The Wolf's Pursuit Read Online Free PDF

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