Regency Wolfe: A de Wolfe Pack Connected World collection of Victorian and Regency Tales

by Mary Lancaster

  “Oh. I’m sorry I’m keeping you from it.” Her cheeks took on a rosy hue, whether from anger or embarrassment he couldn’t tell.

  He glanced over his shoulder unobtrusively to see if Samuel had succeeded in his mission of learning what the angel’s, or rather, the woman’s apprentice was discussing with the man.

  Samuel had drawn close to the pair but faced in the opposite direction. From the focused look on his face, Marcus surmised he listened intently.

  “Please continue on your way. I will speak with the two myself.” Her lips pursed as though she was firming her resolve to carry on with her task.

  “What do you intend to do?” Marcus felt compelled to ask.

  “To expose the man’s sham for what it is.”

  That seemed a terrible idea, and certainly not one the man would appreciate. Yet who was Marcus to dissuade her from her goal? He looked again at the pair. The man turned toward him.

  Marcus quickly turned away, keeping his gaze moving as though he was only glancing around. The man seemed familiar. But why? Then he remembered. He’d been on his ship when Marcus had been on board. He couldn’t imagine why the man was speaking with the girl, but he didn’t like it.

  Again Marcus took Miss Maycroft’s arm and walked away, wanting to put more distance between them and the man.

  “What are you about?” she asked as she looked over her shoulder. “I want to speak with them.”

  “I don’t think that is wise. We shall see what Samuel learns instead.”

  “This is something I must do.” Again she attempted to pull her elbow from his grasp.

  Marcus refused to release her. Instead, he found the nearest secluded doorway and stepped into it, hiding them from view in case the man watched.

  “What is wrong with you?” She turned to face him. “I will not be manhandled.”

  “I am only trying to keep you out of harm’s way,” he protested.

  “I’m not in any danger. How can I learn anything if I remain here? I cannot aid Sally if I don’t know what lies that man is telling her.” She made to move around Marcus and return to the street.

  Left with no choice, Marcus took hold of her once again and drew her back to safety. “Will you listen to reason?”

  “Not to yours.” She glared up at him, those green eyes filled with passion.

  Somewhere deep inside him, a fuse lit where he hadn’t been aware it had been laid. All he could wonder was if she would look like that in bed, with her eyes glittering, cheeks flushed. His gaze dropped to her rosy lips. They still moved, but he didn’t have the faintest idea what she said. He only knew he had to taste her.

  His hands still grasping her elbows, he drew her closer, telling himself to stop. Her scent filled the small space. Lavender. Of course. Damn the legend and all the crazed notions it put in his head.

  He took her lips with his, part of him hoping he’d feel nothing. Another part hoping he might still be capable of feeling something. He’d been numb for so long.

  She stilled the instant their lips met, her body rigid with surprise. Then her head tilted ever so slightly as though she instinctively knew they’d better fit that way.

  Her lips were soft and warm beneath his, their suppleness making him long for more. With her height, she fit perfectly with him. But he realized that was not why she felt so right, nor why she tasted so good. There was something more here. An unusual reaction for which he couldn’t determine a cause. His tongue teased her lips until she opened, giving him what he wanted. He kissed her in full, his tongue seeking hers to better taste her.

  Her response surprised him. She met his kiss and gave some of her own. Yet he’d swear she was inexperienced in such matters. Could she feel the desire threatening to engulf him?

  Again she tugged her arms free from his grasp. He willingly released her this time so he could draw her closer.

  But when she reached up to place her hands on his shoulders, something inside him snapped. Guilt? Grief? He couldn’t say. He pulled back to glare at her.

  The passion in her eyes shifted to puzzlement then to anger. She jerked away as though burned. “Why are you looking at me like that? You’re the one who kissed me.”

  Why he felt such anger was beyond him. It made no sense, but it was there all the same. And he couldn’t stop it. He’d never expected to feel like this after losing Mary.

  Guilt that he could flooded him. He’d loved his wife. She’d been his best friend for as long as he could remember. They’d shared passion and fully enjoyed all the benefits of the marriage bed.

  But this was something deeper.

  And it scared the hell out of him.

  Chapter Four

  Two days later, Marcus strode toward his library, throwing his damp gloves on the foyer table he passed. A startled footman quickly stepped out of his way.

  “Damn and blast,” he declared as he moved to the side table in the library to pour himself a drink.

  He and Samuel had spent two days searching for the man who’d been speaking with Sally since Tessa had left with her apprentice. All for nothing. The man had disappeared amidst the chaos of the dock after talking with Sally.

  Marcus was convinced he needed to discover more about the mysterious man and speak with him if possible. Why wasn’t clear to Marcus, but the man provided a lead to follow to discover what was happening on his ship. He was certain of it.

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” Samuel offered as he followed Marcus into the library.

  “Not your fault, Samuel,” Marcus said with a wave of his hand. “The man is a slippery one and far more familiar with the docks and those crooked streets than we are. The rain pouring down today certainly didn’t help us.”

  “I only wish I could’ve heard more of what he told the girl. Perhaps that would’ve helped.”

  The man had indeed been trying to convince Sally to take a “position that required unique skills” and paid well, just as Tessa had feared. But Samuel had learned little else. That had displeased Tessa considerably. Or perhaps she’d been displeased with Marcus and his behavior. He couldn’t blame her.

  All the same, Marcus was certain the man was up to no good. Whether he’d fled as he realized Marcus and Samuel were following him or had simply lost them when he’d gone about his business, Marcus couldn’t say.

  The whole affair made him uneasy. Something was definitely amiss and grew more worrisome with each day that passed.

  “May I offer a suggestion?” Samuel asked, his bowler hat in his hands.

  Marcus braced himself, certain he wouldn’t like it, but he nodded all the same.

  “Miss Maycroft might be of assistance.”

  Marcus sighed. At least he’d stopped referring to her as the angel. “How so?”

  “She might allow us to speak with Sally and find out if she knows anything further about that man.”

  Marcus downed his drink in one burning gulp. Yet it didn’t quench his thirst or his desire. He didn’t want to see Miss Tessa Maycroft again. Not after the feelings she’d stirred in him.

  “We don’t have much time before the ship leaves,” Samuel reminded him.

  He was right. Another ship of Marcus’s wasn’t due to arrive for nearly a fortnight. Marcus had hoped to return to Rule Water Castle by then, engaged to be married and with the missing cargo problem solved. Apparently, he’d overestimated the ease with which he could solve either issue. The more time he spent in London, the less he liked it. He longed to go home to the peace and solitude of Wolfe’s Lair, as the castle was fondly called. Though he worried it wouldn’t provide the same peace it previously had.

  Blast that woman and her green eyes.

  “Very well. Locate Miss Maycroft’s seamstress shop, and we shall pay a call upon her come morning.”

  “I already have the address. The shop is open until six o’clock. Plenty of time to pay a visit now.”

  Marcus closed his eyes. He’d prefer to wait until morning, but what purpose would that serve? It would o
nly give him another night to dream of her sharing his bed. Perhaps seeing her again, especially if she insisted on being as contrary as she had previously, would snuff out the desire he had for her.

  “Very well. I assume the carriage is waiting for us?” Marcus leveled a glare at Samuel that would’ve sent his other footmen running.

  But not Samuel. He smiled at Marcus and gave a polite nod. “Of course, my lord.”

  “Funny how you only use that address when attempting to convince me to see your point of view.” Marcus set the crystal glass down with a thump. “Let us be on our way to Madame Daphne’s.”

  Tessa rubbed the low ache in her back. The day had been a long one. She’d spent most of the afternoon attempting to find the proper lace trim and ribbon for Lady Aldleberry’s gown. A more indecisive woman, Tessa had never met. It drove her mad. But as a returning customer who actually paid her bill, they couldn’t afford to turn her away.

  Rain poured outside. Perhaps the poor weather added to her odd mood. On days like this, the years before her stretched out endlessly.

  Was this it? Was this all she had to look forward to? Immediately guilt filled her. Her life was so much better than most women, yet still she wasn’t happy. What was wrong with her?

  A pair of golden eyes came to mind. Ever since seeing Marcus—the Earl of Warenton, she corrected herself, for his title created an insurmountable gap between them—she’d felt restless.

  His kiss had created a longing deep inside her that she hadn’t realized she was capable of feeling. In the middle of the night, he filled her dreams, so big and tall and strong. Her heartbeat quickened at the memory of his warm lips on hers. Her cheeks felt flushed at the idea of ever seeing him again. She felt…wanton. She feared he could tempt her to share more than a kiss.

  “What’s wrong, dear?” Aunt Betty asked, her warm brown eyes steady on Tessa. “You’ve seemed out of sorts all afternoon.”

  Tessa glanced around the small shop. No customers were there at the moment. The girls were busy with projects. Soon they would close for the night. “Are you happy?”

  Aunt Betty frowned. “Happy?” She said the word as though it was unfamiliar. “Why wouldn’t I be? I have a good life.”

  “It’s not that I’m not grateful for all we have,” Tessa whispered, not wanting to share her discontent with the girls. “I am. And I am especially grateful to you. Who knows where I might be if not for you? I shudder to think of being forced to fend for myself at the age of fourteen.”

  Her aunt smiled. “You would’ve been fine. Despite the reduced circumstances in which your father left you, you are a resourceful woman. So strong. Far stronger than I ever was. In fact, there are days when I wonder if I’ve held you back.”

  Tessa gasped in dismay and took her aunt’s hand. “Never say such a thing. I am so lucky to have you. I worry what would happen if I were to lose you.”

  Aunt Betty gave a small, sad smile. “The day will come. No matter how much I wish it otherwise.” She glanced back at where the girls worked so diligently in the lamplight. “Would you keep the shop? Or is there something else you’d like to do?”

  Tessa swallowed hard. She’d wondered the same yet felt she had no choice in the matter. From where else would money for food and shelter come? But could she make this small shop suffice on her own? Did she want to?

  “I’ve been saving a little money for you,” Aunt Betty confessed. “When I die, you could make a fresh start elsewhere.”

  Tessa squeezed Betty’s hand all the harder. “Do not speak of such things. I cannot bear it.”

  “We must be practical, Tessa. We all die and rarely at a time of our choosing.” She drew a deep breath. “For now we will set aside such talk, but you must think long and hard on it, so you have a plan when something happens.”

  “Nothing is going to happen for a very long time.” Tessa blinked away the sudden tears in her eyes. No matter that she wasn’t happy. She was content, she told herself. But without her aunt, she doubted she would have even that. The thought hurt too much to consider.

  The bell above the door tinkled. Tessa blinked again to clear the moisture from her eyes only to see Marcus standing in the door. Her breath caught at the sight of him. What could he possibly be doing here? Raindrops dappled his black wool cloak. The fine garment made him appear all the broader across the shoulders. Odd how his strength made her feel so fragile.

  She shook her head at her ridiculous thoughts.

  “My lord.” She curtsied while her aunt belatedly did the same, no doubt wondering what was happening and who this man was. Good manners had her introducing them.

  Aunt Betty looked back and forth between them, obviously confused as to how they knew each other.

  Tessa took pity on her curiosity and added, “The earl was the injured man in the alleyway I helped last month.”

  “Oh, I see,” she said with a nod, though it was clear she did not.

  Tessa hadn’t mentioned that she’d encountered Marcus again two days ago on the dock when she’d gone after Sally. Nor had she mentioned that kiss. How could she? Not when she still didn’t have any explanation for it.

  “I fear I am in need of your assistance once again,” the earl said after the civilities were completed.

  “Oh?” Tessa’s eyes narrowed. From the uncomfortable look on his face, she wondered what he was about. How many times did she need to be reminded not to trust men?

  “I would like to speak with the girl, Sally, if I may.”

  “Why?”

  “We need to question the man she met with on the dock the other day. Is she here?” He glanced at where the girls worked. Or rather had been working. Now they simply stared at him, their hands idle.

  “I spoke to her, and she can add nothing more than what she already shared.”

  “Then it will certainly cause no harm if I speak to her.” Those golden hazel eyes held steady on her.

  Was it just her imagination, or was he remembering their heated kiss as well? She felt her cheeks flush and glanced at her aunt.

  Aunt Betty was staring wide-eyed at both of them, much like the girls.

  “I don’t think that a wise notion,” Tessa began, only to be interrupted by her aunt.

  “Dear, surely it would do no harm for him to speak with Sally. Perhaps that would ensure the rest of the girls stay safe.” Her aunt smiled at the earl. “Sally stayed home today as she was under the weather. We can’t have her getting the rest of the girls sick, you see.”

  “No, of course not,” Marcus agreed.

  It would’ve been much easier to distance herself from him if she could remember that he was an earl, not simply Marcus. And she was a seamstress. The two were worlds apart, and she wanted to keep them that way. But having him standing in their shop, taking up so much space and dripping on the wood floor made it difficult to keep that distance in mind. Even his scent, a mix of the sea and the forest, filled her senses.

  “Another day, perhaps,” she suggested, hoping he’d give up and take his leave.

  “I’m afraid this is of great importance. May I call upon the girl at her home? I would be happy to pay her for her trouble.”

  “I’m certain that would be acceptable,” her aunt answered before Tessa could forbid it. “She’s on the mend by now, no doubt. Tessa, you should accompany him to make certain Sally is comfortable answering his questions.”

  Taken aback, Tessa could only stare at her aunt. What could she be thinking? That was a terrible idea. Before she could protest, she found herself putting on her cloak that one of the girls had fetched for her with Aunt Betty waving her out the door and bidding them both goodbye.

  Tessa stood on the sidewalk under the earl’s umbrella which his footman so kindly held over them as the rain came down before she understood what had happened.

  Marcus gestured toward the sleek black carriage waiting in the street. As if any of the other simple carts or cabs might be his. Trying to catch her balance mentally and shore up her
defenses at the thought of being in the enclosed space with him, Tessa moved forward.

  The footman, the same one who’d been on the dock two days ago, smiled at her as he held open the door, the amusement in his eyes puzzling her.

  She sat on the tufted seat, amazed at how comfortable the conveyance was, so different than the hansom cabs she occasionally took. The carriage light cast a soft glow across Marcus’s features, as he settled on the bench beside her. She could feel the heat of his body through her own thin cloak, making her all the more aware of him.

  She gave the footman Sally’s address, then he latched the door, leaving her and Marcus alone. Her heart pounded rapidly, and she drew a breath to slow its beat.

  “What do you intend to ask Sally?” She needed to keep her thoughts on the task before them, not how much she wished he’d kiss her once more.

  “I would like to review her conversation with the man again and ask if she has any idea where he might live or if she’s seen him in any other places. I need to find him.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “I think he might know something about a problem with the cargo on one of my ships.” The dark slash of his brow seemed at odds with the long sweep of his lashes—one so masculine, the other softening his appearance. Neither helped calm her rapidly beating heart.

  He caught her gaze, those golden eyes heating as he studied her. She felt her entire body warm as he examined every inch of her face.

  “I find you quite striking.” He said the words almost reluctantly, as though already regretting them.

  She told herself she welcomed the anger that filled her. Anything was better than the heat of attraction she couldn’t seem to halt. “You flatter me.” Sarcasm colored her tone.

  He merely smiled. “I am not attempting to flatter you. When I do, you’ll know it.”

  A flurry of butterflies beat low in her belly. When? Not if? She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. Why did that sound so appealing?

  But she could not allow herself to wonder what it might be like. No doubt that was a false promise. She’d heard too many from her father to be fooled.