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?"
"No." Wilkins grinned and leaned back. "Would you care for a brandy?"
"I see." Hunter nodded. Perhaps if he drank more, this sick feeling in his stomach would alleviate. "So it is to be that type of mission."
"But I have not yet explained what it is you need to accomplish."
"You don't need to." Hunter stretched his arms above his head and sighed. "If you find it necessary to give me brandy before the assignment, then it must be nasty business indeed."
Wilkins merely nodded in agreement. After a pregnant silence, he rose from his seat and walked over to the cabinet to pour some brandy. He handed Hunter a glass and threw back the contents of his own before filling it up again.
So it truly was that bad.
"What is it that His Majesty needs me to do?" Hunter asked plainly as he slowly sipped the amber liquid.
"Enter into society." Wilkins winced as he took 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."