Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) (22 page)

She had not spoken to Thorn since two days after Ivy’s accident.
 
That was the day he came in and held a conversation with their niece on the dangers of riding the banister.
 
Then he unexpectedly pulled the little girl over his knees, careful of her injured arm and spanked her bottom.
 
While Ivy cried softly, the little girl had been scooped up in Thorn’s lap, and he had tenderly hugged her.
 
She could not overhear their conversation, but by the time it was over, Ivy was clinging to him as if the spanking had never occurred.

“We have received an invitation to a ball being thrown by the Duke and Duchess of Richmond.
 
It is in three days.
 
We must hire a nanny and you must purchase an appropriate ball gown.”
 

Her husband’s voice broke into her thoughts.
 
She hated the way her body reacted when he spoke to her, when she could smell his scent in the air.
 
“You are assuming that I will go with you,” she said never taking her eyes off the children.

“I could take my ex-mistress in your place,” he watched anger suffuse her.
 
He acted as if he were carefully studying her.
 
“Yes, it just might work.
 
You favor enough that no one will question her.
 
You haven’t been seen by anyone except your family, and she is greedy enough that with the right monetary offering she would be more than willing to do it.
 
She would definitely enjoy making a fool of the
ton.
 
Most especially the Prince Regent’s stuffy younger brother and his wife.”

“You wouldn’t,” she hissed as she spun in the chair to look at him.

“I will do what I must,” he said.

“I despise you.”

“I am well aware of that.
 
The first of the interviewees will arrive in an hour.
 
If you choose to be present, you are more than welcome.
 
If not, that is your decision, but remember, you will not be able to remove them without my approval.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” she replied sarcastically.
 
She heard him retreat within the house.
 
Rebekah sat there for several minutes attempting to gather herself back in control.
 
To anyone looking at her, she seemed calm and enjoying the day.
 
Inside she seethed.
 
How dare he threaten to take his harlot to a society event?
 
The mere thought of him going anywhere near the woman made her so incredibly angry.
 
The thought of him having another woman, his mistress no less, pose as her caused her to want to do bodily harm to both him and the woman.
 

She called for a maid to watch the children, and she slipped upstairs to her bedchamber.
 
Crossing the room to her desk, she quickly sat and composed a letter to Clarissa begging for her assistance.
 
Once she completed the letter, she quickly checked on her appearance.
 
Deciding she was presentable enough for the interviews she left her room after grabbing the letter.
 
She made her way downstairs as she heard a knock on the door.
 
The butler opened the door to an attractive young woman, dressed very tidily in dull, serviceable clothing.
 
Rebekah felt an instant streak of jealousy shoot through her.
 
She fought it down, refusing to allow jealousy force her to make a decision.

“Please see that this is delivered for me,” Rebekah held out the missive to the butler before following the possible nanny into the study and shutting the door.
 
Thorn quickly made the introductions and then began the interview process.
 
Rebekah was impressed at how he conducted the interview.
 
He was matter-of-fact, asked pertinent questions, and did not spend his time ogling her.
 
As if you would care if he did,
she chided herself.
 
Liar
, she reprimanded herself in the next breath.
 
She found that she cared much more than she should.
 
Rebekah sat through three more interviews, interjecting questions occasionally, but for the most part content to allow him to do the questioning.
 

After the fourth candidate had left, this one a stern-looking older woman, Thorn stood and stretched his tall frame.
 
Rebekah remained where she sat across from him.

“So what did you think of these candidates?” he asked Rebekah.

“Do you care?”

“Dammit, can’t we just work together?”
 
He tunneled his fingers through his hair.
 
“I’m tired of fighting you at every turn.
 
Our siblings trusted us to raise their children.
 
We can’t do that if we are constantly at one another’s throats like rabid animals.”
 
He walked across the room and stared out the window.
 
He could not keep the battles going on two fronts.
 
At some point he would have to choose what battle mattered more, or he would be told which one did.
 
If only he could get her to let down her defenses.
 
Never before had he met such a stubborn woman.

“I liked the first one,” Rebekah said.

“Pardon?”

“The first one.
 
I liked her the best.”

Finally
, he thought.
 
“Why did you like her?”

“She seemed to be the best of everything.
 
She had some experience, she seemed to be kind, but she also seemed like she could be firm.
 
I also like that she had some experience in healing herbs.
 
Knowing our niece and nephew, it would be good knowledge to have.”

“I’m surprised.
 
Pleasantly so, but still surprised.”

“Why?”

“I thought you would prefer the older lady.”

“She seemed much too sour.
 
The twins need someone who knows how far to let them go before reeling them back in.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“For?”

“Giving me your honest opinion.
 
Look, Rebekah, I know you don’t have much faith in me, but I do care about you and the children.
 
I will do everything in my power to protect you and see that you have whatever you need.
 
You just need to know that all is not always as it appears.”

“I have sent a message around to Clarissa asking for her help in choosing a wardrobe.”

“Excellent,” he said.
 
Somewhere down the hall the chiming of a clock sounded.
 
“I must go to the club.”
 
Thorn crossed the room and held out his hand to her.
 
He felt a tingle start in his hand and run up his arm when she placed her hand in his.
 
He pulled her up into his arms.
 
Wulfe held her against him with one arm and cupped her right cheek tilting her head back just slightly.
 
“Why do we have to fight?
 
Why do you hate me so much?”

She shook her head in the negative.

“Does that mean you don’t hate me as much as you want to, or you can’t tell me?”

“Perhaps both,” she said a bit breathlessly.
 
She watched as he leaned into her and brushed her lips with his.
 
Rebekah found herself responding and enjoying his touch and caress.
 
Her hand ran up his arm and stopped at his bicep, squeezing.
 
She stepped closer to him, and he cupped her face with both hands, deepening the kiss.
 

“Aunt Bekah, we’re hungry!” two little voices shouted before pushing open the not quite shut door and entering the study.
 
The two adults sprang apart as if guilty of something.
 

“I’m sure Cook has something ready for you two.
 
Shall we go see?” she asked her niece and nephew.
 
They nodded enthusiastically, each grabbing a hand and steering her out of the room.
 
She glanced back over her shoulder and saw the impish grin on Wulfe’s face.
 
It sent a little shimmer up her spine.

***

The next morning they interviewed the last batch of candidates.
 
They had narrowed eight down to two.
 
Deciding they would further discuss it later this afternoon, they both went their separate ways having things that needed to be taken care of.
 
Before they parted, Rebekah found herself wrapped in his arms once more.

Wulfe inhaled deeply and smelled mint.
 
Every time he smelled it, it reminded him of Rebekah and something else.
 
There was some elusive memory that played with him, but when he tried to bring it to the forefront, it retreated once more.
 
He enjoyed having her in his arms.
 
He wanted her to warm his bed, but he knew he had to take small steps.
 
She acted like a skittish horse at times.
 
He often wondered what happened to her to make her act that way.
 
Thorn felt her pulling away from him.
 
He had held her too long.

“I have to get ready.
 
Clarissa will be here soon.”

“Yes,” he said straightening.
 
“Pick the most beautiful ball dress they have,” he instructed before kissing her once more.
 

Feeling somewhat shocked at his words, she left the room with a bemused look on her face.

***

Clarissa came around in her town coach and picked Rebekah up.
 
Rebekah felt somewhat awkward at first, and then Clarissa began animatedly chatting.
 
She put just the right amount of sympathy on poor Ivy’s broken arm, but also could not keep a giggle at bay.
 
“Can you just imagine how much fun it must be to slide down the banister?
 
It must feel like you’re flying!”
 
She paused a moment and considered her words.
 
“Goodness, I must talk to Justin about doing something to ours.
 
It has the most marvelous curve at the end.
 
I can just see our little scamp climbing up on the rail and sailing off the end.
 
Yes, first thing when I arrive home.
 
Now, tell me what are we looking for.”

“We have a ball to attend tomorrow night.”

“Oh, yes.
 
The Duke and Duchess of Richmond throw quite extravagant balls.
 
It will be difficult to find a ball gown at this late notice, but with the right amount of persuasion anything is possible.
 
What else?”

“What do you mean?” Rebekah asked startled.

“Let us be honest with one another, shall we?
 
Your husband sent a note around to me as well.
 
He said you were to have an entire wardrobe.”

“How dare he!
 
I need no such thing!”

“Rebekah,” Clarissa reached across the the carriage and gripped Rebekah’s hands tightly in her own, “he cares about you.”

“He cares about his own image.”

“I doubt that.
 
If he did, he wouldn’t be involved in the business he is, and he definitely would not allow women to frequent it.”

“He what?!”

“The point, dear cousin, is that he wants you to be able to go out and be seen with confidence.
 
He doesn’t want you to be mocked behind your back.”

“We should be in mourning.
 
We should be wearing black and not attending any functions, and he won’t let that happen.
 
Yet he doesn’t want people to mock me?” she asked

“Bekah, there are things that you don’t understand about your husband and the people around him.”

“But you seem to know.”
 
Clarissa actually blushed.
 
“Tell me,” Rebekah begged.
 
“If it is so very important, shouldn’t I know?”

“I am sure he will tell you when you need to know.”

“I do not need to know, I have a right to know, Clarissa.
 
I am his wife though it was not my choice.
 
We have been chosen as parents of two precious children.
 
At least tell me if he is involved in something dangerous.”
 
Rebekah watched Clarissa.
 
The other woman said nothing, but her expression spoke volumes.
 
“He brought us to London knowing it would put us in peril.”

“Rebekah, you must know that whatever he has done it has been for the good of you and the children.
 
These times we live in are dangerous.
 
Enemies lie around every corner, sometimes they are in your own family.
 
Trust is a hard thing to have in people thanks to Bonaparte, but you must have faith in Lord Wulfe.”