The Care and Taming of a Rogue

by Suzanne Enoch

  “Gambling debts,” came from Geoffrey. “All the rakes have gambling debts.”

  Bennett took a breath. “Actually,” he said, look ing down at his plate, “I’m planning on getting married.”

  “What?” Fennington sat forward. “You don’t know anyone. To whom could you possibly be getting married?”

  There was one woman he did know. And thank God he’d met her. “I think I’ve mentioned her to you already. Lady Phillipa Eddison.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Langley went down to the river to shave, despite the disappearance of a porter two nights before. Mbundi and I had scouted ahead at daybreak, and upon our return I sighted the paw print. A leopard, and a large one. Keeping downwind, I stalked the animal. Finally I sighted a spotted shoulder, firing my rifle just as the animal leapt. It died as it fell, one clawed foot covering Langley’s boot. I’d never heard as hair-raising a shriek as Langley emitted, and hope never to hear it again.

  THE JOURNALS OF CAPTAIN BENNETT WOLFE

  Are we back to roses?” Phillipa asked, as Barnes opened her front door to reveal Bennett standing there wearing a smile and holding a large bouquet.

  “They’re pink,” he returned, handing them to her. “I researched it. Pink is sweetness and admiration.”

  She grinned back at him. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome.”

  When he didn’t enter the house, but instead craned his head to look down the hallway, she turned to follow his gaze. “What?”

  “I thought your father might be waiting with a pistol.”

  That had very nearly been the case. “I told you that I would set things right. I explained that you and Kero were defending her honor.”

  “Oh. Wonderful. Now I’m uncivilized and completely mad.”

  “I’m certain it didn’t sound that way.” At least she hoped not. “He would like to speak to you, but he had a meeting. I told him you would make yourself available after our picnic.”

  “I’ll do that.” He spent another heartbeat or two gazing at her, then offered his arm. “Shall we?”

  Phillipa handed the roses to Barnes. “See that these are put in water, will you? And send Mary down.”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  Bennett escorted her down the front steps, and then left her breathless as he put his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the curricle’s seat. And a few short weeks ago she’d thought amorous pursuit was overrated. Ha. Now she wanted to tremble just looking at him. Part of her still couldn’t believe that he was looking back at her—though he’d several times proven that his interest was sincere and ongoing.

  “Hyde Park?” he asked, handing Mary onto the narrow seat at the back of the carriage and climbing up himself.

  “Might I suggest somewhere else?”

  He lowered one eyebrow, but nodded. “Wherever you like.”

  She smiled, encouraged and a bit nervous at the same time. After all, at the moment he was trapped here. It seemed a fine line between showing him there were things to enjoy in London and attempting to bribe him to stay put. “The British Museum.”

  “Can we get in without an appointment?”

  “Oh, yes. They know me. I go all the time.”

  “Ah.” He snapped the reins, and the smart black mare trotted down the drive. “So we’re going for my sake.”

  “Firstly, don’t be angry with me before you even set eyes on the inside of it. Secondly, I said that I go all the time, which I would think implies that I enjoy myself there.”

  His mouth twitched. “Very well. Consider me humbled.”

  “I’ll consider you chastised. I don’t think you’ve ever been humbled.”

  Bennett laughed. Oh, she liked the sound of his amusement. It lifted her inside, made her feel cherished. She reached over and touched his sleeve; she couldn’t help herself.

  “Don’t distract me,” he said, chuckling. “I don’t know where I’m going as it is.”

  “Turn here.” She pointed. “Up Oxford Street.” Phillipa smiled again. “You find me distracting?”

  “You have no idea.” He shifted closer to her. “Do you want to take the reins?”

  “I told you that I don’t know how to drive.”

  “I’ll be right here,” he returned. “And Usiku has a very good temperament. That’s why I chose her.”

  Phillipa looked at him. “You chose this mare because you think I can manage her?”

  His mouth curved. “Since we’re all to be part of the same household, I thought it made sense.”

  Part of her felt very warm and tingly at hearing that. The other part, though, was abruptly troubled. “You haven’t given up on locating your journals, I hope.”

  “I haven’t. I’m developing a strategy even as we speak. But forgive me if I’ve found something that seems of even more immediate import.”

  He meant her. She almost felt guilty that she could be so happy and excited even knowing how abysmal he must consider his own prospects. When she could prefer that he remain in England no matter how badly he might wish to be elsewhere. “When you retrieve the journals,” she said, mentally shaking herself, “will you write another book? One to counter Langley’s? I’m certain there are things—discoveries—he must have left out. Your expedition couldn’t have been day after day of heroic posturing.”

  “It was for him,” Bennett commented. “And no. Other than details of who did what and the more scientific observations that no one wants to read about, my book would essentially be identical to his.”

  “But what good will it do if you only use the journals to blackmail the Association and not to make the rest of London respect you again?”

  He shrugged. “I’m an explorer. It’s not up to me whether anyone believes what I tell them or not. Let the scholars debate. The journals are only important because, well, they’re mine, and because they are what will convince those who control the purse strings and make the decisions about who is asked to head which expedition.”

  For a minute she made herself pretend that all this didn’t mean he wanted to leave again. “I still think it’s a shame,” she said quietly. “I so much enjoyed reading your books. I could actually feel the sun burning my skin when I read about you seeing the pyramids for the first time.”

  “I could take you to see them with your own eyes, you know.”

  She shivered again, this time with nervousness. Could she travel to Egypt and brave sandstorms and bandits and thirst in exchange for such an amazing sight? Phillipa drew a sharp breath, shutting her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, brilliant green eyes were gazing at her.

  “Oh, turn here,” she said abruptly, although there was still plenty of time to maneuver. “Up Tottenham Court Road, and then right onto Great Russell.”

  He didn’t bring up traveling again as they went inside the museum, but as far as she was concerned, it colored every bit of their conversation. Why had the greatest adventurer in England decided to pursue her? And why couldn’t she stop worrying about whether she would disappoint him? Oh, books were so much easier.

  “I’ve never been to Greece,” he commented, pulling her out of her reverie.

  They stood in the gallery filled with the Elgin Marbles. “I love looking at these sculptures,” she said. “But you would have left them at the Parthenon, wouldn’t you?”

  “I don’t know.” He eyed the closest of the figures speculatively. “I might have made off with one or two of them. They are exquisite.”

  She took his arm as they wandered through the museum. This was the way she liked to explore. From his expression at least he wasn’t bored, but she could imagine how displays with description cards must pale compared to seeing lions running on the savannah or being handed a carving of an unknown figure by the man who’d fashioned it.

  “What’s that?” he asked, stopping before a black block of stone with letters and hieroglyphs carved into it. Several men stood around it, eyeing it and sketching i
t as though they expected it to get up and walk away.

  “That’s the stone from Rosetta. Bonaparte’s men found it. Everyone’s been trying to translate it, but it’s written in at least three different languages, only one or so of which anyone’s ever been able to decipher.”

  “Hm. It looks like one of those damned decrees they used to post in Spain—the same orders, repeated in Spanish, English, and French. Only wordier.”

  One of the men closest to them made a sound, then began muttering furiously with his colleagues. Phillipa tried to listen in, curious, until Bennett headed them off toward the African collection. In quick succession he named off the tribes to which a rack of spears belonged—Masai, Zulu, Turkana, and Samburu.

  “Which kind stabbed you?” she asked.

  “The tribe was Ngole, but I didn’t keep that particular spear.” He looked for a moment. “It’s closest to that one, I think.” He pointed at the sharp-looking, narrow, eight-inch head of the Turkana spear.

  “Dear heavens, I can’t imagine how much that must have hurt.” Tears gathered in her eyes. Seeing the spear made it seem more real. She’d already seen the scar, and it was devastating to realize how very close she’d come to never meeting him at all.

  “I’m only thankful I was stepping into a canoe at the time.” He looked down at her, then stroked a finger softly along her cheek. “Don’t cry, nyonda,” he murmured.

  Phillipa took a deep breath. “What does that mean, anyway? Nyonda?”

  His green gaze held hers. “It’s Swahili. It means ‘beloved.’” A small smile touched his mouth, and he brushed her cheek again. “You do know I love you, Phillipa. To an alarming degree.”

  Her heart did a somersault. “I very much want to kiss you, Bennett,” she whispered back.

  “I’m not stopping you.”

  Oh, propriety was such a silly thing, anyway. She leaned up on her tiptoes.

  “Lady Phillipa,” Mary exclaimed.

  She jumped. For goodness’ sake, she’d forgotten the maid was even there. Bennett lifted an eyebrow, but settled for reaching out to straighten her sleeve. “Damned shame, that.”

  He was cursing again, but she rather agreed with the sentiment. “Perhaps we should find a park and have our picnic,” she suggested.

  “If you’ll attempt driving the curricle.”

  “Very well.” After all, driving a curricle was a less alarming prospect than traveling to a different continent. Or than losing Bennett Wolfe to his adventures because she was too much of a coward to share in them.

  He needed to stop pushing so damned hard. Bennett handed over a leftover apple to Usiku, looking beyond the black mare’s head to Phillipa seated on the driver’s bench and holding the reins as if she thought the mare would fly away if she let go.

  “Relax your fingers,” he instructed. “I’m holding her head, so she’s not going anywhere.”

  “I made it to the park without killing anyone. Are you certain you wish to press your luck?” she asked, though her mouth quirked up at the corners.

  The Bennett fresh out of Africa would have said that he lived by pressing his luck, but he’d more than likely pressed her limited thirst for adventure enough for one day. “Only if you want to. I’m actually somewhat surprised that Usiku hasn’t chewed her way out of the harness and escaped.”

  “Very amusing.”

  An odd chill ran down his spine. As he looked up again, Phillipa was gazing past him, her rosy cheeks paling. Abruptly she glanced down at him. “Langley,” she mouthed.

  Bennett turned around. Langley, mounted on a swift-looking chestnut hunter, trotted directly for him. That in itself would have been a surprise, except that Lord Thrushell’s darling son wasn’t alone.

  “Ah, Bennett,” he drawled, stopping out of reach despite the superior numbers he’d brought with him. He had always had a fairly strong sense of self-preservation. “Introduce me to your pretty friend, why don’t you?”

  Or perhaps he didn’t wish to stay alive, after all. “I will if you will.” Releasing Usiku, he strolled over to stand in front of the wheel, putting himself between Langley and Phillipa.

  “That’s right; you haven’t spent much time in London.” Langley gestured at the broad-shouldered man mounted beside him. “Bradley, Lord Frizzel; Lord Louis Hedges; and Lord Warren Hastings.”

  “Lady Phillipa Eddison,” Bennett said reluctantly, not moving.

  So Langley had brought a pack of lords with him. David would be the highest ranking of them; he wouldn’t be wearing that air of cool superiority otherwise. Bennett understood pack dynamics and the rules of hierarchy. They held true everywhere, and for every species he’d ever encountered. As someone frequently ruled by his baser emotions, he also understood the look in Langley’s eyes. Whatever victory he’d won with the Africa Association yesterday hadn’t been enough for him.

  “You were with him the night Wolfe and his beast attacked me.”

  A proper, typical female would more than likely agree that they’d attended the same event, but not that she was “with” him or any other gentleman. Phillipa, however, wasn’t typical. Bennett held his breath, ready to react to whatever she might say.

  “He promised to introduce me to you,” she said in a breathy, excited voice. “That wasn’t at all what I had in mind. Oh, and you have a black eye. Does it hurt?”

  Langley puffed up like a damned peacock. “Not much. Will you be attending the assembly at Almack’s tonight, Lady Phillipa?”

  Lord Frizzel whispered something at him, but Langley made a dismissive gesture. At the same time, Bennett was trying to keep his jaw from dropping.

  Phillipa giggled, a rather engaging if unsettling sound. “I’ll be there if you will, Captain.”

  “Then save me the first waltz.” With a nod and a half smile for Bennett that didn’t touch his eyes, Langley led his pack off in the direction they’d come.

  As soon as they were out of sight, Bennett whipped around to glare up at her. “What the devil was that?” he demanded, climbing up onto the seat and taking the reins from her.

  She fanned her face with both hands. “Do you think he believed me?” she asked, her voice still unsteady and sharp with excitement.

  “Believed what? That you’re mad? A complete lunatic?” He clucked at Usiku, and they set off back toward Eddison House.

  “But I was attempting to sound like Livi.”

  When he glanced at her, her expression was affronted. “You didn’t sound like you. I’ll grant you that.”

  “I wasn’t actually flirting with him, you know. It occurred to me that being friendly with him might gain us more information than you going about punching him in the head.”

  Bennett pulled the reins so sharply that Usiku nearly skidded onto her haunches. “You are not going to seduce him to find out where my journals are.”

  “I’m certainly going to attempt it,” she retorted. “I may have to ask Livi for some advice. I’m not very good at flirting.”

  A stab of jealousy nearly gutted him. “I don’t want you going anywhere near him, Phillipa. And I like the way you flirt.”

  “Thank you. But I think this is a good idea. Admittedly I had no time to plan it, because it only just came to me when he and his overbearing friends rode up.”

  “No. No, no, no.”

  She brushed his thigh with her fingertips. “I may not be certain where I…see myself with you, but you need those journals. And I have a better chance at figuring out their location than you do.”

  Bennett opened his mouth to repeat his protest, then closed it again. As Phillipa had said on several occasions, she loved to set things right. And skittish as she’d been today about discussing adventures past and future, it was entirely possible that this little escapade was more for her sake than for his.

  “It would be more satisfying for Langley,” he said slowly, pushing aside the strong feeling that he was going to regret this, “if we made it clear that he was stealing you from me.” He took her
chin in his fingers, making certain she looked him in the eye. “Which he is not.”

  Pretty brown eyes gazed deep into his. “Which he is not,” she repeated.

  “And he’s dangerous.”

  “He’s dangerous in the wild, perhaps, but what would he possibly do here? He’s already dented your reputation and gotten away with it. Winning me should be exactly what he wants and expects to do next.”

  “You’ve done some studying of behavior in the natural world, yourself,” he acknowledged grudgingly.

  “I’ve read your books.”

  They drove in silence for a moment. Bennett didn’t like it. He didn’t like it with every fiber of his being that both wanted her and wanted to protect her. And if it was gentlemanly to step back and let the woman he adored do something that could be harmful to her reputation if not to her safety, then he would rather be a rogue and a beast.

  “What are you going to do if he wants to kiss you?” he finally asked, the question coming out in a growl.

  “A proper female wouldn’t allow a gentleman to kiss her until after they became betrothed.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Absolutely. Isn’t that so, Mary?”

  The maid behind them nodded so vigorously that Bennett could see her out of the corner of his eye. “Yes, Lady Flip. Nor any touching. Barely any holding hands except for assistance climbing in and out of carriages.”

  Belatedly Phillipa returned her fingers from the edge of his coat to her lap. Damned chaperones. “What if I simply tell you that I appreciate what you’re willing to do, and then you don’t do it?” he suggested.

  She shook her head. “No. I need to attempt this. If he…if we don’t match well tonight, then of course we’ll have to think of something else, but I—”

  “Promise me one thing,” he said. “If you feel uncomfortable, or if he says something that makes you suspect he’s realized you’re up to something, you will give me a signal.”

  “A signal? Should I shoot a pistol into the air?”

  “Don’t jest. Brush your hair behind your left ear. Like this.” He gently tucked a strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear, ignoring the disapproving cluck of the maid. “Will you?”