My Favorite Major

by Ava Stone; Lydia Dare

  Tristan bolted from his chair and started for the doorway without a backwards glance.

  “Tris!” Russell called.

  “I’m going in search of Mason. Bugger off.” And then he disappeared into the corridor.

  Russell shook his head. “Don’t know what has gotten into him lately.”

  “Restless spirit since the campaign is over?” Clayworth suggested.

  Perhaps, but Philip didn’t have time to speculate on Tristan’s behavior or the sudden divide that separated the brothers Avery. He had his own familial problem that needed to be dealt with. “If you’re gone before I return, Russ, do have a lovely evening.”

  Philip tucked the note into his pocket, then left the dining room, limping more than he would like. All things being equal, he’d rather approach his father-in-law un-aided by a walking implement. He’d rather possess an air of strength when he met with the man, but that was not to be. And wishing it otherwise was futile.

  He strode as best as he could to the green parlor, then entered the room with as much pride as he could muster. Mr. Pritchard sat in a high-back chair, his angry blue eyes staring holes through Philip. The man did not seem happy at all for indulging Philip’s request for a meeting, yet he’d done so anyway. That was promising, even if Pritchard’s scowl wasn’t.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” Philip said with what he hoped was a conciliatory tone.

  Mr. Pritchard’s gaze narrowed further, though how that was possible, Philip wasn’t sure. “I don’t suppose I’ll ever see my daughter after today.”

  Was that was he was worried about? Losing Amelia? Philip shook his head. “Only if that’s your wish, sir. You are welcome to visit us at Leverton Park anytime you’d like. Or we could travel to your home in Wales. I know Amelia loves you very much.”

  “Then she should have married Mason, like I wanted.”

  Ah, so life with a murderer was far superior to life with a cripple, was it? Philip heaved a sigh. “I love your daughter and I’ll do everything in my power to make her happy all of her days.”

  The old man snorted. “You won’t get one farthing from me.”

  Money? Philip stepped further into the parlor. “I don’t want your money, Mr. Pritchard,” he said as he dropped onto the settee across from the man, leaning his cane against his bad knee. “I didn’t marry Amelia for her money. I assure you, my funds are in order.”

  Mr. Pritchard’s hardened eyes squinted as though he was trying to decide whether or not he believed Philip. “Whether they are or whether they aren’t, I’m leaving everything to Mason. It should have been his anyway.”

  Philip’s mouth fell open. Mason? If the blackguard knew that… “I beg you not to tell Mason this, Mr. Pritchard.”

  “Why? You think you can charm me the way you did Amelia? I’m hardly one to care about a handsome face.”

  “No.” What a ridiculous thing to say. How could the man be so dense? “I beg you not to tell him, because I fear for your safety if you do.”

  “Bah!” Pritchard scoffed. “My safety?” He shook his head. “I practically raised that young man, and I won’t let you poison my mind against him like you did my daughter’s.”

  “Then you should have raised him better than you did,” Philip returned, not caring in the least that his conciliatory tone was long since gone. “And I didn’t poison Amelia’s mind against Mason. She left Wales to escape him. That was well before she met me.”

  “She needed time,” her father insisted. “She took Alan’s death particularly hard. She blamed Mason for not keeping him safe. But in time she would have—”

  “You’re delusional,” Philip interrupted. How could he be so bloody blind? “And if you tell Mason your plan to leave him an inheritance, you’ll be dead within a sennight.”

  “If I were a younger man, I’d call you out for that.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first do so, yet I am still walking around.”

  “Hobbling, you mean,” Pritchard sneered.

  The air whooshed out of Philip’s lungs. Was that it? Was it the fact he wasn’t a whole man that made Pritchard despise him so? No matter what sort of villain Mason was, he didn’t limp from room to room, did he? Philip smiled tightly. “It was a pleasure to serve my country, sir. I wish I’d returned unscathed, but I did not. Fortunately, Amelia loves me despite my injury.”

  “She always did have a soft spot for wounded animals.” Pritchard folded his ancient arms across his chest. “You won’t see one farthing of my money, Moore. Not one farthing.”

  That, apparently, was Philip’s cue to leave, as the man had started repeating himself and hadn’t shown any evidence that he could listen to reason. “We shall get by without your assistance, sir.” Using his cane for support, Philip rose from his spot. Then he nodded his farewell to his unhappy father-in-law and limped from the room. So much for his olive branch.

  Tristan Avery stepped into his favorite gaming hell. He didn’t imagine he would actually find Mason inside the less than hallowed walls, but if he’d had to endure one more moment listening to Russ’ skirt chasing escapades, he would quite likely smash his fist into his brother’s face, and he might not ever stop. No, all things considered, it was best just to remove himself.

  As he approached one of the Hazard tables, a hand smacked his back, making Tristan stumble forwards just a bit. He quickly righted himself, then spun on his heel to find the Marquess of Haversham grinning that irritatingly rakish grin in Tristan’s direction. “You look like a fellow who could use a drink.”

  Damn it all to hell. Couldn’t he just be left alone to sulk without having to entertain scurrilous men of one sort or another? Besides, associating with Haversham was never on Tristan’s list of enjoyable endeavors. The damned blackguard nearly ruined Cordie before she was married. The jackanapes was even more disreputable than Russell. “What do you want?”

  Haversham’s grin widened. “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Paradise?” Tristan frowned at the man. What in the world was he talking about?

  “Or did you have another spat with the lovely Miss Greywood.”

  Tristan clenched his fists. “You’ve got the wrong Avery, Haversham. My brother is the one betrothed to Miss Greywood.”

  “Do I?” The nefarious twinkle in the marquess’ eye made Tristan fear the man might see more than everyone else. “My mistake.” Then Haversham stepped closer to Tristan and gestured to side of the room with a cock of his head. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

  Tristan glanced in the direction Haversham indicated and noticed Mr. Blackaby, arms folded across his chest, leaning against a far wall, his eyes focused on the marquess. “What did you do to capture Bow Street’s interest?”

  “Your family.” Haversham snorted. “Everytime I help your family, I end up with that bloodhound on my tail.”

  “You did shoot and kill a man.”

  “I saved your sister’s life, and I took a bullet to my shoulder in the process.”

  The blackguard mentioned Cordie. He must truly want Tristan’s help. “And you want me to do something about Blackaby?”

  Haversham’s grin was back, firmly in place. “He is a thorn in my side.”

  Tristan shook his head, not sure why he was even entertaining such an idea. “And what is in it for me?”

  “Ah, the most mercenary of the Averys, are you?” Haversham draped his arm around Tristan’s shoulders and directed him towards the Hazard table, making it appear that the two of them were interested in the play. “How about when I next see Miss Greywood, I put in a good word for you?”

  The libertine’s mention of Phoebe made Tristan’s vision turn a bit blurry. “How about,” he ground through his teeth, “you stay away from Miss Greywood altogether?”

  “Deal.” Haversham smacked Tristan’s back once more. “Good luck, Avery.”

  As Tristan turned and started towards the Runner along the far wall, he wasn’t quite certain how the marquess had managed to get him to do his biddin
g. Heaven help him if anyone else figured out Phoebe was his weakness. He pushed thoughts of his brother’s fiancée out of his mind and refocused on Blackaby, just a few feet away from him now. Tristan sighed. He might as well use this situation to his benefit, or to Philip’s benefit, as the case may be.

  He forced a smile to his face. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any luck locating, Mr. Mason, have you?”

  Blackaby folded his arms across his chest. “Have any of your Irish guards spotted the fellow?”

  So despite him doggedly trailing Haversham’s every step, Blackaby was well aware of the goings on at Clayworth House. “Mason won’t find Haversham, he’ll find Moore.”

  “Haversham always finds trouble.”

  Truer words were never spoken. Still… “I owe Moore my life. He’s more like a brother than…well, more so than my own brothers in a lot of ways.” Tristan winced at the thought of losing his friend. “My Irish guards can spot Mason, but I’d feel better if you were watching Moore and his wife instead of Haversham. Can I hire you to do so?”

  Amelia hastened to Philip’s side when the men entered the drawing room once they’d finished their port. After their afternoon together, she wanted him all to herself, but for now, she’d settle for linking her arm with his and smiling at their family and friends. Soon enough she’d be back in his arms, back in his bed, and in the morning they’d start for Nottinghamshire.

  As soon as she reached him, she could tell something was wrong. He’d lost a bit of the twinkle his eyes had sported ever since their afternoon interlude. She reached a hand out to him and whispered, “What’s wrong?”

  A forced smile settled on his face, and he shook his head. “It’s nothing, my love.”

  He was lying. She could see it clearly in his visage. “It’s not nothing. Are you in pain? Shall I call for Doctor Watts?”

  Philip brushed his hand across her cheek, making tingles race down her spine. “I am fine. No need to worry about me.”

  She’d always worry about him. Until her dying breath. But before she could say as much, Captain Avery called from across the room, “Aww, look at the happy newlyweds.”

  “Russell!” Cordie complained.

  Philip leaned close, dipped his head, and kissed Amelia’s cheek for all to see. “Nothing is wrong, my love,” he whispered for her ears only. Then he stood his tallest and turned his attention back to the captain. “You are a nuisance, Russ.”

  Captain Avery only laughed and gestured Amelia and Philip towards the more occupied side of the drawing room. And though Philip then chatted with his friend and the Clayworths as though nothing was amiss, Amelia couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible had happened. But she held her tongue, adopted an air of nonchalance, and waited until they were alone, once again, in her chambers.

  She dismissed her maid as soon as they stepped over her threshold, not wanting to wait any longer to find out what was bothering her husband. Amelia spun to face Philip and folded her arms across her chest. “Something’s happened. What is it?”

  A look of bemusement settled on his face. “How can you tell?”

  How could she not? “I can see it in your eyes. I can…feel it.”

  Philip heaved a sigh, then crossed the floor to where Amelia stood. He slid one arm around her waist and towed her towards him. “You can feel it?”

  The intensity of his stare stole Amelia’s breath momentarily and she nodded in response for fear that her voice would come out a croak. Philip dipped his head towards hers and dropped a kiss on her brow.

  “Something did happen, but I didn’t want to ruin your evening.”

  “What is it?” she asked, clutching his jacket in her hands.

  He winced just a bit. “I spoke with your father this evening.”

  “Papa?” That was certainly the last thing she expected him to say.

  Philip nodded. “I thought it would be best to smooth everything over with him, to start over from this morning.”

  She couldn’t love him anymore than she did in that moment. “For me?”

  His brow furrowed in disappointment. “It didn’t turn out like I’d hoped, Amelia. Not like I’d planned. Not at all.”

  Amelia could only blink at him.

  “He doesn’t approve of me. I don’t believe he ever will.”

  Papa just didn’t know him well enough. In time, he would see how noble Philip was and—

  “He had his heart set on Mason as a son, it seems.”

  It was a miracle Papa had allowed her to cry off in the first place. Amelia shook her head. “Once he gets to know you—”

  “He told me he’s leaving his fortune to Mason.”

  Amelia’s knees weakened. If Philip hadn’t had his arm around her waist, she would have toppled over. Mason was after Papa’s fortune. That’s why he’d shot Alan in the first place. “He can’t.”

  Philip tucked a curl behind Amelia’s ear. “I’m afraid he wouldn’t listen to me.”

  No, of course he wouldn’t. Papa was nothing if not stubborn, especially since he didn’t care for Philip. Still… “When Mason finds out…” He’ll kill Papa. She couldn’t say the words aloud, but they echoed in her heart.

  “I tried to tell him.”

  A chill raced down Amelia’s spine. “I’ll make him listen.” She pulled out of Philip’s embrace and bolted for the door.

  Once in the corridor, she raced to her parents’ chamber, then knocked. Then she knocked again. “Papa!” she called, but there was no answer. Amelia pushed open the door, only to find the room completely empty.

  She stepped back into the hallway and looked at the room again. This was the room her parents had stayed in. Where were they? She started back down the corridor, passing Philip and her chamber, heading straight for the staircase. Amelia descended the steps two at a time and thankfully found Higgins in the grand entryway.

  “My parents,” she said, trying to catch her breath.

  The butler took pity on her and offered her a hand to steady her. “Mr. and Mrs. Pritchard left this evening, ma’am.”

  This evening? Amelia thought she might be sick. “They can’t be gone.”

  Higgins frowned. “They departed immediately after Major Moore met with Mr. Pritchard.”

  The room spun a bit in Amelia’s vision. They’d headed for home. Where else would they go? No one with any sense would leave London in the dead of night. However, her parents were both more than furious. Safety didn’t seem to be their highest priority. “I need to catch them,” she said, wishing the entry way would stop spinning.

  “I—I,” the butler stuttered.

  “Amelia,” Philip’s voice came from the staircase.

  She turned towards her husband, her lower lip quivering. “They’re gone, Philip. They must have started for home. We have to find them.”

  He descended the final step and released a sigh. “Not tonight.” He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

  But if her parents were traveling westward, she needed to as well. “We have to,” she pressed.

  A muscle twitched near Philip’s right eye. “If your parents are foolish enough to travel at night, then their consequences rest on their own shoulders. I will not put your life at risk. I will not, Amelia. We’ll leave at first light, if you’d like, but I will not put you in danger this evening.”

  Amelia’s shoulders sagged forward. How many hours’ lead would her parents have on them? Hopefully, they’d stop somewhere outside London and wouldn’t risk highwaymen or uncertain roads this evening. “At first light?” she asked, hating the worry she heard in her voice.

  “You have my word,” her husband promised.

  Upon second thought, Philip surmised, they probably should have departed the previous evening. After all, his wife hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep all night. Though he’d held her in his arms and tried his best to assuage her fears, Amelia never relaxed, never dozed off, and at the first hint of light from the window, she’d bolted out of bed.

&nb
sp; Philip pushed up on his elbows and frowned at his wife. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into taking breakfast before we dash out the front door?”

  Amelia folded her arms across her chest as though to comfort herself. “Can’t we take a little something with us to break our fast?”

  She seemed so pensive, so anguished, he couldn’t refuse her. “Of course, love,” he said, then swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

  The rest of the morning was a bit of a blur as Byrne and Kelly readied Clayworth’s borrowed coach and then they were off, leaving a pink sky behind them as they headed west on the Bath Road.

  After little more than an hour outside of London, Philip frowned at his wife on the bench across from him, still holding a barely nibbled on apple in her hands. A bird would have eaten more. He heaved a sigh, then reached across the coach and touched Amelia’s leg. “Starving yourself isn’t going to do anyone any good.”

  “I’m just not hungry, Philip.”

  He moved across the carriage to sit beside her and draped his arm around her shoulders. “Everything will be fine. We’ll catch up to your parents either on the road or once we arrive in Kidwelly. Either way, they’re safe for now. Mason couldn’t possibly have learned your father’s intention. So your parents aren’t in any real danger. Not until Mason discovers the game has changed.”

  She blinked up at him, and unshed tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. “This is all my fault.”

  He scoffed, though he hadn’t meant to. “Amelia, nothing is your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong, love.”

  “But if Mr. Mason hurts Papa…”

  “He can’t even have an inkling of your father’s plans. He hasn’t seen him for weeks, and, as we speak, the authorities are looking for Mason. I’m certain they’ll have him in their custody before your father can move forwards with his new course.”

  “I hope you’re right, but I can’t—”

  Whatever she meant to say was drowned out by the sound of a pistol. A cry of pain seemed wrenched from one of the horses, and the carriage jerked forward, then toppled on its side, sliding quite some distance.