It Takes a Hero (31 page)

The colonel appeared to consider this advice, then nodded. "Good point, lad. You'll make an excellent officer when the time comes." He rose from the cannon, his hand giving the long iron muzzle one last affectionate pat. "Do hate to be without such a fine piece."

"Oh, they've got some great ones at the Tower," Cochrane said, playing along with the finesse of Kean in Covent Garden.

"Yes, the Tower," her uncle was saying, rubbing his chin. "We'll gain our replacements there, if need be."

"Aye, sir," Cochrane said, winking at Rafe as he led the colonel to the carriage.

Rebecca followed, snatching up Ajax's basket from Rafe and heading toward the carriage Lady Finch had loaned them.

"Miss Tate," Rafe said, having helped the Gadbury sisters up into Kitling's phaeton and now returning to her side. "I had something I wanted to discuss with you."

She stopped in the middle of the path and looked at him.

As did everyone else in their party.

When he glanced around and realized they had about as much privacy as on the dance floor of Almack's he muttered a curse, that thankfully was in Spanish, before he turned and marched back over to his horse.

Rebecca considered echoing his sentiments.

Well, she wanted to demand before all of Bramley Hollow, do you love me or not?

By late afternoon, their procession picked its way through the crowded streets of Mayfair, Rafe leading the parade to Lady Tottley's fashionable town house.

He should be thrilled to have found the
Miss Darby
author and gained his prize, and even more happy to be depositing the odd collection behind him at the lady's doorstep.

Then he could wash his hands of the entire affair.

Affair.

The word made him cringe. If only it was an affair. Those he knew how to start and how to end, quite expertly really, without the hint of hurt feelings.

But not so with Rebecca. He loved her. How the devil had she done it, an opinionated spinster from Bramley Hollow, when the best of London's flirts had been unable to crack his stony reaches?

And from Bramley Hollow, no less. His brothers would have a fine time teasing him about being "matched." He'd never hear the end of it.

He stopped his horse to let a pair of elegantly clad young ladies, their beaming mothers, and trailing retinue of maids and package laden footmen cross the crowded street.

Now that he'd found her, he didn't quite know what to do with her. He'd never proposed marriage before. And it wasn't just the proposing that had him over a fence.

It was the what came next that had him trembling in his boots. Taking Rebecca into his dangerous and highly irregular life was one thing, but along with her came the colonel and Ajax. How could he give her the regular life she longed for when he could barely keep himself housed and Cochrane fed? Not to mention keep the colonel in cannon balls—for Rafe suspected the old fellow, even when he was able to discard his madness, would be inclined to periodically fire off a round or two.

And there was another rub. Rebecca would insist he keep Bettlesfield Park. Keep that tumbledown wreck? There wasn't enough gold in England to save it.

And demmit if the chit didn't have him already considering that foolish notion.

"Ah, the riches of town," Kitling was saying, as he pulled his phaeton to a stop beside Rafe, judiciously tipping his hat at the young ladies' mothers. The Gadbury sisters had retired to the comforts of the Finch carriage hours ago. "Yes, surrounded by rich treasures, plump and ready to be picked, wouldn't you say?"

Rafe shot the man a sidelong glance. There was something about the way the man had said "treasures" that caught his attention. He suddenly recalled that at Lady Finch's supper party, Kitling had given all the talk of lost fortunes a great deal of interest.

Mayhap too much so?

And hadn't he been in Calcutta at the same time as all the others? And returned mysteriously wealthy. Enough so to be able to bestow his generosity on the Gadbury sisters.

Perhaps Kitling wasn't merely the useless nit most regarded him as.

He cursed himself for not seeing all this before. "Where are you planning on staying?" he asked.

"Staying? Well, with the ladies, why of course," Sydney proclaimed.

Leave him under the same roof as Rebecca if he had anything to do with the Kailash murders?
Not as long as I have anything to say about it
.

Rafe shook his head. "Lady Tottley will never allow it. She's rather a high stickler."

"Hmm. Hadn't considered that. Where do you room, my good fellow? Perhaps they have a vacancy there?"

"Seven Dials. Near the Rose and Lion."

Kitling paled, then burst out laughing, assuming Rafe, the son of a gentleman was joking about living in London's most notorious neighborhood. "Ah, you had me going there, sir."

Rafe just stared at him blandly.

Kitling's features paled when he realized Rafe wasn't kidding. "I suppose there is my father's club," he said, glancing back at the Finch carriage with a look of frustrated regret.

"White's or Brooks?" Rafe asked offhandedly.

"I don't even dare say it aloud in Mayfair. I fear it is a mercantile association in Southwark," Kitling offered. "My father is far too tightfisted to ever consider wasting money on a membership at any reputable establishment." Again there was another look of longing.

If Kitling supposedly had all this money, why didn't he just join one of London's more infamous male bastions? Or take a suite of rooms at one of the finer hotels? And why didn't the man have a valet? Or any of the other ostentatious accoutrements of the typical nabob returned from his exile in India?

As happenstance would have it, Tottley House was on the same block as Bridwick House, his brother Colin's London residence.

Rafe rarely asked his brother for a favor, but Seven Dials was too far away to keep an eye on Rebecca. And Kitling as well. He'd station Cochrane at Bridwick House as his lookout and figure out how to repay Colin and Georgie later for their emptied larder.

Before he had time to direct any further queries at Kitling, they were in front of Tottley House. The footmen came pouring down the steps like a well-trained troop, with Crumpton leading the charge, as unsmiling and disapproving as ever.

As Rafe looked up at the imposing marble façade of Lady Tottley's town house he told himself once again he was doing the right thing, leaving Rebecca here. No killer, no matter how desperate, would risk seeking her out here amidst the busy household. A lonely Kent road or a solitary bachelor residence was one thing, but the Tottley town house wouldn't be so easy to penetrate.

And until he could make an offer worthy of her dreams, it was best to leave her here. He could only hope that she'd see the sense of it as well.

"Mr. Danvers," Lady Tottley's butler was saying, "her ladyship requires your attendance inside. Immediately."

"Is my assistant still alive?" Rafe asked the stuffy butler. Rafe had possessed the forethought to send Cochrane ahead with the news that she should be prepared for not two houseguests, but four. "Or did the old dragon kill the messenger?"

He thought he detected a slight smile on Crumpton's lips. Or perhaps the ancient fellow was just finally cracking like one of the stony megaliths outside Wiltshire. "Mr. Cochrane is in the kitchen. Being fed."

"Still?" Rafe asked. Cochrane had probably arrived a good two hours before them.

Crumpton snorted. "Your assistant has a remarkable capacity." That was the end of his lively humor, for from within the confines of the house came a strident cry.

"Is that Mr. Danvers, here at last? Bring that thieving, underhanded wretch in here. Now!"

"The dragon awaits," Crumpton said, this time deigning Rafe with a real smile.

Rafe suspected that it was because he was about to be sacrificed and Crumpton was finally going to gain some justice in his original reluctance to allow the likes of Rafe Danvers inside the hallowed walls of Tottley House.

"There you are, you scoundrel!" Lady Tottley said, as Rafe was shown in. "Our agreement did not include me housing the entire village of Bramley Hollow. Now I see there is another gentleman in the party. Don't tell me I'm expected to house him as well?"

"As I'm sure Cochrane informed you, Miss Tate did not think it was proper to travel without her companions, and by bringing them it would reduce your responsibilities to see her suitably chaperoned."

Lady Tottley snorted, though she could hardly object to a young lady who took such grave care with her reputation and with her hostess's obligations.

"As for Mr. Kitling," Rafe continued, "he is a friend of the Misses Gadbury, and did not want them to travel unprotected. I assure you, he is not here to stay. He will be taking rooms at his father's club." He deliberately left out the club's location or name.

Her sharp eyes narrowed as she considered this news. "And who is Mr. Kitling's father?"

"Sir David Kitling. Lady Finch assures me they are a respectable family."

"Lady Finch says that?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And Mr. Kitling is his father's heir?"

Rafe could see the wheels turning. A wealthy enough baronet wasn't the perfect son-in-law, but Lady Tottley had two more unmarried daughters behind Lady Lucinda and there weren't enough available heirs to dukedoms for all of them.

"No, Mr. Kitling is the younger brother. But he spent time in India and is rumored to have returned home well-favored, though he is too much of a gentleman to discuss such matters."

The lady nodded. Mr. Kitling may not discuss his income, but such information could be easily had for a mother determined to see her daughters well matched.

"I find all of this very high-handed," she complained. "I only agreed to all of this because of Evaline's recommendation that it was the best solution."

Rafe cocked a brow. So Lady Finch had stirred the pot a bit. It didn't surprise him that the baroness had added her blessing to the situation.

"Then is all this settled?" he asked. He could hear the servants coming up the stairs with the luggage, and it was only a matter of time before Rebecca would be here as well.

Panic struck him as he realized he needed to say something to her, but what?
I must leave you now because I love you so very much?
He'd sound as spineless as Lt. Throckmorten.

"I suppose it is. But mind you, Mr. Danvers, if I discover this gel divulging her radical notions to anyone, I will toss her and her party out into the streets without the least bit of hesitation."

"I think you are going to find Miss Tate is actually a very sensible young lady."

Lady Tottley made another snort, a sort of "we'll see about that," that spoke volumes of her general disbelief. "If you are going to take your leave, do so," she told him. "And take that assistant of yours with you. Cook says he's eaten all of the meat pies that she'd made for Lord Tottley this evening and just about all the custards and tarts." The lady shook her head. "You sent him on purpose, I assume. Why he's probably eaten more this afternoon than Bettlesfield Park is worth."

Rafe smiled. If that was what the lady believed to be the worst of her troubles, she had yet to meet the colonel and Ajax. And speaking of Bettlesfield Park…

"About the property—" Rafe began.

"Your payment, sir, is contingent on this author undoing her damage."

"That was not what we agreed to," Rafe shot back.

"And I didn't agree to finance some chit's Season either," she said. "The deed to Bettlesfield Park will be in your hands the day my daughter is the future duchess of Hemswell. Not a day before. Undo these troubles, Mr. Danvers, that is what I hired you to do."

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh. "Yes, my lady." After making a proper bow, he stormed from the room, running straight into the colonel.

The man blustered his way past, ignoring Crumpton who was poised to make the introductions. "What are your artillery positions, madam?"

"My wha-a-at?" Lady Tottley stammered.

"Your cannon. I have seen no cannon so far in my inspection. How can you make a proper defense of this hill without a cannon?"

"I—I—don't know."

"Bah! Greenlings, all of you. I'll have a full inspection at dawn."

"Dawn! Sir, I never arise before noon," she declared.

"Noon? Shameless. We'll have to rectify that immediately." The colonel saluted her, then took a chair in the corner, picking up the paper and ignoring everyone as he leafed through the day's news.

"What is the meaning of that man?" Lady Tottley managed to ask.

"Colonel Posthill, ma'am," Rafe told her. "He gets a bit confused at times."

"Confused? Why, he's nicked in the nob."

"Unfortunately so. But truly he is harmless as long as you don't let him near any firearms or cannons."

"Cannons?" she gasped.

Rafe smiled at her. "Oh, and here are the Misses Gadbury. Miss Honora and Miss Alminta."

Lady Tottley looked at the twins and then looked again.

The pair started chattering at once, offering their appreciation for her kindness, her generosity, asking her advice on modistes and complimenting her on the beauty of her home and gorgeous lace on her gown. When they paused for breath, Lady Tottley swayed as if she were about to fall over, dizzy and overwhelmed by the talkative pair.

She closed her eyes, her hand on her brow.

"And this is Miss Tate," Rafe told her, parting the way and escorting Rebecca forward.

The lady opened one eye, as if she were afraid to see the final guest in her home. Even as she caught sight of Rebecca, the lady's lips turned in a smile as her worst fears evaporated.

"Lady Tottley, it is my sincere honor to meet you," Rebecca said, curtsying deep. "I am so very sorry to hear of the despair I have caused you and your friends. You have but to ask and I will do everything in my power to see the situation brought in hand."

The countess heaved a sigh of relief, like a storm tossed boat finally finding a friendly port. She brightened immediately "My dear Miss Tate," she said, taking her by the arm. "Come let us see about getting your things unpacked. We have much to do if you are to catch up with the Season—what there is left of it—but you are here to save the day, I see, and for that, I am most grateful."