The Wolfe's Mate

‘Easily,’ said Ben. ‘Damme, man. Answer the question.’

Jess looked Susanna up and down as though she were a prize horse. ‘Well,’ he said doubtfully, ‘she’s only supposed to be eighteen. I’d put her as a little older than that. On the other hand, she claimed to be a duenna and, in my experience, duennas are usually middle-aged; she certainly doesn’t resemble or behave like any duenna I’ve ever met and—’

‘Jess! Stop it. You’re blithering. I know what duennas look like. Give me a straight answer.’

‘Wouldn’t it be simpler if you listened to me?’ Susanna was all helpfulness. ‘Perhaps you could explain why, if I’m Miss Western, heiress, I should be kidnapped outside an office for the placement of young gentlewomen needing employment, i.e. Miss Shanks’s Employment Bureau, and carry its card in my reticule. Look,’ and she handed it to Ben Wolfe who stared at it as though it were a grenade about to go off at any moment.

‘She has a point,’ observed Jess gloomily.

‘Does that mean, yes, she’s Miss Western or, no, she’s Miss Beverly?’ snapped Ben, tossing Jess the card.

‘No, she’s Miss Beverly.’

‘God help me, I think so, too. You picked up the wrong woman.’

‘Kidnapped her, on your orders, which he faithfully carried out,’ interrupted Susanna, her mouth full of the last macaroon. ‘You really can’t pretend that you’re not the one responsible for me being here.’

Master and man stared at one another.

‘Apart from gagging her to stop her everlasting nagging, what the hell do we do now?’ asked Mr Ben Wolfe of Mr Jess Fitzroy, who slowly shook his head.

Chapter Three

‘Missing?’ said Mrs Western to Amelia’s maid, who had been sent to remind Miss Beverly that she should have been in attendance on Amelia at six of the clock precisely to see that she was turned out à point in order to attend the little supper party which the Earl, George’s father, was giving for them at Babbacombe House that evening.

‘She’s not in her room, madam, and the housekeeper says that she went out early this afternoon, saying that it would not be long before she returned. She has not been seen since.’

‘You visited her room, I collect. Was there any sign that she had intended to be away for some time?’

The maid shook her head. ‘Not at all, madam. The ensemble which she proposed to wear this evening was laid out on her bed, together with her slippers, evening reticule and fan.’

Mrs Western heaved a great sigh. ‘How provoking of her! You are sure that she is not in the house—hiding in the library, perhaps? She spends a great deal of time there which would be better spent with Miss Western.’

‘I enquired of the librarian, madam, but she has not visited it today.’

‘I should never have hired her—although, until now, she has carried out her duties well enough—but tigers do not change their spots…or do I mean leopards? What are you smiling at, Amelia?’

‘It’s leopards, mama, I’m sure—or so Miss Beverly always says. But it’s no great thing that she’s missing. I am to marry soon and shall not be needing a duenna—and in any case, young women about to be married are always allowed greater freedom than those who are not. We could let her go immediately. I, for one, shall not miss her.’

‘Not until you’re married,’ moaned Mrs Western. ‘We must be seen to do the right thing.’

She snapped her fingers at the maid. ‘Keep a watch out for Miss Beverly and tell her to report to me the moment she returns—she cannot be long now, surely. Her absence is most inconvenient.’

The maid bobbed a curtsy and said, ‘Yes, madam.’ Later, after the maid had spoken to the housekeeper, they agreed with Mrs Western that the duenna would shortly turn up. But no, time wore on—the Westerns left for Babbacombe House and still the duenna had not reappeared.

‘Run off with someone, no doubt,’ offered Mr Western when they reached home again and she was still missing. ‘If she’s not back by morning, we’ll inform the Runners of her absence—just in case something odd might have occurred.’

‘Never mind that, Mr Western—whatever the circumstances, you will agree with me that she’s to be turned away without a reference.’

‘Indeed, my dear. Amelia is right. She no longer needs a duenna for these last few weeks before she marries.’

Susanna was not to know—although she had already guessed—the manner in which her disappearance was treated by the Western family and the way in which it would complete the ruin which Francis Sylvester had begun.

While Mrs Western and Amelia were discussing her fate so callously, she was sitting alone before the now-empty teaboard, Ben Wolfe and his chief henchman having retreated to Ben’s study in order to discuss how to extricate themselves from the quagmire into which they had fallen as a result of kidnapping the wrong woman.

Not, Susanna concluded, wondering whether to ring the bell and ask for something more to eat, that there was such a thing as the right woman where kidnapping was concerned! And why was Mr Wolfe so bent on depriving George Darlington of his bride? There was a fine puzzle for her to solve.

The secret little smile she gave when she thought of what the two men might be planning in order to repair their present unhappy situation was quite a naughty one.

I really should not be amused, she told herself severely, for I can think of no happy way out of this brouhaha for myself. On the other hand…She paused, and thought carefully for some minutes. On the other hand, I must admit that Ben Wolfe seems to be a man of great resourcefulness, but he will need all of that to disentangle himself from the spider’s web which he has created.

She was not far wrong about Ben. Once out of the sound of Susanna’s mocking voice, constantly reminding him of what a cake he had made of himself, he had recovered the cold-blooded and cold-hearted equanimity which had taken him from poverty to immense riches.

‘Don’t say anything, Jess,’ he had commanded, his right hand raised, when they reached his study, a comfortable room that was all oak, leather and bookshelves. ‘I freely acknowledge my error. I am entirely to blame, and conceit has been my undoing. You carried out my orders to the letter and the only thing I can fault you for is not reporting to me the lady’s reaction when you kidnapped her. What I have to do now is save the situation from becoming even worse than it already is.

‘I cannot allow this innocent young woman to suffer as a consequence of my folly, but how to rescue her poses a number of difficulties. If you have any suggestions to offer, pray make them now.’

He flung himself into a high-backed chair which stood before a large oak desk on which pens, papers, sand, sealing wax, rulers and a large ledger were carefully arranged. As elsewhere in the house the room was meticulously ordered, a monument to the care with which Ben Wolfe normally arranged his life and that of those around him.

Jess looked down at him, a rueful smile on his face. ‘If I had a magic sentence which, once uttered, put all to rights again, then I would offer it to you,’ he said. ‘But for the life of me I cannot think what would mend matters—or, indeed, if they could be mended. The young woman is here, will be missed by her employers and will have no tale to offer them which would not end in ruining us all—including her.’

‘Job,’ said Ben bitterly. ‘I might have known that you would be Job’s comforter. One thing, she cannot stay here long, in a house of men, with no duenna for herself, so that must be the first remedy—but how?’

He leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, his eyes closed. Jess had seen him do this many times before when he was concentrating, so he remained as still and silent as he could.

Ben began by reproaching himself for his carelessness. The young woman, Susanna, had the right of it. But enough of that. He needed a duenna for the duenna. But who? And how? How much time passed as he cleared his mind of thought and waited for inspiration to strike he never knew.

He lifted his head, looked at Jess, and said, ‘I have it. Celeste. I wonder that I did not think of her before.’

‘Celeste?’ asked Jess, puzzled.

‘Yes. Celeste. Madame la Comtesse de Saulx who is living not two miles away and whose reputation is beyond reproach.’

‘You mean the Frenchwoman who has rented the Hall outside Lavendon. She is the epitome of all that is proper,’ returned Jess. ‘I had no notion that you knew her.’

‘I know her, and she is not French—although she sounds as though she is.’

‘And you think that she would agree to help us?’

Ben smiled. He had never looked so wolfish. ‘Oh, I think she might be persuaded.’

He did not say, I know that she will and for reasons which I cannot discuss with you—or anyone else. All that remained was for him to ride over to her home, Primrose Hall, and ask her to help him—and immediately.

Jess watched him as he rose, saying, ‘Ask Nicholson to have my curricle and my best pair of chestnuts ready as soon as possible. I’ll drive over immediately. It’s only a short run and she can come back with me straight away. Tell the housekeeper to prepare another suite of rooms for her and for her maid—and possibly an attendant if she wishes to stay overnight. I doubt that she will, but one never knows.

‘In her hands, Miss Beverly’s reputation should be quite safe.’

He bounded out of the room, all his usual violent energy restored.