“I believe that he likes you,” her friend returned, his expression abruptly more thoughtful. “He seldom speaks of anyone or anything else in my company.”
“Truly?”
“John, don’t tell her things like that, or next time she’ll have him climbing up the chimney.”
“As you wish, Livi. May I at least see the two of you home, then?”
“That would be acceptable.”
He offered Olivia an arm, the two of them walking ahead and leaving her to converse with John’s horse, Brody. “And how are you this morning?” she asked.
The gray gelding snorted at her. That made this conversation nearly equal to half the ones she’d had at various parties through the Seasons. John glanced over his shoulder at her, but she motioned him to return to his chat with Livi. If she had her way, she would steal Brody from John and ride to Ainsley House to discover what had happened.
Good news for Bennett would be bad news for her, and vice versa. Claiming he meant to propose while he was stranded here in London was one thing, but what would he say when he had the chance to leave again? Would he want her to go along? Did she want to go along?
As Eddison House came back into view, she slowed. Bennett’s big bay Ares stood in the drive. The meeting was finished. “Oh, dear,” she whispered, as the man himself came into view on the front step.
“That is not a happy-looking man,” John muttered.
At that moment he turned and saw them. Saw her, because once his gaze found her, it didn’t waver. He strode back down the steps and across the drive. “Phillipa.”
“Bennett, what happ—”
He grabbed her arm. “I need to speak with you.”
“I say, Bennett. Unhand Flip.”
Bennett glanced at John. At his black expression, though, Phillipa held up one hand. “It’s all right, John. What about the garden, Bennett?”
“Yes.”
Now that she was moving in his direction, he loosened his hold, sliding his fingers down to grip her hand. More than his fierceness, it troubled her that she couldn’t decipher what he might be thinking, other than it hadn’t gone well. “What happened?”
“Firstly, your father wouldn’t let me into the house. I was about to break down the door when you appeared.”
She frowned. “What? Why would he do that?”
“According to your butler, I’m an uncivilized rogue who begins fights unprovoked, and I’m not to go anywhere near you.”
“But—that—I—” Phillipa snapped her mouth closed. For heaven’s sake. Her parents had been wringing their hands for three years over her inability to attract a beau. It made no sense that now, because of one perfectly understandable altercation, they would attempt to drive away the one man who’d ever been in pursuit. “I’ll talk to him,” she said aloud, stopping with him as they reached the oak tree at the center of the garden.
“I would have spoken to him, if he’d come to the bloo—to the door.”
She squeezed his fingers. “Bennett, you can’t attack my father. Now you’re clearly upset with more than being banned from my house. What happened with the Africa Association? Didn’t they send Langley skulking away in shame?”
He gazed at her, his jungle-colored eyes glinting with poorly disguised anger. Thank goodness it wasn’t aimed at her. His passion was overwhelming enough; she couldn’t even imagine facing the full force of his fury.
“Bennett, tell me,” she urged when he kept silent. “It’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Bennett shook his head. “I’m here because you…remind me that this town does have its merits.” With a deep breath he released her hand and dropped onto the stone bench.
Phillipa pushed aside the thought that he’d just given her one of the nicest compliments she’d ever received. She sat down beside him. “What happened? Didn’t they believe you?”
“They did believe me.”
“They…that’s wonderful,” she exclaimed, then frowned. “Isn’t it?”
“Not particularly.” Absently he twined his fingers with hers again. “Langley’s a popular fellow, and he’s brought a great deal of positive attention to the Africa Association. I, on the other hand, am apparently untrustworthy and uncivilized, and I own a monkey who attacks people.”
“But—”
“In short, the Association feels they are better represented by David Langley than by Bennett Wolfe, regardless of his qualifications.” He blew out his breath, his shoulders lowering a little. “It doesn’t hurt that Langley’s family has money, and that Lord Thrushell got himself a seat on the Association’s board.”
“Oh, that is blatantly unfair!” Phillipa shot to her feet and strode in a circle around the tree. “They let themselves be bribed! And I respected them!”
For heaven’s sake, the Association for Promoting the Discovery of the Interior Parts of Africa had seemed the epitome of what civilization should be—intelligent men searching for knowledge in the unknown lands. And yet there they were, as self-serving and greedy as anyone else.
“I called them hypocrites.”
“Good. That’s what they are.”
Bennett eyed her. “The Duke of Sommerset suggested in private that I still attempt to find my journals. If I make them public, the Africa Association won’t have any choice but to admit that Langley fooled them.”
“Well, that’s something, anyway. I’ve always liked His Grace.”
“Have you now?” Bennett stood. “It slipped my mind that you waltzed with him last night.” Moving in front of her, he took one of her hands and slid the other around her waist. “Tell me all about it, Phillipa.”
Her cheeks heated. “We waltzed.”
Bennett turned her, sending them both into a silent dance in her garden. “Like this?”
“Except for the lack of music, yes, this precisely. Now what about—”
“Did he hold you this close?” Her chest very nearly touched his. “Or this close?” He drew her nearer, her skirts tangling about his legs.
Now she had the dismaying wish to smile, which was of course wrong given what had just happened to him. “The first one.”
“Ah.” He lowered his head, brushing his cheek against hers. “I asked you if you would herd sheep with me, and you said you would. I neglected to ask if you would tread across mist-shrouded rivers and jungle-filled valleys with me. But I suppose I don’t need to ask that now, do I?”
Phillipa pulled away, back to the proper waltzing distance. “No, you don’t need to ask.”
Slowly he stopped, dropping her fingers. “But would you?”
Her heart hammered. “I…I don’t know,” she finally said, her voice cracking. “I want to, but I don’t know.”
He sighed, his gaze lowering. “Thank you for being honest.”
For a moment she imagined him walking away, leaving her to wallow in her cowardice while he did everything he could to abandon England once and for all. Phillipa stepped forward, grabbing his lapels. “I said, I don’t know,” she repeated, shaking. “The same way you don’t know what it would be like to stay in one place. Don’t give up on recovering what’s yours, Bennett.” She tugged on his jacket as a tear ran down one of her cheeks. “And don’t give up on me. Please.”
And he’d been about to ask her not to give up on him. Bennett wrapped her trembling body in a hug, holding her close against him. After all, he’d failed this morning. He’d attempted to prevail through reason and logic, and he’d been defeated by the baser needs of greed and pride. Funny, actually, considering that he was supposed to be the animal in the group.
“I find that being close to you is more important than anything else I can imagine, nyonda,” he murmured into her hair. “So if you promise not to give up on me, I will make the same promise to you.”
“Oh, I promise,” she whispered against his shoulder. “I very much promise.”
“Then we’re in agreement. We will figure something out.”
“Bennett, for God’s
sake,” Jack’s affronted voice came from the front of the garden. “Let her go before you ruin her.”
“Too late for that,” he breathed, so only she could hear him. Jack was correct, though, and he reluctantly pulled away from her.
“Why don’t we go inside and have some tea?” the sister suggested, though she glared at him through narrowed eyes and clearly preferred to see him gone.
“Bennett can’t come into the house until after I talk to Papa,” Phillipa said, wiping at her eyes.
“Did Lord Leeds find out about the climbing through the window incident?” Jack asked.
Bennett swore to himself. Apparently this had become a four-person conspiracy. “How did you find out about it?”
“I mentioned it,” Olivia said loftily, “and John overheard.”
“That isn’t it, anyway.” Phillipa wrapped her hand around his arm. “It’s because of the fight.”
Olivia put her hands on her hips. “You see? I told you that would happen.”
Bennett rolled his shoulders. Very well. If Phil lipa wanted her sister and Jack included, then so be it. And as badly as he wanted to punch someone, Phillipa’s father made a poor target, given that he intended to be related to the man. “I can’t stay, anyway. I’m taking you driving tomorrow, so I need to purchase a carriage.”
“Borrow mine, nickninny,” Jack suggested.
“No. And I’m not borrowing Sommerset’s again, either. From now on I’m paying court using my own possessions and on my own merits. Such as they are.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Phillipa whispered.
“Yes, I do. If I’m to stay in England, I need a curricle. They’re more civilized than phaetons, are they not?”
“There’s room for a chaperone, if that’s what you mean.”
“It is.” There were several other things he needed to see to, as well. He raised his voice. “And Jack’s coming with me.”
“Hm. Tea with two lovely young ladies, or buying a rig.”
Bennett lifted an eyebrow. “And?”
Jack sighed. “I’ll be on the drive, waiting for you. Huzzah, we’re purchasing a curricle.”
However improper it was, Bennett couldn’t resist kissing Phillipa. Her mouth was so soft and so sweet, parting from her was physically painful. “I’ll talk to your father in the morning,” he said, ignoring Olivia’s gasp. “I can explain myself. You shouldn’t have to do that.”
“I enjoy setting things right,” she returned with a smile.
“Mm hm. I’ll see you at eleven o’clock. And I’m bringing luncheon.”
He made himself turn around and leave the garden. Whether they’d resolved anything or not, he felt calmer and steadier after seeing her. Most females wouldn’t appreciate being thought of as ballast, but Phillipa would more than likely think it both hilarious and touching.
“Why the devil do you need me to go with you?” Jack complained as they headed down the street. “You wrestle lions; I wrestle calling cards.”
“Because you know people, and I don’t.”
“I’d rather have tea with Livi.”
Bennett glanced sideways at him. “You said you’ve been after Olivia Eddison for four years.”
“Yes. Nearly since her debut. What’s your point?”
“And you’ve made it as far as tea? That’s pitiful.” He couldn’t imagine sitting back and watching other men pursue Phillipa while he simply bided his time.
“Don’t criticize my strategy just because you barge into a room swinging crocodiles by the tail and bellowing. Livi has dozens of suitors. Subtlety is required.”
“And Phillipa doesn’t require subtlety?”
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Jack pulled up Brody. “Fight with someone else. I like Flip. As a friend. She’s unique. And no, she hasn’t had suitors. But I’ll tell you one thing. She’s as sharp as a tack, and everyone knows it. If she supports your side of an argument, it’s because your side has more merit.”
Bennett circled his friend. “You don’t need to convince me to like Phillipa. And I’m not using her to gain some sort of damned credibility.” He drew Ares to a halt. “And yes, I want a fight. But not with you.”
“Thank God for that.”
“What I want from you, my friend, is information. I want to know everything you know about Langley’s life in England.”
For a long moment Jack looked at him. “The Africa Association is backing Langley, isn’t it?”
“Yes. And without my journals I can’t do a damned thing about it. Which is why I’m going to get them back.” Bennett dug his fingers into the leather reins. “I honestly don’t think Phillipa cares what everyone else thinks of me, but I want to be in a better position for her sake.”
“And so you can leave England again.”
“Perhaps. It’s a bit of a complicated kettle of fish, Jack. Are you going to help me?”
Jack kneed Brody into a trot. “Yes. I only hope I don’t regret it.”
“So do I.”
By the evening he had a curricle, a horse to pull it, and the beginnings of a plan. If their positions had been reversed, he would have burned the journals to keep Langley from getting his hands on them. But over the last three years he’d come to know David Langley as well as anyone could. And Langley was something of a coward, and he liked power—which was why Bennett was fairly certain that the journals wouldn’t be going anywhere. At the moment, they were leverage. Against him.
Without the lure of the journals, Bennett would have no reason to maintain the pretense of civility. And David would be worried about preserving his pretty face—and his reputation. If Langley headed another expedition to Africa, he wouldn’t want Bennett running free in England spreading…well, truths. The journals were the only assurance the dear fellow had of keeping Bennett at bay, and his mouth closed.
The House of Lords had had a late session, and with no parties planned for the evening, Mayfair was quiet. He could go to the Adventurers’ Club, he supposed, but at the moment he wasn’t particularly in the mood to run across its benefactor. And climbing through another window to see Phillipa, though highly appealing, didn’t seem wise. Olivia would more than likely be sitting up all night with a pistol across her knees. While she wasn’t much of a problem, he should likely be proceeding in a more honorable manner.
And so he found himself in the unusual position of having idle time. He and Kero retreated to his borrowed bedchamber, and he sat at the small table there to read. With one hand he turned pages, and with the other he tickled the hooting, teeth-chattering vervet monkey. At least she was content.
He tried to imagine more nights like this. Quiet, ordinary, each one like the next, where the only part of the world he could see would be the one passing by his front window. And he knew one thing for certain. He couldn’t do it. Not alone. With Phillipa there, however, he didn’t see how everything—anything—could be…dull. She brought her own light with her into a room. And after all the time he’d spent walking through deserts and jungles and so many solitary places, he craved it. He craved her.
A knock sounded at his door. “Come in.”
He expected Geoffrey, wanting to play with Kero again, but the figure at the door was taller and sterner. Fennington. “I wanted to ask if you would be joining us for dinner.”
“Do you want me to?” Bennett asked, surprised. He generally either avoided being about when the family sat down together, or he went down to the kitchen to scavenge something.
Fennington cleared his throat. “Yes. I think it would be…pleasant.”
“Then yes.” Standing, he held down one hand and then swung Kero up onto his shoulder. “Thank you.”
“I had luncheon with several fellow members of Parliament,” his uncle commented, stepping out of the way as Bennett left the room. “Including Thrushell.”
“Ah.”
“Yes. I had to listen to a great deal of drivel about you contesting the authorship of David’s book. It seems that since you ha
d no proof, your claims were considered ridiculous and dismissed out of hand.”
So that was the story. “Something like that.”
“It occurred to me that you did have proof, and you declined to mention it. Why?”
Bennett glanced over his shoulder at his uncle. “The overall opinion was that Langley makes a better representative of the Association than I do. I don’t think it would have mattered if I could have produced my journals for them. I didn’t see the point of dragging you into a lost argument.”
“That was good of you, Bennett. I wasn’t…anticipating a rift between Thrushell and myself.”
He settled for nodding as they walked into the dining room to find his aunt, Geoffrey, and fourteen-year-old Madeline already seated. Even Madeline mustered a smile as he took the seat beside Geoffrey and Kero jumped over to his cousin’s shoulder.
It was all so damned odd. He and Fennington having a civil conversation, after his uncle actually offered to speak against Langley. And he hadn’t used the opportunity, even when it would have made trouble for a man he’d hated for most of his life.
“I saw your new rig, Bennett,” Geoffrey said with a grin, handing Kero up a slice of potato. “It’s sterling. What’s the mare’s name?”
“Sally. Which I don’t like. I was thinking of Usiku. That’s Swahili for ‘night.’”
“Oh, I like that. And she’s a pretty black, so it fits. I’d been meaning to ask you, what does Kero mean?”
“Nuisance.”
Geoffrey laughed. “That’s a perfect name.” He leaned forward. “Maddie, you should feed her. She’s very friendly.”
“No, thank you. She’s a dirty beast.”
“You’re such a girl.” The lad chuckled again. “I think you’re settling into London, Bennett. A carriage, two horses, and a monkey. Next you’ll have chickens.”
“Not in this house,” Lady Fennington put in.
“I think I’ll wait on purchasing chickens.” Bennett stifled an unexpected smile. “What else should I get, then, to fit into Society?”
“A cane,” Madeline suggested. “And a hat.”
The Care and Taming of a Rogue Page 23