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

by Lee, Jade

  The timing, as usual, was perfectly wretched. They had to go rescue Melissa now, and there would be no more confessions from Sophia.

  He looked to her and saw that rather than exhibiting consternation, she appeared relieved and all too ready to abandon what they had just begun. In fact, she was already moving to the door, but he could not allow her to leave him just yet.

  He reached out, grasping her arm and pulling her close to him. So close that he felt her heart beating wildly in her chest. Then he whispered into her ear, "This is not done yet, Sophia."

  She lifted her gaze, meeting his uncompromising stare. After a moment she gave him a sweet, mischievous smile. "Of course not," she returned. "I still have to accomplish your seduction." Then, while the blood once again drained from his brain, she rushed out the door.

  * * *

  Sophia paused outside the door, searching the hallway and the stairs as best she could. Thankfully, the second floor appeared empty except for herself and Anthony. Glancing down the stairs, she caught sight of Lydia in the midst of loud hysterics. She was gasping and screaming and falling over near the base of the staircase.

  Aunt Agatha was right; Lydia did indeed have a talent for hysterics. And what she couldn't accomplish, Percy completed, as he too appeared completely distraught by his fiancee's difficulties. The mayhem was quite impressive.

  In fact, two burly footmen stood nearby as confused witnesses. They seemed literally dumbfounded, though whether they were simply stunned by the noise or hampered by Reginald, she couldn't tell.

  Reginald, apparently, had chosen the task of distracting the many servants who kept appearing. First there were the two footmen, then a couple of maids, and finally the cook, all who had come out to assist or gawk, she couldn't tell which. Whatever their inclination, Reg kept them busy as he alternately bellowed orders, then gestured wildly, then stood in the way. She heard him order people to move furniture, then bring smelling salts, then brandy. He loudly criticized the cook's food for inspiring this display. Naturally, the cook took insult to such a thing, and soon was hotly defending himself.

  With the servants effectively embroiled, all that remained was Mr. Sween, who now came barreling forward, his face red, his voice amazingly powerful. That was when Aunt Agatha stepped in. First, she fluttered forward, somehow managing to "accidentally" knock the large man to the floor. Then she hampered him, constantly sending him back to his knees all under the guise of fusing over Lydia and Percy, who were now threatening all sorts of action, legal and illegal.

  Truly, it was quite amazing.

  A sound above her made Sophia look upstairs to the third-floor landing. It was difficult to see, but from her angle, she could just make out an elderly man being wrapped in a large rug by two extremely large men. She might have been alarmed—indeed, she was on the verge of rushing upstairs—but the man, presumably Lord Blakesly, spotted her and grinned. Then he could do no more as he became completely encased in fabric and was summarily thrown over one of the men's shoulders. In less than a moment, the other footman opened a doorway to what was likely the back stairwell and both disappeared through the door with their burden.

  Sophia smiled, impressed by Reg's handiwork. Servants were forever taking rugs outside to beat them. The two men were not likely to be stopped. And that meant the elder Lord Blakesly had been rescued.

  Excellent! That only left Melissa.

  She turned, looking about for Anthony only to discover that he was already at the lady's door, working at the lock. Horrified that she had allowed herself to be distracted, Sophia rushed to his side, noting that he worked the wire with amazingly deft movements. He did not even look up as she joined him.

  "You should go down to be with the others," he said, his voice low and urgent.

  "Absolutely not"

  She heard his sigh, but he made no more comment. Unfortunately, he apparently made no progress either. The door remained locked.

  "Hurry," she whispered.

  "It has been a long time since I did this," he muttered.

  Sophia looked over her shoulder. The hallway was still empty, but she was sure the mayhem from below was beginning to lessen. In fact, she thought with a frown, she was sure of it. It was not that the sounds had ceased; she could still hear Lydia and Percy with absolute clarity. It was simply that the noise was muted somehow, as if they had gone outside.

  She paused. If Mr. Sween and his servants were outside, that gave more freedom to herself and Anthony to engineer Melissa's escape. Unfortunately, it also meant that Mr. Sween was one step closer to getting control over things. After all, the man definitely wanted all of them outside. How long before he sent servants back to look for herself and the major?

  "I do not think we have a lot of time," she whispered to Anthony.

  He did not respond, too intent on his task. Then, suddenly, she heard the snick of the lock, and Anthony was grinning at her as he abruptly pushed open the door. Sophia did not wait. She rushed forward, heedless of Anthony's urgent warning.

  But there was nothing to fear. The room was exceedingly sparse, empty except for the woman, a broken wardrobe, and a sagging cot. She had thought to grab Melissa and escape. Unfortunately, she now saw that the woman was chained to her cot.

  "Oh, Major," Sophia cried. "You shall have to work on another lock." Turning, she was gratified to see the major already kneeling in front of the chains, his hands deft as they inserted his wire into the lock.

  Satisfied that Anthony would soon accomplish his task, Sophia turned to the woman, seeing both the tears that streaked her face and the sudden blossoming of hope in the lady's eyes.

  "We are engineering your escape," Sophia said softly. "We will take you from here."

  The woman nodded, her gaze lifting anxiously to her closed bedroom door.

  "Don't worry," continued Sophia. "Mr. Sween is being detained." Then she leaned forward, capturing the woman's attention. "What are you doing here?"

  "I am not insane. Truly, I am not!"

  "Of course you are not," Sophia responded automatically. "That is why we are rescuing you. But why are you locked up?"

  "I am Melissa, Lord Blakesly's niece. I found out what was happening here, and I was furious. I told Simon I would go straight to the House of Lords. That he would be punished!"

  "For locking up his father?"

  Melissa nodded. "It has been awful. Simon locked me up here, too. He said it made little difference to him if Mr. Sween imprisoned one or two insane patients." She looked down at her hands, and once again, Sophia saw tears slip down her face. "No one came looking for me. No one."

  Sophia enfolded the girl's dainty hands in her own. "We were told you eloped with some Scotsman."

  "It's not true!"

  "Of course not," Sophia soothed. Then a sound penetrated her thoughts. Heavy footfalls were coming directly toward them. Worse, she could not hear Percy or Lydia anymore. "Hurry, Anthony. I hear someone coming."

  "I know," came his terse response.

  Sophia bit her lip, wondering what to do. Thankfully, at that very moment the lock clicked and Melissa's chains slipped away. Anthony rose to his feet, helping the lady to stand.

  "We must hurry," was all he said.

  But there was no time. The footsteps were too close now, running down the hall to this room. Sophia and Anthony exchanged a tense glance, then the major shifted forward to just inside the door.

  She knew what he planned. He meant to fight whoever came through that door. He intended to come to physical blows despite his injured leg and the fact that he might be severely outnumbered once the fighting began. Sophia did not know whether to be thankful for his bravery or to hit him over the head for being so reckless.

  Then it was too late as a man suddenly appeared in the doorway.

  Anthony pulled back his fist, his swing already in motion just as Sophia cried out. "Wait! It is Reginald!"

  Anthony shifted, pulling his punch until it landed with an impressive thud in the wall.
Reginald did no more than flinch. His gaze was trained on the woman, his motion barely arrested as he barreled into the room. Sophia, on the other hand, was horrified by the look of pain on the major's face.

  "Anthony!" she cried, as die rushed to his side.

  "I am fine," he ground out through clenched teeth as he cradled his hand.

  "But your hand—"

  "I am fine!"

  He would not let her see it, so she could only stare at him while the oddest comment slipped from her lips. "I am most impressed, Anthony. You have a mighty right cross."

  He glanced up, apparently startled by her admiration. "I had a mighty right cross," he grumbled. "I believe the wall won that particular round." Then he looked in her eyes and shared a strained smile. For a split second, all the awkwardness, all the anger and frustration slipped away. They were merely two people who cared for one another.

  "Melissa!"

  "You are alive."

  Both Anthony and Sophia turned at the voices behind them. The sight that greeted them was both astounding and heartwarming. Reginald and Melissa gazed at each other as though they barely dared hope it was real. Their eyes were huge as they drank in each other's features, moving toward one another slowly until their hands at last clasped.

  "You are hurt!" Reginald said.

  "You came for me," she whispered, her dark brown eyes liquid with unshed tears. The adoration was clear in her tone, and Sophia felt a surge of joy at the sound. Truly, Reginald had found his love at last.

  Then the major was interrupting, his voice gruff as Sophia moved toward the door. "Reunions later. It is time we were out of here."

  Lord Kyle seemed to come back to the present with a start as he gathered Melissa close to his side. "Percy and the others have Lord Blakesly in the carriage. I told them to leave. We must be sure of Blakesly's escape."

  "Leave?" exclaimed Sophia. "But then how—"

  "The woods," interrupted Anthony. "We can walk through the woods. It is not far to the village."

  "Exactly," confirmed Kyle. "But we haven't much time. I left Sween with a bit of a domestic crisis on his hands. But it won't be long before he finds these two missing and comes searching for us."

  Indeed, Sophia noticed that the house was ominously silent. Whatever chaos remained was being quickly fixed. There was no more time.

  Reginald turned to Melissa. "Can you make it?"

  Melissa smiled back at him, her voice gaining strength with each word. "I can walk to the ends of the Earth, if you help me."

  "We should split up," said Anthony firmly. "More tracks will confuse Sween; he won't know which to follow and he'll be terrified we'll reach town before him. You go west. Go as fast as you can." He glanced anxiously at the frail woman in Reginald's arms, and Sophia shared his concern. Truly, despite her brave words, Melissa did not look very well. They would make slow progress.

  "We'll make it," Reg stated firmly.

  "Very well," Anthony continued. "Sophia and I shall draw them east, then circle round. We shall meet you in the village. Let me go look to see if it's safe."

  Lord Kyle nodded, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you."

  Anthony did not seem to notice. He was busy searching the hallway, his body obviously tense and anxious. Behind him, the other three stood with equal fear, awaiting his signal.

  Chapter 16

  "Now."

  It was the signal, and Sophia tensed to run. Returning with a quickness that belied any injury, Anthony grabbed her hand and neatly swept her down the hallway. She had only a split-second to glance behind her and see that the others followed. Unfortunately, it was clear Melissa could not move very quickly. Sophia was about to say something when she watched Reg lean over and lift her into his arms.

  The woman began to object, but Reg just shook his head. "You are not heavy," he said in clipped tones; then his whole attention was fixed on moving forward. Just as they reached the staircase, a maid stepped out into the hallway. She was a large woman with thick arms, and she gasped when she saw them. Sophia half-expected her to draw back into the staircase in fear.

  Unfortunately, she did not. Instead, she bellowed in a voice that carried clearly through the house: "Right 'ere, Mr. Sween!"

  Sophia heard Anthony's rough curse, and she heartily seconded the thought. Especially as she looked down the staircase and saw Mr. Sween come tearing out of the front parlor, a pistol in hand. He spotted them immediately. Worse, he saw Melissa as well, and his face contorted with fury.

  Sophia lost track of events and everything became a blur. All four of her group of escapees picked up speed, dashing down the stairs and out the door. Reginald and Melissa ducked quickly into the western trees, while to the east, Anthony slowed their progress. Then, as soon as the other two had disappeared, he bellowed in fury purposely ran into a bush, breaking several branches as he moved. Sophia remained directly behind him, her hand held in his iron grip. He kicked up some gravel as Mr. Sween appeared from the house, then shouted a curse as two footmen followed.

  It worked. Mr. Sween and his cronies cursed back in loud roars, not even looking west as they tore after Anthony and herself.

  Suddenly, it was as if her feet had wings. Together, she and Anthony practically flew past the formal gardens and into the surrounding woods, quickly ducking in and around the trees. Despite the cramp in her side and her improper shoes, they did not stop for what seemed a dozen miles. Then, it was only to slow down to a steady walk. Anthony helped her along while she pressed her palm hard into her side against the cramp.

  It was some time later before she found the breath to speak. It was even later before she dared voice her fear.

  "Anthony, do you know where we are?" She was completely lost. The seemingly endless wood seemed all the same to her. For all she knew, they could be going in circles.

  Thankfully, Anthony nodded and pointed. "The village is about two miles that way."

  She looked nervously behind her. "Do you think they will follow us?"

  Anthony shifted awkwardly as he glanced behind him. "I think we lost them. But we should keep going just in case."

  "I assure you," she said dryly, "I have no intention of stopping until I am safely inside my aunt's house. Then, I firmly intend to have strong hysterics."

  He smiled at her, and she felt some of her fear slip away at the sight. "You won't be able to match Miss Smyth's performance."

  "You may eat those words," she said dryly. It was only now that some of the reality of what they had just done began to hit her. "Mr. Sween had a pistol."

  Beside her, Anthony nodded grimly, but his grip was gentle as he helped her over a fallen log. "He is gone now."

  She nodded, but her thoughts returned to their narrow escape. "What about Reginald and Melissa?" she asked. "Do you think they are all right?"

  Anthony's face was expressionless as he spoke, but his tone held a wealth of something she did not understand. "Lord Kyle is a resourceful man—much more than I gave him credit for. I am sure he will keep his lady safe."

  Sophia smiled wistfully as she remembered the rapt expression on Reginald's face. She had never seen him look so passionate, even when discussing clothing. Yes, Reg would keep Melissa safe.

  "They make a nice couple," she said softly.

  "Then, you do not mind?" His surprise was poorly masked.

  "Mind?" she asked. "Mind what?"

  "That he is in love with her." Anthony spoke stiffly, as if he was trying to shield her, and Sophia could not help but smile at his concern.

  "I am ecstatic that they have found one another. Reginald needs someone to love."

  Anthony opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment, he stepped in a gopher hole and his foot turned beneath him. He stumbled, barely catching himself before cracking his head on a tree.

  Sophia was beside him in an instant. "Oh, my," she moaned softly, "your leg. You should have traveled in the carriage with the others." She offered him her hand, but he shrugged it off, his expressi
on stony.

  "I am certainly capable of a walk in the country."

  "Don't be silly; this is more than a walk, Anthony. We have just run for miles, and there are yet two more ahead of us." When would men use the brains God gave them? Couldn't he see how much he was asking of himself?

  Rather than reassure her about his health, he simply turned his eyes away. "Never fear," he said, his voice gruff, "I will be able to keep pace with you."

  "I did not ask you if you could keep pace with me!" she snapped. "I wished to know if your leg pains you." She had not intended to speak so curtly, but she was beginning to feel the strain of the last few hours.

  Anthony squared his shoulders, but he did not comment. She could see she had hurt his pride, and suddenly her patience with him wore out.

  "Major Anthony Wyclyff! From all you've ever told me, you would not have made a wounded man under your command go on a forced march, so why should you be so cruel to yourself? Good Lord," she cried to the skies, "save me from men and their pride." Then she turned to face him directly. "It is a hurt leg, Anthony. Nothing more. You are more of a man than I have ever met, but even you have limitations. And if you injure yourself, do not think I will sit by your bedside crying and praying that you survive. I do not intend to go through that again!"

  With that she stomped off, her head held high as she tried to keep tears from spilling down her cheeks.

  She felt the major's gaze on her as she walked, but she did not care. She could not care, or she might wonder just what she had revealed with her impetuous statement. She was only just realizing how difficult those days had been for her. Even sick, Anthony had been a powerful draw for her. She had wondered each day as she walked into the hospital if he would be lucid or delirious, prayed nightly that he would hold on for one more day, one more visit when she could sit beside his bed and hold his hand and pray some more.

  She must have loved him even then. Their visits together at the beginning, before the fever took hold, were clearly stamped in her mind as the most memorable, most wonderful of all her days in London. He had made her smile and laugh and wish she were a nurse just so she could remain by his side a little longer.