The Wolf's Pursuit (5 page)

Everything suddenly made sense to Hunter as
he looked into his old friend's tired eyes. "And if she is not
truly a traitor?"

"Then she is the perfect bait for who is. Not
only will she be serving her country in picking out the mole, but
she will draw him out," Wilkins finished.

Hunter couldn't remember a time he'd felt the
need to be loyal. Dominique had been his only friend, and now that
he was married, Hunter felt quite like a fish on land, flopping
around without proper hydration. Gwen, however, spoke to him in
ways he'd thought long dead. Ways that quite honestly scared the
devil out of him.

If she was a traitor, she needed to be
brought to justice. Even if it made him sick to think of it.

And if she was innocent…

"When shall I begin?"

"Tonight. There is to be a special party
hosted by Montmouth. Red, or as you know her, Lady Gwendolyn, will
be making her debut this evening. It will be up to you to…" Wilkins
looked to the ceiling and shook his head before meeting Hunter's
gaze yet again. "It will be up to you to pay special attention to
her. It is imperative that it look genuine."

If his lust was any more genuine, the girl
would end up with her skirts tossed to the sky in but a few hours.
"Am I to understand that you need me to flirt shamelessly with the
woman?"

Wilkins shook his head. "I need you to make
her desirable and in true rakish fashion, set yourself up as the
name whispered upon young ladies' lips. It will distract the
gentlemen from pursuing the other ladies, leaving them to pursue
Red."

"My, my." Hunter laughed bitterly. "Is that
all?"

"No." Wilkins rose from his seat. "If you
have reason to believe she is dangerous, I need you to eliminate
her from the equation."

"Eliminate her," Hunter repeated, sick to his
stomach as he remembered Gwen's saucy smile.

"Kill her, Hunter." Wilkins never used
Hunter's Christian name. It made the situation too personal, too
real. "Eliminate your target. After all, you are an assassin and
the best spy the Crown has. It is what you do, is it not?"

Hunter regained his composure and gave a
stiff nod. "It is what I do best."

"Then we will meet again in a few weeks. My
thanks." Wilkins held out his hand and shook Hunter's firmly. "Do
say hello to your grandfather for me. Shame that he can no longer
speak, for I fear he would be able to shed light on this situation
for us."

Hunter paused with a grimace. The subject of
his grandfather was not something he desired to pursue, even if his
grandfather by marriage had been one of the best spies the country
had ever seen. Not to mention one of the premier men next to
Scovell, who worked with the codes.

"You will need to speak to him about the
three men we are investigating, Haverstone. After all, before his
recent accident, he was very much still involved with the dealings
of the War Office as well as the codes."

Hunter grunted, then left the room before he
said something he'd regret. He had not spoken to Lainhart in years,
and he had no desire to start now.

Hunter refused to take the blame for his
grandfather's bitterness. They were not blood related, for he had
been Lucy's grandfather. The old man always did have something to
complain about, whether it be his granddaughter marrying too young,
or marrying a man who worked for the Crown.

Hunter smirked. The old man got his wish in
the end. For the week after his wife's death, Hunter had attended
one ball and ruined everything.

****

"The chess pieces have been placed very
nicely, don't you think?" the gentleman asked as he took a long sip
of whiskey. The London sky was darkening as if it were in tune with
the plans that lay ahead. Plans that had taken over ten years to
fulfill. Finally, riches would be his.

"Yes, though I find myself at a loss. Why set
up the girl when she is clearly innocent? Isn't our goal to trap
the Wolf?"

"Bait, my friend." The man chuckled. "Little
Red will be our bait, and the very thing that will push him over
the edge."

"How do you know?"

The man threw the glass to the floor and
stomped over to his partner, sneering in his face as he noticed the
man's lips tremble in fear. "Because this isn't the first time I've
betrayed the Wolf, and I doubt it will be my last." He released his
trembling partner and cursed. "Now, stop dallying. We have a war to
win."

****

It began to rain, which fit quite perfectly
into his already frustrated mood. Hunter slowly made his way down
the stairs into the street. Once he was inside his carriage, he
threw off his hat and leaned his head against the cold leather
interior.

London was the same.

Everything was the same.

From the dreary pungent smell, to the
constant gray skies, it was as if the city was mocking him. How was
he to do his job when it was difficult for him to put one foot in
front of the other without becoming paralyzed with grief?

The carriage moved slowly, causing an
agonizing thump to begin in Hunter's chest. He passed Lucy's
favorite park, her parents' townhome, and finally they passed
Gunther's.

Hunter hit the side of the door with as much
force as he could, which was poor considering his ill state. With a
loud curse, he threw the door open just in time to spew the
contents of his stomach into the street.

And directly onto a pair of shiny Hoby
boots.

"Drinking so early in the morning? That is
not at all like you, old friend." Dominique Maksylov, royal prince
of Russia and new Earl of Hariss, shook his head in amusement while
kicking his boots against the street in dismay.

"Apologies." Hunter cleared his throat and
prayed his friend of ten years wouldn't notice the exhaustion and
worry etched across his brow.

"For drinking or for being unable to handle
your drink?"

"Neither." Hunter smiled the first real smile
that day. "I had only one drink, if you must know, Mother. I was
merely sick from the carriage ride. Never could sit backwards."

"If it helps, keep your curtains closed,
Hunter." Dominique put his hand on Hunter's shoulder, making him
feel immediately worse. Why the devil did Dominique have to be so
blasted sensitive to everything Hunter was feeling? Truly, God was
giving him a taste of his own medicine. Was it only a few months
ago that Hunter had involved himself in helping his old friend find
happiness? A bit of calling the kettle black, he suspected, now
that the roles were reversed.

His eyes quickly scanned Dominique. Gone was
his beastly appearance. His hair was trimmed short, and his smile
appeared permanent. Hunter clenched his teeth and tried to pull
away from Dominique's heavy hand.

But he held firm.

"Stay with us."

No, the last thing he needed was to be
reminded about how bitterly
un
happy he was. Staying the
Season with Dominique and his beautiful wife sounded just as fun as
banging his head against a rock. "No."

"Yes."

"No, blast it all. Dominique, I cannot stay
with you! I'll stay at one of my homes. I do have means." He jerked
away and scowled.

"So it is to be like that?"

"I do not know what you are referring to. You
always were vague with your words."

Dominique threw his head back and laughed
before returning his twinkling gaze to Hunter. "I won't take no for
an answer."

"Well…" Hunter crossed his arms. "It seems we
are at an impasse. Shall it be pistols at dawn, then?"

Dominique squinted. "It is that bad then,
isn't it?"

"What is?"

His friend swallowed and looked away. "It is
your first time back since the accident."

Accident? To say it had been an accident was
nearly unbearable, for that meant it could have been prevented.
Should have been prevented. Hunter felt the all-too-familiar sting
behind his eyes, the lump in his throat, and the pain that came
when one was trying to hold in a decade of tears. "It is."

"If shooting me will make you feel better,
I'll allow it. Just be sure to explain to my wife upon my death
that your pride got in the way of taking help from a friend when
you needed it the most."

Hunter rolled his eyes. "You always were
dramatic."

"Compared to your current state, I'm a Greek
comedy. I'll expect your things later this afternoon." Dominique
turned on his heel and left.

Hunter wasn't sure how long he stared at the
street. His footman cleared his throat several times, people passed
him by, some pointed, others whispered. But he ignored everything
save the sound of his heart beating.
Thump, thump, thump.
It
should be a comfort, to know one had a healthy beat in his chest,
but all it did was remind him that while his was beating, hers was
not.

Wolf—

It seems we are to be partners. I would
rather drown myself in the river Thames, but alas my country needs
me, especially since their most notorious spy is rumored to have
lost his touch. Shall we meet later, or did you need more time to
bathe and eat chocolate?

—
Red

Gwen looked down at the paper and grimaced.
It was worse than she'd thought if Mrs. Peabody was already picking
up on Hunter's notorious affairs. What had he done that was so
terrible all those years ago? She read on as her sister continued
to laugh about their conversation.

It seems, dear readers, that the Devil Duke
and Lord Rawlings have officially lost their titles as the worst
sort of rake the ton has ever seen. They can thank me later for my
kind words. Gentlemen, I enjoy tea and chocolates. You may send any
sort of gift to my publisher.

Now on to more important topics. How, you may
ask, have two such notorious rakes been dethroned? Well, let us
just say that the man many a rake used to look up to, has returned
with a vengeance, and he doesn't care a whit about what he says or
does. It shouldn't come as a surprise; after all, nobody could
forget the incident of 1806, which I refuse to acknowledge, given
the circumstances surrounding it. One thing I will say, however.
Ladies, beware of the easy smile and devil-may-care demeanor. They
lead to one thing, and it isn't matrimonial bliss. Beware, the Wolf
has returned and he, dear readers, is on the prowl. —Mrs. Peabody's
Society Papers

"You may cease laughing now," Gwen scolded
her sister Rosalind as she took another sip of tea, throwing the
gossip rag onto the chair in disgust.

"I just cannot help myself." She wiped a tear
of mirth from under her eye and gave Gwen's hand a squeeze. "It is
just too funny for words. Debut? You?"

"I am of age!" Gwen raised her voice and then
cleared her throat. "Do you not think it is time for me to settle
down and find a husband?"

Rosalind sobered and looked down at her lap.
"I wish every sort of happiness for you, sister. It is just…" She
bit her lip. Gwen waited. "Do you think it is too soon since…?"

Gwen rolled her eyes. "How many times do I
need to reassure you? Absolutely nothing happened while I was on my
own. I realize I'm not ruined in your eyes and that the rumors have
been extremely painful to hear, but sister, I am ready."

"…To enter into the lion's den, hmm?"
Montmouth strode into the room and kissed his wife briefly across
the mouth before taking a seat. It wasn't at all odd for him to
take tea with them. He was, after all, family. Not to mention he
acted in the place of their deceased father while their mother was
currently in Bedlam.

"It will be fine." Gwen was reassuring
herself as much as she was them. It would never be just fine. She
knew she was a social pariah. The ton caught wind that she had gone
after her sister, alone, in a traveling coach as well as aboard a
ship, and she was considered a jezebel of the first order. To add
pain to the entire situation, there wasn't a day that went by when
she wasn't propositioned by some sort of gentleman to be his
mistress.

"Lady Gwendolyn, I've always admired you from
afar, and now that you are ruined…" The man would always pause
here, as if to give sensual effect to his words as his hand traced
her collarbone. "Do you not wish for some sort of male protection?
Or companionship? I believe we will get along quite well
together."

Just thinking on it made her angry.

The last man who had propositioned her, Sir
Kirkland, had hobbled away holding himself and cursing all women to
perdition. She'd been quickly escorted from that ball.

"Gwen." Montmouth exhaled. "Are you sure you
wish to debut, tonight of all nights? Why not wait a year, wait
until another scandal."

"Do you truly think people would ever forget
about mine, Stefan?" She'd always addressed him as such, and
considering he was the closest family she had other than her
sisters, he didn't seem to mind, but one could never be sure with
Stefan.

He closed his eyes as if in pain. Rosalind
patted his arm. "I do not wish for you to do this."

Gwen gave them each a warm smile and leaned
forward. "I will be fine. Through all of this I have seen that I am
stronger than even I give myself credit for. I very much wish to be
married. At least by debuting, we will put a stop to all the
propositions for being someone's mistress."

"Doubt that." Stefan snorted, clenching his
fist. "But if you wish it, I will allow it."

Gwen had expected her heart to stop beating
in that moment. The last thing she wanted was to debut and go to a
ball where everyone would stare at her and wonder if she still held
her virginity. The women would gossip, the men would openly stare,
and she would count herself lucky if she could escape the evening
without at least three attempts from young gentlemen to kiss her or
pull her into a corner.