Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) (23 page)

“Clarissa, you forget, I lost my faith in Thorn years ago.”

“You forget, you were also responsible.
 
Do not give me that look.
 
I am older, married, and know what goes into a relationship.
 
You never had that with him, and what you did have, well, both of you are to blame in my humble opinion.”

“I thought you were my friend.”

“Which is why I am saying this, and Gertie agrees.
 
You have to tell him.
 
Together you must face the past.
 
If you do not, he is always going to wonder why you treat him so callously, and you are going to grow old being bitter and alone.
 
Those two children you are responsible for will grow up and move on.
 
Wulfe will tire of trying to turn you in his favor and find someone else.
 
Tell me, Rebekah, do you want that?”

Conveniently the carriage came to a halt in front of a dress shop.
 
“I believe we are here, are we not?” Rebekah said, grateful when a footman opened the carriage door, effectively ending the conversation.

Rebekah and Clarissa were shown to a private room and were catered to by the owner as well as several helpers.
 
Clarissa had evidently written Thorn which establishments they would be visiting today and he had already set up accounts in her name.
 
She warred with herself being appreciative at his thoughtfulness, but then part of her felt anger that he did not trust her to take care of it herself.
 
Clarissa and Gertie were right.
 
This constant simmering anger she felt was eating her alive and turning her into someone she did not like.
 
Before he had come back into her life, she had been, well not ecstatically happy, but content.
 
Now a darkness was her constant companion that even the twins could not completely eradicate.
 
Then there was the passion he could ignite within her at his mere closeness.

“Rebekah, what do you think of this gown?
 
Rebekah!” Clarissa called.

Rebekah brought herself back to the task at hand.
 
How many new gowns had she agreed to while she was lost in thought?
 
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“What do you think about this gown for the ball tomorrow?”

Rebekah looked at the gown the modiste’s assistants held up.
 
The sapphire blue silk was breathtaking and the crystal beadwork caught the light and made it shimmer.
 
“It is gorgeous,” she said in awe, “but it is too much.” She shook her head as if she would deny taking ownership of it.

“Psh,” Clarissa waved her hand in dismissal.
 
“Go try it on.”

Rebekah found herself being led behind a pair of curtains and helped out of her current dress into the new one.
 
When she walked back into the front room Clarissa clapped her hands in excitement.

“You are absolutely gorgeous!”

Rebekah looked into a large mirror and found herself speechless.
 
Even without her hair done appropriately, the woman that looked back at her looked to be a stranger.
 
The woman in the mirror looked older and more beautiful than Rebekah.
 
Could all that be accomplished with just one dress?

“With the correct dress,
oui
,” the modiste said.

Rebekah looked at the other woman in shock, not realizing she had spoken out loud.
 
She turned back to study herself in the mirror ignoring the attendants as they whispered frantically in the modiste’s ear gesticulating at Rebekah.

“
Oui, oui
, it will be taken care of ,” she said.

“What will?” Rebekah asked curiously feeling as if she were the center of the conversation without having said anything.

“Nothing for you to worry about.
 
Now let me see what needs to be done to this dress.”

“Whose dress is this?
 
I cannot take it from someone else.”

“The woman who was to have it just recently had a child and has no use for the dress anymore.
 
By the time she will be back in society, the style will have changed and this will no longer be the fashion.”

“If you are certain.”

“I would not have offered it otherwise,
madame
.”

“Very well.”
 
Rebekah stood very still as the older woman placed pins in the dress here and there.
 
After taking the dress off and being put back into her old clothes, she felt plain.
 
Why did it feel so depressing when she had lived with plain every day of her life?
 
She joined Clarissa once more and politely waited as her cousin finished her conversation with the modiste.

“Are you ready?” Clarissa asked.

“I am so very ready to go home,” Rebekah agreed.

Clarissa merely laughed.
 
“Oh, no, we are not for home yet, dear girl.
 
We still must go to the cobbler’s and the milliner’s.”

“No more, please,” Rebekah begged.
 

“Oh, there is definitely more,” Clarissa laughed and guided her out of the store and into the carriage.
 
The cobbler took the measurements of her foot and agreed to have slippers made in every color fabric that the modiste sent over.
 
She would also have several serviceable pairs of shoes and riding boots.
 
Next, they were off to the haberdashery.
 
Never one to spend her time sitting and embroidering, Rebekah decided they must have stopped for Clarissa.
 
Instead she found herself in awe when Clarissa asked for a length of ribbon in almost every color.

“What are all those ribbons for?” Rebekah asked curiously.

“Your hair.
 
It adds just the right bit of color and having one of every color makes it ever so much easier to match to your dress once you are home.”

Upon leaving with their package, they walked next door to the milliner.
 
They were studying and discussing the various hats when a bell rang over the door.
 
A woman entered the shop wearing a hat with a veil that covered half her face making her appear very mysterious.
 
Rebekah and Clarissa continued to look around the shop, discuss the different hats and try them on, sometimes giggling like schoolgirls.
 
Several other women were also shopping in the store.

“Lady Wulfe, I found this tucked away in the back and thought it would be just perfect for you,” the shop owner came out of the back offering a hat to Rebekah.
 

Rebekah tried to keep from laughing at the garish concoction the woman tried to pass off as a hat.
 
She gingerly took it from the lady and moved to the mirror and began to adjust it on her head.
 

“
You
are Lady Wulfe?” the new woman that had entered the shop asked curiously.

“Yes,” Rebekah smiled at the woman in the mirror.
 
“And you are?” she asked curiously.

“Shocked,” the other woman said.

“And why would that be?” Rebekah asked, feeling herself tense.
 
Something about this woman was definitely off-putting.
 
She took the hat off, handed it back to the owner, and turned to face the other woman.
 
Rebekah watched as the other woman flipped the veil up to uncover her face, allowing both women the opportunity to better study one another.
 
Was it just her imagination or did they eerily favor one another?
 
Her eyes were amber in color, and her hair a deep auburn.
 
Could it be possible that everyone had a twin somewhere?
 
Would hers be as close as London?

“I just find it rather shocking that Thorn chose you.”

“Pardon?”

“Rebekah, I believe we should leave,” Clarissa said, pulling her towards the door.
 

“No,” she broke free of her cousin’s hold.
 
“I will hear what she has to say.”

“Perhaps a private location would be better.”

“I have nothing to fear from this woman.”

“Of course not.
 
I have no desire to harm you.
 
I just find it shocking that he would choose a plain miss like you over me.”

“And just who are you?”

“I am Aimée Beauchamp, your husband’s former mistress,” she said, a beautifully alluring smirk lighting her face.
   

“I wish I could say it is a pleasure, but I find telling lies leaves such a bitter taste in my mouth,” Rebekah said before turning to Clarissa.
 
“I thought you said this shop was exclusive, but it seems they will cater to anyone.
 
Shall we?” She held out her arm for the other woman to hook with hers.
 
Together they exited the shop.
 
Once they entered the carriage and it began moving Clarissa erupted into giggles.
 
“What do you find to be so funny?” Rebekah demanded.

“Oh, I wish I had your gumption.
 
That was wonderfully done, and I can’t tell you how many women of the
ton
would like to do much the same thing.
 
I believe you are going to do extremely well.”

“I can’t believe I did that,” Rebekah said as realization hit her.

“She deserved it.
 
Imagine, confronting you like that in public.”

“That poor shop owner,” Rebekah bemoaned.

“Oh, she will have plenty of business over the next few months just from people wanting to see where the ‘great showdown’ took place.
 
Besides, I had forgotten how atrocious her hats truly are,” Clarissa could not suppress a shudder.
 
“Now enough recriminations, let us instead discuss tomorrow evening.
 
I don’t want you and Thorn arriving by yourselves to face the crowd alone, better to do that in numbers.”

The rest of the trip home, they made plans.
 
They decided that Clarissa and Justin would pick up Thorn and Rebekah before the quartet arrived at the London townhouse of the Duke and Duchess of Richmond.
 
The carriage rolled to a stop and a footman opened the door for Rebekah to exit.
 
Not good with physical demonstrations of affection, she sat across from Clarissa a moment.
 

“Thank you for everything.
 
I would not have had the first notion what to do.”

“It is my pleasure.
 
I’m just glad you are back in our lives once more.”
 
Rebekah nodded and started to leave the coach but was halted by Clarissa’s next words.
 
“Please remember what I said about trusting your husband.”

“I shall consider it,” she said and escaped before the other woman could say more about the matter.
 
Rebekah entered the house to squeals of laughter coming from the study.
 
She pulled off her gloves and laid them on the hall table before following the sound.
 
When she walked in it was to find Thorn crawling around the floor on all fours with his nephew on his back and clinging to what looked like a cravat wrapped around the man’s chest.
 
All of a sudden, Wulfe reared up and the little boy laughed, holding on for all he was worth.
 

“My turn, my turn,” Ivy shouted, laughing at her brother.
 

Rebekah found her self starting to bring a halt to the fun, but decided to wait and see how Thorn would handle the situation.
 
Surely he had enough sense to not allow the little girl to participate in such activities with a broken arm.
 
But no.
 
Zachary climbed off and carried a small foot stool over next to his uncle and before her eyes the little boy was helping his sister climb on the fake horse.
 
Zachary helped her wrap her good hand snugly in the cravat.
 
She kept hearing Clarissa’s advice to trust him, so she remained where she was instead of rushing over.

He just moved around the room at a slow pace.
 
Rebekah made certain she stayed out of view of the trio.
 
Just when she felt herself relaxing and trusting that he would not do anything foolish, he raised up on his knees as he had done with Zachary.
 
The little girl squealed.
 
Rebekah flew into the room.

“What are you doing?” she yelled at Thorn and jerked Ivy off his back before she could fall.
 
The little girl started crying and tried to push out of her aunt’s arms with her good hand.
 
“It’s all right, darling,” she cooed to the little girl.

“I want Uncle Thorn,” the little girl demanded.

Rebekah’s arms went slack, letting Ivy slip from her arms.
 
The little girl crossed the distance and threw herself at Thorn.
 
He picked her up and talked to her so softly that Rebekah could not hear what he said.
 
Wulfe finally got a watery chuckle from Ivy, and she nodded her head at something he had told her.
 
He kissed her on her tear-stained cheek before putting her on her feet.
 
“Zachary go with your sister to the nursery.
 
It should be almost time for your supper,” he said as he ruffled the young duke’s hair.