The Wolf's Pursuit Read online

  Imagine, the nerve of the man! As if she was not currently in the same predicament! She had been working for the Crown for months without her family's knowledge! At the time of her initial dealings with the War Office, she could have walked the streets of London dressed as a footman and her mother wouldn't have batted an eye. Granted, it was later decided she was quite mad, but still.

  Gwen shook the memories from her head, allowing the feel of the Wolf's kiss to dissolve into her subconscious, though she knew it would be back and she'd yet again want his hands on her, regardless of propriety or the fact that every time he opened his mouth she imagined shooting him with her pistol.

  "My lady?" Mr. Wilkins cleared his throat again. "Have you been listening to anything at all? Apologies, but I've never seen you so distracted."

  Distracted, hah! Overheated? Well… Gwen gave the man a tight smile. "As I've said before, I no longer wish to endanger myself or my family."

  "Alright, well. Off you go."

  "Pardon?" Gwen nearly tipped over from the shock. "Aren't you going to try to convince me? Offer me more money? Make me feel guilty for not protecting my country and all that?"

  "No." He shook his head. "Good day to you."

  "But..."

  Mr. Wilkins gave an exasperated sigh. "What is it you want? Do you want me to grovel? For I will not do it. Another agent, the one who is to be your partner, will just have to go at it alone. Not that I doubt his ability to do so, but his cover has long ago been blown, making it increasingly difficult for him to do his job."

  "Partner? Another agent?"

  "But of course. This was to be a covert operation, my lady. After all, the Season is underway, and the exact place I need you to infiltrate is the one you were born into."

  "The Season? You want me to…" Gwen searched for the correct word. "Debut?"

  "In a word, yes. But that will be all. I cannot tell you too much, my dear, for you've already said no. The Wolf will no doubt find success sooner without a woman by his side—"

  "—I accept!" Gwen shouted.

  "What of your family? Hmm? Their safety? Your own personal morals and ethics and…"

  Gwen rolled her eyes. She couldn't very well curse her family to perdition, not when she was already certain the Wolf would be there. Truly it would be an unkindness to her flesh and blood. Though at this moment, all she cared about was proving to the man that she was his equal as a spy, in every way. "I care for my family a great deal," she said demurely. "However, I am finding the idea that any sort of danger could befall them during the Season appalling, and for that reason, and that alone, I will accept this mission." Well, that reason and the interesting fact that she would be working alongside the man who haunted her dreams every night.

  Perhaps she could strangle him in person now that he would be making an appearance.

  "Brilliant." Mr. Wilkins grinned. "I'll send word to him posthaste. I just need to iron out a few details with the man. I hope you realize, my lady, that you will be entirely on your own in this operation. The Wolf will be there if you need him, he will provide protection and work as a distraction, but you will be the one to do the dirty work. Do you understand what I am saying?" At Gwen's silence, he continued, "There are some things a woman may do to persuade a man and gain information of a certain type… now do you understand?"

  Only too well. For hadn't she done the exact same thing with Napoleon's elite? Only she had been the distraction as the man salivated over her, touched her, and made her feel like a whore. At least now she would have someone to look after her — that is, if the Wolf could keep his paws to himself.

  Gwen gave Wilkins a tight smile. "But of course I understand. Good day." He gave her a quick nod, and she walked to the door, her heart pounding, for she finally realized what she had just agreed to.

  A debut into society, with none other than the Wolf as her partner. She only hoped she could finish the Season with her wits still intact, and if not that, at least her virginity.

  ****

  It's easier to believe you're a failure. So much easier than trying to wrap your mind around the simple truth or perhaps the idea that you are so much more than you choose to be.

  Growling, Hunter stared down at the papers and sighed. Nine years. It had been nine blasted years since he saw her face, felt her lifeless body in his arms, and not a night went by that he didn't feel the stab of regret slam into his chest.

  He should have been on time.

  Because when a person has regrets they always go through every other possibility, every outcome, every situation, tossing and turning the puzzle around, trying to make sense of the awful situations that befall them. And Hunter had come to one conclusion, and one conclusion only.

  The love of his life, his sun, his moon, his morning star, lost the light in her eyes because he was not but a few minutes late.

  Which is why, as he crossed the street into Mayfair that dreary afternoon in London, he felt the need to be early. So early, in fact, that he was able to see the flash of ebony hair as it left the exact place he was to be meeting with Wilkins.

  Blast, now he was even seeing Gwen in broad daylight, forget his dreams. The woman was an absolute terror on his peace of mind, and to think, he had only known her for such a short period. To spend more time in her company would be inviting madness right into his life.

  And he'd had enough of madness, thank you very much.

  With a curse and loud whistle, he thrust his hands into his pockets and marched up the stairs and into the large townhouse.

  In the past, he had always let himself in, and often went into the green salon to pour himself a brandy while waiting for Wilkins to finish with his current victim.

  If he was lucky, he would barge in on his boss torturing a poor soul for information. Not one to get his hands dirty, Hunter was quite good at delivering empty threats, as well as slicing a man from head to toe without once drawing his knife.

  The stale smell of the house was the same as he remembered it.

  Always the same.

  Hunter cursed, irritated that a smell would cause such melancholy to fall onto his shoulders. He hated when he let his emotions get the best of him. It made him feel like every other sorry idiot out there, just sitting in a room, alone, thinking about the one thing he'd rather die than think about.

  He poured himself a brandy and cursed aloud. How was it that, in the time it took for him to take a sip from a glass, everything could change in an instant? How does a person go from smiling to crying? The only obvious answer was that life was not fair. It had never been fair to him. It didn't make sense that within a minute, his smile was replaced with fear, and his joy replaced with tears.

  No, life was not fair, and if it was, he certainly wasn't on the receiving end. The brandy sat like a brick in his stomach. Hunter set the glass on the table and rubbed his eyes, the turmoil of the morning getting to him. He needed to stop thinking so much and just get the blasted job done.

  Emotions were of no use to him. He laughed bitterly in the empty room. As much as he preached to others about being open and carefree — he was actually quite the opposite of everything he pretended to be.

  The sad truth of his ability to laugh through life was based solely on the fact that he didn't care if he lived or died, and that sickened him more than he could bear, for his wife wouldn't have wanted him to live his life in such a way.

  But it was the only way he knew to survive.

  "Ah, Haverstone, always a pleasure." Wilkins barged into the room, wiping his hands with a cloth.

  So it had been dirty business.

  Immediately Hunter's mind went to Gwen. Had she been involved? Was she still working for the Crown? Had she come to her senses and quit?

  "I believe…" Wilkins cleared his throat and took a seat, "that this particular mission may be something you will find…" He looked to the ground and grinned before gazing again at Hunter. "Shall we say, distasteful?"

  Hunter tried to appear amused though
his mood proved quite the opposite. "Oh? Pray tell, will I need to seduce half of London in the name of the Crown? Perhaps I need only seduce the dingy half, yes?"

  "No." Wilkins grinned and leaned back. "Would you care for a brandy?"

  "I see." Hunter nodded. Perhaps if he drank more, this sick feeling in his stomach would alleviate. "So it is to be that type of mission."

  "But I have not yet explained what it is you need to accomplish."

  "You don't need to." Hunter stretched his arms above his head and sighed. "If you find it necessary to give me brandy before the assignment, then it must be nasty business indeed."

  Wilkins merely nodded in agreement. After a pregnant silence, he rose from his seat and walked over to the cabinet to pour some brandy. He handed Hunter a glass and threw back the contents of his own before filling it up again.

  So it truly was that bad.

  "What is it that His Majesty needs me to do?" Hunter asked plainly as he slowly sipped the amber liquid.

  "Enter into society." Wilkins winced as he took another sip of brandy. "That is to say, if you can manage it successfully and without seducing the lesser half of London in the process."

  Irritated, Hunter drank the rest of the fiery liquid and cursed. "If I can manage? I believe I've been adequately managing for over ten years, Wilkins. Entering into society will be easier than entering into Napoleon's bedroom, I assure you."

  "It will not be that easy, I assure you." Wilkins fired back.

  "Do you so easily forget who I am?"

  "No, but clearly you do." Wilkins took a seat opposite Hunter and sighed. "You cannot be absent from society for near a decade after your wife's accident and your brother's mysterious death without causing a debacle. It isn't in the ton's nature and you very well know it. Besides, your cover has long ago been blown, no thanks to you."

  It hadn't been Hunter's fault that the papers had taken stories of his escapades and made him famous. Known as the Wolf of Haverstone, he was probably more of a target than anyone. Truly, he wouldn't be surprised if someone was trying to assassinate him this very minute, even though rumors of his retirement had hit the papers. It mattered not, for he was still a dangerous man, which is what made this mission seem odd. How was he to gain information when he hadn't the trust of anyone?

  Suddenly uneasy, Hunter leaned back and exhaled. "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

  "We've secured you a partner."

  "I work alone."

  Wilkins shook his head. "Not this time."

  "You force me to be disagreeable in having to repeat myself a second time, sir. I work alone. I always have."

  "Without offending your obviously delicate sensibilities about needing any sort of help, I assure you, you are working with a partner this time. You have no cover; therefore, you will be making sure this person does the job and gleans the information needed from our list of suspicious gentlemen."

  Anger welled in Hunter's chest. He bit his lip and looked away, into the empty dust of the fireplace. "Who?"

  "Red."

  "Absolutely not." He jerked his head toward Wilkins and cursed. "No. A woman? Are you mad?"

  "No, but perhaps I'm a bit tired and desperate." Wilkins smiled then, and Hunter noticed the dark circles under his eyes as well as the lines forming around his downturned mouth.

  Hunter sighed and closed his eyes. Never had he worked with a partner, and surely not a woman. It wouldn't be a good match. How was he to be agreeable with the same woman he wanted to bed as well as fight every second of the day? "Has something happened that I need to be aware of?" Hopefully Wilkins would take the bait. There was only one reason that the Crown would be this desperate.

  Wilkins gave him a sad look then cursed as he walked to the door, shut it, and locked it. As he walked back to his seat he explained. "There are only a handful of people who are familiar with what I am about to tell you." Wilkins took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. "The ciphers are being cracked. Somehow the French have unlocked the code."

  Hunter shifted uncomfortably as his mind went back to the night he and Gwen had met. Was that what the gentlemen in Belgium had been passing back and forth?

  No, it had to have been something else, for the French were currently losing the war. Though to be honest, many Englishmen had been slowly losing their fortunes by idly twiddling their thumbs at White's rather than taking care of their own lands. In thought, he shook his head. Impossible. If they had broken the ciphers, it would be evident from the course of the war. If Napoleon knew the disposition of the Seventh Coalition's forces, he would not be in retreat. He'd turn with one of those lightning strokes for which he was known, and defeat this coalition the way he'd defeated the six that had preceded it.

  "Impossible."

  "Apparently not. There are three men who know the code. We have reason to suspect it is one of them."

  "How are the ciphers taken to the front lines?"

  "Sir Hollins writes the codes taught to him by his mentor. The cipher is then given to Viscount Redding. Every Tuesday at precisely four o'clock in the afternoon he takes a carriage ride down Rotten Row, where he meets with the Earl of Trehmont. They discuss the weather and if a certain phrase is exchanged, they shake hands and the code is given to Trehmont to post." Wilkins bit his protruding lower lip, another tell of the man's nervousness.

  "And if the phrase is not exchanged?"

  "Each man goes on his way, a sure indicator that a code does not need to be delivered. The process is flawless."

  Hunter thought about this for a moment. "So one of these men is a traitor."

  "A dangerous traitor, Haverstone. We've followed each of them for weeks and come up with nothing." Wilkins looked down. "The war is not yet over. Wellington is forcing Napoleon's Imperial forces to retreat, but the emperor remains dangerous and if he defeats Wellington, the war could drag on for another decade. France cannot afford to lose and we cannot afford to let them win. We need our people to be behind us, to believe us. If not, our fate will be the same as theirs. We both know what happens to single-minded people when they lose their leaders. They become like sheep, and are easily led astray. We are at a critical moment in our country's history. You will enter into society with Red and eliminate the moles if necessary."

  "And our only suspects are Trehmont, Redding, and Hollins?"

  "All of those gentleman are of high priority, but their help in the War Office has been outstanding. Part of your mission will be dependent on entering into these men's lives without appearing too obvious."

  Hunter cursed. "Is that all, then?"

  Wilkins coughed and looked away. "There is one more person we are investigating; however, it is much more..." Wilkins paused. "Delicate. We need to be sure he or she is not able to communicate any more with Napoleon's elite."

  "He or she?" Confused, Hunter leaned his full weight on his legs as he pushed forward out of his chair, closer to Wilkins.

  "Your partner, Red. Though it was not our fault that she was with Napoleon as long as she was, she suffered tremendously under the pressure of the assignment. Although we have no reason to believe she changed sides, we are concerned that she may be tempted to. Too long on the field and all that."

  Gwen? Surely not! Hunter laughed aloud. "A woman?"

  "It is no laughing matter."

  "A woman?" he repeated, and shook his head. What was the world coming to? A woman was not intelligent enough to pull something like this off. Yet his heart clenched at the thought. For he used to know a woman who was more intelligent than the ton combined, but she was no longer breathing. Her smile was gone as was her soul.

  His heart twisted painfully in his chest.

  "I refuse to believe it."

  "Be that as it may. We need you to help stage a debut. We believe if we set her up in society that the chips may fall precisely as we like. Not only will she be the center of attention given her certain reputation, but the men who you are investigating are all single and in need of wives. I
t has been blatantly suggested that they begin their search. Gwen is very capable of making a man want her."

  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?"