Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) (4 page)

“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.

“Do you know why he did it?” the Director asked him curiously.

“The twins.
 
He wouldn’t want them to end up being raised by Sarah and Rebekah’s parents.
 
What do I do?”
 
Thorn Wulfe rarely, if ever, asked for help.

“Tell Glandingham your brother has passed away, and you must attend his funeral.
 
Leaving him in charge of the
Lady Luck
for a week or two will help on that front.
 
You have scarce left her for more than a day since taking him on as a partner.
 
Who knows what characters he will pull in while you’re away.
 
Mourn your brother.
 
You also need to realize that you are now the official guardian of the Duke of Wulfecrest.
 
This puts an interesting twist on running a gaming hell.”

“It is a good thing my parents are both dead.
 
This would kill them.
 
What do I do with the twins and Bekah?”

“What do you think?
 
Should you leave them in the country or bring them to London?”

“I don’t know.
 
What if someone finds out we’re married and I’m their guardian?
 
What if they go after them?”

“All very good questions,” Mack said solemnly.
 
“Sarah’s parents, how interested would they be in taking over the raising of a duke?”

“I think my head might choose to explode rather than contemplate that idea any further.
 
You are a lot of help, Director, are you aware of that?”

“Fine.
 
If I were in your position, I would want them close so that I could keep an eye on them.
 
Set up security that they are unaware of and make sure they are protected.
 
Then I would find a way to get out of this business alive so they will no longer be in danger.
 
You have more weight on your shoulders now than you ever did being an agent for the Crown.”

“Dammit, why did Teddy have to get killed?”

“He was dying,” Mack attempted gentleness, but failed miserably.
 
“You would be facing this in the near future, regardless.”

“I suppose I will be leaving for Wulfecrest before the day is out.
 
Are you certain about leaving Glandingham in charge?”

“Yes.
 
We have wasted enough time on this endeavor.
 
We need him to feel more confident and bring in more of his cronies, including the one we are looking for.
 
Otherwise, we might have to admit that we are wrong, that there is no group trying to overthrow the government.”
 
The men silently contemplated one another, before Mack stood.
 
“I sent the undertaker on with directions of how to find the estate.
 
You should go by horseback to beat him there.”

“Fine.
 
I will be gone no longer than a fortnight.”

“Take the time that you need and be careful,” Mack said.
 

Thorn nodded his head stiffly before he stood and left the coffeehouse.
 
He made his way back to the
Lady Luck
lost in thought.
 
Upon entering the establishment he began giving orders of things that needed to be done.
 
He saw a man sitting in a dark corner smoking a pipe.
 
Instant dislike curdled in his stomach, but he made his way over to him.

“Glandingham, there is an emergency at home that I must see to.
 
I will be gone for a fortnight and am leaving you in charge.”

“I expected this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Bad news travels fast, and worse news travels faster.
 
Should I offer my condolences or congratulations?”

“Quit talking in riddles.”
 
Glandingham threw down a London paper on the table.
 
It laid folded open to the society page.
 
Lord Thornton Wulfe, the younger brother of the Duke of Wulfecrest was married in a quiet ceremony to Miss Rebekah Johnson at Wulfecrest Manor, the country estate of said Duke.
 
Could it be true that London’s most notorious rake and gaming hell owner has finally settled down?
 
Only time will tell.

“How did you manage to get yourself married at Wulfecrest Manor when you have been in London every day for the last month?”

“Glandingham, it’s a long story that I really don’t want to go into right now.”

“Where is the bastard?” A woman growled upon entering the gaming hell.

“Bloody hell,” Wulfe said, rubbing his pounding temples.
 
“Can this day possibly get any worse?”

“There you are, you bastard!
 
Explain this to me!”
 
A beautiful redhead slammed the folded newspaper into his chest.

“Aimée, there is nothing to explain.”

“Nothing to explain?
 
You were married?
 
And do you mind telling me when this miraculously occurred since you have been warming my bed almost every night for the last two months?”

“Aimée, not now.”

“Not now?
 
Not now?” she repeated furiously.

“We will discuss this when I return.”

“Return?
 
Where are you going?”

“Wulfecrest Manor.”

“To see your wife?” She screeched, hitting him with her fists.
 

He saw Glandingham chuckling in the dark corner.

“She will be there, but I am going to bury my brother,” Wulfe said, capturing her fists and holding them against his chest.

“Oh,” Aimée said, her tone softening some.
 
“So that means you are now the Duke of Wulfecrest?” she asked.

“Didn’t take her long to figure that one out,” Glandingham chuckled.

“No to both of you.
 
It means that I am now the guardian of the Duke of Wulfecrest.”

“You are still a very powerful man, no?” The redhead asked coyly, regaining a formerly non-existent French accent.

“Darling, I was a powerful man before this tragedy,” Wulfe chucked her under the chin and gave her a lopsided grin that made him look amazingly charming.

“Yes, darling, we can discuss this when you get back.
 
No need to speak in anger,” she reached up and wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to meet hers.
 
She kissed him seductively before pulling back, “When you get back I will make all the hurt go away.”
 
She kissed him once more before turning and sashaying out the door.

“Can you run the
Lady Luck
while I’m gone?” Wulfe turned on the earl the moment Aimée left the building.

“Of course,” Glandingham said.

“Good.
 
If anything comes up, send a messenger.
 
I don’t know how long it will take me to take care of the estate.
 
If it takes longer than I expect, I will send word.”

“Fine, fine,” the man pushed his large frame out of the chair.
 
“Be careful, my boy, you have moved up in status if you have not yet realized it.”

Wulfe watched the man walk across the room and disappear into the office.
 
He went to his room and grabbed the bag that his valet packed for him.
 
“Keep an eye on things.
 
If anything seems off, send for me right away.”

“Yes, my lord,” the man replied sarcastically.

He shook his head and then left the building.
 
He made his way to the stable where he kept his horse and had it saddled.
 
Within the hour of finding out his life had well and truly been upended he was on his way to his wife, niece, and nephew.

***

Rebekah and the twins were outside playing when the dogs began barking wildly.
 
Bekah looked up and saw a wagon lumbering slowly up the drive.
 
From the high point where she stood, she made out the shape of what the wagon contained.
 
Her knees turned to mush and she fell to the ground, tears gathered in her eyes, and spilled down her cheeks.
 
The twins ran to her side.

“Aunt Bekah, what’s wrong?”

“Take them inside!”
 
She heard a masculine voice yell as he rounded the corner on his horse at breakneck speed.
 
She looked up in shock at the man riding towards them.
 
A man she had not seen in so very long.
 
“Take them inside!”
 

Somehow she stood and remained upright.
 
She quickly grabbed each child by the hand and pulled them into the house with the dogs following, yapping loudly.
 
She led them up to their playroom and called for a maid to stay with them.

“Aunt Bekah, what’s wrong?” Ivy asked, tears forming in her eyes at seeing her aunt so upset.

“Nothing, sweetheart.
 
Everything is going to be fine.
 
I was just shocked for a moment.”

“Are you sure?” Zachary asked cautiously.

“Yes, darling, I’m sure.
 
You two stay up here and play, all right?”
 
She waited until they nodded before slipping out of the room and leaving them in the care of a maid.
 
“Watch them and don’t allow them downstairs.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Ever since her proxy wedding, the servants had taken to calling her “my lady” much to her consternation.
 
She quickly made her way downstairs and stopped on a lower step as she watched several footmen carry in a casket.
 
Her lips began to tremble and she could not stop the tears from falling.
 

“Rebekah, go upstairs.”

“It should be you in that casket,” she spat at her husband.
 
“He was the best man I knew.
 
It should be you!” She rushed towards him, her hands raised, and she pounded on his chest when she reached him.