Best of Both Rogues (6 page)

Ben’s younger brother dropped into a leather chair in front of Ben’s desk without waiting for an invitation. Since Ben had already overlooked Daniel’s unscheduled arrival at his Cavendish Square town house—not to mention his brother barging into his study unannounced and helping himself to a brandy—he held his tongue. Complaining would prove a waste of time, for Daniel rarely worried about inconveniencing anyone. And his brother’s sudden appearance
now
was damned inconvenient.

Ben checked the mantel clock and sighed, replacing his quill and abandoning his ledger. His next appointment would arrive in a quarter hour, and he didn’t need his brother bumping into Mr. Armstrong and Viscount Margrave on his way out. There wasn’t much time to get to the heart of the matter, then send his brother home.

Daniel scowled at the contents in his glass; his ankle was propped across his knee. Only one thing could bring about a surly mood like this: a problem with Hillary Shipping. What could it be this time? A squeaky hinge on the shipping office door? A loose shingle on the roof? Ben had never met a more obsessive man, and although Daniel’s fastidiousness had helped to make their joint shipping company successful, it could become tedious.

Ben drummed his fingers against his cherry wood desk. “Tell me the bad news, so we can sort through it.
Quickly
.”

With only thirteen months separating them, the two had been figuring things out together since they were both old enough to walk and talk.

“I don’t think we will be sorting this one. Lisette has charged me with inviting you to dine with us this week. She is planning a small dinner party tomorrow evening.”

“Egads!” Ben chuckled.

His brother was correct. There would be no escaping this one, although Ben didn’t greet the invitation with the same dread Daniel would have if the situation were reversed. Ben liked Lisette and her kin, and socializing had never been the same hardship to him that it was for his brother. Daniel abhorred playing the gentleman, preferring the simple life of a seaman, but he was a husband now. And his willingness to play host at his wife’s behest was a testament to how much he loved Lisette.

“You may tell your wife I accept.”

“Very good.” Daniel seemed to have no control over his jiggling foot. “Family is to arrive an hour before dinner. She wants to see everyone before we retire to Brighton for the winter.”

If his brother couldn’t live on the sea, he could at least be close enough to enjoy the salty breeze and never-ending crash of waves on the shore. Their father’s Brighton house would be the only property to suit Daniel for a long stay.

“I see.” Ben tried to control the twitching of his lips. “A tiny sailor is on the way, aye?”

“How did—?” Daniel’s gaze snapped up, his blue eyes dancing with undisguised pleasure. He laughed. “I swear to God, if you speak a word to anyone, I will break your nose. No ruining her surprise.”

Ben laughed too as he pushed away from the desk to come around to congratulate his brother. “I would not dream of stealing her thunder. Congratulations. Fatherhood suits you, I think.”

Daniel had been a father figure to Lisette’s younger brother for some time, so he’d already gotten a taste of what the job entailed. Daniel rose to accept his hearty handshake before they gathered each other in a rough hug. They were still pounding on each other’s shoulders when Ben’s man of business appeared in the doorway.

Mr. Davis adjusted his spectacles and cleared his throat. Ben bid him to come in. “Pardon the interruption, sir, but Lord Margrave has arrived with Mr. Armstrong.”

Daniel’s eyebrows shot up. “Harvey Armstrong, the Bow Street Runner? Why do you require the services of an investigator?”

So much for no one outside of his trusted staff knowing his business.

Ben inclined his head toward his man. “Allow me a few moments with my brother, then you may show them in.”

“Yes, sir.”

After the outing to the foundling hospital, Ben felt defeated. Eve was marrying another man, and he could do nothing about it. How could she possibly know enough about Sir Jonathan Hackberry to know she wanted to marry him? He’d only been courting her a few weeks. And then Ben had gotten an idea, one he didn’t want his brother knowing about. Moving to pour himself a drink, he tried to deflect his brother’s questions. “How is it
you
are familiar with Mr. Armstrong?”

“I hired him to locate a missing person. Lisette’s cousin, Xavier Vistorie.”

Ben swung back around, his interest piqued. “And did the man find him?”

“Hell no. It’s as if the earth opened up and swallowed Vistorie whole. Odd business, that.”

“Oh.” That didn’t inspire confidence. Ben wandered back to his desk and perched on the edge. “How difficult could it be to uncover a bloody American in Mayfair? He would be as conspicuous as a boar dressed in Sunday best.”

Daniel smirked. “Are you referring to Vicar Dowden?”

“And everyone says you are not clever,” Ben drawled. “Tell me, do you think Armstrong is a competent sort, or have I wasted my money?”

“Assuming you haven’t misplaced a person, it should be money well spent. I hired Armstrong because of his reputation for getting results.” Daniel sipped his drink. “Nice attempt to distract me, but I haven’t forgotten my original question. Why do you need an investigator, and how did you hear of him?”

Heat crept into Ben’s face. It was none of his brother’s concern, but Daniel wouldn’t cease his badgering until he got an answer. “Margrave recommended him. If you wish to know of my dealings with Armstrong, you are welcome to stay. It could be a long interview, however, so if you have other matters requiring your attention—”

“Very well.” Daniel sank back in the chair with a sly smile.

Damn!
Ben had been certain his brother would lose interest if it meant sitting through an interview. Daniel was a restless man and not one to voluntarily sit still.

“Splendid,” Ben grumbled as his office door swung open and Margrave appeared with Mr. Armstrong in his wake.

While Ben’s old chum ambled in without an invitation and made his way to the sideboard to pour a drink, the investigator halted at the threshold.

“Come in, Mr. Armstrong,” Ben said. “Have a seat.”

The man moved with efficiency and assurance, nodded an acknowledgment to Daniel, and sat in the twin chair in front of Ben’s desk. There was nothing extraordinary in the investigator’s appearance. He wore a functional gray coat, trousers, and beat-up black boots. Mr. Armstrong looked like any man one might pass in the street, which likely accounted for his vaunted reputation as one of the best. And yet he couldn’t find the American?

Margrave returned with a drink in hand and positioned himself behind Armstrong’s chair.

Ben launched into the reason for the investigator’s visit. It seemed wisest to get it behind him, like diving into a cold lake without stopping to consider how uncomfortable it would be. “What have you learned?”

Armstrong pulled a paper square from his jacket pocket and unfolded it. “As requested, an accounting of Sir Jonathan Hackberry’s activities over the past twenty-four hours.”

Daniel uncrossed his leg, his boot landing on the wooden floor with a thump. “You had Miss Thorne’s betrothed followed?”

Ben ignored him, easing forward to catch every word, and motioned Armstrong to continue. He detected the hint of a smirk on Margrave’s face.

“At one o’clock yesterday, Hackberry left his town house en route to the lending library where he spent two hours and thirty-five minutes browsing. He purchased two books: one on Ancient Egypt and
Travels
to
Discover
the
Source
of
the
Nile, In the Years 1768, 1769, 1770, 1771, 1772, and 1773,
volume two. After his departure from the lending library, he visited the hatter to commission a top hat, but he couldn’t decide between black and dark gray. When the shopkeeper suggested he choose both, Hackberry said perhaps he would make a decision after he thought on it a day. Next he made a visit to the glove maker, where he debated the merits of two pairs of riding gloves versus three. From there—”

“Argh!” Daniel groaned loudly and dropped his head back on the seat.

Ben chuckled. “Is there a less boring account of the man’s comings and goings? For my brother’s sake, of course.” Although, in truth, Ben wasn’t any more interested in Hackberry’s shopping excursion than his brother was.

Armstrong’s eyebrow twitched, but otherwise his stony expression wasn’t altered. “No, sir.”

“No?” Ben pushed from the desk to pace a few steps, then turned to point. “No, as in you are disinclined to deliver your report with more flair, or Hackberry’s activities remain mundane and uninteresting?”

“Both statements are correct, sir.”

That
can’t be
. Every man had his secrets, a touch of darkness lurking inside. Ben held out his hand for the paper, then wiggled his fingers impatiently when the investigator didn’t comply at once. “Let me see. Surely Hackberry cannot be that pedestrian.”

Margrave shrugged one shoulder when Ben looked to him to support his assertion. “I’m not acquainted with the man.”

Armstrong passed him the paper and sat stiff-backed on the chair. “I am afraid you are mistaken about the gentleman’s tediousness, Mr. Hillary.”

Ben read the list aloud. “The printer, reading room in Bloomsbury—” He dropped his arm to his side. “What does this mean? Hackberry went missing for an hour?”

The investigator shrugged. “Sir Jonathan took a wrong turn and accidentally locked himself in the museum storage room. When he was discovered among the cataloged exhibits, he stuttered an apology and bumped into a miniature porcelain bowl that shattered on the floor.”

Daniel laughed and shook his head before downing his drink.

“I am certain the museum librarian was not amused,” Ben said by way of scolding his brother.

“He was not,” Armstrong confirmed. “Nevertheless, the bowl was of no value, so Sir Jonathan was only escorted from the premises by two porters instead of being taken into custody.”

“Egads.” Ben thrust the list back at Armstrong. There was nothing remotely debauched in his report. Hackberry had even retired early on the day in question. “You may go. Mr. Davis will see to your fee on your way out.”

“Yes, sir.” The man tucked the paper back into his pocket and left as somberly as he’d arrived.

“Well, that was disappointing,” Margrave said and lowered his lean frame into the vacant chair next to Daniel.

Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ,” he said on a breath. What had Eve been thinking when she accepted Hackberry’s proposal? Surely she realized she was betrothed to a dolt. As his wife, either she would die of boredom or chronic embarrassment.

“What are you doing, Ben?” Daniel asked. “Spying on Miss Thorne’s fiancé serves what purpose? She has made her choice.”

Ben squared his jaw and met his brother’s stare. “I intend to change her mind. You heard the investigator’s report. Hackberry is all wrong for Evie.”

“Is that so? And you were able to determine his suitability from a list of activities?”

“Yes. Yes, I was.” Ben circled his desk, dropped into his chair, and retrieved his quill to finish his recordings in the ledger. In his mind, the matter was settled. His brother and friend could see themselves out.

Daniel cleared his throat. Ben’s quill kept moving.

“Ahem!” Daniel stood and planted his hand in the middle of Ben’s page.

Gritting his teeth, Ben looked up at his brother looming in front of his desk.

“How?” Daniel’s eyes were wide with curiosity, no longer mocking him. “How do you know he is wrong for Miss Thorne?”

Ben dropped his quill on the desk. “For twenty-four hours there wasn’t a single activity listed that showed he thought of Miss Thorne once. No lingering over the bonnets at the milliner shop. No box of her favorite sweets. He didn’t even call on her, and he chose to retire early rather than escorting her to whatever event she attended.”

“Ah.” Daniel nodded, discarding his glass on Ben’s desk. “And a day is too long for any man to go without calling on his lady if the heart is involved.”

“Exactly, which is the reason Miss Thorne cannot marry Hackberry.” Ben pretended not to notice Margrave rolling his eyes.

Daniel said nothing for a moment, as if mulling over the situation. He crossed his arms and his scowl returned. “How are we planning to stop her?”

“We?”

“You know putting our heads together reaps the best results.”

Ben smiled. Perhaps Daniel was correct. His assistance could come in helpful. “First of all, Hackberry should be added to your wife’s guest list. Just Hackberry. What I have in mind requires privacy, and I wouldn’t want Evie catching wind of our conversation.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Margrave said with a grin. “No need for your lady wife to issue an invitation, Daniel. You may let her know I’m available.”

“She will be relieved, I am sure.”

Eve wasn’t testing Sir Jonathan. Truly, it had not entered her thoughts when she’d asked if Gracie could join them on their stroll through Hyde Park. Nevertheless, Eve found herself studying her fiancé’s interactions with the young girl and comparing him to Ben and the baby boy at Woodmore Foundling Home.

She had never seen a man
hold
a baby, much less serenade and dance with one. It piqued her curiosity about fatherhood in general, but especially about what type of father Jonathan might become—the type of father she suspected Ben would be.

Gracie walked ahead a few paces as they headed back home, twirling her parasol. “Sir Jonathan, what is your favorite flavored ice?”

This was her fourth question in a row, and Eve imagined Jonathan was tiring of supplying answers to the girl’s trivial questions. When Eve slanted a look at him, however, he sported the same affable grin he always wore.

“Another excellent question, Miss Gracie. Allow me to think on it a moment.” His smile broadened, and he winked when he caught Eve’s eye.

Warm affection filled her heart. Jonathan was a good man. He would make a decent husband and father. And someday she expected she would come to love him. Perhaps not as much as she had loved Ben two years ago, but at age nineteen she had been prone to mawkishness. Now she was prepared for a more mature type of love, one of admiration and companionship. She was making the right decision in forgetting about Ben and moving forward with her life.

Her throat grew tight, and the necklace she wore seemed heavier all of a sudden. She touched Ben’s parting gift, wondering what had possessed her to pull it from her jewel box and don it this morning.

“Burnt filbert,” Jonathan announced at last.

“Ew!” Gracie spun around, walking backward for a couple of steps, her face screwed up in a show of disgust. “Burnt filbert smells awful. How can it be your favorite ice?”

Jonathan shrugged. “Have you ever tasted it?”

Gracie shook her head before spinning back around to see where she was going.

“Then you cannot make an informed decision. You must give something a chance before declaring it all wrong for you. Do you like burnt filbert, Miss Thorne?”

“Not especially, I’m afraid.” She cleared her throat. “Sir Jonathan is correct, however. One must give something a chance in order to form an opinion.”

Jonathan tossed a satisfied smile in her direction, and she tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. She had been perfectly content with Jonathan before Ben arrived at her betrothal ball, and ever since their conversation at the foundling hospital, she had been unable to think of anything else.

Why had she listened to his claim of having come back for her on their wedding day? It was a lie. Sebastian would never keep them apart. Her brother knew how much she had loved Ben.

Ask
him
. Eve knew she should question her brother, but trepidation kept her from broaching the subject with Sebastian. If he confirmed Ben’s account, where did that leave her?
Them?
She was promised to another man, and she couldn’t break her word, especially when Jonathan had done nothing to displease her.

Then there was the question of how she would ever forgive Sebastian for his interference. She adored her older brother and abhorred the idea of anything coming between them. Perhaps it was best if she remained in the dark since his answer wouldn’t change the past or her future.

Ask
him
, the voice whispered in her head. She pushed the thought aside. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on the past. She wanted to enjoy Jonathan’s company. They hadn’t spent time together since their betrothal ball. He had sent his regrets yesterday, canceling their plans for a picnic in the park.

Jonathan claimed correspondence and reconciling his accounts were keeping him busy, but she suspected he was engrossed in his studies and used his business as an excuse. She should be very cross with him, but in truth, she had needed the time to sort through her feelings about Ben.

As they neared Thorne Place, Gracie raced ahead and bounded up the stairs to disappear inside.

“Would you like to take refreshment?” Eve’s invitation was a habit of courtesy.

Jonathan stopped on the walkway and turned to face her. His eyebrows shot up on his forehead. “Would you like me to accept, Miss Thorne?”

She forced a smile. “Why would I ask if I did not?”

“Why indeed?” Apparently he didn’t expect an answer and offered his escort inside.

In the foyer, Eve surrendered her bonnet and parasol to Milo, then requested the butler arrange for a tray of tea and sandwiches to be delivered to the drawing room.

“Yes, miss.”

Jonathan followed suit, handing over his hat, and trailed behind her. As a betrothed couple, they were allowed some liberties, such as relative privacy and an innocent touch. Eve left the door open wide and chose a chair across from the settee. Jonathan paused, his gaze passing back and forth between the chair next to Eve and the settee. Eventually he sat on the settee, facing her.

Eve folded her hands in her lap and tried not to stare at the lock of hair sticking up on his head from him removing his hat. Her fingers itched to set him back to rights, but touching him in such a way would feel too intimate. When she stopped to consider the length of time they had known each other, she realized they were barely acquainted. She and Ben met four months before he proposed, which seemed like a lifetime in comparison.

Jonathan propped his elbow on the armrest and aimed a puzzled frown in her direction. “Miss Thorne, might I make an observation without overstepping my bounds?”

“How am I to answer when I have no notion of what it is you have observed?”

“Fair enough.” He nodded slowly as if considering how to proceed. “Then perhaps an apology will be in order after I speak freely anyway. You seem different today, and I’ve wondered if I might be the cause.”

She sat up straighter, her heart skipping. “Different? How so?” Her troubled thoughts couldn’t show on her face.

He leaned forward to rest his forearms on his knees and scrutinized her. “You seem less lively, quite unlike yourself. Have I done something to upset you?”

“Heavens, no!” Her hand flew to her chest, her fingers grazing the warm metal of the necklace.

His gaze seemed drawn to her neck. He sat up and inclined his head. “Is that a new piece of jewelry? I haven’t noticed you wearing it before.”

She enclosed the pendant in her palm as if to shield it from view. “No, it’s nothing special. Just a trinket from an old friend.”

“May I see?” Without waiting for permission, he left his seat to crouch in front of her. She swallowed hard, debating how she would answer if he asked for her friend’s name. “I am sure I’ve seen one like it in my travels.”

Eve slowly uncurled her fingers with a shaky sigh. His interest was simply a matter of curiosity. To him, the necklace was nothing but an artifact for study. To her, it had been a promise—one Ben had broken when he stayed in Delhi and never wrote to her. Even a short letter to tell her that he would not be returning would have sufficed, although she would have been crushed. She’d held on to the hope that he would come back much longer than she should have.

Not even the kindhearted Mr. Cooper had been able to convince her to move forward with her life in their weekly conversations. When she learned the chaplain had written to Ben imploring him to return because he was worried for her, Eve had felt betrayed and angry. One glimpse into the man’s sorrowful eyes, and she knew Mr. Cooper had intervened with the best intentions. If she had expected Ben to grant Mr. Cooper’s request, perhaps she wouldn’t have been so quick to accept Jonathan’s offer for her hand.

That’s unfair
. Jonathan had an endearing quality about him. He wasn’t Ben, but that was to his credit. Unclasping the necklace, she placed it in her betrothed’s upturned hand. He held it closer for inspection then traced the three round yellow stones with the tip of his finger before sliding the black pearls through his hand.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Excellent artistry. This is an expensive trinket.”

She lifted one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “It is nice, but it means nothing to me.”

He held it out to her, his mouth curving into a half smile. “In some parts of India, the groom gives such a necklace to his bride to symbolize their lasting bond.”

“I wasn’t aware, but how fascinating.” She retrieved the necklace, shoved it into the crack between the cushion and chair, then smiled brightly. “Have you studied Indian culture?”

“My early studies involved Brahmanism.” That was all the invitation Jonathan needed to return to the settee and launch into tales of his time at various archaeological sites during his childhood. When his father was alive, archaeology was Sir Reginald Hackberry’s passion, and he dragged his wife and son to all the dusty places of the world, passing on his love for antiquities to Jonathan.

Eve’s heart beat a little faster when he talked of his life abroad. It all sounded intriguing and exciting. Perhaps she would like to see these places too. “Do you wish to follow your father’s example and involve your own son in your work someday?”

“No.” All traces of lightheartedness vanished. “What I do is too dangerous for a family. I would never place my wife and children at risk.”

Her breath caught at his answer. That he would abandon his first love for her and their future family created a lovely tingle along her skin. “You love your work, Jonathan. Can you truly give it up?”

He screwed his mouth to the side as if contemplating her question. Eventually, he exhaled, almost deflating on the settee. “That has been my intention since returning to England and seeking a wife, but I cannot say if I will be able to remain here always.”

Eve’s jaw dropped. She wanted to demand he tell her why not. What call was there for him to leave their homeland, other than his silly obsession with drums and sacred dances and trancelike states? His was a boy’s fascination. It wouldn’t do for him to run off in order to satisfy his whims while leaving her behind. It wouldn’t do at all.

He flashed a broad smile. “Now don’t fret, dearest. I have no desire to leave you.”

She didn’t return his smile. Having no desire to leave was not the same as promising to stay.

Milo preceded a footman with a tray into the drawing room and instructed the man to place it on the low table. “Will there be anything else, miss?”

Eve didn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply shook her head. Jonathan helped himself to tea and a sandwich, then nattered on about his day. When there was no more mention of leaving England, Eve began to settle, and half an hour later, she had almost forgiven him for making her worry.

Once they finished their refreshments, Eve rose from her seat to see him out. He held her hand and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek as they reached the drawing room door. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I truly didn’t mean to upset you. Forgive me?”

Her back lost its rigidness and she smiled softly. “Of course. I realize it must be an adjustment to go from well-traveled bachelor to husband. I promise to allow you more leeway in the future.”

“Thank you, Miss Thorne. For my part, I will try to do better. Is there a way I might make up for my gaffe?”

She squeezed his hand. “You may sign my dance card at Almack’s tonight.”

He winced. “I forgot tonight was Almack’s.”

“You forgot?” She dropped his hand. “It is but one night of the week.”

He raked his fingers through his hair, leaving his light brown waves standing on end. “Yes, about that… I’ve received an invitation to speak on Mesopotamia this evening.”

Eve crossed her arms, tapping the toe of her slipper against the floor as she bit her tongue.

“Miss Thorne, I… The invitation…” A scarlet flush spread up his face. “I am sorry. I did not think. I was flattered anyone would find me fascinating enough to warrant an invitation based on my own merits. Lady Norwick has been kind enough to assist me these last few weeks, but…”

She knew what it was like to be excluded, although that did not excuse his forgetfulness. She really wanted to dance, blast it all. No more standing on the sidelines wishing her fiancé would ask her to stand up with him. And she certainly couldn’t go around woolgathering about waltzing with Ben all the time. It wasn’t well done of her.

Eve sighed. “I hope you enjoy a pleasant evening, but make certain to get plenty of rest tonight, because tomorrow you will begin taking dance instruction.”

“Dance instruction? But I don’t dance.”

“Which is a problem,” she said, hands landing on her hips. “I need a dance partner. I don’t want to be one of those wives handed over for the young bachelors to entertain.”

Jonathan scowled. “Nor do I like the idea. Very well. Send around a message with the time and location, and I will be there.”

That was more like it.