The Wolf’s Pursuit (London Fairy Tales #3)(44)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

"When did wisdom suddenly give you the benefit of its blessing?"

Dominique chuckled. "Easy, I married her."

"Cheers." Hunter held up his glass. "To women."

With a laugh and a clink, Dominique finished his glass. "To women!"

"Huzzah!" a few men shouted behind them.

Conversation shifted to Dominique and his family, as well as Hunter’s upcoming nuptials, but as much as Hunter tried, he couldn’t find the smile that had plagued him before. The pressure of the world seemed to cave in on him. The minute Dominique had opened his mouth and spouted off all that ridiculousness about being honest with one’s wife was the minute Hunter found it not only difficult to breathe but also blasted hot.

It was not fair to keep such things from Gwen, but fear has its way of keeping him from moving forward.

In that moment, Hunter saw everything within his reach. A woman who would both challenge and ignite him. A life filled with the comfort of being around his friends. The life that, not nine years ago, he had lusted after and strived for was once again within his reach.

So why couldn’t he have it? What was causing this panic?

Nine years ago, he had felt happy, free, his smile as wide as it had been today, and in an instant he had lost it all.

When God chose to bless a person, it was both frightening and wonderful. For one had to wonder, when everything was going right, when everything was perfect, were you only one step away from disaster?

Excusing himself early, Hunter left and went in search of the Horse and Hare. He knew what he had to do. He had to solve the mystery of the ciphers now. If not, he shuddered to think of what hung in the balance.

His future happiness and Gwen’s depended on his success and this time, he would not fail.

Chapter Twenty-five

Wolf—

I imagine she is quite content to be in your dreams. Perhaps you should think upon that instead of the blood and death. Think of the very idea that this woman, this love, is in your dreams every night, exactly where she desires to be, for dreams are directly connected to one’s heart. And it seems that her heart is yours for the taking.

—Red

The establishment was poorly lit and filled with more drunks than Hunter cared to surround himself with.

He quickly moved through the crowds of gentlemen slapping one another on the back and belching, and sat down.

"You’re early," a voice said behind him. Was everyone sneaking up on him these days? Perhaps retirement truly was in the cards for him.

He waited until Wilkins sat down across from him.

Wilkins looked quite normal for having just lost a very important part of his case. "Redding is dead, as you well know."

"Yes, which only leaves us Hollins, considering we traced a smuggling ring back to Trehmont — nothing there."

"I would not discount Trehmont." Wilkins appeared thoughtful. "After all, he is just desperate enough for the money to do it."

Hunter nodded. "But he has been making quite a lot of blunt from his smuggling. Why would he need more?"

Wilkins shrugged. "Greed. A person always wants more. Wouldn’t you agree?"

Something shifted in the air. Hunter examined Wilkins’ face. He appeared tired, but not upset or even depressed that he had lost Redding.

"I am sorry about Redding. If I would have been there sooner…" Hunter trailed off.

Wilkins waved him away. "It is not your fault. Besides, it is possible that he was the spy in the first place. In fact…" He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a few notes. "We found these at his residence."

"What are they?" Hunter picked up each sheet of paper. Codes littered the front of them. Obviously it was impossible to decipher them without his grandfather’s help.

"Proof."

"Of?"

"Treason." Wilkins shook his head. "Though I hate to see Redding take the fall. He was, after all, a decorated hero and a good man. The money must have been too hard to pass up."

"Right." Hunter looked closely at the codes and noticed that the tiny symbols did not resemble the first note he’d received. "And you say these are perfect copies of the notes given to the front lines?"

"Absolutely." Wilkins grimaced and rose to his feet. "Keep them for now. If you would like to have them deciphered, that is fine by me. They are, after all, old news."

Hunter stuffed the codes into his pocket. "Is that all?"

"This investigation is over, for now." Wilkins rose to his feet. Hunter grabbed his arm, motioning for him to wait.

"It is about Red." He scratched his head. "It seems I have compromised her."

"Her cover is blown?" Wilkins whispered.

"I did not compromise her in that capacity." Hunter looked away, suddenly embarrassed. "I compromised her, if you get my meaning."

"Tossed her skirts, did you?"

Oh, how he wished! "Not yet, though I came close."

"Wouldn’t be the first time someone was interested in that little delicacy, believe me. How do you think the woman was able to infiltrate into Napoleon’s elite so quickly?"

Hunter saw red. He clenched his fist and pounded the table. "Never speak of her in that way again. She is to be my wife."

"Is she?" Wilkins smiled, and then chuckled, and finally threw his head back and gave in to full-on laughter. "This is more perfect than I could have imagined it."

"Perfect?" Hunter’s fist was still clenched. He was seconds away from flattening the man.

Wilkins wiped his eyes and shook his head. "Yes, well. Congratulations are in order, good fellow. When is the wedding?"

"Special license, three days."

"Are you resigning?" Wilkins asked.

Was he? Why were things so complicated? "Yes, I believe I am."

"I remember when you resigned the first time, and look how that turned out."

Hunter jerked to his feet and glared. "Explain yourself."

Wilkins took a step back from Hunter. His eyes never wavered as he looked him up and down. "Just reminding you of what happens when you allow your emotions to rule your decisions, friend."

Cursing, Hunter ran his hands through his hair and looked away. "Are we done?"

"More than you know, Hunter. More than you know." With that, Wilkins walked off, leaving Hunter more confused than ever. Yet the weight on his chest was lifted. He was doing the right thing. His priorities were straight. For the first time in nine years, the guilt that had weighed so heavily on his heart did not seem so heavy. A fresh start. He had been given a fresh start.