It Takes a Hero (18 page)

That was pushing the truth
, Rafe thought, for no one had ever called his father's career distinguished. He'd been a rapscallion at best, and a thorn in the side of the Foreign Office with his peccadilloes and scandals. Including his elopement with Rafe's mother, the daughter of a Spanish grandee. He'd nearly been tossed out of the diplomatic corps for that disastrous faux pas.

"Is the current Lord Danvers a diplomat as well?" Lady Victoria asked.

Rafe laughed. "Colin? No. He was in the navy."

"Until he was court-martialed," Jemmy added happily.

His mother and Rafe glared at him.

"Turned pirate, didn't he?" Sydney asked. "I remember reading a list of goods he'd seized. A rare privateer your brother."

A pirate?
Lady Kirkwood mouthed to her husband, as if the word was too shameful to be repeated.

"Demmed traitor, more like it," Lord Kirkwood muttered.

An awkward silence fell about the room.

The older ladies shot worried glances at the young ladies, while Kitling let out a short guffaw.

Rafe was used to his family being the target for speculation and outright defamation, since it had only been recently that his brothers had chosen to make public their clandestine service for the King and England during the long years of war with France.

No, most of the
ton
thought the Danvers and their relations were the worst sort of crackpots and ne'er-do-wells.

And Rafe was the worst of all. He'd barely escaped court-martial and a hanging for giving his superior officer the beating the man had deserved after ignoring orders and nearly getting their entire company slaughtered.

Lord Kirkwood shot him an angry glance and then turned his back, muttering to his wife, "Some party, this!"

Before Lady Finch could turn the conversation, Jemmy jumped in. "Being tossed out of his unit didn't stop Rafe here from making his mark in the war. He carried ammunitions to our troops trapped behind enemy lines. Raided French strongholds. He even helped find the King's Ransom."

"The King's Ransom?" Miss Honora asked. "Oh that sounds terribly interesting! What was it? How did you find it?"

"I didn't actually," Rafe countered. "By the time it was found, I was long gone."

"Oh, give some credit where it is due," Jemmy said. "You and your compatriots led Major Danvers across Portugal, to the very foot of Badajoz. Without your assistance, the major may never have found the treasure."

"Treasure?" Kitling perked up from his slouched stance near the fireplace. "Did you say a treasure?"

Jemmy nodded and then enthusiastically told the tale, finishing his exaggerated, albeit enthusiastic rendition with, "I thought Rafe here was a goner when we arrived to find those wretched Frogs had captured everyone. They had him in a bad way, beat him nearly senseless but he wasn't about to betray his mission."

There was a snort of disbelief from Lord Kirkwood. But this time everyone ignored him.

"How did you escape?" Lady Victoria asked Rafe in a breathless voice.

"Jemmy and my brother, Robert, created a diversion that sent the French scrambling. Then we were able to overcome them."

"But the more important thing to consider," Mr. Kitling said, "is did you get your share of the treasure?"

Lady Victoria's gaze flicked from Kitling to Rafe. "Oh, did you?"

"No," Rafe said. "And I wouldn't have taken it. It belonged to the Spanish people."

This was followed by another "harrumph" from Kirkwood. "Rabble don't deserve such riches."

"Not even a single gemstone?" Kitling asked, with an air of incredulity that echoed Kirkwood's skepticism.

"Oh, I would adore finding a treasure," Miss Honora said.

"Treasure, indeed!" Lady Kirkwood declared. "Foolery. Look what chasing after treasure did to Miss Tate's father. Left him neck deep in debt and dead of fever. Absolute foolery."

Jemmy spoke up. "The King's Ransom allowed Wellington to offer hope to the Spanish people, especially after the tragedy at Badajoz. They rallied to the English cause, organized themselves and were able to help us drive Boney out of the Iberian Peninsula." He held his ground and stared directly at a disbelieving earl. "My lord, nearly everyone in this room lost someone or something on those dusty plains. Rafe's contributions may not be well known, but without him and men like him, England would have lost countless more fine young men before finally defeating our enemies."

Lady Kirkwood looked up from her fingernails. "Let me get this straight, Mr. Danvers. Your eldest brother was convicted of treason, your other brother gave away a fortune, and your twin brother was murdered."

Rafe squared his shoulders and smiled at her. "That about sums it up."

She glared at Lady Finch for including her in this travesty of a social gathering.

Much to everyone's relief, there was a discreet cough at the doorway. The Finch butler, Addison intoned, "My lady, dinner is ready at your convenience."

Rafe could have sworn he heard Lady Finch say, "Good heavens, about time."

"Shall we?" Lady Finch announced, offering her arm to Lord Kirkwood. Lord Finch stepped forward, after being prodded by Jemmy to take Lady Kirkwood's arm.

Kitling offered one arm to Miss Honora and the other to Miss Alminta and the threesome followed their hosts through the adjoining door to the resplendent dining room beyond.

Jemmy sidestepped Lady Victoria, and offered his arm to Charlotte. The unrepentant son of his hosts had the audacity to wink at Rafe over Lady Victoria's shoulder.

Satisfied their daughter was suitably matched, the Harringtons marched into the dining room with military precision.

That left Lady Victoria waiting, none-too-expectantly. The young woman smiled, an artful and calculated tip to her lips, as she sauntered in Rafe's direction. "Ah, Mr. Danvers, would you do me—"

"
Victoria
," her mother called out. "Do come immediately." Lord Kirkwood returned and took his daughter by the arm making sure there was no question who escorted her into dinner.

That didn't stop the unrepentant girl from tossing him a come-hither smile over her father's shoulder.

My parents may not approve
, her gaze decried,
but I do
.

"Followed your conscience, I daresay," Colonel Posthill said, as he came up to Rafe's side.

"Pardon, sir?"

"Your conscience. You followed your gut and did what your honor told you needed to be done." The old man nodded. "Ignore Kirkwood. He's a fool, always has been." Then he patted Rafe on the back, and said, "I for one commend you. Took more courage, I'd guess, than your entire regiment possessed. Never let anyone tell you differently." The man straightened his coat, his posture military erect and his head held high, as if he were about to dine with Wellington himself.

Rebecca stepped past Rafe and took her uncle's arm. When she got to the door, she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes alight with the same pride that had filled the colonel's words.

For whatever reason, one Rafe didn't want to explore too deeply, he was glad that of all the people in the room, his disreputable past had gained her approval and understanding.

For the evidence was there for all to see in a single tear falling upon her cheek.

«
^
»

The brave of heart always looks his enemy directly in the eye so the devil will see only a resolute desire to prevail.

Colonel Darby to his troops

in
Miss Darby's Darkest Hour

O
h, drat the man
, Rebecca thought as she took her seat in the dining room. How dare he turn up honorable!

She had resolved herself that he was a despicable cad, only to discover that he'd fought for Spanish freedom at the risk of his own reputation, his very honor.

Why in that light, he was downright noble.

And why hadn't he said anything about his twin this afternoon when he'd been telling her about his family? Though the lack of disclosure explained much about this mysterious man—the loss obviously pained him still.

She knew how that felt, only too well.

Then if the evening wasn't full of enough surprises, he'd risen to her defense with all that nonsense about her being like the moon. Like the moon, indeed! More of his Spanish enchantment, she supposed. Yet when he had glanced over at her, he made her feel all those things, like she was some rare beautiful woman. Maybe it was just his usual charm, maybe he made every woman feel like that, but that didn't stop her heart from fluttering, from believing that such magic could be possible after such a short acquaintance.

Blast and curse the man
, Rebecca thought as she stared down at her plate. She might have even admired him, if it weren't for the fact that he kissed like the very devil, left her all tangled up and believing in the most impractical notions.

Her future vicar would never leave her feeling so… so… delirious.

She stole a glance across the table at him. Though he'd dressed for the occasion, Mr. Danvers still had a disreputable air about him, which pleased her for reasons she couldn't fathom.

What was it Jemmy had called him?
Rafe
.

'Twas a name that fit him, she decided. The kind of name a woman whispered in the night.

Rafe, come to me. Love me, Rafe.

A plea she had no doubt he would answer most expertly.

The object of her momentary fantasy looked up and in her direction, as if he heard her silent plea, knew her scandalous thoughts—including the way his kiss had left her unsettled and longing for more.

Rebecca quickly fixed her gaze back on her plate and took a deep breath. Oh, she was loathe to admit it, but she was inclined to agree with Lady Kirkwood—Rafe Danvers was completely unacceptable.

The company at the table appeared strained, but Sydney Kitling, seated to her right, came to the rescue. "Mr. Danvers," he said, "it seems you and I are of the same ilk."

Rebecca nearly laughed aloud at the look of skepticism that clouded Rafe's eyes.

Sydney and Rafe similar? If day and night collided perhaps.

"How is that, sir?" Rafe managed to ask.

"Oh, yes, do tell," Lady Victoria said, clearly bemused by the ridiculous notion.

Sydney sat back in his chair, only too happy to be the center of attention. "Because neither of us stands a chance in hell of inheriting. Born to a noble world, tossed out into the cold arms of another, wouldn't you say?"

"Hardly that dire," Rafe replied.

Sydney leaned forward. "I'm always interested in how a gentleman goes about making his way. You know, how one gets on without the comfort of knowing you'll stand to come into some pile of rocks and a regular income for French brandy and other necessities."

"Luckily for me, I've never developed a taste for such necessities, so those worries don't keep me awake at night," Rafe told him.

Rebecca had no doubts it wasn't a
what
that kept Rafe Danvers awake at night, rather a
whom
.

But Sydney wasn't satisfied with Rafe's dry response. Obviously he smelled the mystery surrounding Rafe like everyone else and was going to persist until he solved it. "So how is it that you manage to pay your rent?"

Rebecca gaped at the rude inquiry, but her shock was soon replaced by the revelation provided by Rafe's young assistant, Cochrane.

Seated at the far end of the table, the lad piped in, "Oh, he don't. Most months we have to use the back stairs to avoid the landlady. That is until we get paid."

Lady Finch groaned, while Mrs. Harrington immediately edged her chair away from Rafe as far as she could without landing in Colonel Posthill's lap.

Sydney laughed. "Been there myself a time or two, lad."

"Do you mean to say that you work, Mr. Danvers?" Lady Victoria asked. "How interesting! What is it that you do?"

With every gaze fixed on him, Rebecca wondered how the rapscallion was going to escape now.

"He assists people," Lady Finch said hastily. "With their problems."

"What sort of problems?" Miss Honora asked.

"I think Mr. Danvers likes a level of discretion for his clients," Lady Finch replied, obviously trying to hide the fact that she'd invited a runner to dinner and that her guests had been set up to help him. She signaled for the next course.

Not even the soup could save Lady Finch.

"Oh, no," Miss Honora protested. "We haven't heard from Mr. Danvers."

"Perhaps it isn't any of our business," Miss Alminta pointed out. "It is impolite to pry, sister."

Unfortunately for Rafe, Honora was not plagued by the restraints of good manners. "Sister," she said, "what if we discover ourselves with a problem that cannot be solved? Wouldn't it be nice to know someone who takes care of such things?"

"Miss Honora," Kitling said, "you know I will always be there to aid you and Miss Alminta in any way possible."

"Yes, of course, Sydney," she said, dismissing his gallantry with a wave of her hand, her gaze fixed adoringly on Rafe. "But I suspect Mr. Danvers would be far more capable in such matters."

Rebecca bit her lips, while Kitling turned a mottled shade of red, and for once, said nothing.

"I hardly think you will come across the kind of problems I solve," Rafe assured the lady.

Miss Honora appeared unconvinced, and Rebecca wouldn't put it past her romantically inclined neighbor to invent some dire dilemma just to see Mr. Danvers stay in Bramley Hollow.

Sydney, having recovered his composure, wasn't about to be left out of the conversation. "Any money in solving problems?"

"There can be," Rafe said. "As long as you collect the payment."

Cochrane coughed and sputtered.

Rebecca imagined there was a story behind the boy's discomfiture that Lady Finch certainly wouldn't want repeated at her dinner party.

"I hear tell there's a fortune being offered to find that Codlin fellow's killer," Kitling said as he held out his glass for a footman to refill. "Looking into that, are you?"