A Lady's Guide to Improper Behavior (21 page)

“My apologies,” he interrupted, grabbing her shoulder before she could back away. “That was shabby of me.”

Then he wasn’t asking?
“Make up your damned mind about what you intend to say before you speak to me again,” she snapped, jerking free of him.

“That’s why I apologized,” he retorted, cutting off her retreat with apparent ease, despite his bad leg. “Asking something that…important shouldn’t be done so badly that you can’t decipher what I’m saying.”

She glared at him. “And?” she prompted, trying to ignore the furious pounding of her heart.

“I can’t kneel,” he said quietly, dropping his cane and taking both of her hands in his.

“I don’t care.”

“No, you don’t, do you?” he murmured, his gaze mesmerizing even in the dim, flickering torchlight. “I have to put a condition on this,” he continued after a moment. “If everything collapses and I end up arrested, I won’t hold you to anything. I know your sensitivity to—”

“Ask me the question, will you?” she broke in again, beginning to wonder whether he would talk himself out of it. If the question he was attempting to ask was the one she wanted to hear, that was.

“When I returned to England,” he said slowly, “I had already given myself up for dead. You are my miracle, and I can’t imagine any sunrise without you in my life.” He cleared his throat. “Would you do me the very great honor of marrying me, Theresa?”

Now
that
was a proposal. “Before I met you,” she returned, “men followed me about because I’m wealthy and had impeccable manners. I wouldn’t have married any of them, because they wanted someone I wasn’t.”

“And?” he prompted, much as she had a moment ago.

“And then you brought me back to life, Tolly. I love…I love you. And it would be
my
honor—and my pleasure—to marry you.”

For a long moment he just stood there, gazing at her. Then Tolly wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her into the air. “Thank you,” he whispered, kissing her. “Thank you.”

Theresa flung her arms around his neck. She wanted to thank him back again, but between the kissing and the laughing, she couldn’t muster enough breath even to speak. Then abruptly she was tumbling to the ground, Tolly swearing and then twisting her around so that he went down beneath her.

“Apologies,” he grunted, wincing even as he continued to grin at her.

She steadied herself across his thighs, still holding on to his shoulders. So many people were angry or about to be angry at him, it didn’t seem fair that all on her own she could add a dozen thwarted beaux to the list. “We shouldn’t say anything about this.”

Tolly tilted his head at her. “If you’re ashamed of me at this moment, the next few weeks are going to be intolerable,” he said carefully, his amber eyes going distant. “Perhaps you should change your answer.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she retorted. “Montrose,
Henning, Lionel Humphreys, Henry Camden—they’ll all be out of sorts. You don’t need more enemies.”

“Ah.” His expression eased. “Nor do you.” Reaching back, he found his cane. “Help me up, then, and we’ll keep this our secret. For the moment.” Slipping his free hand to cup the nape of her neck, he kissed her again. “Though I mean to remind you on every possible occasion.”

Thank goodness
. “I do hope so.” Standing, Theresa straightened her skirt and then offered him a hand. He nearly pulled her over, but between her, the cane, and a nearby tree trunk he managed to climb to his feet again. “Who are you meeting tonight?”

He glanced sideways at her before offering her his arm. “I’ll tell you tomorrow, if I can. It’s a bit of a sticky situation.”

“You can trust me, you know.”

“I know that. It’s not my secret to keep.”

“Oh.” Leaning into his arm while they still had the privacy of the garden, she walked with him back toward the terrace. “It’s a matter of honor, then.”

“Somewhat. I owe this person a favor.”

“Is this the person with whom you stayed before you returned home?”

His jaw tightened. “I wouldn’t have you be less bright than you are, but you’re going to have to be patient. And stop asking so many damned questions tonight. I just proposed to someone, and I’m a bit…disconcerted.”

Theresa laughed. “Good. I was beginning to think you were Achilles, with your knee your only vulnerable spot.”

“Achilles,” he repeated, grinning back at her. “I like that.”

“Hmm. You would.”

The moment they stepped back into the ballroom, the noise and smells and sights rushed back in on her. Compared to this, the garden seemed a veritable Eden. Her partner for the cotillion was pacing the side of the dance floor, looking for her, and with a sigh she squeezed Tolly’s arm and left him.

“There you are,” Lionel said, scowling as he looked past her at Tolly. “Not still lending an ear to that fool, are you? You know they’re saying that he led his men into the wilderness, got lost, and then was the only one to find his way out.”

She kept her charming smile carefully on her face. “You never fail to make me laugh, Lionel. Though I’m not certain the stabbing, strangling, and shooting deaths of eight soldiers should be the subject of a jest. I’m certain the soldiers’ families don’t think it’s amusing.”

He stammered. “They found his men?”

“Of course. Didn’t you read the newspaper when he returned? His commanding officer praised his courage and intelligence. It’s just a shame now that his brave deeds fall contrary to the East India Company’s pocketbooks.”

“Yes,” he said uncertainly, following her onto the dance floor and taking her proffered hand. “A shame.”

As she turned and dipped and hopped in time with the music, she kept half her attention on Tolly. Most people who passed by ignored him, or even went out of their way to pretend not to notice him. He was
definitely a striking presence, but also a very direct one. No, this time she had the advantage. She had spent years learning precisely how to be the most charming. And everyone knew that more snakes had been caught with a smile than with a sword point. Or some saying like that, anyway.

But that very realization worried her where Tolly was concerned. He’d been too hurt to be easy on anyone. And if this mysterious person he was to meet felt the same, things could get very dangerous. Which left her, she supposed. A very nervous, very unskilled, very loyal her.

T
om hadn’t been happy to be roused from sleep well after midnight and sent to saddle Meru, but if Sommerset was feeling secretive, Bartholomew had no intention of hiring hacks and attracting attention both by his limp and his person if the rumors had begun to spread outside the circles of the
ton
.

The leather cuff he tied around his leg wasn’t the most fashionable accessory, but he’d never much cared about that. And the support it provided more than made up for the wrinkling of his trousers. Of more interest was the way the binding didn’t hurt quite as much as it had the last time he’d worn it, and
the way he had to lash it tighter. That meant both that the swelling in his knee had gone down, and that the break was beginning to heal.

In his imagination, it meant that perhaps one day he might be able to walk normally again, and that sometime in the unforeseeable future he might be able to waltz with his wife.
His wife
. He couldn’t quite believe that she’d said yes. He hadn’t even planned to ask her until he’d resolved this damned mess, but out in that garden with her dressed all in emerald and her eyes shining like twin stars, he hadn’t been able to resist.
And she’d said yes
.

Most of the
ton
’s parties were ending at this hour, and the street rang with the sound of hooves and tack and carriage wheels. Bartholomew took a deep breath. Since he’d returned home to James House, the only time he’d ever been truly alone was when he’d been asleep—and he hadn’t been alone there since India and the nightmares he’d brought back with him, so that hardly counted.

In all that time, though, he’d
felt
alone no matter who surrounded him—unless it was Theresa. During the mess he’d made in India and the careless way he lived his life before that, he must have done at least one good thing. Otherwise he couldn’t explain why he deserved her.

Sommerset must have alerted his stable that a guest would be arriving, because Harlow came jogging around to the front of the house the moment Meru set hoof on the front drive. “Colonel,” the groom said, moving around to take Tolly’s weight as he stepped to the ground.

Bartholomew, though, waved him back. “I’ll give it
a try,” he said, swinging down right leg first. Thankfully Meru knew by now to tolerate all sorts of nonsense, and the gelding didn’t even flinch as he grabbed onto the cantle to steady himself. By God. He made it to the ground and onto his feet by himself, for the first time in nearly a year.

“Well done, sir,” the groom said, grinning.

Tolly inclined his head as he freed his cane from its restraining straps. “Thank you.”

He considered pounding on Sommerset’s front door, because this time his business concerned the man rather than his Adventurers’ Club. But the duke also represented his best chance at finding a fellow survivor. Angering him for no damned reason other than contrariness didn’t strike him as being very wise. And he was attempting to be wise. Wiser.

Pulling the club key from his pocket, he limped to the half-hidden door and let himself inside. It was crowded tonight; nine men sat about the room, four of them at the same table and playing faro. “Welcome back, Colonel,” Gibbs said, coming forward. “A drink?”

“No, thank you. Where’s Sommerset?”

“He’ll be down in a moment. You might wish to go have a seat by the inner door.”

The inner door. The one that led into Ainsley House proper and out of the Adventurers’ Club. He hadn’t been inside the duke’s private residence since the day he’d been invited to join Sommerset’s odd little mix of outcasts. With a brief nod to the footman, he limped across the room.

“In the nine months since Sommerset began this,”
damned Easton’s voice came from one of the tables, “not a one of us has been asked to leave the club. What do you think of that, Colonel?”

Bartholomew ignored him. This place had helped keep him alive when he’d first returned to London, and it would be worse than a shame if the duke decided he didn’t deserve to take his ease behind its walls any longer. But at the same time, he had other concerns, and he couldn’t turn from the path he’d chosen without losing something. He might lose it all anyway, but he’d discovered a reason to take a chance.

The inner door opened. The Duke of Sommerset stood there, taking in the occupants of the room. Then he angled his head toward the inside of the house. “In here,” he said, barely sparing Bartholomew a glance.

“Goodbye, Colonel James!” Easton called, chuckling.

“Sapskull,” Sommerset muttered, closing and locking the door once Tolly limped through it.

Bartholomew took a breath, reminding himself to keep his temper in check. “Thank you for agreeing to see me to—”

“Do you think I meant to give you my word and then do nothing?” the duke interrupted.

“It had occurred to me that you might have stronger ties to the East India Company than to a troublesome member of your club.”

The duke glared at him. “‘Troublesome’ is a damned good description. I knew how much money this could potentially cost me before I made the offer
to assist you. Now stop impugning my honor and sit down before you fall down,” he said, leading the way past the stairs and into a small sitting room.

“Does all that mean you have information for me?” Bartholomew asked.

“Have some bloody patience, will you?” Sommerset snapped.

“I was called a coward by General Mayhew this evening. It made me angry.”

“Mayhew’s a fool,” another male voice stated.

At the sound of an additional speaker, Tolly looked toward the back of the room. “Ross,” he exclaimed, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

Major-General Anthony Ross stood at the far side of the fireplace, his expression supremely somber. “Tolly.”

Ironic as it seemed that Bartholomew wore his uniform while the serving officer was in dark civilian clothes, under the circumstances it wasn’t that surprising. “You’re Sommerset’s source at the Horse Guards?” Tolly asked aloud.

“I am no one’s damned spy,” Ross snapped. “I tried to call on you days ago. You wouldn’t see me.”

“I—”

“After the report became public, I couldn’t very well go looking for you. When Sommerset mentioned his friendship with you, I asked him to set up a discreet meeting.”

Tolly finally took a seat in one of the sitting room’s comfortable chairs. “I apologize, Anthony. I haven’t been very social since my return.”

Ross cleared his throat. “Understandable. But you saved my skin in Belgium, and I wanted to repay the
debt. It’s too late now to warn you about the East India Company’s report, but I can at least tell you that Hadderly consulted with the Horse Guards before publishing.
You
are the only known English survivor of a reputed Thuggee attack. Don’t look for allies at the War Office, Tolly. We’ve been warned against aiding you.”

For a long moment, Tolly looked at him. “Why? I’ve served honorably for ten years.”

“Because there is a shortage of wars at the moment,” Sommerset put in, leaning on his elbows over the back of a chair. “In order to keep itself financially and politically…useful, the army has to ally itself with the Company. It’s business, Tolly. But I wanted you to hear it from Major-General Ross, since you seem to think I have ulterior motives.”

“I owe you an apology as well, Your Grace.”

“Yes, you do. I would have been rather surprised—and disappointed—however, if you weren’t suspicious of everyone.”

Apparently the circle of people he trusted was beginning to grow again despite everything that had happened. And for that he owed Theresa another debt of gratitude. “Then what do you suggest I do now, Your Grace?”

“Talk to the army. Persuade them that their soldiers knowing about the Thuggee threat is vital to continued commerce in India. They may not do anything publicly, but within the ranks it may save lives.”

“But not my reputation.” And he needed his reputation in order to enable him to marry Theresa.

“The Company will never admit to a danger they can’t control. They would lose millions of pounds.
Compared with that, a few dozen soldiers and a few hundred natives disappearing now and then is justifiable.” The duke glanced at Ross, who looked grimmer by the moment. “In my opinion, the best you can hope for is convincing the Horse Guards and then going north for a few months until the next scandal erupts in Town.”

“And stop wearing your uniform,” the major-general added. “Because while I believe you, a great many of my fellows prefer to believe the Company, and they find you genuinely…offensive.”

“I actually don’t care if the commanders who are deserting me are offended by my actions. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t think you have a choice.”

“I am engaged,” Bartholomew said stiffly. “And I expect you to keep that to yourselves, the same way I’m keeping your…assistance to myself. But I’m not about to drag her into disgrace.”

Sommerset gazed at him speculatively. “The chit who had you thinking about dancing?”

“Yes.”

“Damn.”

The duke spoke so quietly that Tolly wasn’t certain he was meant to hear the curse. But he did, and he knew what it meant. Sommerset saw no way around this. In order for the East India Company to remain successful in India, any stories of the Thuggee needed to be suppressed. And while he might have some success in convincing the army to at least keep their soldiers informed, none of that would be public knowledge. People would continue to vanish, and his reputation would remain where it was—damaged
and crumbling further as his leg healed and he lost what sympathy his injury gained him.

He cleared his throat. “Someone suggested that I write a memoir of my experiences in India.”

Sommerset paused, then took a seat. “A memoir with the idea of publication.”

“Yes.”

“You would be denting a great many pocketbooks. Including mine.”

“And my word as a senior officer with the War Office, Ross put in.”

Bartholomew let the hard jolt of tension flow into his shoulders. He couldn’t outrun anyone, but he had a very hard cane in his hand, and he knew how to use it—and the rapier hidden inside it. “Is that going to be a problem?” he asked slowly.

The duke looked away for a moment, clearly running scenarios through his head. “No,” he said finally. “Not from me.”

Ross shook his head. “I had friends in your unit as well, Tolly. They shouldn’t be forgotten.”

“But I suggest you do this secretly,” Sommerset continued. “And quickly. The longer it takes, the more likely someone who isn’t willing to sit by is to discover it. And by that I mean anyone with ties to the Company. Which might be almost anyone, these days.”

“Danger doesn’t precisely trouble me.” Bartholomew stood, keeping his weight balanced just on the chance that one of the men wasn’t as accepting of this plan as he pretended.

“Whose idea was this? Do you trust him?”

“Her. Yes. I trust her.”

The duke stood as well. “Wait here a moment, Ross. I don’t want to risk you two being seen together.” He opened the door and led Tolly back toward the club entrance. “Let me know when you think it’s ready to be looked at. Several other club members have been published, and I know one or two honest publishers who won’t sell your information to the East India Company.” He stopped, blocking the way. “You may be comfortable with danger, Tolly, but there are those around you who aren’t.”

“I’ll manage.” When he straightened, he and Sommerset were eye to eye. “I saved Ross’s life. He owes me a good turn. But I’m trusting you, Sommerset. And in the past trusting people hasn’t done me well. If I see trouble and it looks like it’s come from here, I won’t wait for an explanation.”

“Generally people don’t threaten me in my own home, Colonel.” The duke unlocked the door. “Under the circumstances, I’ll let it go. Yes, some of my wealth comes from the East India Company. Not all of it. And not enough for me to harm someone I consider a friend.” He offered his hand.

Bartholomew hesitated, then shook hands with the duke. The man had already saved his life, and his leg. He hoped he’d become a better judge of character in the past year, because yes, he did consider Nicholas Ainsley, the Duke of Sommerset, a friend. And the duke had already described himself as such to Ross.

“Contact me if you need assistance. But do it discreetly.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And keep Miss Weller close; she seems to have some rather brilliant ideas.”

Of course if anyone knew which lady had caught his eye it would be Sommerset; he rarely seemed to miss anything. “I intend to.”

“Can’t we go home now, miss?” Sally asked, bundling herself tighter in her shawl.

Theresa kept her steady gaze out the hack’s window. “Not until Colonel James reappears,” she said.

They’d been stopped just down the street from Ainsley House for nearly thirty minutes. Whatever his business there, and she suspected that the Duke of Sommerset must be his secret contact, he hadn’t used the front entrance. Rather, he’d disappeared through a door halfway down the front of the house and well hidden by an archway covered with vines.

It was definitely peculiar. And now that she had an additional reason to worry over Tolly, she was very glad she hadn’t stayed at home and waited to see what might come of tomorrow. And if she didn’t see Colonel James reappear in the next twenty minutes, she was going in after him.

He could escape this, if he wanted to. He could leave the country, or go somewhere far from London where no one had heard of the Thuggee or his service in India. But he would go a disgraced man, and he could never return without being seen as the same. Bartholomew
could
do that, and could more than likely live with the consequences. But he wouldn’t. And that was because of her.

“Miss Tess, it’s very late,” Sally muttered miserably. “If anyone in the household was to wake and see you gone, there would be the devil to pay.”

“Hush, Sally. If everything goes as it should, we’ll
be home again without ever having left the hack, and no one the wiser.”

“Colonel James will not like you spying on him, you know.”