Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) (5 page)

Thorn stood there and let her pound until she exhausted herself.
 
Then he wrapped his arms around her and let her cry out her hurt and anger.
 
He rubbed her back while she cried.
 
A feeling of déjà vu swept over him, yet he knew he had never held her in his arms before.
 
It merely reminds you of the earlier situation with Aimée
, he told himself.
 
Her crying slowed and he maneuvered her into the study.
 
He saw her seated on the divan and then went in search of whisky.
 
He poured her a glass and took it back to her.

“Drink this,” he said as he sat next to her.
 
He watched, impressed, as she tossed back the whisky in one swallow.

“I didn’t expect it would be this soon.
 
I thought perhaps we had at least a few months.”

“He did not die of his illness.”

“What?” Rebekah’s head shot up.

“He was murdered.”

“Where?
 
How?
 
When?
 
Why?” She rapidly asked, not pausing to allow him to answer even the first question before continuing with the others.

“In London.
 
Someone shot him. It happened early this morning.
 
We believe he foiled an assassination attempt.”

“Assassination attempt?
 
On whom?”

“A friend of his.
 
His friend assured me he passed quickly.”

“That is much better than what it would have been for him.”
 
She used the back of her hands to swipe at the tears that still leaked out of her eyes.
 

“Here,” Thorn pushed a handkerchief into her hands.

“What am I going to tell the twins?” She asked the room, not expecting an answer.

“We will tell them the truth.
 
Their father died a hero.”

“Do you truly expect it will be that easy?
 
Four-year-olds ask more questions than you can imagine.
 
You think you can just come in here and wax poetic about how their father died and all will be well and good?
 
Well, it isn’t that easy!”
 

“What do you suggest then?”

“I haven’t a clue.
 
I thought I had months to prepare them, not hours.
 
And now here you are adding to my problems.
 
Why did Teddy do this to us?”

“Because of the twins.”

“I don’t need your help with the twins.
 
We’ll be fine on our own.”

“And what happens when Hezekiah and Edith come knocking on the door demanding they be relinquished to their custody.
 
Who do you think the locals will side with?
 
A fine, upstanding minister and his wife, or a woman that doesn’t even live with her husband?
 
Who do you think they will trust more with the raising of the Duke of Wulfecrest?”
 
He watched as she crossed her arms, her eyes sparkling green in anger.
 

“And you believe they will have more trust in a man that runs a
gaming hell
?”

“There are things you do not understand, and I have more support than you will ever know.
 
Merely trust me when I say that the Reverend Hezekiah Johnson will not win in a war against me.”

“You sound very sure of yourself.
 
I wish I could trust you.”

“Do you?”

“For the children’s sake, I must.
 
I want you to know that those two children are the only reason I wear your ring on my finger,” she stood, relishing the anger she felt towards him as it pushed all the other emotions to the background.

Wulfe looked down at her ring finger, a look of shock crossed his face when he saw the signet ring his father had given to him upon entering Eton.
 
Something had happened to it the day his father died, but he could not remember what.
 
He only knew he had never seen it again, and thought it lost.
 
“What are you doing with my ring?”

“Your brother put it on my finger during our wedding ceremony.”

“How was that, by the way?”

“Tedious.”

“After the funeral, we are taking the children to London.”

“Why don’t you just stay here?”

“I have a business to run.
 
I can’t walk away from the
Lady Luck
.”

“Not even for your niece and nephew?
 
Have you any idea what it will do to their reputation?
 
You are a selfish bastard!” She raised her hand and watched as it arced through the air and landed a harsh blow on his cheek.
 
She pulled her hand away and rubbed at her stinging palm.

“Do you feel better?”

“I hate you.”

“I noticed, but why?
 
What have I ever done to you to make you hate me so?”

“Forget it.
 
I will not take them to London.
 
They will already be upset from the news.”

“Exactly.
 
They need to be away from all the memories for a while.
 
I cannot leave my affairs in London unattended, and I
will not
explain to you why.
 
You are my wife, evidently, and you will do as I say in this matter.”

“I hate you,” she stated again.

“Good, now that we have that matter taken care of.
 
I’m going up to see my niece and nephew and attempt to break the news to them about their father.
 
Do you want to come with me or shall I do this on my own?”

“I’ll come with you,” she bit out.
 
“We’ll be lucky if they even know who you are.”
 
She stood up and stormed out of the room, dashing up the stairs.
 
She could feel his presence behind her.
 
She entered the playroom and dismissed the maid.
 
“Do you two remember your Uncle Thorn?” Rebekah asked once the maid had left the room.
 
Thorn closed the door to lend them privacy.
 
The children looked at him shyly, not certain what they should do.

“How are my little ones?” he asked going down on one knee and holding his arms out.

“Uncle Thorn, Papa tells us wonderful stories about you,” Ivy ran across first and flung herself at him.

“Hello, sir,” Zachary held out his hand for Thorn to shake.

“That is quite a grip you have there, young man,” Thorn said with just enough awe in his voice to make the little boy beam.

“I’ve missed seeing the two of you.
 
You’ve grown so much!” He looked at them closely.

“Papa says before long we will be all grown up.”

“You will, too.”

“Papa’s not here,” Ivy said.
 
Both children were blonde, but Zachary had sparkling blue eyes and Ivy’s looked like emeralds glistening in the sun.
 

“Darlings, there is something that we must tell you,” Bekah, joined the trio, and went to her knees.

“Is it good news?”
 

“We have both good news and bad news, Ivy.”

“The good news is that your Aunt Bekah and I are married,” Thorn announced.
 

“But how did you get married without being here?” Ivy asked curiously.

“They are both having difficulty with that concept,” Rebekah interjected.

“Will we see you more now, Uncle Thorn?” Zachary asked.

“Indeed you will.
 
We will all be going to London in a few weeks.”

“Will Papa know where to find us?” Ivy queried.

“Your Papa will always know exactly where you are, love,” Bekah said, rubbing her back.
 

“You see, the bad news I have to tell you is about your Papa.
 
He has gone to Heaven to be with your Mum.”
 
The twins looked at him questioningly then at each other and finally at Rebekah.

“Do you understand what your Uncle Thorn is telling you?”

The twins nodded their heads in unison and then Ivy started to cry.
 
She threw herself at Rebekah, knocking her over.
 
Thorn helped her sit up.
 
He turned to see Zachary fighting against his tears.
 
He walked over to the little boy.

“It’s all right to cry, son,” he told the little boy.

“Duke’s don’t cry,” he snuffled, having heard enough talk to know what it meant when his Papa died.
 

“What do duke’s do?”
 
The boy shrugged his answer.
 
“What do you want to do?”
 
In answer the boy gave a guttural wail and then began swinging his fists at Wulfe’s legs until his energy left him depleted.
 
Only then did he finally allow the tears to come.
 
When Wulfe tried to hold the boy, he pulled away and ran to the arms of his Aunt Rebekah.
 
Feeling very much unwanted, Thorn left the three to grieve together in the playroom.
 
He found himself wondering how many bruises he would have in the morning after being a human punching bag.
 
“I hope you knew what you were doing, Teddy, because right now, I’m not so certain.”

Chapter 3

A heavy drizzle fell on those attending Theodore Wulfe, the Duke of Wulfecrest’s funeral.
 
Dark umbrellas were lifted in an attempt to keep most of the people at the gravesite dry.
 
The young Duke of Wulfecrest clung to his aunt’s hand, watching stoically as they lowered his father’s casket into the ground.
 
His twin sister hid her face in the same aunt’s skirts, her sobs could be heard by all in attendance.
 
Said aunt had silent tears streaming down her face.
 
A man stood close to the trio.
 
It had been so long since many in attendance had seen him that they could not be sure if he was the deceased duke’s younger brother or an apparition.
 
Slowly the bystanders walked away from the gravesite to their carriages, leaving the quartet standing alone.

Thorn had been dealing with bouts of tears for the past day and a half from his niece.
 
His nephew seemed to have aged twenty years overnight.
 
Then there was his wife.
 
He looked at the woman who stood in front of him, her back ramrod straight, holding the hands of his niece and nephew.
 
After having left the three of them in the playroom the afternoon of his arrival, she had hardly spared him a look, let alone spoken to him.
 
They were like strangers passing in the hallway, sharing a house, but avoiding one another at every turn.

“We should return to the house,” he announced.
 
In response, Ivy began crying louder.
 
He watched Rebekah attempt to console the little girl, and in turn her brother’s lip began quivering.
 
He knew he had to do something quick.
 
He scooped up Ivy in his arms, dropping the umbrella, and began waltzing with her.
 
Wulfe hummed a waltz as he exaggerated the steps in the rain and exited the graveyard.
 
Thorn dipped the little girl, hearing a giggle bubble up and out of her.
 
He then spun her around until she was squealing in delight.

“My turn, Uncle Thorn,” Zachary cried running up to him.
 
Thorn took the little boy’s hands in his and began spinning, lifting the boy up so that his legs were in the air.
 
Zach squealed in delight.

“Stop that this instant,” Rebekah demanded.
 
“It is unseemly and improper,” she said stuffily.

“I think Aunt Rebekah is saying that she wants to laugh, too,” Thorn teased and began moving towards her.

“Do not touch me, Thorn,” Rebekah said, not backing down from her current stance.
 

He slipped behind her and grabbed her from behind, swinging her around.
 
Thorn felt her squirming and almost dropped her before stopping and lowering her to her feet.
 
He smiled at her as she spun around.
 
Her hand arced through the air, coming in sharp, splintering contact with his cheek.

“I said, do not touch me.
 
This is not behavior fitting a funeral.
 
Come with me children, we have guests waiting at the house that we must see to.”

“He would have wanted them to be happy, to remember the happy times.”

“How would you know what he wanted?
 
Where have you been the last few years to even know what your brother wanted?”
 
Rebekah herded the children to the black lacquered coach.

“You sound very much like your father right now,” Thorn said to her retreating figure.
 
He watched as she spun around, a look of anger in her eyes that he had never seen before.
 
She approached him and he felt the sting of her palm once more.