My Favorite Major (Heroes Returned Book 1)

by Stone, Ava

  He shook his head. “There’s more to it than that. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Amelia heaved a sigh. He was more stubborn than a bull. “Why did you name your second as Lieutenant Avery and not Captain Avery?”

  A ghost of a smile settled on the major’s lips. “Your distractions won’t work, Amelia. I am waiting for the whole truth.”

  But she had to try. “I thought Captain Avery was your closest friend.” The captain had said so from the very beginning, after all.

  Major Moore chuckled softly. “Very well. I will make you a deal. When you tell me the whole truth about Mr. Mason, I will tell you why Lieutenant Avery is a much better choice for a second than my dear friend the captain.”

  “But I’ve already told you everything,” she insisted.

  The major responded by shaking his head once more. “You’ve not told me everything, and we both know it.”

  If she’d been standing, Amelia would have stomped her foot in frustration. “And what makes you so certain? You’re barely acquainted with me. I have told you everything.”

  He smoothed a hand over her cheek, nearly stealing Amelia of her breath. “It doesn’t matter how long I’ve known you, Amelia. I know you’re holding back.”

  “But—” she began to protest.

  But he spoke over her. “Last night you fled the ballroom in your attempt to escape him. This evening you couldn’t stop shaking – do you even realize that, I wonder?”

  Had she been shaking?

  “It’s true,” he said, confirming her unvoiced question. “Upon seeing Mason, your whole body quaked with fear. I’ve been in battle with men who were terrified, and you had the same look about you, my dear. And the story you’ve told me thus far would not create such a reaction in you. I know there’s something you’re not telling me. And we had a deal. I helped you escape him, and now I want the truth.”

  “Very well.” Amelia sighed as she dropped her eyes to her lap. “I think he killed my brother,” she whispered so softly, she barely heard the words herself.

  Philip wasn’t certain he heard her correctly. He tipped her chin up with one crooked finger so she had to meet his eyes. “You think he killed your brother?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” She tried to slide away from him, but Philip grasped her shoulder to keep her still.

  “That is quite the accusation, Amelia. I thought you said your brother died in the war.”

  She nodded. “At Quatre Bras, along with several other underage boys. I know it sounds ridiculous, as I wasn’t there. And I don’t have any proof. None for my father and none for you. But I know it as sure as I know my own name. Geoffrey killed Alan, and he did it for my inheritance, or what would be mine if my brother was no longer living. And what would be his after we were married.”

  Philip wasn’t certain what he’d thought she would reveal, but murder certainly wasn’t it. “Did you tell your father this?”

  Amelia shook her head. “He’s always thought of Geoffrey as a son. I started to broach the subject, but it was clear Papa wouldn’t have believed me, and he was already mourning Alan’s loss. So I begged him to let me cry off instead.”

  “Is it possible your grief over your brother’s death has clouded your judgment on this? That you blame Mason somehow for not saving your brother on the field?”

  She shook her head once more. “No. And I don’t expect you to believe me. I don’t expect anyone to believe me.” Then she clutched his jacket in her hands and pulled him closer to her, bringing Philip’s face within a hairsbreadth of her own. “I can’t have your death on my conscience, Major. Please go back and smooth things over. Tell him I’m not really your fiancée. Tell him anything you like, but don’t duel over me. I beg you.”

  He couldn’t remember the last time a lady was concerned about him. Caught up in the moment, Philip dipped his head incrementally lower until his lips brushed hers. She gasped slightly in surprise, then her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned closer to him, actually kissing him back. Her soft lips were like heaven, a balm for his soul, and Philip caressed the apple of her cheek with his finger.

  He hadn’t meant to kiss her, at least he didn’t think so. He wasn’t even sure what had come over him, but holding her close, her lilac scent enveloping him, Philip was lost. He deepened his kiss and swept his tongue into her mouth. Dear God, she tasted as good as she smelled. He hadn’t kissed a woman since Oliv—

  What the devil had come over him? Philip pulled back from the kiss and stared at Amelia. “I’m so terribly sorry.”

  She slid away from him on the bench, wedging herself against the wall of the coach. “No, I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

  She wasn’t alone in that. Philip never lost control. Never. But now it was difficult to even put two rational thoughts together. Still, he struggled to do so. “Well—um—you asked why I would choose Lieutenant Avery over his brother as my second,” he began, theorizing that if he spoke on another topic, it would clear his brain and keep the awkwardness of their current situation from becoming worse. “Well, I made the mistake of having Russell be my second once before, you see.”

  “You said something to that affect back at the theatre. How many times have you dueled, Major? The last time I checked, such honorable acts were illegal.”

  Philip bit back a smile at her censure. “I’ve only participated in one duel. Unfortunately the fellows responsible for making the arrangements agreed on ending it at first blood drawn. I won, but the win was hardly satisfactory.”

  Amelia slid closer to him again, disbelief in her pretty blue eyes. “Did you want to kill the other man?”

  Only every day since Philip learned Kelfield had stolen Olivia from him. Still, Amelia looked aghast at the suggestion. And after kissing her, he hated the idea of her thinking him awful. So he’d have to make her understand, or try to. “He compromised and then married my betrothed while I was with my regiment. I’d have done anything to save her from a life with the villain. Nicking him with my rapier hardly assuaged my pride. But more importantly, my failure to free her from the man has doomed her to a life with him.”

  “You still love her?”

  Philip shrugged. What did it matter if he did or didn’t? Olivia was lost to him. “Do you still love Mason?” he asked instead of answering, truly wanting to know the answer.

  Amelia shook her head emphatically. “No. I’m not sure I ever really did. I mean I thought I loved him. But he isn’t who I thought he was, so I don’t think that love was ever real. Does that make sense?”

  “Your feelings most certainly were or are real, even if the man is as duplicitous as you seem to believe. If you learned you were wrong about him, if you had proof that your brother died an honorable death on the field of battle, would you find your feelings of love for Mason return to you?”

  “But he did kill Alan.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “And you didn’t answer mine. Do you still love the woman you fought your duel over?”

  Philip heaved a sigh and turned his gaze to the darkness of London outside the window. “I will always love her, for all the good it does either of us.”

  Amelia’s heart ached for Major Moore. She wanted to reach a hand out to him, to soothe his broken heart; but considering how she’d just kissed the man, it didn’t seem the best idea. So, she sat in her corner of the carriage, quietly wishing, as his friends did, that happiness would find the major once more.

  “So,” he finally said, breaking the awkward silence that had encompassed them, “tomorrow morning, news of our betrothal will have spread across London. I hadn’t realized we’d gathered a crowd this evening until it was too late.”

  Their betrothal. How laughable that seemed at the moment. “I was going to ask how you thought we were going to get out of that particular predicament.”

  He shifted on the bench, turning his dark gaze once again on Amelia. “For now, it should offer you a bit of safety.
I’m sorry if it keeps legitimate suitors at bay.”

  But Amelia didn’t want legitimate suitors. She wanted the all-encompassing, euphoric feeling that had washed over her when Major Moore had kissed her, which was ridiculous. He hadn’t felt the same. In fact, he was still nursing a broken heart that’d had more than a year to heal. “So when it’s safe, I’ll break our betrothal?”

  The major nodded.

  “And what if it’s never safe? Surely you wouldn’t go so far as to marry me in order to help me keep Mason away.”

  His eyes darkened in the dimmed light, though Amelia wasn’t certain how that was even possible. “I would never subject you to that life, Amelia. We’ll find another solution to your situation.

  ..

  After riding around London for hours with his mind awash with the evening’s events, Philip finally climbed the steps to his borrowed chambers that the Averys were kind enough to lend him whenever he was in Town. The ride hadn’t done him a bit of good. No solution had presented itself. Was it possible Amelia was right and Mason had killed her brother? And if so, how would one go about proving such a thing?

  Who was he kidding?

  Every time he tried to focus on the situation at hand, his mind flashed with the image of Amelia in his arms, of Amelia kissing him. Dear God, just the memory made him hard anew. What was he to do about her, his pretend fiancée?

  “Congratulations,” drawled Lieutenant Tristan Avery as he leaned against the doorjamb that lead to his own set of chambers.

  “I beg your pardon?” Philip tried to shake the fuzziness from his mind.

  “I was at the theatre this evening. Saw your whole little display. Who is the lucky chit, by the way?”

  “You were at the theatre? Why weren’t you with Cordie and Russell?”

  “Not really in the mood to socialize with Russ these days.” Tristan shrugged. “So are you going to tell me who the lady is? Or do you want me to guess?”

  Philip gestured Tristan into his own room, to avoid a conversation in the corridor that could easily be overheard by anyone else in the house, especially as there was the likelihood that Mason’s second would be seeking Tristan out the next day anyway. “I would have thought you’d already be acquainted with Miss Pritchard,” he finally said after closing Tristan’s door behind them.

  Tristan heaved a sigh as he dropped into a high-back chair and pointed at its twin for Philip. “Ah, so she’s the chit Cordie’s been raving about?”

  “Cordie’s been raving about her?” Philip asked as he took his own seat.

  Tristan nodded. “Clayworth’s cousin or something. I haven’t met her. I’ve…been a little preoccupied these days.”

  “Avoiding Russ?”

  “Among other things.”

  “Such as…?”

  Tristan cringed a bit, but only shook his head. “Nothing much, nothing like you, apparently. Cordie must make fast work if she’s already got you betrothed. I would’ve thought you’d have been the last of us.”

  “I’d really rather not discuss Miss Pritchard, if you don’t mind.”

  “If that fellow’s second finds me, I won’t make it to first blood drawn. Is that what you wanted to discuss?”

  “Saw all of that, did you?”

  “Just surprised you didn’t see me.”

  So was Philip. How had he missed seeing his old friend in the crowd? His mind hadn’t even been jumbled from Amelia’s kiss yet. “I—um—must have been preoccupied myself.”

  “She’s a pretty girl.”

  “She’s delightful,” Philip agreed.

  “Worth dying over?”

  “So little faith in my abilities?” Philip asked. “Forgotten already how I saved your life?”

  Tristan scoffed. “As though you or Russ would ever let me forget it.” Then he shook his head. “Do you know who that fellow was, your new enemy?”

  “Mr. Geoffrey Mason from Wales.”

  “He’s an excellent shot. He was part of the 69th Foot. One of the few they had.”

  Philip’s mouth fell open. “You know him?”

  “I remember him well enough. Bit of a bad temper, if you ask me.”

  A bad temper? Philip frowned at his friend. “Why don’t I remember him?”

  Tristan gestured to Philip’s leg. “You had other worries that day.”

  Other worries. What a euphemism. Philip had never suffered such pain as he had at Waterloo. He remembered very little after he was shot. “He was betrothed to Miss Pritchard until after returning from the war.”

  Tristan’s eyes grew round at hearing that. “Your intended was betrothed to him?”

  How strange to hear Amelia be referred to as his intended. “Said he came back from the war a different man.”

  “Happened to a lot of fellows. But he seems the same man I remember from Belgium. Irritable and belligerent. Barking about needing to get on one of the first transports home. In a big rush to sell his commission.” Tristan shook his head. “Strange fellow. You really going through with this?”

  “The marriage or the duel?”

  Tristan chuckled. “Both.”

  “The duel depends on whether or not Mr. Mason sends a fellow to meet with you tomorrow.”

  “And the marriage?” Tristan pressed.

  “Any man would be lucky to have Amelia. Even Russell said as much.”

  At the mention of his brother, Tristan scowled.

  “All right, what is it between the two of you?”

  Tristan raked a hand though his dark hair. “I don’t like the way he’s treating Miss Greywood is all.”

  “You don’t even like Miss Greywood.”

  “That’s beside the point. Russ has been toying with her affections, and no matter that I think she’s a silly little chit, she does deserve better than my brother’s false intentions.”

  With which Philip agreed wholeheartedly. “I’ve said as much to him.”

  “Well, I thank you for that, and I’m sure Miss Greywood would as well. Miss Pritchard is lucky to have you, too.”

  But Philip couldn’t bring himself to agree. In the first place, Miss Pritchard didn’t really have him, but if she did, he hardly thought she’d find herself lucky. So he simply nodded instead.

  “This has all happened rather fast, hasn’t it?”

  “I suppose,” Philip replied, not wanting to lie to his friend, but not willing to share the truth either.

  “And here I’d thought you’d barricade yourself up in Leverton Park and mourn Olivia’s loss the rest of your days.”

  Which was still the plan, but Philip shrugged. “Ah, but the rest of one’s days seems endless when thought of in such terms.” And they did, but that was neither here nor there. Then he rose from his spot, said good night to his friend, and made his way to his own chambers.

  A knock sounded at Amelia’s door. She glanced down at her nearly sheer nightrail and grabbed her wrapper from the bed. She slid her arms in through the sleeves and cinched the ribbon around her waist. “Come in,” she called.

  Cordie stepped over the threshold, still in her theatre gown; a look of concern marred her brow. “Are you feeling better?”

  Not really, but Amelia nodded in the affirmative anyway.

  “I was afraid you might be abed.”

  “Just about to climb in, actually.”

  Cordie closed the door behind her, then turned to face Amelia once more. “I heard the most curious bit of on dit tonight.”

  Amelia gulped. “Did you?”

  “Engaged?” Cordie asked, stepping closer to Amelia. “I thought he was simply bringing you home. How in the world did you manage to get yourself engaged in such a short period of time? And to Philip of all people?”

  Heavens. Major Moore hadn’t mentioned how she was to handle his friends, her family in all of this. “I—um…” But nothing came to her, so she simply bit her lip instead.

  “Though I am thrilled for you and for Philip, Clayworth is not at all happy about this turn of events
.”

  Amelia’s mouth dropped open. “But you said he held Major Moore in the highest esteem.”

  Cordie nodded in agreement. “Of course he does. But Philip should have asked Clayworth, at the very least. What are we to tell your parents?”

  What indeed? Amelia could just imagine how furious her father would be if she were to break another engagement when all of this was over. “Must we tell them anything right now? I mean, it’s all so very new.”

  “And, of course, there’s the matter of this foolish duel,” Cordie added matter-of-factly. “You were barely out of my sight five minutes, Amelia, before you got yourself in all sorts of trouble.”

  Amelia sighed and dropped onto the edge of her four poster. “You heard about that, too?”

  Cordie sat beside her and clasped Amelia’s hands in her own. “How did all of this happen?”

  Amelia wasn’t certain at all what to say. She couldn’t tell Cordie all of it, so the general brushstrokes would have to do. “I was betrothed to Mr. Mason, the other fellow, and he followed me to London.”

  The countess’ hazel eyes widened. “Your father did mention a broken betrothal.”

  Amelia wasn’t surprised. Papa wasn’t at all happy about her decision. “Yet you took me in anyway?”

  Cordie smiled. “I had a broken betrothal of my own before Clayworth. I’m the very last person who would pass judgment, Amelia. And you are family.”

  Distant though it was. Still, Amelia was grateful for the Clayworths’ hospitality, so she thought the better of saying as much. “He arrived so suddenly and he challenged Major Moore right in the middle of the theatre. It still seems a blur.”

  The countess nodded. “Yes, my brother told me everything. Tristan,” she added, “not Russell.”

  The elusive Lieutenant Avery whom Amelia had yet to meet. Wonderful. Major Moore was right. By morning, everyone would know of their betrothal and of the duel. “Can’t you talk some sense into the major? I couldn’t stand it if he was hurt or worse because of me.”