“If I’d never come to London…”
“Then you’d have never met Philip, and you’d have never made him smile.” The duchess smiled through her tears to make her point. “And by all accounts, you did bring a smile to his face, Miss Pritchard, a much needed smile, and for that you will always have my gratitude.”
“You still love him?” Amelia knew the answer without asking; she could see the affection in the duchess’ eyes as she gazed at the ailing major.
“I will always love him,” the lady confirmed. “I’ve known him my entire life. A more honorable man doesn’t exist. But if you’re asking if I am in love with him… No, Miss Pritchard.” She shook her head. “I am desperately in love with my husband, and I am sorry to the depths of my soul for any pain and heartache I’ve inflicted on poor Philip. That was never my intent.”
Amelia wasn’t certain what to say to that, so she simply sighed and returned her gaze to Major Moore’s handsome face.
After a moment of silence, the duchess sat forwards in her seat and claimed one of the major’s hands. “You need to wake up, Philip. Miss Pritchard is going to worry herself into an early grave if you don’t open your eyes.”
Amelia gaped at the duchess. Was she trying to lay guilt on a dying man? That was hardly a charitable thing to do.
Her Grace winked at Amelia. “Anything to break through to him,” she explained. “I’ll use any trick necessary. Cordie says he is quite taken with you. You might be the only one he will wake up for.”
But if he was going to do that, wouldn’t he have done so already? Amelia blinked back more tears. “He loves you. If he’ll wake for one of us, it’ll be for you.” And though it hurt her heart to admit as much, she also knew it was true. She rose from her spot and started for the corridor, the first time she’d left the room since the major had been brought inside Clayworth House. “Excuse me.”
“S-s-s,” came from the major’s bed.
The duchess gasped and leaned over the bed. “Did you hear that?”
Amelia had heard it and she rushed back to the major’s bedside. His eyes were still closed, but he had most definitely made a sound. There was no question about it. There was even a witness this time.
“S-stay,” he whispered so softly, she wasn’t sure it was even real.
Her Grace grinned and swiped at more tears that trailed down her cheeks. “He wants you to stay. He spoke. Did you hear him? He wants you to stay. Don’t you dare go anywhere.”
But were his words for her or for the duchess? Amelia didn’t even care. He had spoken. Her heart lifted a hundred fold as she sat on the edge of the bed beside him. “Major?”
“Stay,” he said a little louder and his eyelids slowly lifted.
Philip’s mouth was as dry as parchment and his eyes hurt. But clearly he was dreaming. There was no other reason why both Amelia and Olivia would be together by his bedside. What a very strange dream. Why was Amelia still trying to leave him? Hadn’t he talked her out of that nonsense?
He lifted his hand out to her, though doing so made a spasm shoot down his arm and his back radiate with pain. He closed his eyes in agony and couldn’t help the groan that escaped him.
“Major!” Amelia cried. Then her cool hands were touching his face. “Oh, Major, please don’t move.”
Why was she calling him that? She’d called him Philip in his dreams, hadn’t she? “Philip,” he breathed out.
“What?” Her sweet breath blew across his face. Had she been nibbling on mint? Where was her usual lilac scent?
“Philip,” he rasped again, a bit louder this time.
“Yes, you’re Philip,” she replied, panic laced her words. “Has he forgotten who he is?”
“I think—” Olivia’s voice found his ears, twinged with a mix of humor and relief “—he wants you to call him Philip.”
Philip opened his eyes once more to find Amelia hovering over him. Her blue eyes met his, and she looked so weary, as though she hadn’t slept in a week. Even still, she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. “So pretty,” he breathed out. She looked almost like an angel, like his angel.
Beside his bed, he couldn’t tell whether Olivia was laughing or crying. She rose to her feet and said, “I’ll send for Doctor Watts.” And then she was gone.
But Amelia was still there, still hovering right above Philip like an angelic protector. “Water, Amelia,” he whispered. “Please.”
Her blue eyes widened in surprise and she scrambled to a nearby pitcher and poured him a goblet. Then she was back at his side, tilting the water to his lips, helping him drink. Oh, what glorious water. Nothing had ever tasted so good.
“Do you remember what happened?” Amelia asked after he finished with the goblet.
But before he could answer, the chamber was suddenly flooded with people. Clayworth and Cordie. Tristan and Russell. Maids he didn’t recognize. And Olivia and Kelfield? This was most definitely the strangest dream he’d ever had. Why the devil should Kelfield be here?
“Good God!” Russell heaved a sigh. “You took ten years off my life, Philip Moore.”
“I did?” How? What had he done?
His old friend smiled. “I’ll see that you pay it back, don’t you worry.”
“Russell,” Cordie complained. “The last thing he needs is your blathering.” Then she closed in on Philip, frowning most peculiarly as she touched his brow. “Is the pain awful? Doctor Watts left some laudanum.”
“Laudanum?” He hated the stuff. They’d kept his dosage so high in Belgium, he hardly remembered returning home.
“I’ll get it.” Cordie turned on her heel.
“No!” Philip barked. Then he tried to push up on his elbows, but the searing pain in his back returned in a blinding flash. God, what had happened to him?
The whole room gasped in unison as he dropped back to the bed.
Philip closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to recede. “No laudanum,” he hissed. He needed his mind clear, not jumbled. “Amelia, no laudanum.”
She squeezed his hand. “Not if you don’t want it,” she promised.
“Where am I?”
“Returned from the brink of death,” Russell muttered, but Philip heard him clearly.
“Russ!” Tristan growled.
“Death?” Philip echoed, opening his eyes once more. “What do you mean death?”
The pressure from Amelia’s hand tightened and she sat beside him on the edge of his bed. “You don’t remember?”
What did he remember? He remembered Amelia. He remembered kissing her. He remembered some breathy little sounds she made as he caressed her and the softness of her breasts. He’d never forget one second of any of that. But then…what had happened? He’d left Clayworth House after securing her promise to stay in London. He’d needed to talk with Tristan about arrangements for the duel…
The duel. Was that what he couldn’t remember? “Did I lose the duel?”
A few feet away, the Duke of Kelfield snorted, though he was quickly elbowed in the stomach by his wife for doing so. “Alex!” Olivia grumbled.
“Sorry,” the duke apologized, and he actually did look contrite. Who would have thought Kelfield owned such an expression?
Amelia leaned closer to him, her hand still holding his. “You’d just left me and we heard the shot.”
Philip frowned at her. “The shot?”
Amelia nodded. “The authorities are searching for Mr. Mason, but they haven’t found him yet.”
Mason? Fury pulsed through Philip’s veins. “He shot me in the back?” What sort of coward did such a thing? Then he looked closer at Amelia, searching for signs of distress. “He didn’t hurt you?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t even see him. I only saw you and…”
“She hasn’t left your bedside since that moment,” Russell said quietly. “Most men would be happy to have a wife half as attentive.”
All those dreams. But they hadn’t been dreams, had they? She really had been w
ith him all that time. Philip gazed at Amelia, and his heart lifted a bit. “You didn’t leave me?”
“You made me promise I’d stay. Do you remember, before you left that day? You made me promise.”
He did remember. He’d meant London, at the time. He wanted her to stay in London while they figured out what was between them. But she’d honored those words to the letter. And now with the pain pulsing in his back and with all his friends and even the damned Duke of Kelfield watching on, Philip didn’t need to figure out anything more. Everything was perfectly clear.
“Promise me something else,” he whispered.
“Of course.” She slid closer to him. “What do you need, Philip?”
“You.” He squeezed her hand this time. “Promise you won’t jilt me.”
A smile lit her face. “You are delirious.”
He nodded in agreement. “I am. But I want to spend forever with you, and that won’t change.”
Cordie started to sniffle, but Philip only had eyes for Amelia, who stared back at him with her mouth agape.
“Come along,” Tristan called to the room at large. “Clearly, he’ll survive. Let’s give them a few moments.”
And then the room emptied of everyone except for Philip and Amelia, who still clutched his hand in hers. “Are you mad?” she whispered.
He shook his head. “Completely sane. Well, unless you really do jilt me. I’d probably go mad then. And you—” he grinned even though he was in pain “—what would people say if you jilted a man who took a bullet for you? No, it’s most definitely in your best interest to marry me, Amelia. Think of your reputation.”
She grinned in return. “My reputation, hmm?”
“Well, that and I’m fairly certain you like my kisses. I’ll kiss you everyday for the rest of our lives. Just say ‘yes’.”
A blush stained her cheeks. “You do drive a hard bargain, Major Moore.”
“Philip,” he stressed. “You called me Philip when I was unconscious, didn’t you?”
“Did I?”
He nodded. “I heard you, I think. And I like the sound of my name on your lips.”
“Philip Moore, you do not resemble the very serious major I met that first night. Do you know that?”
“Well, I have been shot and I haven’t bathed in days.”
She giggled.
“But you’re still laughing at me, even if I’m not so serious anymore.” He released his grip on her hand, but trailed his fingers lightly over her knuckles. “Kiss me, Amelia.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You can ravish me when I’ve got my strength up. I just need a kiss for now.”
Amelia leaned forward, her blue eyes peering into his, but they fluttered closed when her lips brushed his with the softest of kisses.
“Marry me?” he whispered across her lips.
She opened her eyes and smiled. “I don’t think I have a choice. There’s my reputation to consider, after all.”
Philip wasn’t sure how he’d been so fortunate as to have Amelia stumble into his life, but he wasn’t about to question the gods who, thus far, hadn’t smiled in his particular direction. She fretted about his chamber, plumped his pillow, offered him water, and kissed him whenever he asked. “You are perfect,” he said as she drew his drapes closed.
Amelia dropped the drapery sash and shook her head. “Hardly. If it wasn’t for me, you would have never been shot.”
He smiled what he hoped was his most charming smile. “Small price to pay for your affection, Amelia.”
At that, she rolled her eyes. Then she glanced towards the doorway and stood a little taller. “Captain, Lieutenant.”
Philip tilted his head to the other side to find the Avery brothers standing just inside the threshold. It was about time they showed their faces. He couldn’t, after all, go in search of them. “Amelia, I need a few moments with my old friends.”
“Of course.” She bustled across the room. “But remember what Doctor Watts said. You need to rest.”
Philip heaved a sigh and gestured to himself still lying in bed. “It’s not as though I have much of a choice, love.”
She grinned at his endearment. “Do you want me to ring for tea?”
“No.” Philip shook his head. “We won’t be long.”
Amelia brushed past the two officers on her way out of Philip’s sick room, then she shut the door behind her.
“I thought she’d never leave.” Russell grinned and dropped into the chair from which Amelia had kept her vigil at Philip’s bedside for days on end.
“Your mother would approve of her.” Tristan cocked his head towards the now closed door as he walked further into the room.
And he was right. Philip’s late mother would have liked Amelia very much, or at least he thought she would have. And that thought did ease his soul just a bit, but only a bit, because the girl was still in danger and there wasn’t a damn thing Philip could do to protect her from his cursed bed.
Russell kicked his boots up and rested them at the edge of Philip’s bed. “I think the chit must actually like you, surprising as that is. Best not let her get away.”
Philip heaved a sigh. “Can you be serious?”
Russell’s grin widened. “I can try, but I don’t think I’ll ever be as successful as you, my friend.”
From the window, Tristan grunted. “For the love of God, Russ,” he complained. “He did summon us here. Clearly, he has something to say.”
Thank God for Tristan’s level head. Philip pushed up on his forearms to sit higher on the bed, but his back stung so badly, he gave up the fight and closed his eyes, hoping for the pain to recede. “I need your help,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Of course,” the Avery brothers said in unison, which didn’t surprise Philip in the least. They had been to Hell and back together, the three of them.
He opened his eyes to find both of his friends had come closer to him on either side of the bed. How nice to have dutiful friends he could count on, since he couldn’t count on himself. “I need you to help me find Mason.”
“The authorities are looking for him,” Tristan said. “Clayworth has seen to it.”
But that wasn’t good enough, not by a long shot. “To Hell with the authorities.”
Russell agreed with a nod and did, all of a sudden, look serious. “I’ve been searching too, Philip. I’ll find the bastard one way or another.”
Which was a relief. When Russell set his mind on something, he was more determined than all of Wellington’s forces combined. “I won’t be a sitting duck for another attack from him, and I won’t let him hurt Amelia.”
“Of course not,” Russell growled. “Damned coward. What sort of man shoots another in the back? You’re damned lucky to still be breathing.”
“I am well aware of my luck.” Then he tilted his head towards Tristan. “You’ve seen Mason. You know what he looks like.”
Tristan nodded.
“I’ve sacrificed everything I had for England. Olivia, my future, years spent making certain the French never invaded our shores. And for what? To be shot in the back in my own bloody country by some spineless Welshman?” He pushed up on his arms once again, ignoring the pain until he was sitting up and staring Tristan Avery in the eyes. “I won’t stand for it. If I have to hobble from this bed to put a bullet in his skull, I will. But I need you to find him.”
The blood drained from the lieutenant’s face. “I’m fairly certain Amelia will be unhappy to find you sitting up.”
“We’ll find him,” Russell promised. “But when we’re through with him, there might not be anything left of the bastard for you to seek out your revenge.”
Philip nodded. “Thank you. You know I would do the same for you.”
Russell smiled tightly. “I do indeed.”
“And don’t mention this to Amelia.”
“God forbid.” Russell snorted. “We won’t mention it to Cordie either.”
A faint smile
tilted Tristan’s mouth. “God no, she’d want to tag along like she did when we were children.”
He was probably right. Cordie would want to be involved, which could not be allowed. It was bad enough that Amelia was in danger every day Mason inhaled a breath of fresh air. The fewer people involved in tracking down the villain, the better.
Russell chuckled. “Cordie is too distracted with acquiring a special license for you and Amelia. She’s beyond worried people will learn how attentive the chit’s been to you.” Then he laughed harder. “Such a hypocrite, our sister of Scottish wedding fame.”
A special license? The idea brought a smile to Philip’s face. Could he truly be married as soon as all that? “Does Amelia know?”
Tristan shook his head. “I doubt it. Her attention has been solely focused on you and your expedient recovery.”
Good. Then he’d get to tell her himself. “When you leave, will you send her back to me?”
Russell laughed once more. “Indeed? Have you become accustomed to being doted upon?”
A man could get used to her ministrations. Not that Philip would ever admit as much to anyone, and certainly not to Russell Avery. “Go on with you.” He gestured towards the door. “Send her to me and find that bastard, will you?”
Amelia bounded up the stairs, her heart nearly in her throat. She brushed past a maid in the corridor and bolted into Philip’s chamber without even knocking. “Are you all right?” she asked, trying to catch her breath. “Good heavens! You’re sitting up! Doctor Watts said—”
“I’m not going to die, Amelia.” A lazy smile spread across his face. “Did you race all the way up the steps?”
Her mouth fell open. As soon as Captain Avery said Philip had need of her, she was afraid he’d opened his wound or was in terrible pain. “The captain said—”
“What did he say?”
Clearly, she’d misinterpreted Russell Avery’s summons, but he’d looked so dire when he’d sought her out, which wasn’t like him at all. But now that she truly looked at her fiancé, Philip appeared better than he had the last few days. “That you asked for me.” She bit the inside of her cheek. What a ninny she’d become.
My Favorite Major Page 8