by Cheryl Bolen
Her father’s face twisted in horror. "Alone and without a chaperone?"
"No Papa, nothing scandalous. Hugh and William could accompany us. They are less threatening than you and Mama. We will remain within sight of the manor house." She clasped her hands, prepared to beg if necessary.
Her father pursed his lips. "Your mother would never approve."
"Please, Papa. I must try to change Major Rowland’s mind. Otherwise, I will never forgive myself if something terrible befalls Mr. Perkins in Hounslow."
“Ammie.” Her father signed and rubbed his temples as if her request caused his head to ache. “Why has everything become complicated?”
“I’m sorry.” Truly, she was. She had always tried to comply with anything her parents asked of her, but Mr. Perkins was too important. She had to fight for him.
Her father uttered a mild curse. “I suppose I did promise to help resolve the issue, although I am not convinced granting my permission is wise. Your attention should be focused on selecting a mate.”
“I will. As soon as I see to Mr. Perkins’s wellbeing, I will throw myself into finding a husband.”
Papa grimaced. “Your mother will have my head for agreeing, but I see you need a resolution before you can consider any gentleman’s suit. Be quick about it. I won’t be able to keep this from your mother for long.”
Ammie was out of her chair and rounding the desk to hug him before he finished talking. "Thank you, Papa. Thank you, thank you."
Her display would have earned her a reprimand from her mother, but her father chuckled and allowed her to kiss his doughy cheek. "Remember, you must have one or more brothers with you always," he said. "If you can enlist one of your older brothers, that would be preferable."
"You have my promise." And she meant it. Heaven forbid that an act of carelessness should bind her to the major for life instead of a lovely gentleman like Sir Edmund.
She hugged her father once more and practically skipped toward the door.
“Yes sir.”
When she returned to her chamber, she wrote a brief note and rang for a footman. Charlie answered her call, as usual. Mr. Perkins lifted his head briefly and wagged his tail when he saw his friend before resuming his nap at the foot of her bed.
“Close the door behind you.” She waved the young servant into the room. "I have a secret task for you, Charlie. No one must intercept this message, and you cannot speak a word of it to anyone. Are you the right man for the job?"
The boy's dark eyes glittered with what she assumed was interest. "I know how to be invisible when I should. I reckon I'm better at it than all the other fellas.”
"I am pleased to hear it.” Ammie smiled at his boastfulness. He sounded like William or Hugh, who seemed to believe they excelled at everything. She held out the folded sheet of paper. "Deliver this to Major Rowland and wait for a reply. I place my full trust in you."
The sparkle in Charlie's eyes dimmed. "Are you asking me to deliver a message to a gentleman? I don’t know if I should, milady. Lady Seabrook will sack me for sure if she finds out."
"You needn't worry about Mama," Ammie said. "I have my father's permission to speak with the major. However, it is imperative you practice discretion. This is a private matter that doesn't concern the other houseguests."
Charlie gulped and his complexion paled. "What if I am caught and make a mess of it?"
“You will do fine. I am placing my reputation in your hands. Would I take a chance if I thought you would be questioned?”
“I don’t know. Probably not?”
Ammie’s conscience niggled at her for worrying him. "You have been assigned to act as Major Rowland's valet, have you not?"
Charlie nodded and fidgeted with his coat sleeves. "Lady Seabrook said I must give him my help, even if he doesn't want it."
The young servant was untrained as a valet and likely to make a mess of the task. She hoped Major Rowland wouldn’t be too stern with Charlie because of his inexperience. It wasn’t his fault. Ammie suspected her mother had selected the servant to attend Major Rowland as a small act of revenge. Despite her crusty demeanor, Mama loved Ammie and her siblings in her own way, and the mother hen did not take kindly to anyone upsetting one of her chicks.
"I am certain the major will find your assistance very useful," Ammie said to reassure the boy. "And you needn’t worry about anyone questioning what you are doing in the major’s chamber. You are meant to be there."
A tentative smile eased across his face. "I didn't think of that." He accepted the note and tucked it into his waistband. "I promise not to let you down, milady."
"I know you won't, Charlie. Thank you."
When the footman slipped into the corridor, Ammie retrieved a bonnet and her heavy wool pelisse in anticipation of Major Rowland accepting her invitation. She saw no reason for him to refuse.
Charlie returned a few moments later with the major's acceptance. The rendezvous point was the pasture again, and she would take Hugh along. Her youngest brother had been impressed with the major yesterday, so he would be eager to accompany her. As a bonus, he was an inattentive child. If their mother questioned him later, Hugh was unlikely to recall any part of the conversation between Ammie and Major Rowland.
She clapped her hands. “Come, Mr. Perkins.”
The spaniel hopped from the bed and followed when she headed to the schoolroom to collect her youngest brother. Hugh was reluctant to leave the tower he was building from blocks until he learned they were meeting the major. Their small party hadn't traveled far from the manor house before she spotted Major Rowland crossing the snow-covered lawn en route to intercept them. Mr. Perkins wagged his stubby tail and trotted forward to welcome him.
As Laurel had reminded her before bed last night, Ammie was more likely to achieve her objective through kindness than squaring off with a seasoned warrior. When he reached the edge of the pasture, she pasted on a pleasant smile and called to him. "Good afternoon, sir."
Hugh popped up from the ground, abandoning the snowball he had been forming, and ran in the major’s direction.
"Major Rowland, you’ve come at last." Her brother began firing questions before the major could return her greeting. "Did you bring your war horse home to England? What about Napoleon? Did you ever see him in battle? Does he have devil's horns like Mama says? I’ve never seen them in pictures, but Mama said he hides them beneath his hat. Is she telling the truth?"
Major Rowland grinned at her brother and knelt to ruffle the dog's fur. "I never saw Little Boney myself, Lord Hugh. And my horse is being cared for at the camp. "
"Who cares for him? How many hands is he? Will he allow anyone to ride him, or only you?"
Major Rowland chuckled. "You are an inquisitive lad." His mild tone suggested he was simply offering an observation rather than a criticism. “Have you thought of becoming a barrister?”
Hugh snorted. “I want to be an officer like you.”
The major’s smile faltered. Mr. Perkins launched his small body at him and almost knocked him off balance. Major Rowland laughed. “You little rascal. Are you looking for a tussle?” He playfully wrestled with the spaniel while answering Hugh’s questions.
Mr. Perkins seemed to enjoy the rough play and jumped on the major relentlessly until he stood and pulled a small brown ball from the pocket of his greatcoat. The dog dropped to his haunches, his eyes on the ball. When the major hurled it through the air, Mr. Perkins shot across the snow in pursuit. Hugh raced after the spaniel, shouting for him to fetch.
Mr. Perkins snatched the ball from the ground and ran toward Hugh with it in his mouth. At the last moment, he veered out of reach. Hugh hollered at the sky then chased him up the hill. With her brother occupied and entertained for the moment, Ammie fell into step with Major Rowland.
"I was sorry to hear about your carriage troubles," she said, not bothering to hide a gloating smile. "It must have been disappointing to have your plans thwarted."
He glanced sideways a
t her, his expression unreadable. “You know what they say, one must bend or break when confronted with the unexpected, my lady."
“I have never heard that saying.”
“Of course you have. I just said it.”
Ammie stopped in her tracks. He smirked, roguishly baiting her. She rolled her eyes. “No one of consequence, then.”
He laughed. “Touché, Lady Ambrosia.”
“One must bend or break,” she mused. “It is a solid philosophy when given proper consideration."
"I have always found it helpful." He clasped his hands behind his back as they resumed trailing Hugh and Mr. Perkins, albeit at a more leisurely pace. "I assume you didn't summon me to discuss life philosophies, though."
“Are you always this direct, sir?”
"Yes.” The corners of his mouth twitched as he fought not to smile. She was beginning to suspect his boorish presentation was more facade than substance. "Some have accused me of lacking finesse, but in my defense, I find it exhausting to be charming all the time.”
“How well rested you must be,” she said. “I don’t believe I have seen you employ charm since your arrival.”
“You didn’t attend supper last night. If you had, you would know I had the crowd eating from the palm of my hand.”
“Did someone break the china plates?”
“You are a cheeky one, Lady Ambrosia, and a masterful banterer.” His smile was like a ray of blinding light when turned full force on her. The sight briefly stunned her. She blinked, willing herself not to be tricked by his appearance. He was still the man who wished to steal her happiness.
"Considering your aversion to social graces,” she said, “I will not expect you for charades this evening—or any other festivities.”
"Perhaps I will surprise you." He tapped a finger to his temple and grinned. “I like to keep a watchful eye on my foes."
The slight crinkle at the corners of his blue eyes lent him a boyish charm that made him seem much more approachable today.
“About us being foes,” she said, “must we be? I can see no reason we shouldn't attempt to get along while you are staying as my father's guest. We have at least one thing in common. We both love dogs."
"I love a specific dog, my lady. I hope you aren't suggesting I accept a hound from your uncle to replace him. Orion cannot be replaced in my heart."
His answer should have been discouraging, but it elevated him in her eyes. Blast it all! She didn't want to like him.
"The dog in question is named Mr. Perkins,” she teased, “but for the sake of keeping the peace, I will overlook your blunder."
“Did I mention you are stubborn, too?”
She laughed, enjoying their tête-à-tête more than she should.
Watch your step, a voice in her head warned. He isn't a man to be trifled with. Uneasy with the thought he might think she wanted something more than a civilized talk, she rushed to fill the silence. "I feel the same as you about Mr. Perkins. Orion Perkins? Maybe we could call him Opie. Should we call him Opie?"
"Opie?"
"It is simply a suggestion," she said and flicked her hand, "a compromise of sorts."
He tested the name aloud. "I'm not sure it suits him. It is not as dignified as Orion, or even Mr. Perkins."
She snorted. "Dignified? Have you seen him bathe himself?"
The moment the mortifying words left her mouth, she prayed the ground would open and swallow her. He had the decency to stare straight ahead to allow her to squirm in her scalding pool of embarrassment in private.
"Opie it is,” he said. "Was that all you wished to discuss? A common name for the dog?"
She cleared her throat, wondering if she should apologize for her own lack of social finesse. "No, there is more."
It seemed prudent to take care with her strategy when it came to Major Rowland. He had the fortitude to withstand and deflect a direct attack.
"I would like to suggest sharing the dog while you are a guest," she said. "We could alternate nights—one night he sleeps in your chambers, the next in mine. We could share responsibility for exercising him. Daily walks perhaps?"
He stopped. She reluctantly halted, took a deep breath, and turned to face him. His gaze pierced through her. Hugh praised the dog in the distance. Major Rowland's attention didn't waver. Her mouth grew dry when he didn't so much as blink. It was as if he could see into her soul and know every thought, dream, and fear she had. No one ever looked at her, not like someone who wished to memorize every inch of her and uncover her vulnerabilities. She felt stripped bare by his gaze, her emotions raw. His face blurred and her chin quivered.
"I am unprepared to say good-bye to Mr. Perkins." She fluttered her lashes frantically, attempting to hold back tears. "Please, sir, allow me to enjoy his companionship a while longer."
Major Rowland's razor sharp jawline softened, and the stern set of his mouth slacked. When he spoke, his voice was soothing, slightly husky. "I can see you hold a tender spot for him in your heart."
She nodded, swallowing to ease the tight ache in her throat. "H-he notices when I enter a room, and he's always happy to see me, like I am important and special."
Law. Her most rewarding relationship was with a dog. How silly and pathetic she sounded. She braced herself for mockery.
Major Rowland sighed, his breath creating a cloud in the frigid air. "I understand, Lady Ambrosia," he murmured. "I do."
His sincerity knocked her off balance. She no longer recognized her enemy, and it frightened her.
"How do we decide which bedchamber Opie will stay in tonight?" he asked.
Ammie laughed, her relief too great to bottle. "Perhaps we should settle the matter with a round of whist when we return to the house?"
"I prefer chess."
"You would."
She shrugged to indicate she didn't care how the matter was decided, and she didn't. Although she would probably lose to the major, she had gained valuable ground today. Besides, Mr. Perkins had stayed with her last night. It was only fair that Major Rowland should get his turn.
When it was time to return to the house, Ammie slid a look in his direction. “You seem different from when we met,” she said. “More at ease.”
“I prefer the outdoors. I always have.”
“Me too,” she murmured. “You are very patient with Hugh.”
“He is a good boy, I think, just eager. I have encountered lads much like him in the Army. It requires patience to train them properly.”
“I hope you will be as understanding with the valet my mother chose for you. Charlie is one of my favorites.”
“You have my word,” he said. “I will treat the lad well, but don’t expect me to show you any mercy during our chess match. I am not that nice.”
She chuckled. “Yesterday’s news, Major Rowland. Yesterday’s news.”
Chapter 6
Phillip arrived late for partner charades and claimed a place at the back of the room where he could be a spectator. Lady Ambrosia had pegged him correctly during their walk earlier. He had been planning to avoid the holiday festivities as much as possible during his stay—that is until he realized the unthinkable. The pleasure derived from her company outweighed his distaste for large gatherings.
He had enjoyed matching wits with her this afternoon, but her vulnerability with him had been humbling. How anyone as uniquely beautiful as she could feel invisible when she entered a room was perplexing. Every time he saw her, he lit from within, and a sliver of who he had been before the war felt revived. He couldn’t ignore her even if he wanted.
His gaze repeatedly strayed to where she sat on a settee with her twin sister. Orion was curled on her lap, dozing as she stroked his head. Surprisingly, the lady was allowed to tote the dog wherever she wished at Everly Manor, and aside from supper, she had kept the spaniel close all evening.
Phillip’s turn with the dog would come later, thanks to his skill at chess. Despite a sound trouncing, Lady Ambrosia had accepted the defeat with
an impressive measure of goodwill and congratulated him. Many men could take lessons in graciousness from her.
Reluctantly, Phillip dragged his attention away from her before someone caught him staring and tried to make sense out of what the couple at the front of the room was trying to convey. Miss Evans and Lord Pepperton were engaged in some indiscernible activity while audience members shouted incorrect guesses. When they exhausted all the typical things one might do at Christmas, the players moved on to the ridiculous.
"Shoeing a horse!"
"Apprehending a thief!"
Thankfully, the players' turn ended when the last grain of sand slipped through the hourglass. Lady Ambrosia’s brother Julius was in charge of keeping the game moving along.
"Time is up," he called.
Miss Evans huffed and stomped her foot. The blonde curls at her temples bounced, emphasizing her frustration. "We are hanging garland." Her tone suggested she thought everyone in the room was a dolt, aside from herself.
“You did a lovely job, Miss Evans,” Lord Julius said before singling one of his younger sisters. "Octavia, pick your partner."
Lady Octavia enlisted her eldest sister’s help. Lady Mercedes was married to the parson, Mr. Taylor, and Lord Seabrook had recommended him for the position when he married his daughter. Phillip was slightly embarrassed by his interest in Lady Ambrosia’s family and attempted to convince himself that he only gathered facts about them to know his enemy better.
As the sisters bent their heads together to discuss their strategy, Sir Edmund and Merritt Bartley, the Earl of Warford, entered the room, stopping inside the threshold. The earl nodded a greeting to Phillip before continuing his conversation with the younger man. Warford had been one of the older students at Oxford when Phillip entered University. They had never been more than acquaintances, and Phillip was content to keep his distance. Normally, Phillip would have no interest in anything the gossip had to say, but his ears pricked when he heard Warford mention Lady Ambrosia.