The Care and Taming of a Rogue (5 page)

“That’s—”

“The sleeping fellow,” the duke continued, “just arrived in London three days ago. Colonel Bartholomew James. He—”

“The India Thuggee skirmishes,” Bennett interrupted, looking again at the dark-haired man seated with a walking cane to hand. “He went missing for a time. I read something about it in this morning’s newspaper.” He knew them to be nearly the same age, but Colonel James looked older. By his gaunt face it didn’t seem as though the colonel had done much sleeping lately.

Sommerset nodded. “And by the window we have Thomas Easton, sent to Persia in an attempt to persuade the locals to expand their silk exports. He posed as a Muslim for a year.”

Easton looked up at the sound of his name, the light catching a thin scar running from his left ear down the side of his neck. “And I’m presently reading
Across the Continent
. You must be Captain Wolfe, the overly cautious fellow with the monkey. This says you’re dead.”

Bennett clenched his fists, stalking forward. “And I say you’re the stupid bastard who speaks when he shouldn’t.”

Sommerset moved between them, heading Bennett off. “Not in here,” he growled.

“What is ‘here,’ precisely?” Bennett demanded.

“I prefer to think of it as a gentlemen’s club for those souls who’ve been forced, for one reason or another, to cast aside civilization’s…frivolities. Souls who desperately need to find a way to exist in Society again.”

“An asylum for outcasts,” Bennett said dubiously.

“More of a sanctuary. I’ve taken to calling it the Adventurers’ Club. There are currently fourteen members, which I believe makes it the most exclusive club in London.
I
decide its membership. And I’m inviting you to join us.”

“Is Langley a member?”

“No.”

“What about those souls who don’t particularly want to rejoin Society?”

The duke eyed him. “You have a reputation to repair, Captain. You can’t do that in Cairo.”

Bennett took a breath, spending the moment looking about the room. The duke was correct, damn it all. He didn’t care much for the obsequiousness of Mayfair, but the peers therein were the ones who could afford to sponsor his expeditions.

“If you wish to join us,” Sommerset went on, “you’ll find the establishment open at all times, food and spirits always available, a spare bed if you require one, and companions who see the world with clearer eyes than the rest of Society. As you do.”

The man who’d been lurking in the shadows finally moved again, holding out his hand. “Hervey,” he said. A key rested in his palm. With a slight frown, Bennett took it.

“Hervey will see that you receive anything you need while you are under this roof,” the duke explained.

“And most mornings you’ll find Gibbs here if I am not, sir,” Hervey added.

“What if you decide Langley’s version is the correct one, after all?” Bennett asked, pocketing the key.

“Then you’ll be asked to leave.”

“Asked,” Bennett repeated dubiously.

“There are only two rules for membership,” Sommerset continued. “Firstly, only you are granted access. No guests of either gender. The monkey, however, is permitted. Secondly, no one else hears of the Adventurers’ Club. If Society at large begins clamoring for entry, we will cease to be a haven for those risking life and limb for the benefit of science and their country. Is that agreeable to you, Captain?”

Taking another long look around the large, comfortable-seeming room, Bennett nodded. For a day or two it would be acceptable to stay at Clancy House, but with Kero and his own current…hostility, Lord and Lady Emery wouldn’t want him about for any longer than that. And the idea of having a place he could escape to in the middle of Mayfair was both unexpected and welcome. “Yes,” he said aloud, on the chance that an audible agreement was required for membership. “It is agreeable to me.”

“Good. This way, then.” Again leading the way, the Duke of Sommerset left the club’s main room through the second door. Bennett found himself outside Ainsley House, beneath a vine-covered overhang. “Use the key here. It doesn’t open the main front door, or the one dividing the club from my home. I do require my own privacy.”

“Understood. I have to say, though, that I’m surprised at the invitation, considering Langley’s book and the Africa Association’s disappointment with the results of the expedition.”

“You were dead,” Sommerset returned. “So you’re only partly to blame. And this has nothing to do with the Association.” He grimaced. “I do have a word or two of advice if you’ll take it, having been stranded in Society for longer than you.”

Stranded
. That was an odd word, coming as it did from one of the wealthiest men in the country. “I’m listening.”

“You’ve been very celebrated in the past, mostly because of your books. No one knows
you
. And they will judge by their most recent experience—which is the one with Langley’s book. Don’t react as they expect. And I suggest for that reason that you at least give the appearance of being friendly with the Marquis of Fennington.”

“My uncle wrote the foreword for that damned book.” Bennett clenched his jaw. That was only the beginning of the anger he felt toward Fennington, but he had no intention of delving into that quagmire in front of the Duke of Sommerset.

“Yes, he did. So if you want to discover what Lang ley has in mind, or even where the journals might be currently, you—”

“The friend of my enemy is my uncle,” Bennett grumbled.

“Precisely. Consider it. Because I recommended you for the Congo expedition, and I don’t appreciate being made to look foolish any more than you do.” With a short nod, Sommerset vanished back into the Adventurers’ Club and the house beyond.

Annoyed by and as unused to receiving advice as he was, he’d be an idiot to ignore what Sommerset had recommended. And he knew what it meant. In order to be other than what Society expected of him, he would have to be charming and social. And alive, of course. That at least would gain everyone’s attention. Then he only had to turn them to his side and recover his journals from Langley. If he couldn’t do both of those, he was likely to be as “stranded” in England as Sommerset seemed to be. And liking it even less.

Chapter Four

Despite the twitch in his jaw that reminded Phillipa she’d already made the same request three times, the butler nodded. “Right away, my lady.”

As he opened the door to leave the room, though, Olivia glided in. “Good morning, Flip,” she said with a smile, walking over to the sideboard to select her breakfast while Barnes resumed his previous position.

“Is it still morning?” Phillipa asked in return, ready to smack her head against the tabletop. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s barely ten o’clock,” her sister commented, sitting at the table opposite Phillipa. “One would almost think you’re anxious about my picnic.”

“Nonsense. I was anxious that you would sleep through your picnic, which would be rude and isn’t at all the same thing you’re implying.”

With a grin, Livi began buttering her toast. “He hasn’t replied, you know. John has, but he specifically said that he couldn’t speak for Captain Wolfe. Are you going to attend anyway?”

Phillipa hid a wince. Hours in the company of Olivia’s silly, gossipy friends, on the very small chance that Bennett Wolfe might make an appearance, that she would have a bare moment to speak to him, and that she could converse without making herself look like an idiot again.

“You’re infatuated, aren’t you?” Livi pursued. “You may pretend to be scholarly, but you blushed the other night when you met him.”

“I admire his accomplishments,” Phillipa returned.

Her sister looked at her for a moment. “Do you think I made a mistake in asking him to join us?” she finally said. “I mean, I read Captain Langley’s book. ‘A hesitant, unsophisticated follower.’ That’s how Langley described him.”

“Well, I have read Captain Wolfe’s books, and I’m forced to disagree with that assessment.” Phillipa frowned. “And yesterday you were thrilled to be the first to have him attend a gathering.”

“Yes, well, he’s famous. And he’s an absolute Adonis. I suppose if he doesn’t prove to be as popular as he once was, I can always say that I had to invite him because he’s residing with John Clancy.” She nodded to herself. “That will suffice, I think.”

Phillipa shook her head. Yes, she’d read Wolfe’s two books and Langley’s one. And if Captain Wolfe was unsophisticated, he was by far the most lucky, eloquent, and witty simpleton she’d ever heard of.

“Of course even if he
is
foolish,” Olivia continued half to herself, “he
does
have an income of five thousand a year. And he’s an adventurer. I know of several rather silly people who are quite popular. And they aren’t even as handsome as Captain Wolfe.”

“How can anyone be as fickle as you are and still have friends?” Phillipa asked.

Olivia grinned at her again. “I’m not fickle. I keep a large number of friends and beaux about me so that I may disappoint no one and still choose with whom I spend my time.”

For a moment Phillipa considered changing her mind about attending the picnic. If Olivia had set her mind on winning Bennett Wolfe, anyone else trying to impress him, or even trying to carry on an intelligent conversation with him, would be pointless. Everyone fell in love with Olivia. And until that moment, she hadn’t minded that fact at all.

After all, Olivia was three-and-twenty, and more than likely would marry within the next year or so. That would leave a great many disappointed gentlemen who knew the younger sister because of their pursuit of the older one. Some of them were pleasant, if a bit lag-brained. She knew her parents hoped that one of those disappointed gentlemen would offer for her.

She did try on occasion, but for heaven’s sake, flirting was much more difficult than it was made out to be. So while at twenty-one years of age she should probably have been married already, she was quite resigned to waiting for one of Olivia’s castoffs. Someone who’d seen her—unique, as Livi called it—manner, and decided her dowry made up for it, or something.

And so she kept it at the back of her mind, where it didn’t interfere with the things that truly interested her. Which didn’t explain why she didn’t like the idea of Olivia sweeping Bennett Wolfe into her endless collection of beaux. Perhaps because he seemed a step or two above all that, and because she didn’t want to be wrong about him.

By the time Olivia had gathered the necessary servants and the baskets of food and the three carriage loads of items required for hosting a picnic in the middle of Mayfair during the high Season, Phillipa was near to wishing once again that she’d just decided to stay at home. Once they arrived at the designated corner of Hyde Park close by the Serpentine and overlooking a pretty patch of roses set beneath towering elms and oak trees, she sat on one corner of the largest of the picnic blankets and opened the book she’d brought along.

She nearly always brought a book. That was why some of Livi’s friends called her a bluestocking. At least they never did so to her face, and rarely to Olivia’s, but she knew. And most times she didn’t care, because it kept her from having to converse with them. Fashion and gossip were like foreign languages she hadn’t quite mastered. She could stumble along for a bit, and then would become hopelessly lost.

“I’m glad you wore your orange and white muslin,” Livi said, kneeling down beside her for a moment and planting a sound kiss on her cheek. “It makes your eyes look pretty. If you would look up from that book, everyone would see that.”

Before she could reply, Olivia was up and roaming again, greeting her guests and chatting about some poor girl who’d worn the same dress twice already this Season. At least Phillipa was fairly certain it hadn’t been she; Olivia wouldn’t have allowed it.

A pair of long legs in blue trousers and Hessian boots sat beside her. Phillipa stiffened, not feeling up to telling Livi’s latest admirer what her sister’s likes and dislikes might be. Then she looked over and relaxed as she recognized the bristly red hair and light green eyes belong to the Marquis of Emery’s fifth son. “Hello, John,” she said, with what felt like her first genuine smile of the afternoon.

“Flip.” Lord John Clancy reached across her for a biscuit. “Just how many friends did Livi invite today?”

“I have no idea, though I’m pleased she included you.”

“We both know why she invited me,” he returned easily. “And she nearly uninvited me when I couldn’t guarantee Bennett’s presence. I’m lucky to have survived at all.”

She sent him another glance. Well, now
she
couldn’t ask whether Captain Wolfe had decided to attend or not either, drat it all. “Speaking of you and Livi,” she said instead, “I haven’t seen you in her company as much this Season as I did last year. Have you given up the chase? Or has some other pretty young thing caught your eye?”

With a look of his own at Olivia, he shrugged. “Why do some women prefer lilies, while others favor roses? Livi’s my lily and my rose. No rhyme or reason to it, but that’s how it is. I was attempting the maxim that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder,’ but I realized that could only work if she noticed that I wasn’t about.”

With a chuckle, Phillipa handed John a cucumber sandwich. “I missed seeing you at soirees, if that means anything. This year’s crop of beaux doesn’t have a brain among them. Thank goodness for the reading club or
my
brains would rot away entirely.”

Six members of the brainless herd currently flirted with Olivia and her friends. From what she’d been able to overhear, whatever his current uncertain standing, all of them were rather pleased that the famous adventurer hadn’t made an appearance today. While she didn’t share their sentiment, she could appreciate it. After all, none of them stood up very well against him, even if he was unheroic—which he wasn’t.

Perhaps she could discuss him without doing so directly. “Your friend owes me a book,” she said aloud, though she’d wanted to save that bit of conversation should the captain himself appear.

“I reminded him of that this morning, though he was somewhat preoccupied with being bored. I’ll replace it for you if he doesn’t return it.”

“Thank you, John, but that’s not necessary. I’ll purchase another for myself.”

“I was attempting to be gentlemanly, Flip.”

“Oh. I was only thinking that I could save you from having to deliver it.” She paused, scowling abruptly as she realized what the slightly pained look on his face meant. “You want to deliver it, as an excuse to see Olivia. Apologies.”

“No need.” He grinned, leaning sideways to lift the corner of the book she held in one hand. “
Golden Sun of the Serengeti?
How many times have you read that now?”

She smiled back, pleased that she at least had one friend with whom she didn’t have to dissemble about her lack of feminine charms and wiles. “I’ve lost count. I do still enjoy it, though.”

“Mm hm. Literary skills aside, I have to say I’m ambivalent over Bennett’s absence. Your sister’s been raving about his godlike appearance for the past twenty minutes, which is why you find me over here in the levelheaded area of the luncheon in the first place.” The marquis’s son scowled. “He’s not as handsome as all that, is he?”

“You’ve seen him.”

“Yes, but I’ve known him since before he began to tower over mortal men. You’re sensible. What do you think?”

“I have to say, he has the requisite number of eyes, and a well-centered nose and mouth.” If every other female hadn’t already been mooning over him—sight unseen for the most part—she might have felt freer to express her own appreciation of his appearance. But she also wanted to make it clear that she admired Bennett Wolfe for his accomplishments, not for his handsome face and physique.

“Ears?”

She shook herself. “I’m afraid I recall two of them.”

“Damn. Add that in with the monkey, and I’m beginning to be ecstatic not to add him into the mix today.”

“Should I leave, then?”

Phillipa jumped at the sound of the deep voice behind her. She whipped her head around to see…him. Captain Sir Bennett Wolfe wore a simple gray jacket, tan waistcoat that she thought she’d seen before on John, and buckskin breeches over that pair of worn-looking boots of uncertain color. Even in such relatively civilized clothing he still looked every inch the adventurer, and not just because Kero sat on his shoulder. It was those glinting green eyes, she decided. They’d seen a great deal more than hers had. A great deal more than had anyone else’s here today.

“Of course you shouldn’t leave,” she said when she realized she was staring. “Olivia will be delighted that you’ve come.”

He tilted his head as he looked down at her, a lock of his unruly dusky hair falling across one eye. “But you’re not Olivia.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then you’re not delighted to see me.”

Phillipa was fairly certain this time that she hadn’t said anything sharp-edged. He was therefore teasing her.
Her
. She couldn’t help the twitch of her lips. “I didn’t say—”

At that moment Olivia squealed. “Oh, Sir Bennett! You’ve come after all!”

In a second the captain was surrounded in such a stampede that Phillipa half thought she might be trampled there on the ground.

“Well, this is disturbing,” John noted, and stood. He offered her a hand, and she rose as well.

After five minutes of people jabbering at him, Captain Wolfe looked as though he was regretting his decision to attend the al fresco luncheon. Phillipa took Olivia’s arm and leaned up to whisper in her taller sister’s ear. “Have everyone sit down and let him breathe before you give him an apoplexy, for heaven’s sake.”

Olivia furrowed her brow, as though she couldn’t fathom how anyone wouldn’t enjoy being mobbed by admirers. Then she gave a dazzling smile and suggested that everyone seat themselves and eat.
Thank goodness
. Livi did have common sense. She just occasionally needed to be reminded of that fact.

Once the corner of the blanket cleared again, Phillipa resumed her seat. John sat beside her again and motioned for two glasses of Madeira from one of the footmen Olivia had brought along with them. Phillipa took a grateful swallow—and then nearly choked as Captain Wolfe lowered himself down on her other side.

As a keen-eyed adventurer, he should have seen that a half-dozen stunning young ladies waited expectantly just a few feet away, all of them armed with clever ripostes and witty, watered-down banter. And none of those women looked happy with her. She gave herself credit for at least noticing that—not that she had any intention of pointing it out to the captain.

“Jack called you Flip last night,” he said, ignoring both the rest of the group and his monkey as Kero left his shoulder to head up the twisted trunk of the nearest oak tree. “A nickname?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “When I was born, Livi couldn’t pronounce Phillipa, so I grew up as Flip. It’s what my friends and family all call me.”

“I like it. But I prefer Phillipa.”

She preferred it when he said her name like that, as well. It didn’t sound at all practical the way he pronounced it, even though everyone knew she was eminently practical. “Then you should call me Phillipa,” she said aloud.

“It’s
Lady
Phillipa,” John amended from her right side.