The Care and Taming of a Rogue (22 page)

“Do you get royalties when you say the entire title?” Bennett asked.

“—based on my journal and my recollections. I never even saw Wolfe writing in anything resembling a journal.”

“Ballocks.”

“Captain Wolfe,” Lord Talbott chastised, “we are civilized gentlemen here. Please control yourself.”

“I am controlling myself. If I wasn’t, Langley would be dead.”

The duke sat forward. “That’s enough of that,” he said, the touch of a growl in his deep voice. “I would like to hear if you have any proof of this wrongdoing, Captain Wolfe.”

Bennett shook himself. Words now. Fists later. “We spent three years in the Congo. I filled nine journals with information on everything from rainfall to elevation to descriptions of plants and animals. My—”

“God, that sounds dull,” Langley interrupted with a chuckle. “This is your imagination, Bennett. Surely you can conjure something more exciting than that.”

“
You
couldn’t,” Bennett shot back at him. “Those things—well, the ones that didn’t take much intelligence to figure out—all appeared in that book of yours.”

“I was in the Congo, as well. Of course they appeared.”

Taking one step forward, Bennett reached the table and grabbed Langley’s journal. He flipped it open. “Let’s see how well David strips away Africa’s mysteries, shall we? ‘Everything is hot and wet and covered with thorns and vines,’” he read, dodging Langley’s reach. “ The damned natives smell, and the women are ugly.’” He looked up. “And that is… three months of observations, judging from the date of the next entry.”

“I said that the book is also based on my recollections.”

“It’s just a coincidence that
I
have thirty crates of artifacts and specimens waiting for me at Tesling, then, while you have…this.” Bennett tossed the journal back at him. “In addition to the coincidence that the monkey you so touchingly befriended tried to take off your ear last night. And that you didn’t see fit to bring her with you to England after I died. Hm. Ah, that bit didn’t happen either, did it?”

“I suppose you can say anything you like,” Langley retorted. “You have no proof.”

“I have an idea,” Bennett pushed, anger building in him like water behind a dam. “I enjoyed that sketch you did of Mbundi. Draw it again, why don’t you? In fact, we should each take a pencil and paper and see whose work more resembles the one in your book. Let’s do that now, shall we?”

“I—”

“And we can’t forget the two books I wrote before we ever met. I don’t suppose
you
kept any of the papers you wrote at Cambridge. Or that you’d want these men to compare them to the language of your book. Or your book to my books, which is where the closest resemblance lies.”

“That’s sufficient, I think,” Lord Hawthorne said.

“I agree,” Sommerset commented, his own eyes glinting. For a brief moment Bennett wondered which of them was closer to jumping Langley.

“The difficulty with deciding whether Captain Wolfe had any journals and whether Captain Lang ley knows of their whereabouts,” Lord Thrushell said in a cool voice, “is that the book has gained us all an unprecedented level of popularity. It is my understanding that both the scientific community and Prinny are clamoring for another expedition to begin, and for my son to lead it.”

“Your son couldn’t lead a horse around a track,” Bennett retorted.

“Make your point, Thrushell,” the duke asked, over the growing muttering. “Because we were supposed to receive research materials and artifacts from the expedition. Captain Bennett has reiterated that he will be sending us specimens once he returns to Tesling. From Captain Langley we’ve received…applause, I suppose.”

“Has the Africa Association ever been the focus of so much fame and acclaim?” Thrushell countered. “Not since Mungo Park’s return, I’ll wager. Are any of you willing to let such an opportunity go by in exchange for—for what? For pointing a finger and saying this man wrote one word and that man wrote two other words?”

“An uproar over the authorship of Langley’s book would consume any discussion and deflect the attention from any accomplishments made,” Hawthorne put in. “And we would all be subjected to ridicule. Perhaps even by Prinny. Our reputations and that of the Association could suffer. Would suffer.”

“Does the book contain any lies, Captain Wolfe?” Lord Thrushell demanded.

“About who the bumbling fool of the expedition was, yes.”

“Any factual untruths, Captain.”

Bennett clenched his jaw so hard the muscles creaked. He could lie, but that would put him in the same bucket of slop that Langley already occupied. “No. Dramatic flairs and hyperbole, but no lies.”

“I won’t sit for this,” Talbott snapped.

“I wouldn’t either,” Hawthorne put in, “if Captain Wolfe hadn’t exhibited such poor behavior last night. That, taken together with his damaged reputation and the overall furor calling the book’s authorship into question would cause, is far outweighed by the positive publicity and interest and donations we’ve received because of Captain Langley’s new fame.”

“Donations?” Bennett snarled. “You mean that Lord Thrushell has bought your silence.”

“He hasn’t bought mine,” Sommerset cut in, though he looked more resigned and disgusted than self-righteous.

“Why don’t we take a vote?” Thrushell suggested. “Do we admit that Captain Langley’s book is a perjury? Well, no it’s not, but he didn’t write it, except that he did and only borrowed a few details from a man believed to be dead. Do we admit that the Association was wrong to support the popular, well-respected son and heir of a well-respected and very generous earl? That Bennett Wolfe, a supposedly-deceased, hostile rogue who can’t conduct himself with any sort of propriety and decorum, is our man?”

“And wouldn’t you be hostile, if upon returning to England after an extended time away, you discovered that your reputation and your work had been stolen from you?” Sommerset rose, walking to one of the room’s tall windows to gaze outside.

“I thought he was dead,” Langley protested.

“Yes, of course I would be angry.” Sighing, Lord Hawthorne sent a glance around the room—at everyone but Bennett. This was bad. Very bad. “But for the good of the Association and its future, I believe we need to be…discreet.”

The others were nodding. Bennett’s chest felt hollowed out, as though these men had ripped everything out of him, heart and soul. “You’re condemning me to remain here in England, then, with no reputation.”

“I think we can work in a word here and there to indicate that perhaps Captain Langley was having a bit of fun with his description of you.” Thrushell’s smug expression made Bennett want to hit him. “Should we put this to a vote? Or does anyone disagree? Sommerset?”

“I abstain,” the duke snapped. “There is no reason for a vote here.”

“You bloody hypocrites.” Bennett turned on his heel and left the room.
Bloody, bloody hell
. He should have realized. The laws of London were nothing like those of the jungle. In the Congo, at least there had been a certain logic. Survival was always a good thing.

“Captain.”

Bennett stopped halfway out Ainsley House’s front door. “I don’t think you want to talk with me right now, Sommerset.”

“No doubt.” The duke joined him in the doorway and then led the way onto the front drive. “I am outvoted.”

“You didn’t vote.”

“There was no point, except that I look better by abstaining than by losing outright.”

Clearly Sommerset had spent more time in the jungles of London than he had. “At least you’re honest.”

“Bennett, you know I believe you.”

Bennett snorted, gesturing for a groom to bring Ares up. “I’m touched.”

“I’m also going to give you some advice. Take it, or don’t. But listen to it.” The duke scowled. “I suggest that you keep your opinions about Langley and his book to yourself. Otherwise you’ll have the Association after you, and you’ll never find your way out of England. They are all men with a great deal of influence. Second, f—”

“Excuse me, Your Grace, but go shit yourself.”

“Second,” Sommerset hammered in a harder voice, “find your damned journals and show them to the
London Times
, or go home to Tesling and learn how to be a landowner. Or fund your own damned expeditions with your charm. That should see you to Brussels.”

The duke returned to the house. Bennett wanted to curse him again, but one thing stopped him. Sommerset was correct. The journals were still his way out of England. And fleetingly he wondered which way Phillipa would want him to proceed.

Chapter Seventeen

“For goodness’ sake, Livi, stop talking and take a breath before you faint.”

“But I want to know if you forgive me.”

Phillipa sighed. “I forgive you.” She had a strong suspicion that she wouldn’t have felt as charitable if she hadn’t managed to get Bennett into her bed, but she had, and the fact that Livi had voluntarily faced off against the formidable adventurer spoke well for her sister. “And you gave me the lilies, which was nice.”

“I shouldn’t have given them to you. Bennett Wolfe is a beast. And even if you marry him, he’ll still be a beast.”

“He isn’t a beast.”

“Flip, he climbed through the window.”

Settling for a noncommittal nod, Phillipa increased her pace a fraction. Going for a walk had been Olivia’s idea, more than likely her way of finding a moment for the two of them to speak in private. The problem was, it was just after ten o’clock. Bennett was speaking with the Africa Association. And her heart was beating as fast as if she’d run all the way to Marathon.

“You do realize that if you want him to continue courting you, you cannot give in to his seductions. A man may say things, but it’s a test. He’ll never offer for you if he knows you’ll…succumb without first having a ring on your finger.”

Phillipa snorted.

“I’m serious, Flip.”

Attempting to gather her thoughts back in, she took her sister’s arm. “I know you are. And silly as most courtship rules are, I do understand that you’re looking out for me.” She sighed. “The lilies were very pretty.”

“Yes, but they’re only flowers. You must trust me. I have more experience with these things than you do.”

Her sister most decidedly did not have more experience with men than she did. Not any longer. In fact, Phillipa reflected, she could more than likely tell Livi a few things that would make her blush. “I have listened to your advice,” she said aloud, wishing she had a pocket watch to check the time, “and I’m most definitely not ready to give Bennett up.” Even the thought of not seeing him again left her queasy.

“Have you spoken with Mama or Papa yet this morning?” Olivia continued, waving at a passing acquaintance. “They weren’t happy with what happened at Langley House last night.”

She wasn’t, either. “Kero was trying to protect Bennett, I think. And then Bennett had to protect Kero.”

“But Captain Langley nearly lost an ear. And then Captain Wolfe flattened him.”

Rather effectively, too. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You may have to, when we return.”

Phillipa sighed. “Then let’s make this a long walk, shall we?”

Livi agreed. At least walking and chatting about Paris fashions—a mysterious and elusive topic, as far as she was concerned—kept her from dwelling on what Bennett was doing. By her guess, Langley should be apologizing for literary theft, and the Africa Association would be placing Bennett at the top of their list for leading the next expedition, whenever that might be.

“Are you listening to me?” Livi asked, breaking into her reverie.

She shook herself. “Mostly,” she conceded.

“What has you so distracted?”

Well, how was she supposed to answer that? By admitting that Bennett had spent most of the night with her, and that she was very concerned that, however satisfying she found the situation, he couldn’t seem to wait to leave on another adventure? “You may be accustomed to having beaux,” she said aloud, “but it’s a bit unusual for me.”

“Especially ones who climb in through the morning room window,” Livi added.

“What?” a low voice squawked.

Phillipa jumped as Lord John Clancy swung down from his horse behind them. Oh, good heavens.

“Who’s climbing through windows?” he asked.

“Your friend. Captain Wolfe.” Olivia folded her arms across her chest, the image of affronted sisterhood all over again.

“He climbed into your morning room? Did he forget how to use a damned door?”

“Well, how are we supposed to know that?” Olivia retorted. “And good morning to you, John.”

With a swift grin, he took Livi’s hand and bowed over it. “Good morning. I do not climb through windows, if that ever comes into question.”

Olivia grinned back at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Oh, please.” Phillipa resumed her walk, heading back now toward the house. If they continued any further in the opposite direction, they would end up in the Thames.

“Flip,” John said, speeding up to catch her, “if Bennett is harassing you, please tell me. I’ll have a word with him, no matter what sort of wild animals he’s capable of wrestling.”

“He’s not harassing me,” she blurted, annoyed. “He’s courting me, just as he said. No one believes it, I know, but he actually likes me.”

“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.