It Takes a Hero (32 page)

"As am I," Rebecca told her, "for you are providing me with the means to attain my dearest wish, a good and sensible husband and a home of my own."

A husband?
Rafe spun around and gaped at her. She needn't sound so enthused about the idea. And worse, she looked like she truly meant it. Hadn't last night meant anything to her?

And what had she said she wanted?
Good and sensible
. Bah! He could be those things.

On occasion.

"And a husband we shall find for you. Just as every wise girl should desire," the lady was saying, approval beaming from her sharp eyes.

Rafe found himself forgotten as they left the room en masse, talk of silks and brocades and hats and shoes fluttering through the air like autumn leaves.

Had she forgotten him so quickly? Demmit, he wasn't going to stand for this. He was going to—

"Rafe?"

Suddenly she was there and his chest tightened.

"Rebecca," he said, forgetting that he shouldn't address her so intimately. "I'll find Purcell. I'll get Richard's haversack. I'll stop this—" His words tumbled out, promises and vows of everything but the one thing he should be offering. Himself. A life together.

But would she want such a miserable offer once she'd seen the glories of Mayfair?

Rebecca was, after all, a sensible lady.

"I know," she was saying, her teeth nibbling at her bottom lip. "You must use undue caution. Do you have my list of residences that Mr. Purcell has used in the last two years? His previous employers? My instructions?"

"Yes," he said, stopping her and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. "I have everything I need."

Everything but you.

"I could come with you," she offered.

He shook his head. "No. You'll be safer here." This is where she belonged, in the safe confines of Mayfair. And if he was half the man he professed to be, he'd leave her here and never come back.

Let her find her reliable and prudent vicar.

Afraid of his own weakening resolve, he bid her a hasty good day and fled toward the front door.

"Rafe?" she called out.

"Yes?" He came to a stop and prayed his voice didn't sound as hopeful as he felt.

"Be careful," she finally said. "Don't jump into anything without judiciously considering the consequences."

It was too late for that
, he wanted to tell her.

Some hours later, after everyone had gone to bed for the evening, Rebecca wandered down the stairs, in search of a book to read, for she couldn't fall asleep, her thoughts awash in grief over Rafe's desertion.

Oh, why had he left her without any word of last night?

As she crossed the hall in front of Lady Tottley's salon, she heard an odd noise inside the elegant room.

Crying.

Rebecca bit her lower lip and considered what she should do. Leave the person to the privacy of their tears or interfere. She knew what Lady Finch or the Gadbury sisters would recommend.

Tapping on the partially open door there was no reply, so she pushed it open a bit further and poked her head in.

To her shock, it was Lady Tottley, alone and prostrate on her settee, sobbing as if it had just been announced that the Regent was knighting every merchant from Brighton to York.

"Lady Tottley," Rebecca whispered, coming into the room and closing the door behind her. She knew the countess would not appreciate the staff seeing her in such a state of distress. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

The lady sniffed and sobbed some more before she managed to say, "I fear it is too late! Lord Barwick was seen this afternoon out driving with Miss Thayer. A cit's daughter! Can you imagine such a thing? When my dear Lucinda was so close to being his bride." She drew her handkerchief to her trembling lips. "All is lost!"

"This is my fault," Rebecca said, coming to sit beside the lady. "I wish I'd never written that last book."

The lady wiped her tears away and gazed intently at Rebecca. "I do believe you mean that."

"I never thought Lieutenant Throckmorten's death would be so ill-received. I only meant to get rid of him because I truly tired of his unwillingness to propose marriage."

Lady Tottley stared at her, and then of all things, burst out laughing. "You mean you got rid of him because he was being a typical man?"

Rebecca nodded. "Wait until my next book."

Lady Tottley's iron brows arched.

"I mean," Rebecca corrected herself, "the one I have stopped writing. Miss Darby discovers that Lieutenant Throckmorten had a betrothed in London and one in the West Indies. He was a regular Lothario. She is well rid of him."

"This man, who has every miss in London mourning, was a cad?"

"A wretched one."

The two of them laughed until Lady Tottley finally caught her breath. And then she sighed and shook her head.

"Miss Tate, you would probably cause a riot if you published that book. Who knows how the younger set would react. It is better that Miss Darby's misadventures never again see the light of day."

Rebecca didn't agree, but she wasn't about to argue with Lady Tottley. Perhaps in a few weeks, once everything was set to rights, the lady would allow her to continue writing.

"My daughter is so terribly headstrong," the countess was saying. "She got that from her father, bless his heart."

Rebecca wisely chose not to comment on that either.

Lady Tottley glanced over at the fireplace, the last of the flames lingering in the grate. "I know she is fond of Lord Barwick, and he of her. All things together, I think they suit, and that is all I ever truly wanted for Lucinda. I want her to be happy, as I am with Lord Tottley."

"Then let me tell her the truth," Rebecca implored. "That I wrote the
Miss Darby
novels and that I never meant for Lieutenant Throckmorten's death to become this grand statement against marriage."

The countess shook her head. "She'll see my hand in your arrival and not believe you. No, she needs to come around on her own." Lady Tottley sighed. "You have a good heart, Miss Tate, though a misguided pen. It cheers my heart to know I'll have your willing assistance when the time is right."

"I am at your service, Lady Tottley," she said, bidding the lady good night and returning to the solace of her room. But as she closed the door on the elegant chamber, Rebecca felt a twinge of guilt. For there sat her dispatch box, and hidden inside it was
Miss Darby's Terrible Temptation
, awaiting its final chapter.

In truth, how could she finish it when she herself was starting to think the Darbyites had it right—marriage was a fool's dream. She crossed the room to the window and stared out into the darkness. She couldn't see much, beyond the lights that twinkled in the other stately homes of Mayfair.

"
Rafe
," she whispered like a prayer to the single star she could discern.
Please come to me
.

But she knew the truth. If he truly loved her, he would have declared so this morning. She turned from the window and made her way to her bed. Drat the man!

Oh, she had only herself to blame. For throwing caution to the wind and diving into life with the same reckless abandon as her plucky heroine.

But fiction and real life, she realized, rarely found common ground. Hadn't she started writing the Darby novels in answer to her own broken heart? To find a place where happy endings truly did exist.

Then as her despondency reached new lows, she thought she heard the garden gate squeak and she rushed to the window.

He'd come for her!

But darkness obscured the garden and she couldn't see a thing. After standing at the window for an indecent amount of time peering into the shadows and willing Rafe to appear, she finally gave up. Without a book to read or anything to distract her wayward thoughts, she found herself staring at her desk.

What would one page hurt?
she found herself wondering. And before she knew it, she had a quill in hand and was seeking solace in the one thing that never disappointed her.

Rafe had asked his brothers to meet him at the Rose and Lion, Pymm's old haunt, for he needed their help and was more than willing to swallow his pride to gain it.

"Now let me get this straight," Colin was saying. "You seduced this innocent girl and then left her without a word."

"It wasn't quite that bad," Rafe told him. "I tried to ask her to marry me, but I couldn't get the words out. Besides, I'm not sure she would have said yes." He took an unwitting swallow from the tankard before him and choked on the foul brew. "You didn't see her face when she saw Lady Tottley's house. And what can I give her? A one room flat in Seven Dials and a share in my disreputable life? Besides, she's always fancied herself married to some vicar—you know, a sensible sort."

"Put that way, you'd have to wonder about any lady who would say yes to you," his brother Robert commented.

Colin wasn't so convinced. "You should have got down on both knees and with every bit of sincerity and charm you possess asked the lady. Then before she had the chance to refuse you, carted her off to Gretna Green and married her."

This, Rafe noted, from the man who'd almost married the wrong woman.

Robert leaned forward. "What do you need us to do?"

"Yes, why exactly have you dragged us down here?" Colin asked.

Finally, Rafe decided, his interfering family was going to be an asset. Right down to Colin and Georgie's seventeen-year-old daughter. He glanced over at his eldest brother.

"With Chloe being out this Season, I suppose you're being dragged about to all these balls and other nonsense?" he asked.

Colin's brow knit together and nodded.

"Good. Keep an eye on Miss Tate for me. If she starts to show any marked preference for anyone, get rid of the fellow, then send me word immediately."

Colin glanced at Robert, who just shook his head. Then both brothers launched into a fit of laughter that drew every bleary eyed gaze in their direction.

"Gads, Rafe, you are an idiot," Robert said, once he'd recovered enough of his composure to speak. "What do you expect Colin to do if some fellow does take an interest in this paragon, challenge him? I think Georgie might take exception to her husband following around a woman, shall we say, half his age?" Robert chortled, while Colin shot him a black look.

"Perhaps, I haven't thought this thing completely through," Rafe admitted.

"Not much, I'd say," Colin muttered.

Leaning back in his chair, Robert asked, "Since I'm obviously not here for spying on your lady love, what do you need of me, little brother?"

"Your connections, Hobbe," Rafe said, using his brother's old nickname. "I need to locate this man." He dug into his pocket and pulled out Rebecca's list.

Robert whistled as he looked over her tidy script. "Thorough chit."

"You don't know the half of it," Rafe said. He pointed down to item thirty-six on the page. "We need to find this Purcell. But with the utmost discretion. Don't let him know we are looking for him. According to Miss Tate, he's a bit of a gambler and moves around frequently. Debts and all. If he thinks someone is looking for him, he'll bolt. And foremost, I don't want anyone else to find him first."

Colin's gaze narrowed. "Now you sound like Pymm. What is this all about, Rafe?"

He shook his head. "I can't say anything more than that."

His brothers exchanged glances and then grinned.

"An adventure!" Colin declared. "Gads, how I envy you. Since the war ended, I haven't had a single excuse to fire a shot or go skulking about the wharves looking for information. Quite dull, really."

Rafe considered introducing Colin to the colonel if he thought his life was lacking in peril and excitement.

Robert nodded in agreement. "Count us in. We'll find this Purcell fellow
and
make sure there isn't a vicar in sight of your future Mrs. Danvers."

Rafe nodded, and then headed for the door.

As Colin and Robert watched their brother leave, Colin said "Do you think it is ethical for us to help him gain this bride?"

"God help her, saddled with him for the rest of her life," Robert said.

"I rather felt the same way for Olivia when she went to the trouble of saving your miserable hide," Colin teased.

"Still," Robert mused, "I can't figure one thing out."

"What's that?" Colin asked absently.

"Why does Rafe believe he has nothing to offer this Miss Tate?" Robert wondered aloud. "Lord, father left him enough money in trust to marry half this Season's debutantes."

Both brothers paused, staring at their drinks, then looked up at each other.

"You did tell Rafe about his fortune when he came of age?" Robert asked.

Colin's eyes widened as he realized the truth. "No, I thought you had—"

They stared at the now empty doorway and laughed. A few moments later, Robert wiped his eyes and rose from the table. "And here we thought for all these years he just favored living in utter poverty to keep himself well out of the parson's trap." He started to go after Rafe, but Colin stopped him. "Let's not tell him just yet."

«
^
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There isn't a man in England who doesn't think he can't do anything he sets his mind to, Miss Darby. And every woman in England knows he'll succeed with her help.

Lady Lowthorpe to Miss Darby

in
Miss Darby's Perilous Journey

A sennight later

"A
bout time you arrived," Lady Tottley said to Rafe as he was shown into her drawing room. "You're late. I specifically told Mr. Cochrane that you be here at one. Now it is nearly half past two and my callers will be arriving within the hour and I don't want anyone seeing you—"

"My apologies, milady," he said, cutting her off. "I've been gone all morning. On business. I just got your message and came as quickly as I could."

"Yes, your business. Well, that isn't my concern, but what is my concern is Miss Tate. She's still writing!"