by Cheryl Bolen
His wife cleared her throat, loudly.
“Yes, well...” The marquess shuffled a few papers on his desk and stacked them with edges lined, avoiding eye contact with anyone. “We can discuss that later.”
Lady Seabrook took control of the conversation. “Our daughter has become quite attached to the dog, and we fear her heart will be broken if you take him. We will purchase him from you.”
“With all due respect, my lady, Orion is not for sale.”
The marchioness straightened her spine and looked down her nose at him. “I am afraid you misunderstood, sir. You will allow us to buy Mr. Perkins or you will leave empty-handed. Either way, you are not taking the dog.”
Her daughter gasped. “But Mama, what about Uncle Gunther’s hounds? You said Major Rowland could have pick of whelps from the next litter.”
Phillip gritted his teeth, finding it much harder to mind his manners than he had anticipated. “I. Want. My. Dog.”
Lady Seabrook scoffed. “How can I recommend him to Gunther when he is completely irrational?”
“This is ridiculous.” Phillip shoved out of the chair and straightened his jacket. “Bring me Orion, so I may be on my way.”
Lord Seabrook sighed, squeezing his eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Could everyone please take a moment to calm down? We needn’t be hasty or make this process contentious. Major Rowland, will you allow us a few more moments of your time?”
Phillip was accustomed to delivering and receiving orders. Perhaps the novelty of being asked and having the freedom to decline held sway over him. He complied with the marquess’s request and resumed his seat.
“Thank you.” Lord Seabrook inclined his head. “You must forgive my wife for speaking out of hand. She is motivated by a mother’s love. Our Ammie has grown attached to the spaniel, and we are exceedingly fond of our daughter.”
Phillip slanted a glance toward the lovely thief. She had scooted to the edge of the bench and clasped her hands in her lap. Her peaches and cream complexion was paler and anxiety softly lined her forehead.
“What can I do to make this easier?” The question fell from Phillip’s lips unbidden. His jaw twitched. He didn’t want to feel sympathy for her, or anyone. Faith! He didn’t want to feel.
“Allow Ammie a proper good-bye,” Lord Seabrook said.
“Papa, no!” Lady Ambrosia bolted from the bench and came to her father’s side. “Please, Papa. Don’t allow him to take my dog.”
Phillip suppressed the desire to remind her that she did not own Orion. Obviously, Lord Seabrook was a reasonable man who saw the wisdom in returning another man’s property.
Lord Seabrook patted his daughter’s hand where she was gripping his sleeve and murmured soothing words about trust. He seemed to have the right touch, because even though Lady Ambrosia still appeared miserable, she released his arm.
The marquess’s smile was grim when he addressed Phillip. “Stay the night, enjoy the festivities, and allow our daughter to spend her last moments with the dog.”
“It is the least she deserves after the excellent care she has given him,” her mother piped up.
Phillip couldn’t tear his gaze away from Lady Ambrosia’s face or ignore the stabbing guilt in his gut when tears welled in her eyes.
“Very well,” he said. “I will stay one night, but I want Orion returned tomorrow at dawn. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
Chapter 3
After the meeting with Major Rowland, Ammie trudged back to her chambers. Heartache weighed her down, and even Papa’s promise to resolve the issue did nothing to lift her spirits. Major Rowland seemed as unmovable as the walls surrounding the Tower of London.
She sighed as she pulled the bedchamber door closed behind her. Mr. Perkins popped up his head. He’d been napping at the foot of the bed when she’d left to ambush Major Rowland. The hidden passages behind the walls had allowed her to catch her enemy by surprise—not that it had given her the advantage she’d hoped.
She smiled at Mr. Perkins, her troubles forgotten for the moment. “Did I wake you, sweet boy?”
The dog jumped from his perch and came to greet her with his own smile, his little tail wagging with a swish.
“There’s my sweet boy,” she cooed as she bent to pet him.
Mr. Perkins flopped on his side, exposing his belly for scratching. Ammie knelt beside him to shower him with attention, the ache in her heart intensifying. This might be the last time he would come to greet her. She swiped at the dampness gathering in her eyes.
“I promised you a walk outdoors, didn’t I?”
His ears twitched when he heard one of his favorite words, but he was enjoying the belly rub too much to move. The bedchamber door swung open and Laurel stepped inside, closing it softly behind her. She and Ammie shared a room and had all their lives. When the time came for either of them to marry, it would be hard separating from her twin.
“How was your talk with the major?” Laurel asked. “Is he allowing you to keep Mr. Perkins?”
The back of Ammie’s throat thickened. She pressed her lips together, not trusting herself to answer lest she burst into tears.
“Law! He told you no?” Laurel dropped to her knees on the other side of Mr. Perkins and scratched behind his ears. “Did you tell him about Uncle Gunther’s hounds?”
Ammie swallowed hard and nodded. “He only wants his dog.”
“Surely you’ve ruined Mr. Perkins for hunting by pampering him as you have,” Laurel said.
“I’m not certain Major Rowland cares.”
Ammie’s twin frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I. Papa persuaded him to allow me one more night with Mr. Perkins, but I’m expected to surrender him tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, Ammie. I am so sorry.” Laurel nibbled her bottom lip, her gaze on the little dog. “Major Rowland must be fatigued from his journey. Perhaps he will reconsider after a good night’s sleep.”
Her sister’s reassurance was like a gentle breeze to a flame, and hope flickered to life in her once more. “He did seem a bit surly. Perhaps you are right.” She pushed up from the floor. “I promised Mr. Perkins a walk outdoors. Would you like to accompany us?”
“Yes.” Laurel half groaned, half laughed. “Anything to escape the crush for a while. Guests are still arriving by the hordes, and the neighbors are housing even more. Before long, we won’t be able to move without tripping over each other. Should we invite William and Hugh? They have been annoying Julius and his friends all afternoon.”
Their two younger brothers were notorious for getting into mischief when they grew bored. It was to everyone’s advantage that the young men stay busy.
“Julius will owe us,” Ammie said.
While Laurel retrieved their brothers, Ammie gathered her and Laurel’s outerwear from the wardrobe. Perhaps her older brother could come to her aid. Julius rarely lost at cards. Was the major a gambling man? Would he dare to wager the little dog’s papers? He didn't strike her as the undisciplined sort.
Ammie summoned Mr. Perkins with a click of her tongue. The spaniel dashed into the corridor ahead of her and trotted down the stairs. Laurel was waiting in the foyer, and their younger brothers arrived shortly dressed for the elements.
A fine snow had begun to fall that morning, stopping and starting several times throughout the day. Barely enough to form a snowball, but nothing would stop eleven-year-old Hugh from enjoying what little snow there was. He hurried across the terrace, purposely sliding on the slippery spots with his arms thrust out for balance.
Hugh’s eyes glittered with excitement, his face still round with youth. “Cook’s knees are aching, and you know what that means. More snow! I hope we get ten feet.”
“That might solve my problem,” Ammie said. “Temporarily at least.”
William cocked his head. “What problem would that be?”
At age fifteen, he considered himself a man and believed he should be kept abreast of family matters.
“I met with Major Rowland this afternoon,” Ammie said.
She, Laurel, and William left their little brother crouched on the lawn to scrape what little snow he could find into a pile with his mittens. She provided an abbreviated version of her encounter with the major. William frowned when she revealed the outcome.
“He cannot mean to take Mr. Perkins from you," he said.
Ammie nodded. “Major Rowland was quite clear about his intentions.”
Boot falls pounded the ground behind them, approaching fast. Hugh raced past, wheeled, and flung a snowball at William. Reflexively, William spun and the wet ball smacked him between the shoulder blades. Icy spray hit Ammie and her sister. They yelped.
“Hugh!”
“You little rat!”
William grinned before tearing after him. Hugh led him on a chase into the pasture. Mr. Perkins sprinted ahead, his ears flapping, before circling back to bark at the boys. When William tackled Hugh and wrestled him into submission, they were both laughing. Laurel scolded them for ruining their Yuletide attire, but neither boy paid attention as they exchanged playful blows.
Ammie chuckled. She loved her family, her home, and the surrounding countryside. In the spring, the pasture would be vibrant with yellow and blue wildflowers, and the barren copse of trees on the hill would grow flush with leaves. She regretted that she must miss out on the splendor come springtime, but she intended to fulfill her familial duty and choose a husband by the Christmas ball.
In London, the ballrooms had been overwhelming. Ammie hadn’t been able to keep straight which suitors earned her parents’ approval and which ones she should avoid. Additionally, she couldn’t imagine accepting any man’s proposal without first introducing him to Mr. Perkins, and she couldn’t very well tote her dog to Almack’s or the theatre.
The house party would simplify matters. Only acceptable gentlemen had been invited to attend, and she had Mr. Perkins at her disposal—at least for the moment. She tried not to dwell on what would happen tomorrow if Major Rowland’s mind remained unchanged.
As Ammie and her siblings walked further into the pasture, a figure topped the hill in the distance, a man.
“Who is that coming this way?” Hugh asked.
Ammie shook her head. “I cannot make out his face.”
Laurel ventured it was one of the guests lodging with the neighbors. The spaniel froze in place, his gaze locked on the man, muscles tense.
“There, there, sweet boy.” Ammie spoke soothingly as she eased toward him. The dog was protective of his people, and although he’d never bitten anyone, she didn’t know how he might react to a stranger in his territory.
The moment her fingers grazed his fur, he darted across the frozen grass, headed toward the intruder. “Mr. Perkins, no!” Ammie grabbed fistfuls of her skirts and gave chase. “Stop him!”
Her brothers, who were much faster, shot past her.
Mr. Perkins sprinted up the hill, his speed impressive. They would never reach him in time. The man spoke seconds before Mr. Perkins leapt at him. Ammie’s heart jammed in her throat; she stopped, gaping in horror. Several moments passed before she realized Mr. Perkins wasn’t launching an attack.
Her lips parted in surprise. “He is playing.”
The man bent forward to lightly wrestle him. Robust laughter carried on the air. Mr. Perkins broke free of the man’s hold and danced around him.
Ammie’s fear drained away, leaving her body limp. The stranger’s laughter was a balm to her nerves. She smiled.
Laurel linked their arms and dragged Ammie toward the hill. “Let’s go meet your future husband.”
“I-I b-beg your pardon?”
How foolish did her sister think she was? She would never marry a man based on first impressions. Even if he met one of the most important requirements on her list: Must Love Dogs.
Hugh and William had slowed to a walk and appeared to be introducing themselves to the stranger. When William pointed toward Laurel and Ammie at the foot of the hill, the man turned. Ammie caught a good look of his face.
“Law,” she grumbled. “It is Major Rowland.”
“That is the major? Twit." Laurel pinched her arm hard.
“Ow!” Ammie jerked away. “Why did you do that?”
Her twin sniffed. “You never said he was handsome.”
“Are you mad? He is the enemy. Who cares about his appearance? He has come to take Mr. Perkins.”
“Yes, there is that.” Laurel tucked a strand of windblown hair into her bonnet. “You must admit he is not a bit hard on the eyes, though.”
“Traitor,” Ammie said under her breath.
Her sister chuckled. “I can enjoy the view and still be on your side.”
Ammie studied the major, trying to see him as her sister did, and the changes in his appearance were startling. In her father's study, his jawline had been too severe and square, his arresting blue stare too hard, and his thick dark brows, which sat low over those glacial eyes, made him look curmudgeonly. Even his mouth had been pinched, like he was stingy with kind words.
Somehow, his features had lost their sharp edges since the earlier encounter in her father’s study. She could forgive her twin for finding him attractive, but she would not be tricked by his outward transformation. The man was a blackguard through and through.
Hugh chattered all the way down the hill as the small party came to intercept Laurel and Ammie. “Do you own a sword?”
“Every Hussar is armed with a saber,” the major said.
Hugh's eyes lit. “May I see it?”
“I only carry it on the battlefield, Lord Hugh.” Major Rowland met Ammie’s gaze. “I trust we are not at war at Everly Manor.”
Hugh guffawed, doubling over and slapping his own knee. Ammie was not amused. She narrowed her eyes on her enemy.
“My father has a rifle,” Hugh said after he recovered from laughing. “Do you hunt grouse?”
“Not any longer. I prefer quiet walks in the countryside.” The major was responding to Hugh’s questions with impressive patience. Her brother could worry a person endlessly and never satisfy his curiosity.
“My sister takes Orion for walks all the time,” Hugh said.
Ammie smiled tightly. “You mean Mr. Perkins.”
“Major Rowland said his name was Orion before you found him and changed it. I like Orion. It’s a better name.”
Ammie expected the major to gloat about winning her brother to his side. Instead, he squeezed Hugh’s shoulder in a fatherly fashion. “Mr. Perkins is a fine name, and your sister has taken excellent care of him in my absence. She has earned my gratitude.”
Hugh grinned. “Do you want to walk with us?”
No! Ammie’s gut clenched. She didn’t want to spend another moment in the major’s company. It was requiring every ounce of restraint to curb her tongue as it was.
“Thank you for the kind offer, Lord Hugh, but it would be rude to intrude on your sister’s time with Mr. Perkins.”
"Ammie doesn't care if—"
Major Rowland sketched a bow, cutting off Hugh's argument. “Ladies, my lords. I bid you a good day.”
Ammie and her siblings turned to watch him walk in the direction of the house.
“The major seems nice, too,” Laurel murmured. "You really don’t find him handsome? "
“You cannot be serious.” The man was intent on ripping out Ammie’s heart. “Major Rowland is the worst.”
Chapter 4
Phillip woke at dawn to discover a metamorphosis had occurred overnight. The brittle grass-covered hills he’d walked the day prior were buried beneath a blanket of snow, tinged blue by the early morning light. Fluffy snowflakes twirled like amateur ballerinas on gentle gusts and clumsily plopped on the window ledge.
A wintery English countryside was a beautiful sight. The peaceful quiet soothed his soul. Many times over the years, he’d wondered if he would ever see another winter at home. Under different circumstances, he would enjoy admiring M
other Nature’s handiwork a bit longer, but he needed to gather Orion and set off before the roads became impassable.
Heaving a sigh laden with regret, he turned away from the window. Was it too much to hope Lady Ambrosia would turn over his dog without making him feel like the most callus blackguard on earth? He had underestimated how difficult it would be to reclaim his dog from the young lady.
When his father reported a noblewoman had taken Orion, Phillip had expected her to be like many of those he’d encountered in London over the years—the ones who toted their pooch around like an accessory and lost interest in the creature once the novelty had worn off. Lady Ambrosia clearly loved the spaniel, though, and Phillip derived no pleasure from being responsible for her heartache.
When her father had announced she must surrender Orion, the mournful look in her eyes had pricked Phillip’s conscience. The memory had been troubling him ever since, and his guilt had burgeoned when Lady Ambrosia was missing from the supper table last night. Asking after her welfare had earned him a glower from her mother and a snide comment about Lady Ambrosia cherishing the last moments with her dog.
He hadn’t wanted to argue or make the situation more contentious, so he’d held his tongue and suffered through the long evening of baleful stares from Lady Ambrosia’s family and tiresome conversation from the other guests. Every time someone mentioned the war or dubbed him a hero, he was reminded that he no longer belonged in High Society. It really was for the best that he was rejoining his company where no one asked about his experiences abroad. The questions never arose, because his fellow officers had seen and done everything he had in service to England. None of them wished to talk about it either.
“Hop to it, then,” he mumbled to himself and retreated to the small oak wardrobe to gather his clothing.
He’d sent his batman ahead to set up living quarters in Hounslow, which meant Phillip was without a valet for now. He planned to rejoin his company at the camp after the holiday, and he trusted Davis to have everything in order when he arrived. There might not be much time to set up house otherwise. With tensions growing in the Midlands, Phillip expected he and his men would be sent north eventually to be on hand if the conflict between laborers and factory owners turned violent.