“Did he?”
Philip nodded, wondering why he felt so awkward all of a sudden. It was almost as though he’d never spoken to a woman before. The sooner he returned to Papplewick, the better.
“You were in the 45th Foot with Captain Avery?”
Philip nodded again, for lack anything coherent to say.
“My brother was in the 69th Foot.”
“Indeed?” He tilted his head to the side, as though he could somehow understand her better if he peered at her from a different angle. “And how is he finding civilian life?”
Miss Pritchard smiled weakly. “I’m afraid Alan did not return to us.” Then she turned her attention once again to the dance floor.
What a bloody fool he was. Philip wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole. What an awful thing to say to the girl. He’d seen so much death around him the last few years, how had he not considered the possibility her brother was among those forever lost? “I am sorry,” he offered.
But she merely shook her head. “It’s certainly not your fault, Major Moore.”
And suddenly, the idea that London was a change of scenery for her made complete sense to Philip. She must have been close to her brother, or in the very least missed him dearly. It put into perspective his loss of Olivia. He’d always love Olivia, but if she was happy even married to that bastard husband of hers, at least she was still alive. He’d never wish her ill. “I am sorry, all the same.”
She flashed him a grin and Philip’s heart lifted just a bit. “You are kind, sir.” And then the color that remained on her face completely drained away. “Heavens!” she whispered in horror.
What in the world was Geoffrey Mason doing here of all places? Amelia slid behind Major Moore, hoping to use him as a shield while she plotted an escape. Plotting was deucedly difficult however, when one’s head was spinning. Dash it all! Geoffrey must be looking for her. There wouldn’t be any other reason for the blackguard to be in London.
“Are you all right, Miss Pritchard?” The major turned on his spot to face her, a frown marring his handsome face.
Amelia stared up at him. What she wouldn’t give for Captain Avery to be standing before her instead. The jovial captain could be trusted to help her out of this predicament, or at least she thought so. But Major Moore, who was so stoic and serious? Probably not. Amelia bit her bottom lip as she peered tentatively around the major to see if her perfidious former fiancé had spotted her.
“Miss Pritchard!” the major said again.
“Shh!” Amelia hissed at him. The last thing she needed was for the blackguard to hear her name over the din.
“What is going on?” Major Moore demanded.
She breathed a sigh of relief, as Geoffrey Mason glanced across the ballroom in the opposite direction. He must not have seen her or his eyes would have been glued to her position. But it wouldn’t take long for him to find her, especially if Major Moore kept muttering her name. “Please don’t make a scene.”
“Make a scene?” Thankfully, he lowered his voice. “I think you’d better tell me what is going on, Miss Pritchard.”
Amelia glanced back up at the striking major and almost found herself lost in his dark, honest eyes. But telling him about her unfortunate situation with Mr. Mason was not the best idea. Honestly, telling anyone was not the best idea, not even the jovial Captain Avery, had she been fortunate enough to be standing with him instead. “Thank you for your concern, but I can take care of myself, sir. Just please don’t say my name.”
“Now see here…” the major whispered, but Amelia didn’t hear anything else.
Someone, thankfully, caught Mason’s attention on the other side of the room and as soon as her one-time fiancé began walking in that direction, Amelia knew it might be her only chance to avoid the fiend. “Excuse me,” she muttered. Then Amelia lifted the hem of her skirts and dashed for the closest exit, right outside into the Clayworths’ small garden.
She breathed a sigh of relief to have escaped the ballroom but cursed her bad luck for ending up outside in the process. How could she possibly get back inside without catching anyone’s attention? Things could have been worse, however. Mason could have seen her and caused an unfortunate scene, which he would most certainly have done. She truly should focus on the fact that she had escaped the blackguard, at least for the moment.
Blast! What was he doing here? Certainly he didn’t think she would change her mind? He had to know her better than that. He had, after all, known her all her life. Of course the same could be said for Amelia. She’d thought she’d known Geoffrey Mason all of her life, thought she knew what sort of man he was. But it had all been a façade.
How had he found her? Had Papa told him she’d come to London? Possibly. After all, Papa hadn’t been happy with Amelia’s decision to cry-off, but he’d said he would support her nonetheless. Had he changed his mind on the matter? Was he still being duped by Mason, just as she had been for so many years?
Well, it made no difference. Even if Papa had changed his mind, Amelia would never change hers. She’d sooner hop a frigate to America and live with the native savages than marry Geoffrey Mason. She’d rather stow away to India or even sail to China than marry the black-hearted, contemptible, scurrilous Geoffrey Mason.
Still, it would be easier not to have to see him. She had, after all, loved him once. No. Amelia shook the thought away. She’d loved the man she’d thought he was until she’d realized the truth about his nature.
Philip stared after Miss Pritchard’s departing form, his mouth agape. Damn it, she made no sense to him whatsoever. Was there a more unusual chit in all of London? He somehow doubted it.
Then he noticed a gentleman, out of the corner of his eye, darting in his direction, towards the garden door Miss Pritchard had just vanished through. Was she running from this fellow? Her drastic change in demeanor certainly suggested the possibility.
Philip lifted the tip of his cane off the ground and, at the last moment, thrust it in the man’s path, sending the fellow sprawling across the floor. A few people nearby gasped, but for the most part the accident went unnoticed in the crowd.
“I am so terribly sorry,” Philip said as the man picked himself up from the floor. He waved his cane back and forth. “I’m afraid I’m still getting used to this. Are you all right?”
The fellow dusted his hands on his trousers and grimaced. “I’ve taken worse spills before. No harm done.”
As the man’s Welsh accent reached Philip’s ears, he knew his estimation must be correct. Miss Pritchard was most definitely hiding from this man, whoever he was. The look of horror on her face flashed in his mind, and Philip decided in that very momet to help her evade the fellow, at least for the time being.
He offered his hand to the Welshman in greeting. “Major Moore. Again, I am terribly sorry.”
The man shook Philip’s outstretched hand. “Geoffrey Mason. Think nothing of it, Major. Accidents happen.” Then he looked towards the garden door. “The woman you were speaking with, did she go outside to get a breath of air?”
“Miss Danvers?” Philip asked.
“Danvers?” Mr. Mason echoed, his eyes returning to Philip.
“Olivia Danvers,” Philip clarified. Damn it, he was no good at subterfuge. Even in this, Olivia’s name was the first one to pop in his mind. At least he hadn’t said Olivia Danbury. Who knew what Kelfield would do if he blackened his wife’s name? “Do you know her?” he asked, hoping his light tone would distract the Welshman from his purpose.
Mr. Mason shook his head. “No. I thought she was someone else.”
Philip chuckled. “She does get that a lot. So many blondes in London these days. Quite the fashion, from what I hear.”
“I see.” Mason’s eyes strayed back to the garden door. “Well, I think I need a breath of fresh air. Quite stuffy in here. Do excuse me.”
Philip placed his cane in Mason’s path. “I wouldn’t go out there if I were you.”
The W
elshman frowned at Philip, his eyes suddenly flashing with irritation. “I don’t believe I need your permission, Major.”
Philip shrugged. “A friend of mine was outdoors awaiting Miss Danvers. If you interrupt their tête-à-tête, he’ll find himself leg-shackled to the chit, and he won’t be very happy with me for letting you past.”
Mason’s frown deepened. “Did you trip me on purpose, Major Moore?”
Philip dipped his head. “I had to stop you somehow, and I don’t move as quickly as I once did. I do hope I didn’t hurt you.”
“You’re certain it was Miss Danvers who escaped into the garden?”
“Of course,” Philip lied. “Known her all my life.”
“I’ll take you at your word then.” Mason sighed, looking at once forlorn.
Philip hoped his fabrication was for a good cause. He didn’t make a habit of prevaricating on a regular basis, but some madness had urged him to do so this time. And he would make certain Miss Pritchard explained in great detail what exactly was going on with Mason.
“Do you happen to know Miss Amelia Pritchard?” the Welshman asked.
“I believe she is a cousin of the Earl of Clayworth, is she not?”
“That is my understanding.”
Philip glanced across the sea of people in the ballroom. “Well, if she’s here, I haven’t seen her this evening.”
“So many blondes in London these days.” Mason smiled tightly.
“Indeed,” Philip agreed.
The Welshman tipped his head in farewell and then walked the perimeter of the ballroom once more, his eyes darting from guest to guest in his apparent search for Miss Pritchard. As soon as Mason made his exit, Philip watched the doorway to make certain the man wouldn’t return a half second later. When he felt the coast was relatively safe, he vanished through the garden door as quickly as his bad leg would allow, using his cane for support.
He found Amelia Pritchard sitting on a small bench, gazing up at the stars, shivering slightly in the cool evening air.
“Cold?” he asked, making her nearly jump from her skin.
“Oh!” she gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “You just took a decade off my life, Major.”
“Didn’t mean to startle you.” Philip nodded to the bench. “Mind if I sit with you?”
Miss Pritchard slid over, making room for him. “I am sorry for disappearing like that. You must think me most peculiar.”
Philip dropped onto the bench beside her. “I thought you most peculiar before I ever met you.”
“Hardly a charming thing to say.” Her light blue eyes twinkled beneath the stars.
“Well, you were laughing at me, Miss Pritchard. And I have it on the highest authority that I’m not amusing in the least.”
A delightful grin spread across her face, making him smile right along with her. “You just looked so serious,” she explained. “Everyone else in there was having a lovely time and you were scowling at them. You didn’t seem to fit there at all.”
“In the future, you might want to refrain from laughing at someone wearing a scowl. We’re hardly agreeable chaps, those of us who are prone to scowling.”
“I will try to keep that in mind.” Her hands slid up and down her arms as though she was freezing.
“Would you like my jacket?” Philip offered.
Miss Pritchard shook her head. “I’d like to return to the ballroom, but…”
“Mr. Mason has left, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Her face instantly flushed pink and her gaze dropped to her lap. “You spoke with him?”
“I kept him from following you out here.”
She wrung her hands in her lap. “Why?”
Why? Because she was clearly running from the man. Wasn’t she? “Did you want him to follow you?” Was it possible he had misinterpreted her actions? Understanding women was apparently not his forte. Had he blundered terribly in this regard?
“No.” Her eyes shot back to his, and the pain he saw reflected there squeezed his heart. “I don’t want to ever see him again. I just don’t understand why you helped me. I mean, I did laugh at you, and you don’t know me at all.”
True on both counts. “I’m not sure why,” he replied. “But something told me to do so. Why are you hiding from Mason, Miss Pritchard?” And why did she look as though she might cry?
“Have you ever felt like the biggest fool who ever lived?”
Had she just asked him that question? Philip somehow kept from snorting. After all, he’d lived with that very feeling for over a year now. “Only everyday I wake up.”
“You don’t seem foolish to me at all.” Her light eyes scanned his face.
“Just serious?”
She smiled again, and the light from the moon made her appear more ethereal. He had the urge to tuck one of her flaxen locks behind her ear, but he kept his hands on his knees.
“Very few fools are so serious in my experience,” she said softly.
“And have you more experience with fools or with serious, scowling fellows?”
Miss Pritchard bit her bottom lip as though she was truly contemplating his question. “Sadly, I think I have had more experiences with scoundrels, now that I think about it.”
Scoundrels? Did she mean Mason? The fellow hadn’t seemed to be a scoundrel to Philip, just doggedly determined. Had he done something to Miss Pritchard? “Not the best variety of man.”
“On that we most certainly agree, Major.”
Warm light and lively music spilled into the garden, brighter and louder than they had been moments earlier. Philip glanced towards the house to find Cordie Clayworth standing in the doorway. “There you are, Amelia! I was worried.”
Captain Avery bowed low before Amelia and then swept her into his arms as the musicians began playing a waltz. His eyes settled on hers and he frowned like a chastened man. “I am sorry to have dragged you into this, Amelia.”
She shook her head. “Was Cordie very angry with you?”
He chuckled as he led her into a turn. “My sister is always angry with me. If it wasn’t about this, it would have been about something else. I’m accustomed to her haranguing me, but I don’t want her to be angry with you.”
Amelia didn’t think Cordie was angry with her. The countess hadn’t seemed it, in any event. “I’m sure all will be fine, Captain. And I can see why you wanted to bring your friend out of the doldrums. Major Moore seems like a wonderful man.”
“Better than myself and both my brothers all combined,” he agreed. “But Philip’s too noble by half. Quite infuriating at times.”
As Amelia had dealt with a man who wasn’t noble in the least, she didn’t quite agree with Captain Avery’s estimation. But his words did make her more curious than ever about the very serious major. “Cordie said it wasn’t his returning from the continent that’s had made him gloomy.”
The captain’s eyes flashed over her shoulder towards his sister, and he winced a bit. “And she says I’m a tactless, interfering lout.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Captain Avery shook his head. “She shouldn’t have said such a thing.”
And Amelia shouldn’t ask her next question, but she couldn’t help herself. “Why is he gloomy, Captain?”
“A variety of reasons,” he hedged.
And he thought Major Moore was infuriating. “Such as…?” she prodded.
“It’s really not my place to say. In fact, I’ve said too much bringing you into this mess to begin with. I relinquish you from your promise, Amelia. Do try to enjoy your stay in London, and don’t worry about either Philip or me.”
But she couldn’t help thinking about Major Moore. He had kept Mason from finding her this evening, and all of Captain Avery’s evasive answers made wondering about Major Moore that much more interesting. Besides, keeping her thoughts occupied with questions about the very serious and noble major would prevent worries about her own predicament from creeping into her mind. At least she thou
ght it would.
“I’ve piqued your interest, haven’t I?” Captain Avery moaned.
Amelia tried her innocent blink one more time. It hadn’t worked with Cordie, but perhaps it would with Russell Avery. “I don’t know what you mean, Captain.”
“Uh-huh.” He spun her once again. “I know women, Amelia Pritchard. And I know that when they get a look in their eyes, like the one you have now, that their interest has been piqued.”
“I have a look in my eyes?”
“Hmm. So let me warn you as a friend: Philip Moore is the best man I know, but he’s more damaged than the whole of the 45th put together. Forget I ever brought you into this, for your own good.”
“Your concern does me such honor, sir.”
He groaned aloud. “Cordie was right. I should have kept my nose out of Philip’s affairs. I do hate it when she’s right. Makes her unbearable.”
Philip couldn’t help but watch the ease with which Russell spun Miss Pritchard around the Clayworths’ ballroom. Whether it was in his mind or the pain was authentic, Philip’s leg pulsed a bit as he stood there alone, leaning heavily on his cane. He had never begrudged Russell anything in his life, but a pang of resentment did settle in his stomach as the pair moved in rhythm together, Russell’s undamaged legs hidden in Miss Pritchard’s skirts.
Scoundrels. She said she was more familiar with scoundrels, hadn’t she? Well, one certainly held her in his arms at the moment. Philip shook the ungenerous thought from his mind. Oh, Russell could most certainly be described as a scoundrel, but he was like a brother to Philip. Still, the captain would break Miss Pritchard’s heart if she gave it to him, Philip had no doubt. After all, he’d seen his friend do that very thing to girl after pretty girl over the years.
Substandard kisser. Russell’s earlier words echoed once again in Philip’s ears. With the way Russell gazed at the chit’s mouth, Philip doubted his friend had been entirely honest about that. Though why the thought of Russell kissing Miss Pritchard should make Philip want to remove his best friend’s head made no sense at all. Who Russell kissed, or whom Miss Pritchard kissed for that matter, was none of his concern. Not really. But it was hard to get her earlier expression of horror out of his mind. If Mason, the suspected scoundrel, had hurt Miss Pritchard, wasn’t it his duty to ensure Russell didn’t do the same?
My Favorite Major Page 2