“I’ve changed my mind,” her sister said. “I’ll decide who I should invite.”
“I was hoping you would say that.” Flashing her a grin, Phillipa rose as her mother walked into the room. “You look very nice, Mama. Are you certain you feel well enough to attend a soiree?”
“I won’t be doing anything more than sitting and watching my two lovely daughters dance,” the marchioness returned. “And I shall be happy to see something aside from the interior walls of my own house.”
“Yes, well, we will be watching you like hawks, Mama,” Phillipa returned. “At the first glimpse of a pale cheek, we are whisking you home.”
“At the very first glimpse,” their father said, entering the room to tuck a strand of hair behind his wife’s ear.
Phillipa watched the motion. Simple as it was, it bespoke affection. She’d liked it when Bennett touched her hand, even her skirt. Whether that was affection or some sort of jungle-induced lust she didn’t know, but the idea of either one excited her. Men didn’t desire her. They asked her to hold their hats while they flirted with her sister. Bennett, though, had barely glanced at Olivia.
She frowned. Why was that? And why had he spent so little time chatting with any of Livi’s pretty, charming friends? It didn’t make sense. And she liked for things to make sense.
“Do you think Sir Bennett will attend?” Livi asked as they all climbed into the Eddison family coach.
“I’m a bit confused,” Lord Leeds said, tucking a blanket around his wife’s knees. “Is he still a hero, or are we somewhat distrustful and disappointed to read that he may have exaggerated some of his previous adventures?”
“We’re being tolerant,” Livi answered before Phillipa could, “because he was so well respected before. And because he’s very handsome and he has five thousand a year from the Crown.”
“He does for now,” their father countered. “If he becomes an embarrassment to Prinny and the House of Lords, he’ll find himself studying ducks in Devon instead of crocodiles in the Congo.”
“Very nice alliteration, Henry,” his wife said, smiling.
“Thank you, my dear.”
“He’s not foolish,” Phillipa put in. “I think it’s perfectly obvious that Captain Langley exaggerated incidents because he believed Captain Wolfe to be dead. It’s as Marc Antony said, ‘The evil that men do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones.’”
“Do you truly think he requires Shakespeare’s assistance?” the marquis said, grinning. “That seems rather…serious.”
She shook herself. “You know what I’m saying, Papa. Captain Langley took advantage. You should meet Bennett, Papa. He’s very witty.”
“‘Bennett’?”
“He asked me to call him that. I helped him find his monkey.”
“Mm hm. Well, there is to be no more monkey finding, whatever the devil that means.” The marquis scowled.
“You should both be wary of him,” their mother put in. “He’s been in savage places, and he more than likely intends to return to them. I don’t believe there are any soirees to be found in the Congo.”
“If he doesn’t attend tonight,” Livi went on, clearly oblivious to any warnings, “you’ll be able to meet him on Friday when he comes for dinner.”
“He at least knows how to use utensils, doesn’t he?”
“Papa,” Phillipa chastised, “Captain Wolfe doesn’t need rumors about that starting. He has enough on his plate, don’t you think?”
“Indeed, I do. No rumors about eating with sticks shall pass my lips.”
She stifled a smile. The image was rather amusing.
By the time she and her father found a comfortable chair for her mother inside the ballroom at the Fordham soiree, Olivia had already been swallowed up by her usual crowd of friends and admirers. Knowing that no gentlemen would come looking for her until every place on Livi’s dance card was taken, she sat down as well.
“You know Livi would be happy to include you in anything you wished,” her mother said, as her father went off to greet friends and look for a glass of Madeira for his wife.
“I know she would,” Phillipa returned, “but most of her friends make my head ache. They’re so silly.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of silliness now and then.”
“I suppose not, and I like a good jest as well as anyone, but I don’t think I could titter or flutter and flirt if my life depended on it.”
The marchioness shook her head. “You can, I imagine; you simply don’t wish to. Yes, I know you have other pursuits you enjoy, but you won’t find a husband between the pages of a book.”
“I—”
“Good evening, Lady Phillipa.”
Phillipa stood up so hastily that her chair would have tipped backward if it hadn’t been up against the wall. “Captain Wolfe. Bennett. Hello.”
He still wore his scuffed boots. The rest of him, though, was decidedly more fashionable. She thought he might have borrowed clothes from John, but the captain was the taller and more broad-shouldered of the two by several inches. Perhaps he’d been able to find a quick-fingered tailor. Because the dark blue jacket, gray waistcoat, and tan breeches were exceedingly well-fitting. Exceedingly. Only his too-long hair and the uncivilized gleam in his green eyes branded him as other than a complete gentleman. Well, that and the vervet monkey on his shoulder. “Will you dance with me tonight?” he asked.
Excitement shivered through her. “Certainly.” At a bump against her ankle Phillipa started, glancing back to see her mother looking at the new arrival, one eyebrow lifted. “Oh. Captain, this is my mother, Lady Leeds. Mama, Captain Sir Bennett Wolfe and Kero.”
The green gaze left her face and turned to her mother. “My lady,” he said, taking her hand.
“Captain. Welcome home to England.”
“Thank you.” He returned his attention to Phillipa. “I wish a waltz,” he stated.
The waltz. The dance where partners weren’t separated, and where she had to seek the lengthiest amount of inane conversation to share. “I—”
“Give me your dance card.” He held out one hand.
“You know the waltz?” she asked, belatedly fishing her dance card and a pencil out of her reticule.
The corners of his mouth lifted, amusement lighting his eyes. “The waltz didn’t begin in London, you know. I may even have invented it. By accident, of course, while attempting to escape the grasp of a very friendly princess in Vienna.”
She chuckled. “When were you in Vienna?”
“On an assignment during the war,” he returned, taking her card and penciling in his name. He took another place, as well, and began to write his name a third time.
“Stop that,” she muttered, taking the pencil from him. “Everyone will want to dance with you. I cannot monopolize your attention. And besides, two dances is…is nearly scandalous. Three is unheard of.”
He leaned closer as he handed her back the dance card. “You already monopolize my attention,” he said almost soundlessly, then smiled. “And I hate wasting time.”
That made her smile back at him. She couldn’t help it. “Wasting time with what?”
“With c—”
“Will Kero be joining you on the dance floor?” her mother interrupted.
Bennett cleared his throat, straightening again. “I believe she’ll be willing to spend a short time eating a houseplant.” He flicked a finger against the monkey’s tail. “Or hanging from a chandelier, if that fails.”
Still grinning, Phillipa reached out a finger to the monkey. Kero hummed at her and grasped it in a miniature handshake. “I would suggest the plant. Lady Fordham is very particular about her crystal chandeliers.”
“Duly noted.” As the other guests began to notice his presence and crowd in, he nodded again. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Phillipa seated herself again as he walked away, dozens of guests trailing him and all talking at once. Mostly it seemed to be surprise that he
was alive, or confirmation that they’d already heard of his miraculous return. Farther back, where he couldn’t hear, she made out the speculation about whether he’d read Captain Langley’s wonderful book and whether he knew he was more popular now because of his income rather than his adventures.
She frowned. He had to know what was being said, but she had no idea how he might counter it. Standing up and reciting equations or discussing flora species in the Congo would seem too self-serving, as though he was trying too hard. It might even give credence to the book’s characterization of him.
“I can see now why Livi is so taken with him,” her mother said after a moment. “That is one very handsome man.” She took Phillipa’s hand and tucked it between hers. “So you only admire his mind, do you?”
“I admired his mind long before I met him,” Phillipa countered, her cheeks warming. “But I’m not blind. He is quite…striking.”
“Yes, he is. Please don’t let him come between you and Livi. You are sisters and friends, and that must be considered. Bennett Wolfe is a…well, a feckless adventurer.”
Her mother left the second part of that sentence unsaid, but Phillipa heard it anyway. And you are not an adventurer. You are a book reader. “I would hardly call him feckless,” she said aloud, shifting. “He’s already won his fame and fortune; his journey to Africa was done with an eye to discovery, not income.”
“There you are, my dear,” her father said, returning to hand the marchioness a glass of red wine. “Was that imposing fellow Bennett Wolfe, by any chance?”
“Yes. He begged a waltz of Flip. Two dances, actually.”
“He asked, not begged,” Phillipa corrected, though he hadn’t actually given her a choice about it.
“True enough,” her mother conceded. “He doesn’t precisely seem the begging sort, does he?”
“Oh, bother,” the marquis broke in. “Are you infatuated as well, Venora?”
Lady Leeds chuckled, gripping her husband’s arm. “He is beautiful, in an untamed, roguish sort of way.”
“That settles that. I shall have to plan an expedition somewhere so my own family will notice me.”
While her parents continued bantering, Phillipa looked across the dance floor. Women practically threw their dance cards at Bennett, and he wrote his name on several of them. Once. Not twice on the same card. Nor was there any attempt at a scandalous trio.
She had no idea why such a fascinating man claimed to be fascinated with her, but she was abruptly noticing the way that other people expressed their affection for each other; a touch of the arm, a hand at the small of the back, a brush of fingers against a cheek. And she wondered what Bennett Wolfe would do if she walked up and kissed him right on the mouth. Because she’d been thinking about doing that since the night they’d met. And she thought maybe he’d been considering the same thing, himself.
Bennett had once seen part of the great migration of the wildebeests, thousands, millions of animals all herding together, following the same miles-wide trail through the savannah, over rivers, and out beyond where white men had ever traveled. Tonight he felt as though he was in the midst of the herd, being driven toward the edge of a cliff with no way to stop without being trampled.
What the devil had he been thinking, to come to a place where the well-dressed horde gathered? Half the guests seemed to be speculating over whether he’d entirely invented the two books he’d written, while the rest wondered if he now meant to give up his life of adventuring and settle down to his estate in Kent with a wife.
He sent a glance across the ballroom. Phillipa Eddison stood out like summer, her yellow gown with its generous curves practically glowing among the more restrained colors of her peers. Heat slid through him, dark and primitive and undeniable. She knew all the rules of proper behavior, but thus far he’d observed that she had some difficulty following them. And he wondered how far astray he could lead her before she attempted to find the path again.
One of the chits bobbed a curtsy, blocking his way. “This is our dance, Sir Bennett,” she said, smiling brightly.
Already? He knew enough about propriety to realize that he couldn’t dance only with Phillipa, but neither did he have to like it. With a sigh he set Kero into the leaves of a large potted palm. “Behave,” he said, placing a handful of peanuts into the hollow at the base of the fronds. “Let’s go, then,” he continued, glancing at the girl, and turned for the dance floor.
She fell in behind him, then hurried over to stand in the line with the other chits while he took his place with the gentlemen. For a moment he attempted to remember what the devil her name had been, but in truth the crowd had been so dense that he’d barely been able to glimpse the ladies who belonged to the dance cards he’d signed.
As the music began he bowed and turned, then held out his hand for her. “I read Captain Langley’s book,” she chirped as he circled her. “I would have been frightened at being stalked by a leopard, as well.”
“Mm.” He walked down the line, turned, and came back to her side.
“I’ve been wondering why you didn’t ride horses there? It would have been much faster than walking all that distance.”
“They wouldn’t fit in the canoes,” he commented, his jaw beginning to clench again.
“Oh.” She laughed uncertainly. “But you wouldn’t have needed the canoes if you’d had horses.”
Good God. “I’ll consider that for next time.”
She smiled cheerily. “I’m so pleased I could help.”
He’d be more pleased when the dance ended. By the time it did, he’d heard all about English weather, as though he hadn’t grown up with it, and a listing of the young men whom she would consider should they ask for her hand in marriage. He was dismayed to hear that he’d made it onto that list.
As soon as the dance ended he collected Kero and resumed walking. He’d managed to avoid the quadrille, next, and then came his waltz with Phillipa. If he didn’t slow down until then, hopefully no other female would be able to maneuver him into the torture.
As he began another circuit of the room, he caught sight of the Duke of Sommerset cutting a swath in his general direction. For a man who’d spent so much time traveling to rather harrowing places under less than ideal circumstances, Nicholas Ainsley fit into Society rather well. Amazingly well, actually. He wore civilization like a comfortable overcoat—and Bennett suspected he could remove it just as easily.
“Captain,” the duke greeted, cutting him off with apparent ease from the trailing scavengers, “a word with you.”
In a moment they were out on the balcony overlooking the Fordham House garden. Kero left his shoulder to scamper along the granite railing, and Bennett took a deep, cleansing breath. “Thank you, Your Grace,” he said feelingly.
“One of the mysteries of the female mind,” Sommerset drawled with a short grin, “is how they will pursue an adventurer to the ends of the earth, but once they’ve caught him, they never want him to leave home again.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“I remain uncaptured, though I suppose I won’t be able to put that off forever.” Steel gray eyes sent him a sideways look. “You’ve moved your things to Fennington’s residence.”
“I wanted to keep a closer eye on him and his publishing partner.”
Sommerset nodded. “I think that’s wise. And if you dispute the…exaggerations of the book at a later time, your association with Fennington will gain you more credibility.”
“So you called me out here to approve my living arrangements?”
Running a hand through his raven black hair, the duke snorted. “You’re supposed to be proving your worth to your peers. Small talk is essential to that.”
“Bugger small talk. What do you want?”
“You should stop by the Adventurers’ Club again, Bennett. You can snarl there to your heart’s content. Don’t do it in public.” With a sigh, Sommerset turned his back on the stone railing and leaned his hips against
it. “Langley’s father is the Earl of Thrushell.”
“I know that. I heard about the amount of Langley’s likely inheritance for three years.”
“Yes, well, Thrushell’s petitioning to join the Africa Association. We require a two-thirds approval to add to the membership, and he hasn’t quite got it yet. But he will. His son’s book has gained us a great deal of favorable attention, despite the fact that he hasn’t actually contributed anything to either the Association or England. Except himself, of course.”
Cursing, Bennett pounded his fist against the railing. He knew what it meant; once Thrushell sat on the Association board, Langley would have the next available expedition. And the one man who knew for certain that Langley wasn’t fit to lead anything would never be allowed within a league of the Association, much less gain their support for another expedition. “I suppose you voted your approval,” he growled.
“I did not. I happen to believe your account, and I don’t want the father of a fraud helping shape the direction of African exploration. Nor do I want to be associated with that family when you’re able to recover your own standing.”
Bennett faced him. “Thank you.”
“You know, I had a chance to invite Langley to join the Adventurers’ Club back when we all thought you were dead. At times I admire my own perception.” He straightened, heading for the door back into the ballroom. “Don’t disappoint me, Captain.”
As the duke left the balcony, Bennett turned to look out over the torch-lit garden. Every instinct he possessed shouted at him to ride to Dover and get back his journals before Langley managed either to destroy them or to put them beyond his reach. He was fairly certain, though, that the journals weren’t with Langley. If he went charging about now, David would know precisely what he intended, and he would never see his writings again. He would never have proof that he had led the expedition while Langley had whined and bullied his way through the Congo and nearly gotten them killed on more than one occasion.
The Care and Taming of a Rogue Page 8
