The Care and Taming of a Rogue
Read The Care and Taming of a Rogue Online
Authors: Suzanne Enoch
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whom I find very inspiring
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Contents
Captain David Langley stepped down from his hired hack and…
Bennett Wolfe stepped down from the hired hack and tossed…
Now calm yourself, Bennett,” Jack said, closing the library door…
Bennett borrowed a horse from Jack and rode to Ainsley…
Phillipa Eddison waited in the breakfast room until her tea…
Well, this is charming,” Jack muttered, clapping Bennett on the…
I still wish I’d thought of letting him catch me…
Phillipa’s pulse jumped as Bennett crossed the room. It seemed,…
Bennett sat in the breakfast room at Howard House and…
For the last time, Livi, I don’t know what Captain…
Hayling, I’m not asking much,” Bennett said, attempting to keep…
Bennett walked back into Howard House, favoring Hayling with a…
Someone knocked at the front door as Phillipa sat down…
Bennett turned away from the window so quickly that Kero…
I don’t appreciate you befriending Geoffrey behind my back.”
Kero, up,” Bennett muttered, handing the vervet into a chandelier.
And here,” Bennett murmured, trailing a finger along her ribs,…
I hope you’re not angry with me,” Livi whispered, taking…
Are we back to roses?” Phillipa asked, as Barnes opened…
I’m telling you, she has no suitors.”
Phillipa read mainly histories and true accounts. On occasion, however,…
Bennett looked about the crowded main dining room at White’s…
Bennett jabbed his rhinoceros-horn knife through the middle of the…
Phillipa knew the inn lay to the south, and she…
C
aptain David Langley stepped down from his hired hack and gestured for the driver to help unload his things. Though it was twilight and the air smelled like rain, he took a moment to gaze at the white and gray house before him; after all, he hadn’t seen it in three years.
The downstairs rooms all glowed with lamplight—his parents were in residence. More importantly, the generous lighting meant they were in tonight, thank God. “No. I’ll take that one,” he snapped, grabbing the large leather satchel from the driver and slinging it over his own shoulder. Then he marched up the three shallow steps and rapped the brass horse’s head knocker against the front door.
It opened almost immediately. The tall, sallow-faced servant began a polite inquiry and then snapped his jaw shut, his skin paling to aged parch ment. “Captain Langley!” he exclaimed. “Saints be praised!”
“Varner.” David stepped past the bowing butler and into the foyer. Faithful servant or not, Varner was not whom he wanted to see. “Where might I find Lord and Lady Thrushell?”
“In the dining room, sir. Shall I see to—”
“Yes, please get my things inside before the rain begins, and pay the driver.”
“Of course, Captain. With pleasure.”
Passing halfway down the foyer to the closed double doors on the left side, he paused for a moment, shifting the heavy bag on his shoulder a little. Three years of hell he’d lived through, and now, by God, he had something to show for himself. Taking a breath, he pulled open the doors and strolled inside.
“Hello, Father. Mother.”
“David!” His mother, her pretty hair now salt-and-pepper-colored but her figure still whip-thin, shot to her feet and rushed to embrace him. “Oh, my darling boy! Your note said you wouldn’t be crossing from Calais for another two days!”
“The weather looked to worsen, and I didn’t want to wait,” he replied.
The sight beyond his mother wasn’t the one he expected; in fact, it rather dampened his enthusiasm at the homecoming. Damned Bennett Wolfe again. From thousands of miles away, even from beyond death, the man still managed to throw rocks into his path.
He tempered his smile. “And Lord and Lady Fennington. How pleasant to see you again. I only wish the circumstances could have been more favorable.”
By now everyone at the table was on his or her feet, coming forward to welcome him home. His father shook his hand, looking proud and pleased to see his son and heir again. “Home from Africa,” he muttered, shaking his head. “It’s a miracle.” The earl sent a glance over to Randolph Howard, the Marquis of Fennington. “Especially given the difficulties you encountered.”
Fennington nodded, offering his hand, as well. “Thank you for sending us word of my nephew’s demise. It was very gentlemanly of you, considering that he didn’t even bother to tell us where his latest adventure might be taking him.” He sighed. “Truth be told, for the past four or five years I haven’t been certain whether Bennett was alive or dead. Now, at least, I know.”
David’s mother was pulling him toward the table, informing him that he must be famished and needed to eat some good English cooking. “Have you informed anyone else of your return?” she asked, trying to push the satchel from his shoulder. “I know some ladies who will be very happy to see you. Especially back from the Congo. The only shame is that you won’t be featured in one of Captain Wolfe’s famous books now. Oh, that would have been marvelous, but I don’t suppose he could have written a last one before he died.”
Well, that was damned poor timing for this conversation. If he didn’t say anything now, though, Fennington would be suspicious later. David drew another breath, trying to decipher how to navigate this particular thorny path when he’d expected to find it wide open. “As a matter of fact,” he said slowly, “Bennett gave something into my care just before he died. Something that may improve all of our fortunes.” Carefully he set down the satchel and untied the fastening, then flipped it open. “His journals and some of his sketches,” he said.
“By God,” Fennington breathed, leaning down as though he meant to touch the worn bindings of the topmost book.
Swiftly David closed the satchel again. “He gave them to
me
. And no one but I will know how to piece them together and shape them into something coherent.”
“Considering that his book about adventuring in Egypt got him a knighthood and a grant of land from Prinny, those things are very nearly worth their weight in gold,” his father observed, looking from him to the marquis. They were old, dear friends, but Fennington outranked him, marquis to earl. Silently David cursed his mother again for broaching a topic he couldn’t set aside in the face of Wolfe’s uncle.
“How piecemeal are they?” Fennington pursued, still looking as though he wanted to snatch the entire bag and make a run for it.
“Very, I’m afraid. Unfortunately the delirium completely addled his mind before he succumbed to his wound.” David nudged the satchel with one booted toe. “And in any case, by the strictest interpretation of our expedition, upon his demise, Bennett’s things would belong to the Africa Association. If he hadn’t first given what little he’d managed to save to me, of course.”
Both lords frowned at the mere mention of the Africa Association. “Damned Sommerset,” Fenning ton grumbled. “He’d deny us any profits at all if he got his hands on anything. Science, exploration—it’s easy to be philanthropic when you have more money than King Midas.”
“Yes, but if the journals belonged to David,” his father mused, “with of course a credit to Bennett Wolfe for his help and inspiration, and perhaps the contribution of a passage here and a sketch there, and—”
“And with a portion of the profits of course going to Bennett’s only surviving family members,” David took up, finally smiling again, “think of…of—”
“Of the contribution we would be making to science.” Fennington grinned as well. “And to a very large and receptive audience.” He stuck out his hand again. “Fifty percent?”
Damnation. An hour ago David had been contemplating one hundred percent, with no one the wiser. But on the other hand, with Wolfe’s family adding weight to the idea that this was somehow a tribute to the famous explorer, the book sales, the speaking engagements, the fame, the invitations from Prinny…He reached out and shook the marquis’s hand. “Fifty percent. If you’ll write the foreword.”
“Absolutely. After all, I can only have my nephew officially declared dead thanks to your presence, there in the Congo and back here in London. Without you, his property would return to the Crown.”
“Excellent,” his father said, shaking hands with both men in turn. “Varner! Some champagne! My son has returned from Africa after a three-year expedition!”
David sat at the table as two footmen hurriedly set him a place. Thank God that Bennett Wolfe had finally overreached his own ambitions and been felled by a handful of natives carrying spears. He smiled again at the excited chatter around him. Yes, thank God that damned Bennett Wolfe was dead.
