Major Wyclyff's Campaign (A Lady's Lessons, Book 2)

by Lee, Jade

  She understood his underlying meaning and felt her hands tighten reflexively, as if fending off the thought. But she could not ward it off. "You are going to London," she said. "You will be looking for another wife." Though the words felt leaden in her mouth, she worked hard to keep her voice light.

  "No." He shifted so that even her downcast eyes could see his formal stance. He might have been feeing a court-martial for all the stiffness of his carriage. "I shall not look yet. Not until we know for sure."

  She let her gaze drift away, seeing the glorious beauty of the summer that surrounded her, knowing it would pass too soon. The fell Season should start in a few weeks. Perhaps you should think of attending—

  "In two weeks, Sophia. I will think on it then."

  She pressed her lips together, knowing he was right. Neither of them could progress with life until they knew what their night together had cost them. She glanced up at his set face. "What shall I do for two weeks? How can I just pretend that nothing has happened?"

  Anthony shrugged. "Enjoy your friends."

  "They are not my friends!" she snapped. "They are merely here to find fuel for gossip."

  He glanced down at her, apparently startled by her sharp tone. "Then send them away."

  She sighed. "What would be the use? The gossip will follow wherever I go. Sending them away would only make things worse."

  He shifted, his expression suddenly very cold. "I care nothing for what you do, Sophia, so long as you tell no one what truly happened."

  She frowned up at him. "Not even Aunt Agatha?" How could she go through these next two weeks without even one confidant? One friend?

  "No one, Sophia. No one must guess. If they do, your reputation will be ruined and you will be forced to marry me. You do not want that, do you?"

  She bit her lip, then finally stammered the response he seemed to expect. "No, I do not wish for that," she echoed hollowly.

  "Then we understand each other." With that, he spun on his heel and left.

  Chapter 12

  Sophia remained where she was, staring at all the summer glory, her thoughts on tiny baby faces, little knitted booties, and sweet, sticky kisses.

  "Do I detect from your smile that the major is gone?"

  Sophia looked up as Reginald, Lord Kyle, stepped around the greenery. She had not heard him approach, but then she had not heard much of anything beyond the sound of the major's heavy footsteps as he departed.

  "Hmm? Oh, the major has left for London." She could not keep the depression from her voice.

  "Then you are well rid of him."

  Sophia did not wish to answer. Her thoughts about the aggravating man were too confusing to focus on. She would much rather think of babies. But she could not do that with Reginald here. "Is there something you wanted?" she asked stiffly.

  "Why, merely to see if all was well with you. You have been gone so long, we began to wonder if the major had spirited you away."

  "After publicly denouncing me yesterday? I think not." Her words were heavy, her mood soured with the thought of the entire wretched incident. And now he was gone to London. Soon to find another wife.

  "You know," Lord Kyle commented as he took her hand, "I have always stood by you as your friend."

  Sophia turned to look at him, a sudden urge for honesty overcoming her usual tact. "No," she said softly. "I had not known."

  Lord Kyle stiffened, as if her comment startled him. "Ah. Well, I have. I would like to think you could trust me to assist you, if necessary."

  "Hmmm," she answered, her response noncommittal.

  "Sophia," he began again, "I have always had the greatest admiration for you. I would not wish the major's schemes to harm you. Please, if you are in some sort of coil, I will do all I can to help you unravel it."

  Sophia stood slowly, taking the time to look for the first time at her longtime acquaintance. His black hair and chiseled face were handsome in the dark, brooding way considered fashionable. His clothing was immaculate, his attitude one that reflected wealth and refinement. In short, he was everything the forthright and militaristic Major Anthony Wyclyff was not.

  She ought to be attracted to the man. But for some odd reason, she was not. "We have been friends a long time, Reg," she finally said. "But I am not in a coil right now, thank you."

  "Then why are you sitting here, staring at the plants? Why have you been attending cockfights and spending nights in gaol?"

  "Night, Reg. One night." She took a few steps forward, wandering aimlessly through her aunt's garden. Naturally, he fell into step beside her, too tenacious to be dislodged so easily.

  "No matter," he returned. "The entire affair is scandalous in the extreme and most unlike you." He grabbed her arm, turning her to face him. "Why, Sophia, you are the epitome of refinement. My sister is constantly harping on her children to act more like you."

  "Oh, Lord," gasped Sophia. "Pray do not make me your model. Not only am I most unfit, but the poor children would hate me within seconds."

  He shook his head. "Nonsense. You are everything I consider acceptable."

  Sophia twisted in his grasp, her jaw growing slack with astonishment. "Reginald," she gasped, "are you proposing to me?"

  For the first time ever, she saw Lord Kyle do something unfashionable. He blushed. It was a fiery red that seemed to burn in his cheeks. Then he released her arm as if she had scalded him. "Well, as to that," he stammered, "I actually considered it. But after five Seasons and your... um..."

  "Lack of a dowry?"

  "Your financial assets are not sizable enough. Your breeding is, of course, not to be questioned."

  "Of course," she agreed, secretly amused by his unintentional double entendre. In actual fact, her "breeding" was very much in question. It was the question.

  He continued, "If circumstances were a bit different and your recent scandal—"

  "Enough, Reg," she cut him off with an absent wave of her hand. "I understand your position"

  He suddenly frowned, once again hurrying to her side. "This is not going nearly as well as it ought."

  "I have found that to be the case more and more," she commented, her thoughts still on babies, her feet wandering a twisting, curving path.

  "Truly, I wish to be of assistance."

  She took a deep breath, absorbing the floral scent in the air, the humid summer wind, even the feel of having a gentleman take hold of her hand, though he was not quite the gentleman she would have chosen. "Where did you go, Reg? You were my friend. My only friend, and suddenly, you were gone. We stopped talking about real things, we stopped really understanding each other." She could not keep the note of hurt from her voice.

  He didn't respond at first, then when he did, he spoke haltingly as if searching for words. "I was not aware you needed me. Sophia, you have always seemed so competent. I cannot count the number of men who planned to marry you."

  "Boys, Reg, they were boys. And it was because I was as fashionable as your cravat," she said, throwing a dismissive gesture at his dark blue necktie. "Easily picked up. Easily discarded." She stopped walking, turning to face him directly. "You were the only one who did not speak in trivialities, Reg. And then..." Her voice trailed away.

  "Then I left."

  She nodded. "And when you returned, you had changed. You became one of them, thinking of nothing but the cut of your coat."

  She expected him to defend himself, to loudly proclaim the importance of fashion. Instead, his expression became undeniably sad. "I fell in love."

  She gaped at him, startled beyond words. Of all the things she had expected him to say, this was absolutely the last on her list. She searched her memory for a name, a face, anything that would clue her in to the mysterious woman who had captured her friend's heart. Finally, a name clicked in place, bringing with it the memory of large brown eyes and a sweet heart-shaped face. "Miss Melissa Giant, Blakesly's niece." Then suddenly she frowned. "She ran off with a Scotsman."

  Reginald shrugged, becomin
g suddenly interested in the petals of a tiny pink flower. "Do not throw away love, Sophia. It is too easily lost."

  Sophia felt her chest squeeze tight at his words, her heart beating painfully against the restriction. "I am so sorry, Reg," she whispered.

  She lay her hand on his shoulder, noting the tension there. But then it eased away, carefully erased as he assumed the breezy attitude she had come to hate. "Ah, but I came here to assist you, my dear. Tell me what I can do."

  She knew better than to press him for details of his romance. He would tell her when he chose and not before. So she simply took his arm, strolling about her aunt's garden while silence like a suspended breath reigned about them. Eventually, she spoke, wishing she could say more, but mindful of her promise to Anthony to remain silent. "I am not in a coil, Reg. I am merely waiting."

  "Waiting?"

  For a baby. She felt her expression shift into a dreamy smile. "I shall know in a fortnight."

  He nodded, as if calculating the time. "Most of the scandal should die down by then."

  Or rear up anew, she thought with a grin. "Two weeks and my life shall return to some semblance of order," she said firmly.

  "Well, then," he quipped, suddenly extending his arm to her, "I shall endeavor to be vastly entertaining for a fortnight."

  Sophia smiled, as she knew he expected. "Always that. If nothing else, Reg, you have always been entertaining."

  At last in accord, the two began to stroll the grounds.

  * * *

  Life continued for Sophia, despite all her unwanted guests. Reginald kept his promise of being entertaining, but Sophia was too distracted to do more than smile politely when required. She did rouse herself to restrengthen her friendship with Lydia, which was easy enough: All she had to do was encourage her friend to chat about plans for a nursery.

  Every once in a while, Sophia would catch Aunt Agatha giving her a significant look. She had no idea what those penetrating stares were meant to convey, and truly she did not care. She supposed her perceptive aunt might have guessed the truth, but Sophia herself was too happy to do more than smile and return to her thoughts.

  It was all rather exciting, this wondering about a baby. She had already chosen names, had special clothing created in her mind, even outfitted an imaginary nursery. In her mind's eye, her boy child had grown into a man, entered the military, and come out as fine as his father. Her little girl had grown into a beautiful, vivacious woman who charmed the ton during a delightful Season. She had not yet chosen a husband for her daughter, but then again, there were so many suitors it was hard to pick just one.

  But in all that time, she had not once given thought to the children's father or their life together—or so she told herself. Certainly, she thought of his smile, for she'd given it to both boy and girl child. She remembered his gentleness and gave that to her daughter. To the son, she gave his nobility, his stern character, even his firm jaw and military bearing.

  As for her other thoughts, the ones that appeared at night... Well, they were certainly not her fault, and she didn't spend time thinking about Anthony during the day!

  All in all, she told herself, the major was quite distant from her thoughts. She absolutely did not miss him. And she would never dream of wishing he were with her. Except perhaps in a distant corner of her mind that once in a while whispered an evil word.

  Love.

  That is a horrible thought, she screamed at that tiny part of her mind. She could not possibly love the major. Why, she had worked so hard to give him a thorough and complete disgust of her. He was in London, no doubt spying out the latest crop of beauties. She had all but thrown him there. She could not love the man. It would simply be too tragic.

  That settled, she occupied herself with thoughts of their child and gave the other tiny corner of her mind no heed.

  Until the day her monthly courses came.

  It was there as clear as day on her unmentionables. A tiny spot, hardly worth mentioning. But she knew its significance. Knew her courses would follow.

  And they did.

  So, with a hand that shook with each word, she wrote to Kirby, the major's batman, who waited at the inn for her word. Her note was curt and to the point. It read:

  Apply to my mother regarding a potential bride. I am sure she can direct you to many who fit your requirements.

  She signed it, gave it to a footman, then promptly fell on her bed and cried harder than she had done in all her life.

  * * *

  It was well after midnight when Anthony arrived at his tiny room in the Staffordshire inn, but despite the late hour, Kirby was still awake, holding the door to the room open, a small piece of parchment folded in his hand.

  Anthony paused on the threshold, his heart beating painfully in his throat. "Is it...?"

  "Yes."

  "Yes?"

  "Er, no. I mean, I don't know."

  "The hell you don't." Frustrated and anxious, Anthony grabbed the note, pulling it out of the unsealed envelope. He read it once. Then twice. Then a third time.

  Cursing, he threw it on the ground. "What the hell does that mean?" he fumed. "A lot of nonsense."

  Kirby wisely said nothing. Anthony glared at him nonetheless. Seeing that he could not provoke his batman, Anthony turned, heading back for the door. "I will talk with her myself."

  "In bed?"

  The major spun around. "What?"

  "It is dark, Major. Will she be wantin' t' speak with you now?"

  Anthony changed direction again and glared out the window at the dismal night. "No."

  "Then, perhaps 'twill be better in the morning."

  Anthony stomped back to his tiny room, unable to deny the truth. Sophia would be sound asleep right now, likely dreaming of a life spent alone in Staffordshire. Without him. Without his child.

  It was enough to make him slam the door.

  "Wake me at first light," he called out. The batman's reply was muffled.

  * * *

  Sophia woke with a splitting headache and dismal thoughts. She felt like a sodden lump of barren ground. The last thing she wanted to do was entertain houseguests. Thankfully, most everyone had left. The gossip had died down, and with no expectation of anything new, Drusilla and her husband had taken themselves off. Similarly, many of their fellow vipers had packed up and left the county. Percy and his fiancee remained, sneaking time alone whenever Lydia's mother nodded off, and, of course, so did Lord Kyle, her most devoted entertainer. He had, in fact, been so pleasant that she could not ignore him as she had yesterday. It would be too rude.

  She got out of bed and performed her morning toilette, although each movement felt as if it were through molasses.

  "'Ere, miss," said Mary, as she brushed out Sophia's hair. "Put this on your eyes."

  Sophia accepted the cool cloth in silence, only now noticing how red and blotchy her face was from crying. Goodness, she could not appear before Reg looking like this. Not after two weeks of blissful peace. He would certainly guess something was amiss, and then it would be a small step to the truth, especially for such a bright man.

  In the end, she resorted to her paint pot and the hope that the bright day would dim somewhat.

  By the time she made it downstairs, she was already thoroughly disgusted with the day. So it was that, when she pushed open the door and saw the major calmly sitting at her breakfast table, she lost all sense of decorum.

  "I do not know why I bother thinking of you as out of my life, Anthony," she snapped. "Every time I come downstairs, here you are." He looked up, his face carefully blank, and Sophia bit her lip. Good Lord, what had she said? "I... I do beg your pardon," she stammered, mortification heating her face. "I do not know what came over me."

  "More animation than you have shown in a fortnight, is what," returned her aunt as she calmly buttered her toast. "But why you choose to come out of your stupor with acid on your tongue is beyond me."

  Sophia turned and blinked. She had not even realized anyone el
se was in the room. Looking about, she saw not only Aunt Agatha, but Lydia, her mother, and Percy all staring wide-eyed at her. She would have said something, but she could think of nothing relevant or social or even civil. Instead, she turned back to the major, and the other people quickly faded right out of her thoughts.

  Anthony did not look at all well, she decided. In fact, he looked rather haggard. His skin had a slightly gray cast, and his eyes seemed pinched, as though he were in pain.

  "You have been riding again, Major." It was not a question. "A great deal, I wager. Really, can you not try to be moderate? You are recovering from a nearly mortal wound, and the strain on your leg—"

  He did no more than raise an eyebrow at her, and she looked down at her hands in consternation.

  "Sophia," he began, his voice chill, "I came to speak with you. If you have—"

  "Good morning, all!"

  Sophia squeaked in alarm and practically leaped across the table to avoid being hit by the door as Lord Kyle burst into the room.

  "Oh, goodness, my dear, I had no idea..." His voice trailed away as he caught sight of the major.

  "Yes, Reg, apology accepted," she said in rather curt tones. Then she turned back to Anthony. "You were saying, Major?"

  But Anthony was staring frostily at Lord Kyle and slowly drew himself upward. "I was saying that I came to inform you of my recent appointment to India, despite my bachelor status. It will be some time before I depart, but I knew you would be anxious to hear—"

  "That you shall be leaving this portion of the globe," interrupted Lord Kyle. "I am sure Sophia is most relieved."

  "Reg," snapped Sophia, "really, I can comment for myself." Except, of course, that she had no comment whatsoever. Her thoughts were consumed by a strange feeling of emptiness. And while everyone stared at her, waiting for her to say something, all she could do was look at Anthony and wonder what was wrong with her.

  The silence dragged on.

  Finally, she said the only polite phrase that came to mind. "I wish you all the best in your new appointment." Then she frowned, knowing that was not at all what she wanted to say.