My Favorite Major (Heroes Returned Book 1)

by Stone, Ava

  Philip clutched his cane in his hand. Damn Russell for still being the same reprobate he’d always been.

  Theatre-goers bustled past Philip into the Theatre Royal, but he held his position, leaning on his cane, facing Catherine Street. In the distance he spotted a coach emblazoned with the Clayworth crest and patiently waited for the carriage to stop near the entrance. A few moments later, the earl’s coach halted and the driver leapt to the ground to open the door.

  Russell bounded out first, and he offered his hand to Miss Pritchard, who stepped onto the cobblestones looking even lovelier than she had the night before. Flaxen curls framed her face and her daring décolletage drew Philip’s eyes downward. Dear God, she was a pretty bundle.

  “Major Moore,” she said in greeting, bringing his attention back to her face.

  “Miss Pritchard,” he replied, “so nice to see you again.” And it was, especially as her blue eyes sparkled in the moonlight, filled with merriment. It would be nicer, however, if Russell wasn’t wearing a lascivious grin as he, too, gazed at the chit. “Avery,” Philip grumbled. Poor girl was in over her head with the roguish captain, she just didn’t realize it.

  “I can’t imagine why the two of you are glaring daggers at each other.” Cordie alighted from the coach on her husband’s arm. “Do behave this evening. I won’t have Amelia reporting home that I subjected her to cretins while visiting us.”

  “I have never been referred to as a cretin.” Russell touched a hand to his heart.

  “Not while you were within earshot anyway,” Cordie countered. “Now let us do go in.”

  The foursome of Russell, Miss Pritchard, Cordie, and Lord Clayworth started up the steps and into the theatre’s doors, while Philip followed at a slower pace. Amelia Pritchard looked back over her shoulder at him and smiled, and Philip’s heart lightened just a bit.

  As the couples disappeared from his view, he pushed his way through the crowd and up the staircase. He nodded a greeting to a couple of old acquaintances and then started towards Clayworth’s box, until he noticed Mr. Mason just a few feet away in the corridor. Philip couldn’t help but frown. Just the sight of the man who’d made Miss Pritchard hide in terror made Philip want to smash his cane over the man’s head.

  Unfortunately, Mason met Philip’s eyes, smiled in greeting, and started towards him. “Good evening, Major.”

  “Mr. Mason.” Philip nodded. “Have you had any luck locating your blonde?”

  The Welshman frowned. “No. However, I heard a rumor the girl might be in attendance this evening.”

  A rumor? How could the man have heard such a thing? Had Mason taken to bribing a Clayworth servant to gather information on Miss Pritchard? “Well, best of luck to you in your search then.”

  “Thank you. Do enjoy the performance.”

  Philip nodded curtly and then navigated his way through the lively crowd until he reached Clayworth’s box.

  Miss Pritchard giggled at something Russell said, which only brought a scowl to Philip’s face. The girl attracted scoundrels to her like a bees to a flower.

  She noticed his presence, and the smile faded from her face. “Are you all right, Major?”

  “Might I have a word with you, Miss Pritchard?”

  “Of course.”

  As she hastened to his side, Philip ignored the amused look Russell cast in his direction, almost that of a challenge. Philip shook his head. He didn’t have any time for Russell’s foolishness. He tugged Miss Pritchard to the far corner of the box and whispered, “Your Mr. Mason is here, looking for you.”

  Horror flashed in her pretty eyes, and Philip couldn’t help but frown. Whatever Mason had done to warrant such a reaction in the lady must be reprehensible, indeed. He’d do just about anything to keep her from ever having to wear that expression again.

  Coldness washed over Amelia. Geoffrey was here! “Where?” she squeaked out.

  “I bumped into him out there.” Major Moore gestured towards the corridor with a tilt of his head. “Said he’d heard a rumor you’d be here tonight.”

  Blast it all. Why was Geoffrey so intent on finding her in public?

  If he was so set on seeing her, why wouldn’t he just call on her like a regular gentleman would do? Of course he wasn’t a regular gentleman. He was a duplicitous blackguard who hid behind the label of gentleman. But still, why seek her out in public? Why the ball last night? Why the theatre tonight? Did he mean to embarrass her before all the world? “I can’t stay here,” she muttered to herself.

  But Major Moore must have heard her because he lowered his head and said quietly, “I left my horse in the mews.”

  Amelia’s eyes flashed to the major’s. Was he serious? “You’ll help me escape?”

  He nodded once. “For a price.”

  A price? How much did he want? She hadn’t come to London with much. Amelia blinked up at him. “I only have my pin money, sir, but you’re welcome to it.” Especially if he helped her escape from Geoffrey, he could have every farthing she would ever possess.

  His frown darkened. “I don’t want your money, Miss Pritchard. I want the truth. I want to know what Mason’s done that so terrifies you.”

  Heavens! She hadn’t even told Papa why she’d jilted Geoffrey. She’d never breathed a word to anyone. No one would believe her, anyway. So Amelia smiled sadly and told him the exact same thing she’d told her parents. “We don’t suit,” she said. “I didn’t realize it until he’d returned from the continent. Unfortunately, he didn’t take the news well.”

  A look of disbelief settled on his face. Major Moore retrieved her hand and placed it on his sleeve. “You are a terrible liar,” he whispered. Then he cleared his throat and glanced at her cousin. “It appears Miss Pritchard isn’t feeling her best this evening, Clayworth.”

  Cordie stepped forward. “I’m so sorry, Amelia. Is there something I can do?”

  How exactly was she to feign illness? And what illness should she feign? Amelia covered a cough with her hand. “I-I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning,” said quietly, hoping she sounded the tiniest bit ill.

  “How strange,” Captain Avery remarked. “She seemed perfectly fine just moments ago.”

  “Then perhaps it was her exposure to you.” Cordie stared pointedly at her brother.

  “In any event,” Major Moore began, before the siblings could snipe at each other, “I promised to escort her back to Clayworth House.”

  “Take our carriage,” Cordie offered.

  But the major shook his head. “I have my horse.”

  Cordie blanched. “Horse? I can’t imagine that would help her condition, whatever it is.”

  “Perhaps we should all just abandon the play,” Clayworth remarked, “and return another time. I’ll go retrieve the coach.”

  Major Moore stopped the earl with a hand on his arm. “I’m certain Miss Pritchard would hate to ruin your evening. I’m happy to see her home.”

  Cordie sucked in a breath of air. “Oh!” she said most delightedly. “I think that’s a wonderful suggestion, Philip. Just take Clayworth’s coach and send it back for us, will you?”

  “Cordie.” Her husband frowned. “That’s hardly an appropriate suggestion.”

  “Posh.” She waved him off with a sweep of her hand. “Philip is the most upstanding gentleman of my acquaintance—”

  “Is that so?” the earl asked.

  The countess rolled her eyes. “With the exception of you, my love. You know Philip as well as I do. Can you see him making improper advances towards Amelia?”

  Amelia flushed at the suggestion at the same moment Major Moore poked his head back out into the corridor, ostensibly to check for Geoffrey. Thank heavens he seemed preoccupied with securing a safe escape and wasn’t paying particular attention to the countess’ words.

  “That’s hardly the point,” the earl continued.

  Heavens! All Amelia wanted was to flee the theatre before Geoffrey could find her and devise a plan to avoid him in the futur
e. Right now, escaping with Major Moore made the most sense. Two of them leaving was less conspicuous than five of them departing before the curtain was even pulled. “It’s just a short distance, my lord. I don’t want to interfere with your evening.” And truly, she didn’t.

  “You are my cousin,” Clayworth objected. “You couldn’t possibly interfere—”

  “Brendan!” his wife snapped. “It’s Philip!”

  “Very well,” the earl conceded with a sigh. “But only because it’s Moore.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Amelia muttered. Then she turned her attention to the major. “I do appreciate your willingness to assist me, sir. Truly.”

  “It’s my honor, Miss Pritchard.” Then he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm once again, wished their companions a wonderful evening, and directed Amelia back into the corridor.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said quietly.

  “With the truth,” he grumbled, limping slightly with his cane, “just as soon as we’re in Clayworth’s conveyance.”

  Amelia allowed him to tow her down the crowded corridor, wishing Clayworth’s box was closer to the exit. She was just about to insist that she had told him the truth when Geoffrey Mason appeared before them.

  Amelia’s heart sank and her stomach roiled.

  “My dear Miss Pritchard, I feared I might never see you again,” her one-time fiancé said smoothly. Then he nodded towards the major. “Thank you for finding her for me, Moore. I do appreciate your assistance.”

  Assistance? Amelia’s heart sank as she looked up at her very own Judas Iscariot.

  Philip hated the look of betrayal that flashed on Miss Pritchard’s face, especially as he hadn’t betrayed her. Not on purpose, anyway. He’d been just as surprised as she was when Mason appeared out of nowhere.

  When he sensed she might bolt, Philip relinquished the hold he had on his cane, which clattered to the floor, in order to secure her hand to his arm. “Do excuse us, Mason. The lady isn’t feeling well.”

  The Welshman nodded towards Miss Pritchard, his eyes boring into hers, it seemed. “My poor Amelia, let me see you home.”

  “Thank you for your concern, but I have everything well under control,” Philip replied.

  Finally Mason raised his gaze from Miss Pritchard to settle on Philip. “As she is my fiancée, I would be remiss in not seeing to her comfort.”

  Fiancée? The lady had certainly been remiss in not revealing that important tidbit. She’d said they didn’t suit, but she hadn’t mentioned an engagement. An image of Olivia flashed in Philip’s mind, but he pushed it away. Whether or not Olivia had abandoned him because they didn’t suit any longer or for some other reason mattered very little at this point.

  “We’re no longer betrothed,” Miss Pritchard bit out. “Perhaps you’ll recall.” And though there was a steeliness to her voice, her small frame shook slightly, which belied her bravado. Whatever reason she’d had for ending her association with Mason went well beyond whether or not they suited. Philip would have wagered she was terrified of the man.

  “I don’t recall any such thing,” the Welshman insisted.

  “She’s my fiancée now.” The words flew from Philip’s lips before he could stop them. He wasn’t even sure where they’d come from, but there was nothing for it now. Once they had dealt with Mason, Miss Pritchard could break off her betrothal to Philip and they could both go their separate ways. “So I’ll see to her comfort from here on out,” he continued.

  Miss Pritchard’s blue eyes rounded in surprise, and Mr. Mason’s mouth dropped open as his face took on a purplish tint. “I beg your pardon?” the Welshman stuttered.

  Miss Pritchard inhaled deeply as though she was steadying herself. “Yes, I – um – I’ve accepted Major Moore’s offer of marriage.” She tightened her grip on Philip’s arm.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Mason growled.

  “Please, Geoffrey,” she whispered, “if you ever held any affection for Alan or for me, you’ll head home and leave me be.”

  Philip’s mind replayed the scene once again when he’d learned Olivia had married while he was away. That heartache and devastation washed over him anew as he heard Miss Pritchard’s words. It was a miracle he remained standing, since his cane still lay on the floor at his feet.

  Mason stepped closer to the pair, his face a mask of rage, and he jabbed Philip’s shoulder. “I’ll meet you at dawn.”

  Miss Pritchard gasped, clutching Philip even tighter. “No!” Panic sounded in her voice.

  Women never did understand these things. Olivia hadn’t, and the fact that Miss Pritchard didn’t either wasn’t a surprise. Philip glanced down at her briefly, hoping he offered a bit of comfort, then he turned his attention back again to her one-time fiancé. “I understand your distress, Mason. So I’ll allow you to reconsider your threat. There’s no need for us to meet on a field of honor. I’ve done you no wrong.”

  The Welshman snorted. “Afraid of me? You should be.”

  Philip simply shook his head. “On the contrary, I have no desire to harm you. Leave the lady alone and we’ll go our separate ways.”

  “Harm me?” Mason chortled without mirth. “I’m hardly concerned about my chances against a cripple.”

  A hush went through the crowd that Philip just now noticed had begun to circle around them. He lowered his voice as he said, “Only my second’s ineptitude in making the arrangements saved the last blackguard I met on a field of honor from certain death. I won’t make the same mistake in my choice of representative a second time, Mason. This is your last chance to reconsider.”

  “Major, please,” Miss Pritchard begged. “Not on my behalf.”

  But there was no other way. Whatever had gone on between the pair, Miss Pritchard had asked Mason to leave her be and the man had in turn refused. If she truly was Philip’s fiancée, he would stand his ground just as he was doing now. “You may have the day to think about it,” he said to the Welshman. “Should you choose to continue down this path, you may send your second in search of mine. Lieutenant Tristan Avery.” Then with his good leg, he kicked his cane into the air and caught it, hoping the pain shooting through his bad leg didn’t register on his face. “Come along, Amelia. We’ll get you that fresh air now.”

  Amelia couldn’t even find her voice as Major Moore tugged her through the crowd and down the steps outside the theatre where he signaled Clayworth’s driver. Finally, she dug her heels in, refusing to go another step towards the carriage until they had this out. He had clearly lost his mind.

  “You can’t duel with him, Major.”

  His dark eyes settled on her, and Amelia could only blink. Heaven help anyone who crossed this man. “That is none of your concern, my dear.”

  But he didn’t understand, and she wouldn’t see him dead because of her. “Of course it’s my concern. You wouldn’t have ever even met him if you weren’t trying to protect me. I won’t have your death on my conscience, sir.”

  At that, Major Moore tipped back his head and laughed, a rich sound that would have normally filled Amelia with warmth and pride to have engendered such a response from him. But not now, not considering what he was laughing about.

  “I hardly find this amusing.”

  “Of course not. You ladies simply don’t understand these things. And if you did, I’m not sure even then that you’d see the humor in them.” He opened Clayworth’s coach door and gestured to the interior with a tilt of his head. “Climb in, Amelia, we have much to discuss.”

  They did. Starting with his insane notion that he needed to put himself in front of Geoffrey Mason’s pistol. The villain had already killed enough people. But Catherine Street was hardly the place for such a discussion, so Amelia stepped inside the coach and settled on one of the benches.

  Less than a moment later, Major Moore joined her on her bench and tapped on the roof with his cane. As the coach lurched forward, he placed a steadying hand on her arm and said, “Now I’ll have that truth, Ame
lia. I want to know what Mason has done that so terrifies you.”

  How had he known Geoffrey terrified her? Amelia stared at the Major and said the only thing she thought would distract him from his questions. “I didn’t give you leave to use my Christian name.” In fact, it wasn’t until this moment she realized he’d been calling her that for some time.

  The Major heaved a sigh. “We hardly have time for such formalities. Now, I am waiting on your answer. What did Mason do, Amelia?”

  “That’s neither here nor there.” Besides, she didn’t have any proof, and she’d sound like an idiot if she blurted out her suspicions. “You can’t fight a duel with the man. Go back and smooth things over.”

  “You’re hardly the first lady to tell me I can’t fight in a duel, I didn’t pay the last one any attention either.”

  “And is that how you got injured?” Amelia blurted before she thought the better of it.

  But Major Moore shook his head. “My leg took a French ball in Waterloo and a rather nasty jab from a bayonet. The surgeons were able to fish the fragments out, but I’ll never walk the same again.”

  “I am sorry,” she said, and meant it. What a horrible thing to mention, as all he was really trying to do was help her. Still, she didn’t want the next bullet fired at him to do even more damage. “Please don’t engage Mr. Mason in this foolishness.”

  Major Moore scrubbed a hand down his face. “I am confident in my abilities, Amelia. Now tell me what Mason has done that so frightens you.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to you get hurt on my behalf. You didn’t ask for any of this.”

  “Tell me,” he commanded, leaning forwards until his nose almost touched hers. His dark eyes were so beseeching Amelia could drown in them. He was, as Captain Avery had told her on more than one occasion, too noble by half.

  “I did tell you,” she stressed. “Mr. Mason returned from the continent. My brother Alan did not. And though I grieved for Alan, I was relieved the war had not taken both of them from me. But Geoffrey…er…Mr. Mason wasn’t the same as I remembered him, or perhaps I changed in his absence, or perhaps I never really knew him to begin with. In any event, we no longer suited, so I ended our betrothal.”