His jaw clenched. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“If you have no one in particular under consideration, I would be happy to make some inquiries. I know, for example, that Lady Elizabeth Chendle is about to come into her inheritance. Three thousand a year. With that in addition to your own income, you could likely fund your own expeditions. Ideally you should have begun courting her before Captain Langley’s return; no doubt he’ll be looking for a bride as well—and he is very celebrated at the moment.”
“I’ll manage my own matrimonial affairs.” In the back of his mind he could almost see Phillipa scowling at him. “Thank you for the offer,” he added belatedly.
“Yes, of course. But make certain you consider Julia Jameson. Oh, and Millicent Beckwith plays the pianoforte exceptionally well, though her face is a bit…pinched.”
“I’ve heard her play.” And he’d seen the results of what a little chat with Millicent had done for Phillipa.
As Bennett wondered whether Lady Fennington actually considered skill at the pianoforte to be something that would encourage him toward marriage, his aunt continued on and on about the various eligible females wandering about London. Graceful gazelles all, unaware of the lions prowling in their midst and ready to pounce—except that he was quite cognizant of the fact that the gazelles knew precisely what they were doing, and the prowlers-about more closely resembled hyenas than lions.
He’d danced or attempted to chat with a number of the mentioned females, and they hadn’t impressed. And yet his aunt kept talking, promoting what seemed like every chit in Mayfair except for the one he wanted. Clearly Phillipa was a mystery to her peers, if no one had bothered to notice her in the three years since her debut. He had noticed, however, and she fascinated him in a manner that no one and nothing else in the world had managed. And she would be in attendance tonight.
In a way, he was glad for the conversation. By the time the coach stopped outside Langley House his nerves had been worn to a sharp point, and every muscle ached with suppressed tension and anger both at the slights to his own character, and at the less subtle ones to Phillipa.
The butler accepted Fennington’s invitation, then sent Bennett a curious look. “Lord and Lady Fennington and…”
“And guest,” Bennett supplied. “With monkey.”
Given the talk about London, Kero’s presence was probably enough to identify him to the butler. The only question was whether said servant had been told to look out for him or to notify Langley if he made an appearance. The man looked more affronted than nervous, so Bennett guessed he didn’t know anything.
“There’s Miss Jameson,” Lady Fennington said as they entered the ballroom, indicating a pretty, black-haired chit. “Shall I introduce you?”
“No. I’ll manage.”
From his swift survey of the room, David Langley hadn’t yet appeared to greet the admiring throngs. He did see Phillipa, though, seated beside her mother against the near wall. The sight of her actually calmed him, though the new imaginings she awakened pushed at him with equally strong, albeit more pleasurable, force.
“Excuse me,” he said, leaving his relations without a backward glance.
“Oh, hello, Sir Bennett!” Sonja Depris blocked his path and sank into a deep curtsy that showed off a considerable portion of her bosom. Olivia Eddison stood a step or two behind her.
“Miss Depris.” With a nod he started around her.
“I was just telling Livi about the magnificent horse you purchased.”
Olivia nodded at him. “What was his name, Sir Bennett?”
“Ares. Pardon me.”
Henry Camden stepped in between him and Olivia, as though protecting her from him. The idiot was guarding the wrong sister. “Will you purchase a pony for the monkey to ride?”
“No.”
“I wonder,” Camden continued, tapping his chin with one finger, “why you didn’t leave the monkey behind tonight. Won’t Kero abandon you when she sees Captain Langley?”
“Oh, that’s true,” Sonja piped up. “I read the book. Kero and the captain are good friends.”
Lucy giggled. “Perhaps you should have purchased her a pony, after all.”
Fingers brushed his hand and then retreated again. At the same moment, the hair on his arms lifted. Heat and desire began their slow trail along his veins. With a breath he turned to see Phillipa standing beside him. “That’s always troubled me,” she said, offering a thoughtful frown. “If Captain Langley is so fond of Kero, why did he leave her behind? You’d been declared dead, so she was essentially orphaned.”
Bennett wanted to hug her. He was tempted to announce just how highly Langley and the vervet regarded each other, but restrained himself. This would seem to be one of those instances where a picture would suffice better than any words he could conjure. “I imagine Langley can explain their bond better than I,” he offered, and faced Phillipa. “Might I have a word with you?”
“Certainly.” She took his arm.
Her fingers shook a little. He felt the electricity between them himself, and had to work harder than he expected to keep from leaning sideways to smell her hair. “I want to kiss you,” he murmured.
“Well, you can’t,” she returned, with a quick smile that looked more worried than amused. “We won’t find anywhere private here tonight.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, settling for stopping to gaze at her. What he wanted to do was to take her into his arms and not let her go for at least several hours.
“You shouldn’t be here. That’s what’s wrong. I told you that I would look about and try to determine what Captain Langley has in mind.”
“And I told you that I didn’t want you spying for me.” He placed his hand over hers where it rested on his arm. “And how better to judge his game than to see how he reacts to me?”
She sighed. “Clearly it’s too late to talk you out of attending.”
“Clearly.” He gave a short grin.
“Your friend the Duke of Sommerset is here. And there’s to be dancing. In fact, His Grace asked me for a waltz.”
Ah, the evening was getting better and better. He handed Kero a peanut, hoping to keep her silent for the next few minutes. “You do prefer the civilized savages, then. How many dances does he get?”
Her pretty brown eyes widened just a little, something very like excitement touching them. “Are you jealous?” she asked.
Jealous. Closer to volcanic, but in all fairness that wasn’t entirely Sommerset’s fault tonight. “Yes, I’m jealous. What do you exp—”
“No one’s ever been jealous over me before.” Her mouth swooped into a smile.
That stopped the retort he’d been about to make. What was wrong with the damned London noblemen, that they’d let her roam among them unnoticed for three years? “Are there any other waltzes being offered tonight?”
Phillipa nodded. “Two more. Apparently Lady Thrushell isn’t entirely pleased with the large number, but Captain Langley is particularly fond of the waltz.”
“Give me both of them.”
“No. It wouldn’t be seemly.”
“Even if I mean to marry you?”
“Shh,” she cautioned, her cheeks darkening. “You can’t bandy that about. You said it when we were…” She looked around, lowering her voice still further. “Naked.”
An unexpected smile touched him. God, she was an original. “I would argue with that, but I want a dance, and you’ve already ignored my request for a kiss.” Behind the cover of a half-open door and a potted plant, he reached up to brush his fingers along her cheek.
“You didn’t request a kiss. You said you wanted one.”
He moved still closer, putting his free hand on her hip. “I’ll play with words if you want,” he whispered, “but there are other things I’d rather be doing with you, Phillipa.”
“Bennett, stop,” she murmured back, taking his hand away but holding on to his fingers.
“Then give me your damned dance card.”
She glanced down to pull the card from her reticule. It wasn’t only Sommerset; four other dances had been claimed, as well. And he didn’t like that one bloody bit. “Who is Francis Henning?”
“A friend of a friend of John’s, I believe. He’s rather amusing, though I’m not certain he realizes that.”
“No. I mean, point him out to me.” He wrote his name down beside the evening’s last waltz.
Phillipa shook her head. “Considering that you look very like an angry panther whose antelope dinner has been stolen, I’m not pointing out anyone to you.”
“Are you certain?” he asked, only half jesting. “Pummeling this Henning would warm me up nicely for Langley.”
“Stop that.” She took back her card.
“Then distract me with something else.”
“Very well.” She stayed silent for a moment, considering. “These last few weeks have been full of new experiences for me,” she continued in a thoughtful voice.
Bennett held himself still. “Any particularly memorable experiences?” he asked. If she mentioned meeting a monkey or receiving daisies, he was going to put his fist through a wall.
“Mm hm.” With a quick glance at their shadowed retreat, she moved closer in his arms. “I keep thinking that everyone who sees me must know. Is the experience always so…exquisite? I can’t seem to think about anything else.”
Now he felt better. “I can only think of one way we can be certain that a second experience would be as enjoyable, nyonda.” He ran a finger down her bare forearm. “In fact, I think you should open your morning room window when you return home tonight and then wait there for a time. Beginning at two o’clock, say.”
Her shoulders rose and fell as her breathing deepened. “It would be wise to find out for certain if we…merge as well a second time,” she breathed.
“I already know the answer to that, but I’m more than happy to demonstrate on every possible occasion. You fascinate me, Phillipa, and I want you. No one but you.”
She smiled, the expression lighting her eyes and doing some interesting things to his nether regions. “You make me feel like a butterfly, Bennett,” she whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek.
They’d been in hiding for several minutes now, and the odds grew every moment that they would be seen. Frankly, Bennett didn’t care about that. She was his, whether she felt ready yet to say it aloud or not. As long as he could recover his reputation, regain the trust and backing of the Africa Association or the East India Company, he would be able to go exploring again. And that was the only thing that troubled him. Not that his butterfly would spread her wings and fly away, but that she wouldn’t.
The orchestra played the opening of a country dance, and Phillipa abruptly broke away from him. “This is my dance with Mr. Henning,” she said, backing out of their tiny hiding place before he could stop her.
“I’ll keep you company until he appears,” he said, following her and offering his arm.
“Bennett, you don’t—”
“Don’t the monkey ruin the line of your coat?” a short, round fellow queried, then stuck out his hand. “Francis Henning.”
Abruptly Bennett felt a bit easier about this particular dance. He shook Henning’s hand. “Until this month, it’s been three years since I’ve worn a formal coat,” he said. “I don’t actually give a damn about its line.”
“I say, that’s brave of you,” Henning returned, taking a half step back. “I suppose next to angry leopards the ton don’t much impress.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Henning blinked. “I, ah, I’m here to collect Lady Flip for the country d—”
“Of course, Mr. Henning,” she said, brushing past Bennett and gesturing for the short fellow to lead the way to the dance floor.
Bennett stayed where he was, watching. He knew how to be more subtle, but tonight he couldn’t seem to manage it. At any minute David Langley would walk down the main staircase into the arms of his adoring guests, and at this moment all Bennett wanted to do was see Phillipa dance. All around him the well-dressed natives of this land chattered, so much noise that it made his head ache. Each one fought to be the prettiest bird in the flock, too self-concerned to notice anything but the outward plumage of the fellows around them.
“Sir Bennett, you must join me at White’s tomorrow,” one of the crowd, Lord Hay-something, he thought, rumbled. “I’ve no doubt we’ll have you in as a provisionary member by noontime.”
I would rather eat elephant shit, Bennett thought. “My schedule is full at the moment,” he said aloud.
“You should come by without delay,” the fellow pursued. “You’ve already been in Town too long without accepting a membership somewhere. Strike while the iron is hot, don’t you know. I’ll be happy to sponsor you.”
“What about the current rumors that I’m a fool?” Bennett asked.
Hay-something looked affronted. “One never admits to that, Captain. And if you’re to be in London indefinitely, you should make an attempt to fit in, don’t you know.”
“Thank you for the invitation,” Bennett returned, facing the dance floor again, “but I don’t expect I would be spending much time at a club where everyone fits in.” And thank God for the Adventurers’ Club. In fact, a drink there after this bloody party and before his rendezvous with Phillipa might be just the thing he required.
“Have you ever been to a club?” the viscount retorted. “There are scores of gentlemen clamoring to get through the front doors of places like White’s.”
“Ah. There’s your problem,” Bennett retorted. “I’m no gentleman.”
“You—”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the butler bellowed from the ballroom’s main doorway, “Lord and Lady Thrushell, and Captain David Langley.”
Chapter Fifteen
Today I met the man to whom I will be entrusting my life for the foreseeable future. Captain David Langley is like myself a veteran of the Peninsular War, though his service was to Wellington rather than on the battlefield. Given that, now I can only hope that his aim will prove as sharp as his tongue is glib. I have my doubts about him; he seems too vain to want to risk his skin being worn by someone else.
THE JOURNALS OF CAPTAIN BENNETT WOLFE
Kero, up,” Bennett muttered, handing the vervet into a chandelier.
Then he turned to look. He wanted a little visit with Langley without Kero’s opinion coming between them. Though with the number of people crowded around the doorway, that wouldn’t be quite as simple as he’d imagined. As he’d spent the past five months imagining.
That was when the cautious dislike he’d long felt toward this man—whose life he’d saved several times and who had more than once saved his—had deepened into hatred. He’d never called himself a gentleman, but that was precisely what Langley, who’d attempted to grind his name into the dirt and then stand on it, prided himself on being.
Well, Bennett would see how long that lasted. Sidestepping a footman and Lord Hay-something, he strode across the room. Despite the amused and speculative chatter of the nearest guests, they at least had enough sense to move out of his way.
And then someone didn’t move.
“No, Bennett,” Phillipa said, looking as though she was ready to knock him down. Or attempt to.
“Move aside,” he grunted, his attention immediately divided.
“I thought you had a plan to rescue your reputation,” she muttered back at him. “Something about not reacting the way everyone would expect a slighted man to behave.”
“That was before I saw him. Now I’m going to beat him senseless.”
When he started around her, she actually put a hand against his chest and pushed back. “That will not get you justice. Or your journals.”
“No, but it will make me feel better.” He drew in a sharp breath. “He doesn’t need his teeth to hand me my journals.”
Her pretty face paled, and she lowered her hand again. “Fine. If beating him is
what you want most in the world, then do it. See what happens to your reputation and your future.”
Apparently he’d acquired a walking, talking conscience. Bennett narrowed his eyes. “I thought I made it clear yesterday what my intentions toward Langley were. You might have attempted to dissuade me then.”
“Yes, well, I thought that was merely manly bluster. And you weren’t planning on being here. Now you have murder in your eyes.”
“I won’t kill him until I have my journals again. Excuse me, Phillipa.”
He stalked straight at Langley, just visible now in the crowd. Light blue eyes lifted, caught sight of him, and widened. Apparently the butler hadn’t informed David that his formerly deceased partner was in attendance tonight, after all. Good.
“Langley,” he half growled as the darling golden-haired viscount’s son faced him, “you are a son of a bitch.”
Langley’s jaw flexed. “Wolfe!” he exclaimed, smiling with all his teeth. “You aren’t dead, after all!”
“No damned thanks to you. I appreciate you leaving me my boots, by the way. I expected to find them stolen along with my journals and my Baker rifle.”
“Your recovery hasn’t improved your disposition, I see. Or your memory. The only journals I left with are my own.”
Bennett opened his mouth to demand that Langley produce them. A match of their handwriting would prove to whom they belonged. If he said that, though, Langley would have another reason to destroy them. “I read my—I mean, your—book. A very entertaining fiction. At least you had the tribal names spelled correctly—though with those journals, how could you not?”
“What is it they say about the worth of one man’s opinion?” Langley commented smoothly, still smiling with everything but his eyes. “I don’t recall exactly. Something about it being rubbish. In the—”
With a loud threat bark, Kero scrambled across the floor and jumped—onto Langley’s head. Shrieking, she yanked out a handful of golden hair and sank her teeth into one perfectly shaped ear. Screaming, Langley threw her off. She hit the floor running, then scampered up Bennett’s leg and onto his shoulder.
The Care and Taming of a Rogue Page 19