After some more stammering she apparently gave up and allowed him to lead her onto a corner of the well-polished dance floor. Without any further ceremony he put a hand on her waist, took her other hand, and began dancing.
“I’ve read your books, Captain Wolfe,” she blurted, as he tried to angle them toward the center of the floor. That was where Langley danced with Phil lipa, holding her hand, touching her waist, gazing at her.
“Did you?” he returned absently.
“Oh, yes. And I don’t believe you made all those missteps of which Captain Langley accused you in his book.”
He blinked. None of these machinations concerned Miss Patterson. And he had no reason to be rude to her, simply because he wanted to be dancing with someone else. “Thank you.”
“You can ask anyone, and they’ll tell you what a great admirer I am of yours.” She nodded eagerly, as if affirming her own conversation.
“Thank you again.” Four couples danced between him and Phillipa. Another sharp turn, and he cut past one pair.
“I can even recite the passage you wrote when you first saw a pride of lions.” She took a breath. “ The tall grass, golden in the unforgiving sunlight, rippled in waves—an ocean of gold and yellow broken only by the acacia trees and the occasional massive anthill. I—’”
“That’s very impressive,” he interrupted, not in the mood to hear words he’d written nearly eight years ago quoted back to him.
“But I can recall the rest of the passage, as well. In fact, I’ve read your books so many times I can repeat almost all of them from memory. And when I heard the news that you’d been killed, I embroidered all my handkerchiefs with your initials and the dates of your expeditions. And I only stopped wearing black after I read in the newspaper that you were alive.”
Somewhere this had gone from being a good idea and become something of a nightmare. Phillipa had told him that she’d read his books, but he doubted she could quote much more than a word or two back to him verbatim. He doubted he could recall any of it word-for-word. When Phillipa had discussed them, she’d talked about how she’d felt, the mental images the written words evoked. She hadn’t turned them into some kind of…bible.
But then he turned them again, and found himself catching Phillipa’s gaze. Time stopped for a heartbeat, and then she made a face and said something to Langley that Bennett couldn’t make out. A second later, the captain was facing David.
“This is pitiful, Wolfe,” the captain said. “Unless you mean to begin another brawl, keep your distance.”
“You’re a damned poacher, Langley.”
“It isn’t poaching if the lovely creature in question goes willingly.”
“Don’t make a scene, Bennett,” Phillipa said, sending an appraising glance at Miss Patterson. “Dance with your partner. I think you’ll find that you and Catherine have a great deal in common.”
Yes, one of them worshiped him, while the other was him. And considering that Phillipa seemed to know Miss Patterson, he meant to ask a few pointed questions of the clever, maddening chit.
“I won’t warn you again, Wolfe,” Langley said flatly. “Stay away.”
“Yes, Captain Wolfe,” Phillipa echoed. “Stay away.”
With every fiber of his being he wanted to sweep Phillipa into his arms and not let her go. This, however, was her game, and putting an end to it now might well also put an end to them. And so he scowled. “This isn’t over with,” he stated in a low voice, and swept Miss Patterson back in the direction from which they’d come.
“That wasn’t very nice,” Miss Patterson noted. “I thought Flip was another admirer of yours.”
“She used to be,” he said carefully, already planning how and when he would be calling on Phillipa Eddison after this damned party was over with. No one had best come between them then.
Chapter Twenty
It’s been said that humans are the only creatures who set traps. But isn’t a spiderweb a trap? Or when a crocodile lies in wait just beneath the surface, is he not setting a trap? Of course spiders and crocodiles only want a meal. The motives of humans aren’t always so pure. Not in my experience.
THE JOURNALS OF CAPTAIN BENNETT WOLFE
Phillipa read mainly histories and true accounts. On occasion, however, she indulged in a different sort of book—either the new comedic romances (of which Emma was her favorite), or those terribly overwrought gothic tales.
As she and Olivia returned home from Almack’s, she distinctly recalled one in particular. The heroine of Cliffside Manor had been pursued by two mysterious men—the scarred, brooding Stephen, and the handsome, brooding Hector. Judith’s dilemma had seemed terribly romantic, though of course it was Hector who’d won her affection, and Stephen who’d eventually ended up killed by the monstrous horse he rode.
Her own circumstances were a bit different; Bennett already had her affection, while she could barely tolerate David Langley. But she had no idea how Judith had survived to the end of the book when she actually had feelings for both men. Goodness, it was nerve-wracking enough just pretending to like Langley and watching Bennett dance with an admirer.
“I’m not happy with this,” Olivia said, as they said good night to their parents and ascended the stairs.
“It’s not up to you. All I ask is that you not say anything.”
“Just tell me how anyone could convince you to act so…unlike yourself and to risk your own reputation.”
“Firstly, I don’t have much of a reputation for anything but being a bluestocking and a poor conversationalist—and your sister.”
“That is not so, Flip.”
“Of course it is. And secondly, Bennett didn’t even want me to do this. It’s my idea, and I’ll see it through.”
Olivia stopped outside Phillipa’s door, blocking it. “Has he seduced you?”
“Livi, don’t—”
“Answer me, Phillipa Louise.”
Oh, dear. Her full name. For a moment she considered the question. Had Bennett seduced her? Nearly from their first meeting he’d made it clear that his intentions were honorable, though she was fairly certain that marriage had very little to do with why she’d wanted to be intimate with him, or why she…ached to be near him.
“I would call it partially seduction and partially mutual interest,” she decided.
“You—but—” Livi scowled. “Are you ruined?” she whispered.
“Yes.” Quite thoroughly and quite deliciously, actually.
Her sister stared at her. “I don’t even know what to say to you.”
“It’s more than likely too late to say much of anything.”
“Oh, and now you jest about it. I’m going to bed. But consider that if you’re successful in this foolish plot of yours, you’re giving Captain Wolfe the means to leave England again. You’ve barely been farther than Surrey. You’ve barely lifted your head out of your books. Are you planning on going with him to Africa? Or are you hoping he’ll miraculously become domestic for the first time in his life?”
Olivia vanished down the hallway to her own bedchamber. From the slam of the door, she wasn’t finished with expressing her irritation. And she’d asked a good set of questions. Sooner, rather than later, Phillipa was going to have to answer them.
She opened her door and slipped inside her bedchamber. Mary had lit a small fire in the fireplace and laid out her night rail on the down-turned bed. The rest would be up to Phillipa; Olivia was the one who’d always required the maid for brushing out her hair and changing into her nightclothes. Olivia always looked fashionable and well-groomed. Until the past few weeks, Phillipa had barely spared a thought for any of that.
As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light of her bedchamber, she noticed the figure seated in her reading chair beneath the window. She gasped, grabbing for the fireplace poker, until she recognized both him and the deep green eyes gazing at her. Her heart continued to pound, but for another reason entirely.
“Bennett, you nearly frightened me
out of my skin,” she whispered, returning the poker and dropping her reticule onto the writing table.
“I only want you out of your clothes,” he returned in a low, intimate voice. “Not out of your skin.” He sank back in her deep, comfortable chair. “Come here, Phillipa.”
Little as she liked being ordered about, he seemed to be just what she needed after the evening she’d spent. Phillipa walked over, placed her hands on either arm of the chair, and leaned in for a warm, lingering kiss. All the bad things of her day melted away in the rush of arousal and excitement of being with him.
Bennett wrapped his hands around her waist and drew her down onto his lap, holding her close against him as he kissed her again and again. Finally she lifted her head a little, stroking her fingers along his stubbled cheek. “Did you come in through the servants’ stairs again?”
“Through the window. I hate repeating myself.”
“Then the next time you’ll have to descend the chimney.”
“That could be a bit warm, but I’m willing to risk it.” He kissed both of her cheeks, then touched her lips again. “I heard Olivia out there. She has a very good point.”
“I don’t care about that. Those journals are yours. And I think I’ve figured out a fast way to find them. Fast enough to avoid having the Association name Langley to head their next expedition.”
“What about after that, Phillipa?”
“Later is later.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “Recite a passage of one of my books to me, will you?” he finally asked, opening his pretty eyes again.
Phillipa scowled. “What?”
“Recite a passage of Walking with Pharaohs or Golden Sun of the Serengeti. You told me you’ve read them.”
“I don’t have any passages memorized, Bennett. I have a few words here and there that I remember fairly closely, like the way you said the setting sun turned the desert sands into an endless, burning sea. It creates an image.”
He grinned, kissing her again. “Thank you.”
“What is this about? It’s not like you to be in my bedchamber and want to talk about books. Yours in particular.”
“Catherine Patterson is a great admirer of mine.”
With a snort, Phillipa buried her face in his neck. “Oh, that. I thought I might spare you. I had no idea you’d drag her onto the dance floor.”
“If I’d had any idea, I wouldn’t have.” He gazed at her. “I asked Jack to sponsor me at White’s,” he finally said. “We’ll see if my income rates higher than my present reputation.”
He was trying. He was making an effort to fit in, to join London Society. And what was she doing? “If you could do anything you wanted to, Bennett, go anywhere, what would you do?”
“I can’t answer that any more than you can answer my question. We seem to be stuck.” He took a slow breath. “So tell me your plan.”
“Langley—David—invited me to come and see his stuffed animal collection. The ones he shot in Africa.”
“Yes, he had a great many hides.”
“So I will go and see them. And I’ll bring my book for him to autograph. All I’ll need to do is get away from him for a few minutes, and I can search Langley House.”
“No.”
Blast it all. He might at least have taken the time to consider it. “And how did you think I was going to find the journals?”
“I didn’t want you to go looking for the journals. They’re my problem.”
“And you can’t go in and tear Langley House apart and burn it to the ground. Not if you want your reputation back.”
“And yet somehow the more I see you chatting and dancing with him, the better that particular suggestion of yours sounds.”
She frowned. “That was not a suggestion, and you know it.” When he didn’t reply to that, she elbowed him in the ribs. “I already accepted his invitation to visit. The only thing I need from you is the return of my book.”
His muscles had tensed considerably since she’d first joined him in the chair. Clearly he wasn’t happy, and he was growing even less so. “Phillipa,” he finally said, “you may have read his book, but you haven’t read my journals. And where Langley is concerned, the two tell a very different story.”
“I’m not falling for him, you know. I’m trying—”
“He wears a polite and pretty face better than I do,” he interrupted. “But don’t think he’s anything but a self-concerned, vicious bastard.” Bennett tightened his grip on her. “And I swear to you, if you’ll leave this be, I’ll stay. You don’t have to ask yourself whether you could travel with me, because we won’t go any farther away than Kent.”
So there it was. Bennett would give up his dreams for her, and in exchange all he asked was that she not make any sacrifice, herself. Her adventurer would become a gentleman farmer, not even because she asked him to, but because he knew she couldn’t manage if he attempted anything more.
Bennett brushed his fingers along her cheeks, and she realized she’d begun crying. Of course he would think they were tears of gratitude and joy. She, on the other hand, had never been as disappointed with herself as she was at that moment.
That, however, didn’t diminish his sacrifice. Until she’d heard him say it, she wouldn’t have been able to imagine any man willing to alter his life for her. And for this extraordinary man to do so…Her heart ached, both for him and for his voluntary loss. “I love you, Bennett,” she whispered, her voice shaking.
“And that is all I needed to hear,” he returned, sliding his palm up her leg, drawing her skirt with it. “Because you know I love you.”
“Yes. I think you’ve demonstrated that.” Better than she had.
“I’d like to demonstrate it again,” he said, clearly misunderstanding what she’d been referring to. “Several times, if we have that long tonight.”
She twisted a little so she could reach his knotted cravat with both hands. “Will you still want me in Kent?”
He smiled against her mouth. “I’ll even want you in Yorkshire.”
Slowly she slid his cravat free, dropping it to the floor so she could pull his shirt from his trousers and run her hands up the warm skin of his abdomen and chest. “In that case, I think we should move to the bed.”
She felt his thighs bunch beneath her, and then he stood, holding her in his arms. “An excellent suggestion, nyonda. My swollen parts are beginning to feel a bit confined.”
Phillipa chuckled. “We must see to that immed—”
Her door handle rattled. “Flip?” Olivia called in a low voice. “Are you asleep? Let me in!”
“Damnation,” she cursed, grabbing Bennett’s shoulders and pushing until he released his grip on her and her feet touched the floor again.
He reached for her as she headed for the door. “Send her away.”
“What is it, Livi?” she asked through the door. Thank goodness she’d latched it; she’d only begun doing so in the last few nights.
“Let me in, or I’ll scream.”
“All right. Give me a moment, will you? I’m half dressed.” That bit was nearly true, anyway. She faced Bennett. “Go! Out the window.”
He frowned. When she gestured at him to flee, though, her heart hammering, he backed a few steps toward the window. From the tent at the crotch of his trousers, he was going to have to be very careful climbing down, or he would damage something.
“Send your regrets to Langley,” he murmured, sliding over the windowsill and swinging his legs outside. “You and I are going for a drive at two o’clock. Promptly.”
She nodded, throwing the cravat out the window after him. As Livi knocked once more, louder, she yanked the clips out of her hair, straightened her skirt, and unlatched the door. “What in the world is wrong?” she asked, opening the door.
“After our conversation, I did some thinking,” her sister said, striding past her to glare suspiciously around the room. “If Sir Bennett ruined you, it was accomplished either by him sneaking in here, or
you sneaking out.” She walked over to the far side of the bed and ducked down to look beneath it. Then she straightened, sat on it, and slid under the covers. “I am therefore sleeping in here until you either marry him, or he leaves the country.”
Considering that she’d been minutes away from being naked with Bennett in that same bed, Phillipa decided her exasperation was understandable. But with him more than likely still climbing down the trellis outside her window, it was also somewhat amusing. She snorted.
“It’s not funny,” Livi retorted, throwing her night rail at her as she wriggled out of her dress. “I may not be able to keep you from stepping between Bennett and Captain Langley in public, but I can certainly keep your reputation safe in our own house. No more adventures for you, Flip.”
Phillipa started to reply that she no longer had a reason to step anywhere near Langley, but she stopped herself. Instead she pulled the thin night rail over her head and climbed into bed beside her sister. “Thank you,” she said, imagining she could hear Bennett swearing down on the ground outside.
“You’re welcome.”
“Do you truly think I’ve been adventuring?” she asked after a moment, surprised to hear Livi refer to all this mess as an adventure.
“That’s certainly what I would call it. Carrying about monkeys, deciphering conspiracies about book authorship, engaging in an illicit affair with one man while flirting with another—you’d never catch me doing any such thing. Now go to sleep.”
Phillipa curled onto her side, but sleep was the last thing on her mind. So Bennett had conceded, declared her victorious, and removed any reason for her to risk anything on his behalf. Tomorrow she could sit in the morning room and read until after he had his sponsored luncheon at White’s. Then he would take her for a drive promptly at two o’clock, and quite probably propose.
Or she could find another copy of Langley’s book, go visit the captain at ten o’clock on the pretext of seeing his silly dead animals and obtaining an autograph, and take that one opportunity to look for Bennett’s journals. With or without discovering their location, she could still be home in time for their drive. And then she could say she’d done her best—and mean it. Even more importantly for her, she could say she’d had an adventure, risked…something, and it would be true.
The Care and Taming of a Rogue Page 26