The Wolf's Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(8)

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?"