Luck of the Wolf

A scheme that, apparently, had failed at some point in the years since he had left the duke’s service. Given the way di Reinardus had abandoned him in New Orleans once he’d taken the girl, Yuri couldn’t help but take a great deal of satisfaction in that fact.

He pushed the cigarette between his lips and tried to strike a match. His fingers trembled too much to keep it steady.

Think. If this girl had in fact lost her memory, it might explain why she hadn’t gone straight back to New Orleans. Perhaps she’d been on the run ever since.

But when had she left Gunther? Weeks ago? Years? Gunther would have begun grooming her for the throne as soon as he took her, and that would not have been a difficult task, given her upbringing among the New Orleans Reniers. Raised to be accomplished and cultivated, accustomed to every luxury due a girl of breeding, she would have needed little refining.

Where had that refinement gone? The way this girl had eaten, spoken, behaved … none of that suggested an aristocratic background. What had Alese di Reinardus, also known as Lucienne Renier, become?

And where in God’s name was Gunther?

Casting an uneasy glance toward the door, Yuri finally managed to light the match and nearly burned his fingers. He threw the blackened stick to the floor. Unless Gunther’s death or complete incapacitation had set Alese free—and Yuri didn’t believe anything short of the wrath of God himself could kill the bastard—the duke must be looking for her. Perhaps the girl’s amnesia was merely an embellishment to a desperate masquerade.

Gunther would certainly never rest until he found her. But if he had tracked her here to San Francisco, Yuri would soon know. The duke would quickly have learned the name of the man who had taken possession of his missing prize.

He would be on this doorstep momentarily, if he were not here already.

Sucking in a deep lungful of smoke, Yuri closed his eyes. Perhaps, for once, the duke had failed. Perhaps Alese had well and truly eluded him. And that left a whole wealth of opportunities for Yuri and Cort. Dangerous ones, perhaps, but if they acted quickly.

Without even knowing who she was, Cort was fully prepared to find her people and restore her to them for a price. Once he knew the girl was Lucienne Renier, he would see the beauty of Yuri’s scheme. There was little the New Orleans Reniers wouldn’t pay to get their lost “cousin” back.

And if or when Gunther discovered what had become of her, Yuri and Cort would be long gone.

Yuri dropped the cigarette and ground it out with the toe of his boot. Timing was everything. They needed to get the girl out of the city, just in case Gunther tracked her to San Francisco. And there were other things that would have to be done. It wouldn’t be necessary for Cort to know all the details to play his part in the plan.

Especially now that they had a princess on their hands.

Knees creaking, Yuri got to his feet, painfully reminded that he was no longer young. Soon he would need the money he had as yet failed to acquire and keep. This might be his final chance, and he was determined to take it. And if he got his revenge on Duke Gunther di Reinardus in the meantime, so much the better.

CORT WAS JUST APPROACHING the door to the rooms he and Yuri shared, precariously balancing several boxes in his arms, when the Russian walked into the hallway.

A jolt of alarm shuddered through Cort like an unexpected earthquake. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“Inside, asleep.”

Cort relaxed. “She’s well?” he asked.

“The devochka has many questions, but she shows no signs of distress.” He grabbed Cort’s arm and pulled him back along the narrow hall. His eyes were bright and calculating.

“What are you up to, Yuri?” Cort asked, recognizing that look all too well.

The Russian lowered his voice to a whisper. “Do you not recognize her?”

Cort set the boxes down. “What are you talking about?”

“The girl!” Yuri shook his head impatiently. “She resembles Lucienne Renier in every detail, even given the difference in age from the time she was abducted.”

Lucienne Renier. The name startled Cort, and it took another moment before he remembered the story. He hadn’t known the child stolen away from the grand manor of the New Orleans Reniers eight years ago. He had courted Madeleine in secret and had never visited her openly at Belle Lune until the last time he had seen her. If he had ever glimpsed Lucienne Renier, it had been briefly and at a distance.

Yuri, however, had been for a time a guest at the Renier plantation just outside New Orleans—an exotic but impoverished nobleman who, despite his human nature, was of interest to the Reniers because of his aristocratic bloodline. Though the Reniers had not widely advertised the abduction, Yuri would likely have heard about it firsthand.

It was his connection to the Reniers that had brought the two of them together at a French Quarter tavern shortly after Cort had won enough money to leave Louisiana. The Russian had taken Cort’s side in an after-game brawl, and once Cort learned that Yuri had recently parted ways with the Reniers himself, they had fallen into earnest conversation.

That, in turn, had led to a mutually beneficial agreement: Yuri would teach Cort to be a gentleman equal in every way to the Reniers of New Orleans, and Cort would support them both with his gambling skills. But if Yuri had spoken of the abduction when they’d met, Cort hadn’t been listening. He’d had far more personal things on his mind at the time.

“They never learned who took her?” he asked.

The Russian snorted. “Obviously they did not.” He rubbed his hands like the disciple of Midas he was. “Eight years. It is a long time. But I swear it is the same girl. No other could have such eyes.”

Cort sat heavily on the stairs that faced the building entrance. It seemed too incredible to be believed, and the implications were staggering.

Lucienne Renier. A girl who bore the same surname he did, but only the most distant connection by blood. Like Madeleine.

Yet this girl was nothing like Madeleine. She had none of Madeleine’s refinement or manner of speech, and for all her radiant beauty, her behavior was as rough as an uncut diamond. Could the offspring of such a family forget everything she had been taught before her abduction, all the graces, mannerisms and expectations of her station?

She had pride enough, true, but it wasn’t the sort the Reniers displayed. There was no arrogance, no pompous expectation of fealty from lesser beings, human or loup-garou.

How could she have lost so much? Where could she have been all this time?

She doesn’t remember. If she had been alone on the streets for any length of time, she would have had to fight for survival. It could have changed her beyond all recognition.

And yet …

“She was only a cousin, of course, not one of the central line,” Yuri said, “but she was regarded as a daughter by Xavier Renier.”

“What of her real parents?”

“I presume they were dead, though nothing was ever said of them. Regardless of her relationship to the New Orleans clan, they would have spared no expense in searching for her.” Yuri paced from one end of the hall to the other, his breathing sharp with excitement. “You spoke of finding the girl’s family and claiming a reward. This could not be more perfect! Of course we must make careful preparations. We will—”

“What if you’re wrong?” Cort interrupted.

Yuri stopped as if he had walked into a wall. “I cannot be. I would know if she—”

“Memories can deceive.”

A calculating look replaced the exultation on Yuri’s face. “Not only my memories. The Reniers remember her as she was. They will not expect to see what she is now—a wild, unschooled guttersnipe fought over by gamesters. You and I, however … we can make her into what they do expect.”

Cort rose and gathered up the boxes. He understood Yuri completely. The Russian recognized that he might be wrong, that the girl might only be a fluke of nature, a perfect duplicate no more real than the reflection of a face in a pond.

But it didn’t really matter. Yuri’s plan could work. The Reniers could be persuaded to accept her if they wanted her badly enough. So many, human and werewolf alike, lived in a world of dreams, blind to what they didn’t wish to see.

Just as he had lived, once upon a time.

“You must see that it’s worth the gamble,” Yuri said. “Their gratitude would be immeasurable if they were convinced of her identity. She—”

“You forget one thing, Yuri,” Cort said. “She may refuse. If she regains her memory …”

“Her memory will prove us right. You will see.” Yuri smiled, sly as a fox. “And what a coup for you. They may not even recognize you as Beau Renier, at least not at first. And when they do.” He rubbed his hands together. “The swamp wolf will have the pleasure of restoring a child of the noble Reniers to those who spurned him.”