Barkley opened the door, hearing Lord Wulfe’s boot slam into the trim. “Temper, temper, my lord.”
“For once, shut your bloody mouth,” Wulfe said. “Help me get ready.”
“What did you think I was doing, my lord, coming up here for my health?”
“Barkley, I swear by all that is good and right in this world, if you were not such an excellent bodyguard and part of the department, I would have fired you long ago.”
“I very much doubt that,” the other man intoned.
“Why’s that?”
“Very simple, my lord. I keep you humble,” the other man grinned as he crossed the room and began laying out the clothes that Thorn would wear that evening.
***
Rebekah did not know what to expect at a ball and looked at her reflection once more. She fisted her hands beside her as she had a tendency to do when nerves were upon her. Was she too done up? Was she not fancy enough? The crystals that winked at her from her hair caused her to cautiously put a hand to her hair.
“My lady, you look quite lovely,” the feminine voice said behind her.
“Are you certain I do not look too ostentatious?”
“No, my lady. You are equal measures grace and beauty. I do believe the women will be quite envious of you and the men will be begging for your attention.”
“But I am married.”
“Men of the ton care not about that,” the woman shrugged. Clarissa had had the foresight to inquire at the modiste someone who would be able to fix her hair for the ball. The result was Mrs. Gunther, who had done an excellent job of transforming her from a tired looking woman who took care of two rambunctious four-year-olds all day to the belle of the ball. “If you are willing, they are as well.”
“I can’t imagine,” Rebekah said, her mind drifting to the past, a cringe passing through her. “Why would anyone want to do that willingly, let alone with someone not your husband?” Mrs. Gunther looked at her, her mouth hanging open slightly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because I have heard women talk about your husband and his prowess in the bedchamber.”
“I don’t care to discuss this,” Rebekah said, reaching for her gloves and beginning to tug them on. She felt the other woman’s eyes on her, studying her. Rebekah felt a flush spread across her chest and up her neck.
“You have not consummated your marriage yet, have you?”
“I do not feel this is appropriate to discuss with someone I do not know.”
“It could be easier. I would guess I am not much older than you, my lady. I remember how it was when my Captain Gunther strode into my life. I saw the man and I felt like I had been run over by a runaway coach, and he had not even touched me yet. I miss him so very much, but especially at night. But then I knew it would be like this marrying a military man.”
Rebekah finished tugging on her gloves and watched the different emotions chase one another across her face. “Mrs. Gunther, I have never felt so beautiful in my entire life.”
“I wish I could have done more to hide that scar,” Mrs. Gunther nodded at the slash across Rebekah’s brow.
“It lends me a bit of mystery. Makes people wonder what I did to get it,” Rebekah smiled.
“That’s the spirit,” Mrs. Gunther said. “Enjoy your evening.” The woman left Rebekah alone.
Rebekah took a deep breath, checked her appearance once more, and then left her bedroom. She stood at the top of the stairs and saw Thorn standing at the bottom. He leaned negligently against the wall as if he had all of the time in the world. Did nothing ruffle this man? He had the attitude of ultimate rogue down to perfection. Rebekah found herself wondering how many women would swoon just from the glance or smile he sent their way this evening. Pushing away the jealousy she felt, she descended the staircase. She watched as she finally caught Thorn’s attention.
He pushed away from the wall. Was it her imagination or had his breathing sped up just a bit? She let her hand lightly rest on the banister as she descended. She stopped on the last step, unable to finish her descent because Wulfe stood in her way. Rebekah liked the added height the step gave her, because it made her a few inches taller than him, giving her an advantage. Her breathing increased when she felt his warm, rough hand caress her cheek. She met his gaze and her tongue darted out to lick her dry lips. Rebekah heard a moan escape him before he moved in to brush a kiss over her lips. She tried to deepen it, but he pulled back.
“No,” he said gripping her upper arms. “If we do not stop now, we will not be going to any ball this evening.” He took a step back, and allowed her to take the final step down. Thorn reached over to the hall table and opened a thin, square box. He removed a necklace made of diamonds and sapphires with matching ear bobs.
“It is beautiful,” Rebekah said in awe. “How did you know my dress would be sapphire?”
“We both owe your cousin a bit of thanks,” he said. He had her turn around so that he could place the necklace around her neck. Afterwards she put on the ear bobs.
“Will I do?” she asked, her arms spread wide.
“You will more than do,” he said huskily and tipped her chin up slightly for a deeper kiss. A knock at the door startled them apart. The butler entered the hall and opened the door. On the other side of the door stood Viscount Southerby.
“Good evening,” the other man said. “I hope we are not too early.”
“No, Southerby, you are right on time. Shall we, my dear?” Wulfe asked as he held his arm out to his wife to take. She threaded her arm through his and allowed her husband to escort her to the coach.
He helped her in, and Clarissa sucked in a breath.
“Did I do something wrong?” Rebekah asked halting midway inside the carriage.
“No, you’re just so breathtaking. I knew you would be, but seeing you in person with all the pieces is like seeing a finished portrait for the first time. You are exquisite. And Wulfe did an excellent job at picking out your jewels. Not too ostentatious or overpowering. You will be turning men’s heads all night long. In fact, I suspect your dance card will be full,” Clarissa said. “Here sit by me,” she patted the seat next to her and Rebekah dropped to it in relief. They patiently waited as the two men entered the coach, the door shutting behind them. “Tell me, Lord Wulfe, how would you feel if your wife’s dance card was full of other men’s names by evening end?”
“Clare, you’re pushing,” Lord Southerby said under his breath.
“As long as it’s me she is going home with,” he said on a shrug before turning his gaze out the window.
Rebekah felt a sting of hurt in her chest, but valiantly pushed it aside, refusing to have her first ball tainted with bad memories. She turned to Clarissa, “What should I expect? I have never been to a ball before.”
Clarissa easily began chatting about what to expect at a ball. She also gave her topics that were fine to discuss and those that were off limits. “You must remember that the Richmonds are truly royals. His Grace is King George and Queen Charlotte’s youngest son. He is also Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. He is only in London for a few weeks. His wife loves to throw balls.”
“Will the King and Queen be present tonight?”
“I highly doubt we will see the King. You can count on Prinny being here. Most possibly making a fool of himself,” Southerby said.
“Justin,” Clarissa said.
“Clare, we are all friends in here. At least, I hope we are,” he said looking pointedly at Thorn.
Wulfe held up his hands as if in surrender. “I am on your side, Southerby,” Thorn said.
“I sincerely hope that is true,” Southerby said.
Rebekah found herself looking at the three other adults in the carriage with confusion. There was some underlying meaning in regards to the exchange of words they just had, and she could not understand what they were. Choosing to ignore it for the time being, she turned to Clarissa, “Thank you for sending Mrs. Gunther.”
“She did a
marvelous job. I am glad you are pleased.”
“Do you think Mrs. Gunther would be willing to be a lady’s maid?”
“Shouldn’t we interview for that position?” Wulfe asked.
“I like her,” Rebekah said stubbornly.
“I can vouch for her references,” Southerby chimed in.
“We will discuss this later,” Thorn said.
They traveled on to the location of the ball in awkward silence. Rebekah found herself feeling like a child that had been reprimanded for doing nothing wrong. Refusing to act petulantly, she stiffened her spine and slightly tipped her chin. She found herself sending up a little prayer of thanks when the coach came to a halt, indicating they had arrived at their destination. She scooted to the edge of her seat, ready for the door to open and disembark.
“What are you doing?” Thorn asked her, still leaning back, relaxed against the squabs.
“Getting ready to leave the coach,” she said, slowly, as if dealing with a dimwit.
“It will be at least another half hour before we can exit, the carriage,” Clarissa said. “You see, our carriage has just entered the line with the others to see people off.”
Rebekah craned her neck around to look out the window in the twilight. Indeed there was a line of carriages in front of them. She fell back against the squabs on her and Clarissa’s side of the coach in frustration. “Is there anything else I should know before we disembark? It seems we have plenty of time for a lesson.” When they finally were able to leave their carriage, Rebekah found herself regretting having asked for a lesson. Her head pounded with all the do’s and do not’s she was instructed on.
The two couples entered the house and went through the receiving line. The Duchess of Richmond seemed to be very kind. The Duke of Richmond looked stern and as if he would rather be in the middle of a battlefield than here. They arrived at the top of the stairs that entered into the ballroom. Rebekah and Thorn stood in line, waiting for their name to be called. Thorn took her arm and threaded it through his. Clarissa and Justin had been introduced and were descending into the throng of people.
“I can’t do this,” Rebekah said, panic in her voice.
“Of course you can,” Thorn said. “Take a deep breath, and smile.” He handed the announcer the invitation with their name on it.
“Lord and Lady Thornton Wulfe,” the man called.
A ripple went through the crowd and Rebekah felt like hundreds, if not thousands of eyes were on her. “They’re staring at me,” she whispered.
“They’ve never seen such a beautiful creature before. Smile,” he squeezed her hand and assisted her down the stairs. They began wading through the crowd.
Several men stopped them to speak to Wulfe. She felt eyes following them wherever they went. Trying to look without anyone noticing that she was spying on them, she saw men and women alike staring. The men looked as if they were ravenous and wanted to devour her. The women looked vicious and catty. People came up on the pretext of talking to Thorn and instead wanted to be introduced to her. Everyone wanted to know who the woman was who was willing to brave society and be seen in public with the wicked Lord Wulfe.
Wulfe found people’s reactions to his marriage to be quite funny. Many called him a liar. Others thought it was funny that he had dressed up his mistress, Aimée, and tried to pawn her off as his wife. No wonder they did not believe Rebekah was his wife. For some reason, of which he was not privy, she was not wearing the signet ring that had served as a wedding ring. Most of the men they had talked to, had spent some time at Lady Luck and knew Aimée well. The ring could be easily rectified. Aimée would prove somewhat harder to deal with, especially since she now turned to Glandingham as her protector.
Rebekah’s skin felt as if hundreds of tiny little insects were using her as a road. She tried not to give in to the feeling. The women had gone from looking at her with curiosity to giving her looks of pity, revulsion, and hatred. She suspected they all knew what her husband did. Did those that glared at her with revulsion hate her because their husbands had been fleeced of their money by Thorn? Rebekah also guessed that the women that looked at her with something akin to hatred wanted her husband warming their beds. Little did they know that he did not even warm hers. Why had they come to this ball? They were pariah’s among society.
A footmen dressed in livery passed by with a tray of glasses. Rebekah took one and quickly gulped it down. She made a face and held a hand to her nose. “What was that? My nose tickles.”
“Whoa now,” Thorn said, taking the glass from her. “Champagne, and I suggest that is the only one you drink.”
Rebekah felt her arms turning somewhat languid and found she enjoyed the feeling. “Oh, look, there is Lord and Lady Blackburn,” she said, giving a little wave. Another man dressed in livery passed her and she took another glass, sipping the contents this time. The effervescence tickled her nose, keeping her mind off the stares she had begun to receive.
“Rebekah, you look absolutely gorgeous,” Tessa said. “Doesn’t she Derek?”
“Love, there are some things a man knows not to answer. Wulfe, let’s go get a drink,” Blackburn patted Thorn on the back.
“Will you be all right?” Thorn asked Rebekah.
“Of course she will. I am here, and Clarissa is working her way this direction as well.” Rebekah watched Wulfe nod and follow the other man into the bowels of the home. She found herself wishing she could accompany them and disappear from all the people that surrounded them. There were so many prying eyes and speculation.
“It is difficult living the way you are, isn’t it?” Lady Blackburn asked.
“Whatever do you mean, Lady Blackburn?”
“Tessa, remember. I know how it is to live with secrets. Not knowing who to trust. I didn’t even know if I could trust my husband, yet my life depended on him. It was a scary time for me.”
“We do not have any secrets, Tessa. I know how my husband makes his money.”
“Yes, on behalf of the office. You must remember that. It helps you through the hard times.”
“What are you talking about?”
“How are you doing, cousin dear?” Clarissa came up to the other two women.
“I want to know what Lady Blackburn is talking about, and I want to know now,” Rebekah could hear her voice rising in agitation, but could do nothing to halt it.
“I’ll explain in a moment,” Tessa said as Clarissa shot her a curious glare. “Let’s remove ourselves to the terrace.”
Chapter 14
There were several couples hiding in the shadows of the terrace, so the women took a stroll in the torch-lit gardens. When they were far from the house and prying ears, Rebekah turned on the other two.
“I want to know what you two are talking about.” Rebekah started to take another drink of champagne, but Clarissa swooped in, taking it from her, and pouring it into the hedges. “I was drinking that!”
“And if you are to deal with what we are going to tell you, then you need your head about you, not lost on champagne.”
“Tell me, then. What is my husband doing besides running a gaming hell and very nearly a house of ill repute?”
“Your husband is an agent of the Crown,” Tessa said, a stern look on her face.
Rebekah laughed out loud, unable to control herself. “That is a good farce. Now, tell me the truth, and no need to spare my feelings. I already think the worst about him.”
“Rebekah, she isn’t lying to you,” Clarissa said softly.
“Not you, too,” Rebekah said. “This is really too much. You expect me to believe that Thorn Wulfe is a…a…”
“He is an agent,” Tessa said. “Some people call them spies, but that seems to have such a negative connotation at times. What our men do is for the good of England.”
“They have made it their top priority to stop Napoleon.”
Rebekah stared at the two other women, her mouth hanging open. “You really believe this, don’t you? The both of y
ou believe Wulfe is a spy,” she spat the word out. “I cannot begin to imagine how you would fall for something like that. Who told you such nonsense.”
“Rebekah, what we are going to tell you, you cannot share with anyone. We are putting the lives of our families in your hands.”
“I understand. This information you are bestowing on me is monumental.”
“Our husbands are agents as well,” Tessa said. “Derek and Wulfe serve the same office.”
“Justin works for another government office.”
“But it can’t be,” Rebekah said softly, swaying just a bit.
“Help her sit,” Tessa instructed as she grabbed one of Rebekah’s arms and Clarissa the other. They moved her down the walk a few feet and helped her sit on the bench.
“When? How?”
“That is for Thorn to tell you,” Tessa said. “We cannot provide the answers you need. Derek kept his involvement from me until both of our lives were in danger.”
“I knew from the beginning. It was much easier going.”
“It can’t be,” Rebekah said. “I’ve despised him for so long, for everything, including his occupation. Perhaps it most of all. And now the two of you tell me that he is an agent. That he is trying to protect us from Napoleon. It is too much. I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it.” She stood up. “If you will excuse me, I am going to return to the ball. I find I would rather deal with the looks of pity, hate, and censure than listen to this fairy tale the two of you have spun. I just can’t understand why you would even do such a thing.”
Tessa and Clarissa watched Rebekah storm back to the ballroom.
“Did we do the wrong thing?” Clarissa asked. “She’s already been through so much. I just wanted to help.
Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) Page 16
