Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) (7 page)

“They look so much like the girls,” the older woman said in awe, her voice growing wobbly.

“That’s enough, Mrs. Johnson.
 
It is clear we are not welcome.”
 
He grabbed the woman’s arm and jerked her close.
 

Thorn noticed the wince that the woman could not hide, and hated Hezekiah Johnson even more at that moment.
 
What had Rebekah’s mother endured at his hands?
 
What had his wife suffered?
 
And Sarah?
 
His body would be cold in the grave before this man got his hands on Theodore’s children.

“Do not think this is the end, young man.
 
I have connections, and will have those children in my care before you know what happened.”

“I will enjoy the fight, Reverend, but I think you will be surprised at the outcome.”

“Come, Mrs. Johnson,” the Reverend jerked his wife’s arm, forcing her to follow him.
 

Edith Johnson looked at her daughter and mouthed two words to her,
Fight him
.
 
Surprised, all Rebekah could do was nod.
 
Her mother gave her a quick smile before allowing herself to be escorted out of Wulfecrest Manor.
 
Thorn pulled away from Rebekah, walked to the door and shut it.
 
He left his hand on the solid wood before turning to look at his wife and wards.
 

“Zachary, Ivy, give your Aunt Rebekah a hug and go up to the nursery.
 
You two have been through a lot today and should take a nap.”

“But…” Ivy started to argue.

“Do not argue with your uncle, young lady,” Rebekah said.
 
“I’ll go up with you.
 
It wouldn’t hurt for me to take a nap either.”

“I had hoped that we could discuss what just occurred.”

“Not now,” Rebekah waved him away.

“When?”

She answered by shrugging her shoulders and ascending the stairs, taking a hand of each child as she went.
 

“You are going to have to talk to me sometime.”
 

She kept walking up the stairs with the children in tow.

“Stubborn woman,” he muttered, mussing his hair in frustration.
 
He walked to the study, grabbed the bottle of whisky, a tumbler, and sat at his brother’s desk.
 
Knowing that they would soon be returning to London, he began meticulously going through all the records his brother had kept since taking over the Dukedom roughly six years ago.
 
Six years ago
.
 
Hadn’t Reverend Johnson said something about Rebekah and six years ago?
 
Ah yes, she had stopped being his daughter then, evidently not by her choice.
 
He steepled his fingers and thought on the matter for several minutes.
 
He would not find any answers without talking to Rebekah.
 
He turned back to the journals spread before him and lost himself in the business of running an estate.

Chapter 4

In the early hours of morning, Rebekah woke to a pounding head, stiff muscles, and scratchy eyes.
 
Once she had made certain the twins had gone to sleep, she had made her way to her bedroom, locking the door behind her.
 
Halfway through shedding her mourning clothes, she had collapsed to her knees as sobs wracked through her body.
 
She had promised herself she would never cry over her parents again, and she wouldn’t have if her mother had not smiled at her.
 
With that one secret look, the walls of hate Rebekah had erected around her heart had collapsed.
 
Her mother was not the one to be hated in this situation.
 
She had merely been a pawn played by her father as Sarah and herself had.
 
Sometime during the night, she had fallen asleep, not even making it to her bed.

Rebekah pushed herself into a sitting position.
 
She stretched, trying to ease the aches that had set in after a night of sleeping on the hard floor.
 
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and gasped at the sight that greeted her.
 
The dress she wore to the funeral lay about her in a heap,
 
still tight about her waist.
 
Her hair had fallen from its knot on her head and lay about her shoulders in a straight brown waterfall.
 
Her hazel eyes were red from crying, and her face looked splotchy.
 
She stumbled to her feet and walked to the pitcher and wash basin and poured cool water into the basin.
 
She skimmed the dress over her hips and pushed it to the ground until she stood in her shift only.
 
Grabbing a washcloth, she dipped it in the water and wrung it out.
 

She walked to the bed and collapsed on top of the covers, draping the cloth over her irritated eyes.
 
Rebekah attempted to hold back the memories, of not just the past few days, but also years.
 
They crashed through her like a wave breaking on the beach.
 
They pounded through her until she wanted to beg for mercy.
 
She heard the doorknob rattle then a timid knock.
 

“Aunt Bekah,” she heard a soft, feminine voice say.
 

Unable to ignore the little girl on the other side of the door.
 
She pushed herself off the bed and made her way across the bedchamber.
 
After flipping the key in the lock, Rebekah turned the knob and opened the door.
 
On the other side stood Ivy, still in her nightclothes, her blonde hair a tousled mess.
 

“What’s wrong, Sweet Pea?” Bekah asked the little girl.

“Bad dream,” Ivy shyly replied.

“Come with me,” Rebekah held out her hand for the little girl to clasp.
 
The two walked to the bed and the older lifted the younger onto it before climbing on herself.
 
She gathered the little girl in her arms and pulled her close.
 
“You know I love you so very much, Ivy Rose” Rebekah told Ivy.
 
She felt the little girl nod her head.
 

“Why was that man so angry?”

“He has a lot of hate inside him, and he doesn’t like me very much.”

“Oh.”

“Try to go back to sleep,” she urged Ivy, pulling the girl closer to her body.
 
She slipped the wet cloth back over her eyes and soon fell asleep.

***

Later that morning, in the study, Thorn pushed back from the desk.
 
He had worked all night, going through the journals.
 
He found that the estate would run well being overseen by the steward that had reported to Theodore over the years.
 
Now he knew he could take Rebekah and the twins to London and not have to worry about the estate and those that lived on it.
 
He shut the last journal, pushed back from the desk, and stood, stretching his cramped and stiff muscles.
 
He walked to the window and pulled back the heavy drape that covered it.
 
Outside, the two dogs boisterously played with one another.
 
A staff member must have let them out.

“Papa! Papa!”
 
He heard the clip clopping of little feet before they slid to a stop.
 
“Oh, Uncle Thorn,” the boy said dejectedly.
   

“Good morning, Zachary,” Thorn said, turning and letting the drape drop back into place, throwing the room into muted tones.
 
The boy’s lower lip began to tremble.
 
“Come here you rapscallion,” Thorn walked over to the boy, hefting him into his arms.
 
“What’s this about?” He asked, wiping away tears as they escaped from the little boy’s eyes.

“Thought it was a bad dream,” the boy mumbled.

“I know you did.
 
I want it to be a bad dream as well.
 
You know I loved your father and mother very much and miss them just as much as you do.”
 
He waited for the boy to nod.
 
“How would you like to go on a trip?”

“A trip?”

“Yes.”

“Where to?”

“London.”

“Can Piddles and Smelly come too?”

“Of course, they can.”

“What is London like, Uncle Thorn?”

“Different than here.”

“How?”

“It is loud.
 
There are lots of people that live in London.
 
There are parks where other children go and play.”

“There are other children in London?”

“Yes.
 
I might be able to introduce you to some.”

The little boy seemed to think about this a moment before replying.
 
“Will Aunt Bekah be able to go with us?”

“Of course, she will.
 
Your Aunt Bekah and I are married now.
 
We are a family, you, Ivy, Aunt Bekah, and myself.”

“Are you and Aunt Bekah going to leave us like Papa and Mama did?”

“I plan to be around a long time,” he said, then heard the little boy’s stomach growl.
 
“Are you hungry?”
 
Zachary nodded his response.
 
“Let’s see if we can find something to eat.”
 
He walked out of
 
the study and down the hall to the breakfast room from where delicious smells were emanating.
 
He helped Zachary sit at the head of the table.
 
After filling a plate for the both of them, he delivered the plates to the table, and took the chair to the boy’s left.
 
Zachary kept asking different things about London, and Thorn answered as best he could.
 

They were half-way through the meal when Rebekah and Ivy joined them.
 
Thorn began to stand, but Rebekah waved him to sit.
 
Thorn watched her assist Ivy in filling her plate and then aid the little girl in carrying it to the table.
 
She then returned to the buffet to fill her own.
 
Once she sat down, she picked up her fork and began pushing her food around on her plate.
 
He noticed she had dark circles under her eyes and her face looked splotchy.
 
Yesterday had been exceptionally difficult on her.

“Uncle Thorn says we are going to London,” Zachary announced excitedly.

“When?” Ivy asked, sounding just as excited as her twin.

“As soon as possible,” Thorn answered before taking another bite of food.

“When were you going to tell me?” Rebekah asked, placing her fork gently on her plate.

Thorn watched her movements and knew they belied what she truly felt.
 
He could see the anger shimmering along the surface.
 
“Today.
 
I need to return to London as soon as I can.”

“You have scarce been here a few days.
 
Can’t your sins wait a little longer?”

“Not now, Rebekah.”

“If not now, when?
 
Why do we have to go with you?
 
Can’t we just stay here as we always have?”

“There are things you do not know about.”

“Tell me.
 
Explain them to me.
 
I assure you that I am not a stupid woman.
 
I do understand basic concepts when they are explained properly.”

“I said, not now.
 
Eat your breakfast,” he instructed her as if she were one of the twins.

“I find I have lost my appetite,” she said, pushing back from the table and standing.
 
Rebekah placed her napkin beside her plate before walking out of the room.

“Aunt Bekah cried last night,” Ivy announced to the table.
 
“Before I fell asleep I heard her say that more children should have a papa like mine.
 
Did she mean that my Papa was good?”

“I think she meant he was wonderful.
 
I’ll be right back,” he quickly stood and chased after Rebekah.
 
He caught up with her at the top of the stairs.
 
“Bekah, listen, I’m sorry this seems like it is all happening very quickly, but it has to.
 
There are things you don’t need to know about.”

“You have no leave to call me anything but Rebekah, and I understand Thornton.
 
You continue living your life while the twins and I will live ours.
 
What I don’t understand is why we can’t remain here.
 
We will just be in your way in London.”

“I have to have you and the twins close.”

“Your mistress won’t appreciate it.”

“What do you know of my mistress?”

“Do you truly think that your actions stay in London?
 
People travel and people talk.
 
I know more about you than what you probably think I do.
 
I know it is more than I wish to know.”