My Favorite Major (Heroes Returned Book 1)

by Stone, Ava

  No, it wasn’t. He’d just met the girl, after all. He might never see her again. Why should her lackluster choice in men be his concern at all? The answer to that question made his stomach roil just a bit. He hadn’t been here to save Olivia, and he’d hate for Miss Pritchard to endure the same fate, not if he could save her from it.

  A hand clapped Philip’s back, and he looked over his shoulder at Brendan Reese, the Earl of Clayworth, who was apparently making his rounds as far as greeting his guests. “Moore, so good of you to come.”

  “Thank you, my lord. I don’t believe I had much of a choice, however. Your wife was quite adamant that I attend.”

  Clayworth winked at Philip. “That will teach you to let her know you’ve got your eye on some horseflesh at Tattersall’s. You could have made your purchase and been merrily on your way back to Notthinghamshire without her ever having been the wiser.”

  Philip smiled at the earl, a man he’d genuinely admired ever since they’d met. “I suppose I don’t mind. Not really.” He glanced back out at the sea of people on the dance floor. “I met your enchanting cousin this evening.”

  “Amelia? Cordie isn’t playing matchmaker, is she?”

  Philip shook his head. “I don’t believe so.” If she was, she was doing an awful job of it. She hadn’t pressured Philip into taking to the dance floor. She hadn’t winked secretly at him or surreptitiously gestured to Miss Pritchard behind the girl’s back.

  “Good.” Clayworth breathed a sigh of relief. “She has been in Caroline Staveley’s pocket the last little while, and though I adore the viscountess, I’d rather not have the lady’s proclivity for interfering in other’s lives rub off on my wife.”

  Philip chuckled. He couldn’t help it. Didn’t the man know his wife at all? “I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Clayworth, but Cordie has always had that proclivity.”

  “Don’t I know it? But Lady Staveley is much worse, Major. You may take my word for it. No one I’ve ever met can go toe-to-toe with her, and I’d rather not have the lady tutoring Cordie in that regard. I can’t imagine living through the turmoil Caroline has put poor Staveley through over the years.”

  Philip didn’t give one whit about Lady Staveley or her beleaguered husband, but the pretty blonde, laughing at whatever inanity Russell had just uttered, was an entirely different matter. “How long will Miss Pritchard be in Town?”

  The earl looked out across the crowded ballroom and frowned when his eyes settled on his cousin. “As long as she needs to, I suppose.”

  As long as she needs to? What was that supposed to mean? Philip was just about to ask when Cordie approached the pair, grinning like the cat who ate the cream.

  “Well, if it isn’t my two favorite gentlemen in all of London.”

  Clayworth laughed. “You’d better hope your brothers don’t hear you say that.”

  She rolled her eyes. “As Tristan didn’t even bother to show up this evening and Russell is…well, Russell, I don’t really care if either of them hears me at all.”

  “Well, I won’t tell Gregory you said it either when I head home.” Philip smiled at her.

  Cordie scoffed. “As though he’d care. He never comes to Town as it is, so he could never be one of my favorite gentlemen in Town, now could he?”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way. You do have a point,” Philip agreed.

  “Don’t encourage her,” Clayworth muttered, though the grin he flashed his wife belied his words. “Besides, you should only have one favorite gentleman, Cordelia, in Town or otherwise. I don’t know where you got the idea it was all right to have two of them.”

  Love and complete adoration radiated from Cordie as she gazed at her husband. “I think you should be quite unfashionable, Brendan.”

  “Unfashionable?” Clayworth frowned.

  “Hmm. I think you should actually dance with your wife for the next set.”

  “What a wonderful idea, mon minoche.” He lifted his hand out to her. “Will you do me the honors, Lady Clayworth?”

  “It will be my greatest pleasure, Lord Clayworth.”

  Somehow Philip managed not to gag. No matter how much he adored both Cordie and her husband individually, they could turn a man’s stomach when they were together.

  At that moment, the waltz ended and Clayworth began to lead his wife towards the dance floor. “Oh, Philip,” Cordie said over her shoulder, “we are headed to Drury Lane tomorrow night. Will you still be in Town?”

  He shouldn’t be here now. He should have already started for Papplewick, but he caught sight of Russell and Miss Pritchard headed in his direction. “Drury Lane?”

  “Henry V,” Cordie replied, waiting for his answer.

  Wonderful! An entire play about the Battle of Agincourt. Philip grimaced. He’d seen enough war to fill a hundred lifetimes.

  With Miss Pritchard on his arm, Russell grinned from just a few feet away. “You aren’t attending the theatre, are you, Moore?”

  “Are you?” Philip returned.

  His friend nodded. “Of course. I’ve always loved the Bard.” Then he smirked at Miss Pritchard. “Just wait ‘til you see Clayworth’s box, Amelia. Best seats in the house.”

  Amelia? Since when had the pair become so intimate they were using the other’s first name? Philip’s eyes sought out Miss Pritchard’s light blue ones. She looked as innocent as a lamb headed to slaughter, which was precisely what Russell would do if given the chance.

  Philip heaved a sigh. “I’m certain we’ll have a grand time.”

  Russell’s brow rose in surprise. “I thought Leverton Park awaited you.”

  “One more night in London won’t kill me.”

  His friend laughed. “First time I’ve ever heard you say that.”

  Indeed, it was the first time Philip had ever muttered such a thing.

  Just then, a fellow Philip didn’t know approached the trio and dipped his head in Miss Pritchard’s direction. “I believe this is my dance.”

  “Yes, of course, my lord.” She smiled as she stepped towards him and accepted the man’s proffered hand. Then they started for the dance floor.

  “Who is that?” Philip asked under his breath.

  “Clifton.” Russell grimaced.

  Philip didn’t even know the name. Why was Russell scowling at the man? Was it jealousy? He’d never seen Russell jealous of anyone. Was such a thing even possible? “She’s a substandard kisser, huh?”

  Russell scoffed as he glanced across the room. “Speaking of kissing, I really should claim Miss Dewhurst. My name is on her card for this set.”

  And within the blink of an eye, Philip was all alone on the edge of the ballroom, leaning on his cane for support. His eyes strayed back to Miss Pritchard and Lord Clifton, whoever the devil he was, dancing a lively quadrille. A pretty pink colored her cheeks as she giggled, making her seem full of life, and Philip couldn’t help but sigh. Even before his injury, he’d never been one for dancing, but watching Miss Pritchard twirl on Clifton’s arm made him think that dancing with her might actually be enjoyable. Well, for someone who was capable of dancing, anyway.

  “Cordelia darling!” gushed a lady with golden brown hair, who could only be Lady Staveley, as they had just entered the viscountess’ blue parlor.

  Though Amelia had never met the widely esteemed Lady Staveley, she had heard quite a bit about the woman ever since her arrival in London. The mere mention of her ladyship’s name made grown men cower in fear. What a wonderful trait to possess.

  Lady Staveley kissed both of Cordie’s cheeks, then she turned her hazel gaze on Amelia. “You must be Miss Pritchard.”

  “Caroline Staveley, Amelia Pritchard,” Cordie introduced.

  “Nice to make your acquaintance, Lady Staveley.” Amelia curtseyed.

  Lady Staveley smiled in response and gestured to one of the settees in her parlor. “Please do make yourselves at home. Merton will have refreshments to us in no time.”

  Amelia wasn’t quite certain that
was true. Not if Merton was the aged butler who had showed them into Staveley House. She wasn’t sure how the old man was able to support his own weight as he walked, let alone carry a tea tray. Still, saying such a thing would be highly improper, so she did as she was bade and took a spot on a sapphire brocade settee.

  Cordie and Lady Staveley followed at a slower pace, their heads tilted together as though they were sharing a secret. The viscountess took a spot beside Amelia while Cordie sat in a high-back chair, just a few feet away. “Tell me, Miss Pritchard, how are you enjoying London?”

  “I am enjoying it rather well, my lady, thank you.”

  Cordie shook her head. “You will never guess what my brother put Amelia up to, Caroline.”

  “I might guess. Which brother are we talking about? Not the level-headed Lieutenant Avery, surely.”

  “No, the foolish and pig-headed Captain Avery,” Cordie clarified. “Russell thought to draw Major Moore out of his shell with Amelia’s help.”

  At this pronouncement, Lady Staveley sat up straight and turned her attention back to Amelia. “Oh? And how did you find the good major?”

  Amelia blinked, for lack of anything else to do. How was she supposed to answer that question? “Serious,” she finally muttered, a bit anxious under Lady Staveley’s scrutiny.

  The viscountess nodded in agreement. “He is that. I do hate that my cousin broke his heart. That was never Livvie’s intent. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be helped under the circumstances.”

  Amelia’s ears perked up. Major Moore was heartbroken? Was that what Captain Avery had refused to divulge the previous evening? “I didn’t realize he was suffering a broken heart. Captain Avery said he’d been morose since returning from the continent.”

  “See what I mean?” Cordie said. “Russell didn’t even tell her what he was getting her into.”

  “I-I don’t think I’m in anything,” Amelia protested.

  “Of course not, darling.” Lady Staveley patted Amelia’s hands. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to find yourself saddled with a serious man like Philip Moore. You seem much too lighthearted to endure such a fellow.”

  Amelia was certain her cheeks were ablaze. “That’s not what I meant at all,” she sputtered. “I-I, that is, Captain Avery just wanted me to flirt with the major a bit, see if I could get him to smile.” Besides, Amelia wasn’t ready to be saddled with anyone at the moment, not after learning of Geoffrey’s duplicity. She might never want to be saddled with anyone.

  “And did he?” Lady Staveley’s hazel eyes bored into Amelia’s, breaking her from her reverie. “Smile, that is?”

  He had smiled. Amelia hadn’t thought about that until this moment, but Major Moore had smiled when they were in the garden. “Is it truly that rare for him to smile?”

  “It didn’t used to be,” Cordie hastened to explain. “Well, he was always a bit more staid than any of my brothers, but then almost anyone would be.” She shook her head. “But Philip… Well, Philip was always the most noble of the group, yet he was lighthearted in those days.”

  “Until the broken heart?” The question flew out of Amelia’s mouth before she could stop it. Truly, none of this was her concern.

  Cordie sighed and Lady Staveley squeezed Amelia’s hands. “My cousin Olivia, now the Duchess of Kelfield, was betrothed to Major Moore when he left for the continent.”

  “Childhood sweethearts,” Cordie added. “We all grew up together.”

  “But in his absence, Olivia met Kelfield and the two fell deeply in love.”

  “Philip didn’t take the news well.” Cordie frowned. “And then there was the war and his injury, and… Honestly, Amelia, I never thought to see him smile again. A real smile I mean, not the feigned one he forces to his face as though he’s trying to appease me, the one that falls away the instant he thinks I’m not looking.”

  “Perhaps he just needs time,” Amelia offered. After all, wasn’t that why she’d come to London? For a little space and time to heal.

  Cordie scoffed. “Hardly. Trust me, Amelia, I’ve known Philip Moore my entire life. Given his own predispositions, he’ll return to Leverton Park, sit in his study, and never come up for air. And that is what worries me about him. I hate to see him shut himself off from the rest of the world. More than anything, I’d like to see my friend truly happy again.”

  He certainly hadn’t seemed happy the previous evening, though stoic might have been a better word than unhappy. But since the major had prevented Geoffrey from finding her, Amelia did owe him a debt. If she could make him smile, as everyone seemed to want for him, she would give it her best effort. Besides, she did like him, his serious façade notwithstanding. And she did understand what it felt like to possess a broken heart.

  “What exactly do you know about Amelia Pritchard?” Philip demanded as he strode into Avery House’s yellow parlor, glaring at Russell who was sprawled across a divan, reading that morning’s Times. “And I don’t want to hear you utter the words substandard kisser.”

  Russell lowered his feet to the ground and dropped the paper to his lap. “Oh? Why is that? Do you happen to know otherwise?”

  Philip narrowed his eyes on his oldest friend. “How the devil would I know otherwise?”

  Russell shrugged. “Well, you were in Clayworth’s garden with the chit. If it had been me…”

  “If it had been you, you would have defiled the girl in some way.”

  “Which, of course, the oh-so-noble Major Philip Moore would never do. What is the matter with you today? Cravat tied too tightly?”

  Philip wasn’t certain at that moment why Russell Avery was his oldest friend. They were, and always had been, as different as night and day. Proximity in growing up together was the only answer that sprung to mind. “No, my cravat isn’t tied too tightly, you louse,” he ground out. “But I want you to leave Miss Pritchard alone.”

  Russell smirked and rose to his feet. “I beg your pardon?”

  Philip shook his head. “I get the impression she’s running from something, or hiding from something, and the last thing she needs is your false intentions.”

  “And who—” Russell looked mildly affronted, “—is to say my intentions are false?”

  With his injured leg throbbing, Philip leaned heavily on his cane. “Well, I would think Miss Phoebe Greywood would say so, for one. Or have you told her you don’t intend to pursue her any longer?”

  “I already told you she didn’t write me as often as she promised.”

  Philip snorted. “And that is enough for you to wash your hands of the chit and turn your attention to Miss Pritchard? Not enough letters in your satchel?”

  “A fellow does want to feel like he’s missed,” Russell explained. “Besides whether or not my intentions are false as far as Miss Pritchard is concerned is really no business of yours.”

  And that was the truth of it. Philip didn’t have a right to intervene on Miss Pritchard’s behalf. He didn’t even know the girl. Not really. “Leave her be, Russell.”

  “Just why are you so concerned about the chit?”

  “Because I’ve seen the trail of broken hearts you’ve left in every country we’ve traveled together, and I don’t want her to join their ranks.”

  “Indeed?” His friend’s brow rose in question. “Or is it you want the girl for yourself, but don’t think you can win her if you have any competition?”

  “That is so far off the mark, I don’t even know where to begin.” In fact, it was the most ludicrous thing Philip had ever heard.

  Russell heaved a sigh. “Is it? I’m not so sure.”

  “I will always love Olivia, as you well know. I would never chase after a girl, if I couldn’t give her my whole heart. To do so would make me the worst sort of blackguard.”

  “Like your father.”

  Just like his father, and Philip was determined to never be compared to the late Jonathan Moore if it killed him. “He is precisely why I would never do such a thing.” He’d watched his mother die
a little more every day, devastated that no matter what she did, she would never be the woman her husband loved.

  Russell dropped back on the divan and shook his head. “To what end, Philip? So you can live the rest of your life alone? I know you’ll always love Olivia, but she is out of reach, and forgive me for saying so – happily there, by all accounts.”

  “I am relieved that Kelfield treats her well.” No matter that the duke was the exact wrong sort for Olivia. There was nothing to be done about the situation now.

  “You know she wants you to be happy as well.”

  Of course she did. Olivia always wanted the best for everyone. It was her nature and one of the reasons Philip still loved her, despite her defection. “I didn’t come here to talk about me, Russ.” He dropped into a chair across from his friend and leaned his cane against his injured leg. “I wanted to find out what you know about Miss Pritchard. I do think she’s running from something.”

  “And you’re determined to play the hero?” His friend smiled sadly. “I suppose some habits are hard to break.” Russell scratched his jaw. “Amelia arrived in Town a sennight ago, and Clayworth and Cordie welcomed her with open arms. If she is running from something, I have no knowledge of it.”

  Philip nodded his head. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m always right.” Russell quirked a cheeky grin at him.

  “How could I forget?” Philip straightened in his seat. “Promise you’ll stay away from the girl?”

  Russell tossed back his head and chuckled. “Hardly. If for no other reason than to watch you squirm.”

  “Perfect,” Philip muttered. Now Russell viewed Miss Pritchard as a game, which was the last thing he wanted for the girl.

  “Besides,” his friend continued, “she is quite stunning and I wouldn’t mind waking up next to her some morning in the near future.”