up in delight when she saw the person standing in front of her.

  “Gertie!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around the woman.

  “Oh, my darling girl,” the older woman clasped her tightly to her bosom.
“It has been entirely too long.”

  “Yes, it has,” Rebekah answered back. “Come, sit with me.”

  “I would love to.” The two women sat on the bench Rebekah had just recently vacated. Rebekah wrapped her arms around the older woman’s arm, keeping her close. “Are those Sarah’s children?”

  “Yes,” Rebekah replied. “Zachary and Ivy.”

  “They are precious.”

  “I think so.”

  “You have done a wonderful job with them.”

  “Their father should receive most of the credit.”

  “What happened, my dear?” Gertrude listened as Rebekah began telling her of the developments of the last months. The older woman tsked as she was told of Teddy’s deteriorating health, and how he had approached Rebekah with the ridiculous proposal. “But you accepted, even after everything. Why?”

  Rebekah held her hand out for the older woman to look at the two children playing. “The twins,” Rebekah replied calmly. “He threw the twins up to me and said if I didn’t marry Thorn that my father would easily win a claim over them.”

  “That dirty scoundrel.”

  “Yes, and he didn’t even know about the past. I never told him nor Sarah. But you must see I had to do it. I could not let that man destroy any more lives.”

  “No, you did what you had to do.” They sat in silence for several minutes, each lost in her own thoughts and memories. “He still doesn’t know, does he?”

  “What would be the point at this juncture? He has his life, and I have the children. We are merely married so that we can present a united front against the Reverend if need be.”

  “I hate seeing you so unhappy.”

  “Not unhappy. I have the twins to care for.”

  “But as much as you deny it, you have not let go of the past. You have not faced it.”

  “Enough, Gertie. I don’t want to discuss it, and I don’t want to have to ask you to leave,” Rebekah replied stiffly, separating herself from her mother’s cousin.

  “Well, introduce me to the twins.” She paused as Rebekah garnered the twins’ attention. “Clarissa is in town as well. I imagine they will be leaving for the country soon, though.”

  “Oh, really? I would love to see her and her father again.”

  “That’s right, you don’t know. Clarissa married. A charming boy. Justin Southerby, my godson.”

  Rebekah laughed out loud, “No wonder you think he’s charming.” She shook her head at the older woman.

  “He’s handsome as well,” Gertie huffed.

  “I’m sure he is, but why are you telling me? He and I are both married,” Rebekah giggled.

  “Oh, I forget.”

  “You’re incorrigable!” Rebekah teased. “Now, let me introduce you to Zachary and Ivy. Children, this is Lady Gertrude Greenwood. She is a very dear cousin of mine and your mother’s.” She watched in pride as her niece and nephew appropriately bowed and curtsied to the older woman.

  “How charming. I can see we are going to have a delightful time. In fact, I believe Clarissa has talked about another set of twins that she is familiar with. We must set up a time for you all to meet.”

  “Children our age?” Ivy asked curiously.

  “Near enough, I suspect,” the older woman replied. The children jumped up and down clapping in response. “And you must call me Gertie as your mother and aunt did.” Gertie watched, her face animated as the twins eagerly nodded their heads. The two reminded her so much of the girls when they were little. The few times she had seen them. The children turned back to play leaving the two women alone once more.

  Rebekah felt Gertie’s gloved fingers cover the clasped hands in her lap and squeeze gently. In response, Rebekah lay her head on Gertie’s shoulder. Together they watched Sarah’s children play as if they had not a care in the world.

  ***

  Unbeknownst to the two women and children, a man took in their every move. He committed to memory the looks of the younger woman and the children. The boss would want to know everything. The boss always said it was good to know a man’s weakness. He called it an Achilles’ heel. He didn’t quite understand what that meant. The boss often used fancy words that didn’t make much sense to him. He was more of an action man himself.

  He slipped away and left the square, mingling with the people on the street. He walked towards the Lady Luck, having one other thing he needed to check on before reporting to the boss. Two blocks from the gaming hell he saw his quarry. Wulfe walked away from the gaming hell, and not in the direction of his house. Interesting. Wulfe never walked anywhere. The man’s curiosity was definitely piqued. The men played cat and mouse for well over an hour before Wulfe arrived at a townhouse. The man hid across the street between two houses as he watched Wulfe knock on the door and wait. He did not wait long as the door opened and he stepped inside, closing it once more.

  Getting comfortable, the man knew that this might be a long wait. He just wondered who the light o’ love was on the other side of the door.

  ***

  “Wulfe, I’ve missed you so much, darling,” Aimée gushed. She pulled him close and took his mouth in a hot, searing kiss.

  Thorn found himself attempting to push thoughts of his wife out of his mind as he tried to respond to the kiss from his mistress. In the past, her kisses would have left him with a painful erection and so ready to slake his lust that rarely would they even make it to her bed. Today, he could only keep picturing Rebekah, her dark hair and mood changing eyes. Lost in thought, he almost jumped when he felt Aimée’s hand slip below the waistband of his pants to fondle his flaccid member. Thoughts of Rebekah had him hardening until he smelled his mistress’ perfume.

  “What is wrong with you?” Aimée asked as she extricated herself from Thorn and moved across the room. “Are you still angry with me? I am sorry for throwing such a fit. I should have realized this day would come sooner or later. But there is no reason you can’t still come see me.”

  He felt her eyes on him as he moved across the room and poured them both a brandy.

  “Are you going to answer me?”

  “A lot has happened, Aimée.”

  “Yes, you have a wife now. So do half the men in London. What difference does that make?”

  “I’m a father now, too.”

  “Again, so are half the men in London. You give poor excuses, Thorn.”

  “You’re right, Aimée. You at least deserve an honest answer. You are a beautiful woman, and I have enjoyed our time together.”

  “You are throwing me over for your wife?” she asked incredulously.

  “No. I’m not throwing you over for anyone. I am ending our acquaintance. Aimée, my life is changing and I must take some time to figure it out.”

  “You sound like a young schoolgirl rather than a man fully grown. If this is what marriage and fatherhood do to you, I don’t want to be near you. Wulfe, you were so fun, so exciting, so primal,” once again, Aimée had plastered herself against Thorn and pulled him down for a deeply erotic kiss.

  Thorn pulled away when he felt no response stirring to life in his body. Would Aimée believe that he felt as frustrated as she? He doubted it. More than likely she would laugh him out of her house. Better to keep the information to himself. He reached inside his breast pocket and pulled out a long, narrow box. He presented it to Aimée, opening it so that she could see the contents. A large ruby, slightly bigger than a robin’s egg, hung on a gold chain nestled within the box. It also contained a matching bracelet and ear bobs.

  “My payment?” she queried.

  “Yes,” he said and reached once more inside his pocket. He retrieved a piece of paper and handed it over as well. It was a bank note made out to her for several hundred pounds.

  “Very generous.”

  “I enjoyed our time together. I don’t want you to think otherwise.”

  “If that is all, I think you should leave.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Before you go,” she
crossed to him and kissed him once more, followed by a kiss on each cheek. Unknown to him, as she pulled away, she let her lips brush his cravat, leaving a smear of her lip rouge. She pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and used it to dab at his lips. “There, now you are once more presentable. I do hope you have a good life, Thorn.”

  “And I wish the same for you, Aimée.” He walked to the door and let himself out, never once looking back. If he had, he would have seen the malice and hatred sparkling in her eyes.

  ***

  The man across the street perked up when he saw Wulfe leave the townhouse. He watched as the other man hailed a hack. Needing to see who lived across the way, the man chose not to follow Wulfe. He crossed the street and knocked on the front door. It flew open, revealing a gorgeous woman on the other side, her emerald eyes shimmered with tears and a half-smile lit her face.

  “Thorn, I knew you… Oh, can I help you?” The woman went from exuberant to dejected in seconds.

  “I was told this is the residence of Grace Smith,” the man improvised.

  “I’m sorry, it isn’t,” the woman began to shut the door.

  “But are you certain? She gave me this house number.”

  “I am positive,” again she tried to close the door.

  “Please, ma’am, are you absolutely certain? Maybe she is one of the maids.”

  “I am Aimée Beauchamp and I own this house. Furthermore, I know every one of my servants by name, and there is no Grace Smith. Now, good day!” This time she did slam the door in his face, followed quickly by the snick sound of the lock being turned into place.

  The man left the little townhouse and began whistling. Looked like a woman scorned had just presented herself to the boss. He would be eager to hear of this. Thorn Wulfe had more Achilles’ heels at the moment than any one man should. How very interesting.

  ***

  Thorn entered the hack and gave directions for the townhouse. The streets were clogged with traffic and it took a while to make the trip, giving him too much time alone with his thoughts. He appreciated how well Aimée took the news of their relationship ending. With the gifts he had bestowed on her, she could be very choosy as to who her next protector would be. He relaxed against the squabs and looked out the window at the passing scenery, not really taking anything in.