Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) (40 page)

Wulfe visited with the men, cajoling the ones that were losing to keep trying their hand and congratulating those that were winning.
 
He tried to look for anything that seemed different, but he was the only who seemed different.
 
He felt jumpy, as if he expected something to go wrong at any moment.
 
He knew that most of it had to do with his worry over the well-being of Rebekah and the children.
 
Damn Mack for threatening them as he had. What in bloody hell had he been thinking?
 

“What’s wrong with you?” Aimée hissed at him, a smile on her face.

“Where did you come from?”

“If you had been paying attention, you would have seen me.
 
What is the matter with you?” she demanded.

“Nothing.”

“Then do your job.
 
Glandingham has been sending you strange looks ever since you arrived.”

As if talking about the man made him appear, Glandingham arrived at Aimée’s side.
 
He pulled her close, kissing her, branding her as his.
 
“Don’t think you are getting this one back, Wulfe,” the other man laughed boisterously.
 
“You’ve had your fun with her, now she’s mine.”

“As if I would want to go back to him,” Aimée pouted, draping herself against the other man.
 
“You are a much better protector and lover,” she whispered just loud enough for Thorn to hear.

“Did you hear that Wulfe?
 
I have you beat.”

“I must be slipping.”

“For quite a while,” Aimée said cattily.

“That’s enough, darling,” Glandingham said.
 
“We don’t want to offend my partner’s sensibilities too much.
 
Now, be a good girl and go fetch me a brandy.”
 
The two men watched her nod and slip away.
 
“Damn, I get hard just looking at her,” the earl said, taking a deep breath.
 
“It’s good to see you back here, Wulfe.
 
I must admit, I thought perhaps that new wife of yours had turned you against the
Lady Luck
.”

“No one could do that,” Thorn said.
 
“There were some issues that arose, but all has been dealt with.”

“I see.”

“I must compliment you, Glandingham, you have done an excellent job watching over the old girl.
 
And the changes you have implemented.
 
At first I had my doubts, but you have convinced me of their benefits.”

“I knew you would come about given enough time.”

“I am extremely impressed with the new clientele you have brought in as well.”

“The women?”

“Oh, not just the women.
 
The men seem to be of a far better class.”

“What did you expect from an earl?”

“True.”

Aimée sauntered back up, carrying a brandy.
 
She wrapped an arm around the portly Glandingham and handed him the drink.
 
“Warmed, just as you like it,” she said, her accent just a little heavier.

“You are too good to me,” Glandingham said, groping her and pulling her in close in front of everyone.
   

“And you me,
mon cher
,” she said, and nibbled at his ear.

“There will be plenty of time for that tonight,” he said, squeezing her bottom.
 
“Go be nice to my friends.”

“Of course,” she said, leaving the two men once more.

All of a sudden the crowd became restless.
 
Whispers ran through the people like waves in the ocean.
 
Men and women alike were pointing and nodding in the direction of the door and then the crowd began to bob up and down.

“Who is it?” Glandingham asked.

“Prinny.”

“What in bloody hell is that pompous ass doing here?” Glandingham demanded, his face turning red.
 
Realizing he had spoken aloud, the man blushed even more, if possible.

“I’ll go and welcome him.
 
Why don’t
 
you slip out and recover your faculties?”
 
Thorn walked across the room and bowed low when he stood in front of the Prince Regent.
 
“Welcome to the
Lady Luck
, Your Highness.”

“Lord Wulfe, it is always a pleasure.
 
I saw your sniveling coward of an associate spirit himself off to the back.
 
I did not come to see him anyway.
 
I came to do a little gaming and perhaps make the acquaintance of one of these lovely, masked wenches.
 
Now where do you suggest I start?”

“That depends, Your Highness.
 
Which do you prefer, dice or cards?”

“Excellent question, Wulfe.
 
I think this evening I prefer to use my intelligence rather than leave it totally up to fate.”

“In that case, allow me to direct you to the Faro tables.”

“Perfect.
 
Be so kind as to send both drink and women my direction.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Thorn bowed deeply before slipping away.
 
He found Aimée.
 
“Prinny wants drink and women, not necessarily in that order.”

“Consider it done,” she nodded in the direction of the Prince Regent.
 
Thorn watched a woman approach the man carrying a balloon snifter and decanter.
 
“You must trust me.
 
Together we can make this work and each get what we want.”

“What is it you want?” he asked, not looking at her.

“You do not worry about me.
 
I can care for myself, I have for a long time now.
 
I think you need to ask yourself what it is you want,” she said before walking off.

Thorn continued making the rounds, visiting the patrons.
 
He tried to identify those he had seen being overly friendly with Glandingham in the past few weeks.
 
Speaking of Glandingham, the man had yet to make an appearance since the Prinny’s arrival.
 
The man
was
a coward.

“Lord Wulfe, just the man I wanted to speak with.”
 

Thorn turned and saw a man a few years younger than himself approaching.
 
He was dressed like a dandy, but many of them were.
 
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Thorn bowed low as Ephraim Gilbert, Duke of Walsh came to a stop in front of him.
 
“I’m surprised you want to speak to me after our run-in the other night.”

“You were merely a man making sure everyone knew that his beautiful wife was not to be toyed with.
 
And may I say what a beauty she is?
 
Those eyes,” he said.

“Yes, she is beautiful, but she also has a fierce temper.”

“I can only imagine.
 
Please, call me Lord Walsh.
 
It is my understanding that you are acting guardian of a young man that has inherited a similar title much too early.”

“Yes,” Thorn said, stiffening imperceptibly.
 

“My condolences on the loss of your brother.
 
Though, I hear he died a hero.”

“Oh?” Thorn asked.
 
They had not discussed with anyone outside a select few as to how his brother had died.
 
Everyone surmised that his ill health had done him in and that is what they wanted everyone to believe.

“Yes, Wulfe, I know the truth.
 
Your brother was shot as he tried to protect the director of the War Office.
 
I can see the curiosity in your eyes.
 
You want to know how I know such a thing.
 
Let me just say that I have connections and ways of knowing things that others do not.
 
I also know who was behind the assassination attempt on the good director.”
 
Walsh threw back his head and laughed at the doubt and speculation that entered Thorn’s expression.
 
“You are a smart man to not take me for my word, Wulfe.
 
Here is my calling card.
 
Come to my house on Thursday at three, shall we say?
 
We can talk more then.”

Thorn looked at the card, the name, Ephraim Gilbert, Duke of Walsh was emblazoned on it.
 
He flipped it over on the back.
 
Thursday at 3 o’clock. You will not regret it.
, had been scrawled in a bold script.
 
He looked up in time to see the young duke exit the building.
 
Wulfe tucked the card into an inside pocket of his superfine.
 

The night passed slowly after that.
 
A crowd gathered around Prinny, cheering him when he won and booing when he lost.
 
Wulfe looked for his wayward partner, only to find that the miserable coward had indeed left.
 
Thorn shook his head and returned to the large room.
 
He found himself wishing these people would leave so that he could return to his family, to Rebekah.
 
Was she pacing the floor, awaiting his return?
 
Was she asleep in her bed, holding the pillow he had slept on close?

“I don’t know where you are, but snap out of it,” Aimée snarled.

“Jealous?”

“Hardly.
 
I want to know what went on between you and Walsh earlier.”

“Nothing for you to be concerned about.
 
Your lover has disappeared.
 
Why are you still here?”

“I have a job to do, and I will see it through, unlike some people.”

“Trust me, my dear, I will see my job through.”

“Do not call me that.
 
You have lost that privilege, and I do not believe my dear sister would appreciate you showing such familiarity to your ex-mistress.”

“Tell me how your father treated you.”

“He’s my father.
 
I love him.
 
Why wouldn’t I?
 
He never raised a hand to me and showered me and Maman with gifts whenever he could get away to see us.”

“Showered you with gifts?
 
The Reverend?”
 
Then he threw back his head and laughed.
 
“Oh, this is rich.
 
The mighty Reverend Hezekiah Johnson fell in love with a whore.”

“It isn’t remotely funny,” Aimée said in a fit of pique.

“No, it isn’t, especially if you knew what his other daughters went through.
 
The daughters he had in the bounds of holy matrimony and hated them every second because they were not children conceived with your mother.”
 
His pocket watch chimed and he pulled it from his pocket, flipping it open.
 
“Thank God,” he said as he read the watch face and saw that he could close the
Lady Luck
.
 
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you will make your closing bets, the
Lady Luck
will be closing in five minutes.”
 
Sounds of sadness reverberated around the room, but everyone complied, and within a half hour, Thorn was on his horse, traveling the streets of London.

He rode his horse into the mews behind the house.
 
A sleepy stable lad came out yawning to take the horse from Thorn and lead him into the stable.
 
He entered the house through the servant’s entrance and was met at the door by a giant of a man.
 
When the man saw it was his master, he relaxed his stance.

“Lock this door and check all the windows on the first two floors.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thorn did not wait to see if the man would follow his words with action, instead he turned and took the stairs two at a time.
 
He opened her door to find the bed empty and in pristine condition with the sheets turned down.
 
She was nowhere in the room.
 
He backtracked to his room, opened the door and was greeted the same way.
 
Wulfe recalled the veiled threat Mack had made, and his heart began to race.
 
They had spoken in the heat of the moment, he would not harm Rebekah or the children, would he?
 
The children!

He took the stairs to the nursery area and saw that the door was cracked open and the flickering light of a candle could be seen.
 
Looking around for a weapon, he saw nothing, so he crouched into a fighter’s stance and pushed the door open.
 
It swung silently open on well-oiled hinges.
 
His pent-up breath left him in a whoosh as he saw Rebekah snuggled down with the two children on one of the beds.
 
He stumbled across the room and dropped into the rocking chair.
 
Thorn rested his elbows on his knees and rammed the heel of his hands into his eyes.

“Wulfe, what’s wrong?” he heard Rebekah’s husky, sleep-laced voice ask.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m a light sleeper.
 
Besides, my arms have gone to sleep and I have a crick in my neck.”