Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) (47 page)

“I hated him.”

“I know.”

“Did he?”

“I suspect he did.
 
His resentment of your family turned into a boiling rage when he would leave us.
 
At first, I did not know, did not understand.
 
But then, one day I heard Maman and Pére talking before he left.
 
He looked so angry.
 
Maman was trying to calm him.
 
I heard his words and they frightened me.”

“What did he say?”

“Best you not know.”

“Tell me!”

“Fine!
 
He said, ‘The bitch keeps breeding and I can’t stand it.
 
Can’t stand to have her have more babes when you cannot.
 
I must stop it, each time.
 
I’m being punished for my sins when she breeds because it is you I think about when I am with her, you I am holding, you I want more children with.
 
Not her.
 
Never her.
 
Why did I not find you before I married her, my darling Gabby?’”

“Bastard!”
 

“
Oui
.
 
He had come for my thirteenth birthday, and I remember hearing his words so clearly.
 
Oh, I hid so that they did not know I had overheard, but I never saw him in the same light as I had before.
 
And that night I cried for your mother, for her pain and suffering, and for my half-sisters.”

“And your mother?”

“I believe she was torn.
 
She loved Pére so very much and wanted to be with him so badly.
 
I think she both resented your mother and pitied her.
 
She always hated the fact that she had to become a courtesan to support myself and me.
 
Pére doesn’t make very much as a pastor and what he did, he spent making sure his ‘family’ looked the part.”

“When did they meet?
 
Where?”

“Here, in London.
 
Your mother was halfway through her pregnancy, with you, I believe, and he was summoned for a meeting.
 
She did not want to travel.
 
He went to a play with some other men and Maman caught his eye.
 
I arrived a handful of months after you.”

“He’s dead.”

“What?”

“The Reverend is dead.
 
Apoplexy.”
 
Rebekah watched as blue eyes like her father’s filled with tears.
 
Aimée could not hold them back, and they slipped over her lashes and down her cheeks.
 
She held a hand to her trembling lip.
 
She should have broken it to her more gently.
 
She wondered if it felt like she had ripped her heart out, because that is what Aimée had done to her as she described the life she had dreamed of, the life she thought was a fantasy, but had been real for another little girl.
 
Rebekah turned her face away and looked out the window at the passing buildings.
 
Her sibling deserved to be able to mourn, but she would not comfort her, for she felt no loss.

***

The man tracked the coach with the two women in it.
 
He knew Wulfe had hoped to hide her from him at the
Lady Luck
, but he had been unsuccessful.
 
He was curious as to where they were going.
 
The driver was nervous, for he kept looking around at every little noise that came from the encroaching darkness.
 
He merely wanted to take Thorn’s wife, a little insurance that the man would behave properly and sign on to aid their cause.
 

What was Aimée doing with her?
 
His loins quickened as he thought of his lover.
 
She was exquisite in and out of the bed.
 
But just because he enjoyed her did not mean she was safe from him.
 
A fine mist began to fall, giving everything an eery cast.
 
They were moving towards the outskirts of London, and the roads were not as well maintained in this area.
 
The road oozed mud from the heavy rain of the previous days, and the mist that had set in was not aiding matters.

He kept his distance and watched as they came to a stop at a cemetery.
 
One woman got out of the carriage, a cloak pulled tightly about her, her head covered.
 
The driver got down and lit the carriage lamps while the other woman exited the carriage.
 
She, too, was covered head to toe with a cloak.
 
The first woman stopped to pick some wildflowers along the outer fence before she entered the consecrated grounds.
 
Interested, he stopped to watch the proceedings in the shadows of a building.
 
Which woman was which?

***

“Hello, little one,” Rebekah said, going to her knees in front of the marble tomb of her son.
 
She added her flowers to some that were already there, but not as fresh.
 
“I am so sorry for so many things.
 
I should have looked harder for your father.
 
I should have demanded they tell me where he was.
 
If I had, perhaps things would have been different.
 
You might have lived and we might have been a family from the beginning.”

She heard the crunch of footsteps behind her and could not help feeling irritated that this time of self-reflection had been interrupted by her half-sister who was still very much a stranger.
 
Rebekah placed her hands on the cool, wet marble and relished the tears that fell from her eyes, for they were healing tears this time.
 
She remembered with fondness how she would lay in bed and feel his kicks.
 
She would tell him stories of his father, of how handsome he was, and how he would grow up to be like him some day—handsome and wicked, breaking all the girls’ hearts.

“I loved your father then, and I have fallen in love with him all over again.”
 
The sound of clapping had her turn around.
 
She started to say something cutting to Aimée, but fell back on her hands when a strange man stood there.
 

“Heart wrenching.
 
Absolutely heart wrenching.”
 
He noticed Rebekah looking frantically towards the coach.
 
“You will find no help in that quarter.”
 

She tried to push up and run, but became tangled in her cloak.
 
Firm arms wrapped around her, holding her tight.
 
He smelled of licorice and his eyes were almost as dark.
 
“Let me go,” she squirmed, kicking at the man.
 

“I think not.”

Rebekah felt herself lifted, a hand clapped over her mouth to keep her from shouting for help.
 
She was unceremoniously thrown into the hack.
 
She smelled the stench of unwashed body before she felt a pair of heavy hands on her.
 
She looked up and yelled.

“Lady Wulfe, do you remember Tiny?
 
I believe you, um, injured him not too long ago.
 
This is his twin brother, John.
 
John is just looking for a reason to avenge his brother.
 
Don’t give him a reason.
 
Aimée, make sure he doesn’t kill her…yet.”
 
He closed the door.
 
“Tiny to my house.
 
We have business to attend.”

“You lying bitch!” Rebekah yelled at the woman across from her.
 
“You didn’t want to save my life!
 
You were following me weren’t you?
 
You couldn’t give a shit if we were sisters!”

Walsh opened the door once more, “John, shut her up before she calls attention to us.”

“My pleasure,” the big oaf grinned before backhanding her so hard that she lost consciousness.

Chapter 25

When Thorn slipped back into the gaming hell, both Walsh and Aimée had disappeared.
 
Was Aimée involved with Walsh, as well?
 
Did she know what the man was planning?
 
Did she know who the other players were in the game?
 
He was tired of this cat and mouse game.
 
If it had ended weeks ago, it could not have been too soon for him.
 
He went about walking around the
Lady Luck
, welcoming patrons, encouraging them to spend their money.
 
He took the time to study each player carefully.

A young man he did not know very well, other than he was the inheriting son of an earl, played at the Faro table.
 
Walking past, a movement caught his eye.
 
Trying to appear nonchalant, he turned and stood at one of the other tables, as if he were watching the betting at that table with intensity.
 
His eyes strayed to the young man.
 
He was a tapper, the back of the card, the table, and parts of his face.
 
He was more than tapping, he was communicating, but with whom.

Thorn studied the room.
 
No one seemed to be paying the man any attention other than those at his table, most specifically the dealer.
 
Both men wore a small signet ring on their pinky finger.
 
A roar went up from the table he was standing at, startling him to the presence.
 
Thorn looked at the face of the dealer, but did not recognize him.
 
He must be someone that Glandingham had brought in.
 
The dealer also explained how the information was being shared with all members of the group.
 

Thorn left the table he stood beside and made a revolution around the room.
 
Several of the younger men wore similar signet rings on their left pinky.
 
Six, if he counted correctly, seven including the dealer.
 
Each of them, except the dealer, were sons set to inherit titles from their aristocratic fathers, if they had not already done so.
 
So, they were revolting against their fathers’ beliefs of how England should be run.
 
That still did not explain why Walsh was after Mack.

Wulfe went into his office and scribbled off the names and titles of the men that he knew.
 
He also pulled in one of the dealers he had hired and asked of the other man.
 

“He’s only been about a couple of weeks, my lord.
 
Doesn’t say much to anyone.
 
Strange duck, that one.”

“Keep an eye on him.
 
Send word around to me immediately should something peculiar happen.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Do not hesitate, regardless of the hour.
 
Also, do not let Glandingham nor Walsh know anything about this.”

“Of course not.
 
My lord, pardon me for askin’, but do you know what you’re getting involved in?
 
Glandingham and Walsh are not the most popular men in this area.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I am well aware of the danger that I am facing.
 
Now, return to your table, and remember what I said, they don’t need to know that you are watching them.”

“Yes, sir,” the other man saluted Thorn before returning to the main room.
 

A feeling of unease crept over Wulfe.
 
He felt a need to check on his wife and the twins.
 
He stopped to tell Glandingham he would return before the night was over.
 
He left the
Lady
.
 
Upon arriving at the townhouse, he slipped off his horse and tied it to the post out front.
 
He planned only to check on Rebekah and the children, wanting to ease his worries.
 
He entered the house and immediately had two children wrapped around his legs.

“Oh, ho, what have we here?”

“It’s us, Uncle Thorn!” Zachary exclaimed behind the paint on his face and feathers in his hair.

“What is this about?”

“Mr. Barkley has been telling us stories about the Indians in the Colonies.”

“He has, has he?”

“Yes, and it’s been so exciting,” Ivy added.

“Where is your Aunt Bekah?”

“She’s not here, Uncle Thorn,” Zachary said.

“She’s not?” Thorn looked at his valet for confirmation.

“We haven’t seen her for two days now, my lord.”

“Where is she?” Ivy demanded of her uncle.

“I’m sure she’s merely delayed.
 
Tell me what Barkley has been teaching you,” he said, distracting the twins.
 

***

Rebekah slowly became aware of her surroundings.
 
She lay prone on a settee in a room that she had to admit was quite beautiful.
 
Her head throbbed and worsened as she tried to sit up.
 
She saw spots before her eyes and quickly closed them before her stomach decided it would rebel.

“How are you feeling?”