Major Wyclyff's Campaign (A Lady's Lessons, Book 2)

by Lee, Jade

  "At Uncle Latimer's." That was Reg, but Sophia was certain she could not have heard him correctly.

  "I beg your pardon?" Aunt Agatha asked, looking as perplexed as everyone else in the room.

  "I was just thinking that we should visit my friend's uncle today. I believe we shall all fit in there nicely."

  "I beg your pardon?" Lydia's mother asked. Her tones were frosty.

  "Why, he used to be quite a one for the ladies, if I recall correctly. At the very least, it will be a diversion, what with him running the women 'round the table and all that." Then he winked at the major. "Why don't you come along, old chap?"

  "I beg your pardon!" Percy spoke up. His tones were even more frosty, if a bit higher pitched, than that of his future mother-in-law.

  "Well, the major is merely waiting to be shipped off," continued Reginald. "Deadly dull, waiting, you know. And here we all are in the country. Why not pass the time with a visit to Uncle Latimer's?" He added in an undertone that was nevertheless heard throughout the room, "He is said to be quite insane, but I have been given to understand that is only a rumor."

  Sophia took a deep breath, determined to stop this absurd farce before it went any further. "And why," she asked, her words clipped and distinct, "would you imagine that we should benefit from seeing that?"

  He turned and fixed her with an amused glare. "Because, among the insane, one can act however one wishes without anyone thinking it odd. You are merely partaking in the..." He waved a casual hand in the air. "The ambience."

  "Reg-"

  "And, you do wish the major to accompany us, do you not?" Lord Kyle asked, his dark eyes penetratingly intense. She returned the look, recognizing that there were more levels to his question than she cared to admit.

  She looked back at Anthony, noting his expression was carefully blank, his manner stiffly formal. Two months ago, she would have thought him too rigid, but now she knew the truth about why. He was indeed reserved, but it was because he was hiding emotions that were perhaps too strong for safe expression. Underneath all that stiff formality, he was kind, tender, and exceedingly passionate.

  And she loved him to distraction.

  Sophia felt her breath catch in her throat. After a fortnight of suppressing that tiny corner of her mind which admitted her love, here it was again, clamoring in a voice too loud to be denied.

  She was smitten with Anthony. It was not possible. It could not be possible. But it was.

  The world began to spin and contort dizzily. She felt her legs go weak, and everything seemed to splinter before her.

  "Sophia!" The major cried out, scrambling across the room to catch her and guide her to her seat. She just stared dazedly at him, her left hand going up instinctively to touch the worry lines etched in his face.

  The world fell into order at the very moment his arms encircled her.

  She loved him. Yet all she had ever done was fight him and cause him endless misery. Sophia blinked, her eyes suddenly awash with tears as he deposited her gently into a chair. What was she to do now? She had fought him for so long; he was likely sick to death of her.

  "So, we shall all make a party of it, hmm?" exclaimed Lord Kyle in overly cheerful tones.

  Sophia turned, her eyes seeking out her friend's. He met her gaze, his eyes steady, and Sophia experienced another moment of wrenching shock.

  Reg knew. Good lord, the man had known she was in love all along. Sophia felt her chest squeeze tight as she saw the truth in his slow smile. Not only did he know her feelings, he was using this outing as a way to throw her and the major together. And in a neutral environment, no less. One where she and Anthony would be slightly less constrained.

  It was so ridiculous that she nearly laughed out loud. Lord Kyle, fashionable fribble, was in truth more clear-sighted than she had ever been.

  Gathering herself, she smiled. "Yes," she finally said, her voice steady. "Yes, I think that would be an excellent excursion. And of course the major must come along." She turned to Anthony, her smile as warm as she could make it. But as she looked into his shuttered expression, her hopes dimmed.

  She was a fool to think that she could erase all the arguments, the nonsense that she had put him through. He did not love her, and probably never would. He had been passionate at the start, but whatever tender emotions he may have had for her, she had systematically crushed.

  It was hopeless.

  And yet, there was no time to change her mind as Lord Kyle began discussing the arrangements for their trip with singular devotion and good cheer.

  * * *

  "Pssst! Reg!" Sophia peered around the corner of the hallway and motioned frantically to Lord Kyle. He noticed her immediately, of course. Indeed, how could he not when she was jumping up and down like a maniacal frog?

  Still, he took his time, leisurely setting aside the newspaper and casually removing himself from his chair. Sophia was tapping her foot in severe annoyance by the time he ceased stretching and had made his way to her.

  "Really, Reg, I swear you would have stopped to eat had food been available!" she snapped when he finally made it to her side.

  He winked at her and peered toward the dining room. "Has lunch been served yet?"

  "Reginald, be serious!"

  Lord Kyle merely folded his arms and grinned. "But, I thought it was my job to be charming and frivolous."

  Sophia clenched her hands into fists and glared at him. "I swear, you make me want to hit you!"

  "Oh!" he cried. "Please, I would not wish you to hurt your delicate hands on my muscles of iron!"

  "You mean on your thick head," she muttered.

  To her total disgust, Reginald burst into laughter.

  "Reg!" She was near her wits' end. They were to leave for Uncle Latimer's home directly after the noon repast. The major had departed to change into more "appropriate" attire—although what one wore to a purported mental patient's home, she had not the slightest clue. Perhaps he would change into something drab; his uniform's bright colors and his handsome physique might be too stimulating for Lord Kyle's sick uncle. Heaven knew, she certainly found them exciting enough.

  In any event, the major had departed, leaving her behind to listen to Percy and Lydia's insipid chatter and ponder the revelation that she was in love—all the while not revealing the fact to anyone. Which was enough to make any sane person go mad.

  "Reginald, please," she pleaded. "I believe I am going insane."

  "I know," he agreed with another grin. "That is precisely why I suggested the outing. You can have a look around and see if you like how the insane are cared for."

  "But—"

  "Come, my dear," he said as he neatly caught her elbow. "Perhaps we should go walking about your aunt's lovely garden."

  Sophia nodded with a grateful sigh. She needed to speak with someone levelheaded enough tell her she was confused, that she was not in love at all. She was positive that Lord Kyle was just the man. Unfortunately, as soon as they made it outside, they met up with Aunt Agatha, who was pruning a flowering bush.

  "There you are, my dear," called the sweet lady as she peered around a large purple blossom. "Are you sure you are well? You look a trifle flushed."

  "I—" began Sophia.

  "She has just discovered she is in love," Lord Kyle said with a laugh.

  Sophia pulled back with a start. "Wha—"

  "Well, I must say it is about time," interrupted her aunt. "Really, my dear, I had thought you were the intelligent one, but you have taken such a long time at this, I was beginning to think you a lackwit."

  Sophia spun back toward her aunt. "I—"

  "I could not credit it at first," agreed Lord Kyle. "But it is too obvious, and I am much too chivalrous to allow her to continue deluding herself—despite my desire to keep her away from such entanglements. They change one's personality. So naturally, I have a vested interest in keeping the major and Sophia apart..."

  Both Sophia and her aunt stared at Reginald.

  "W
hat the devil are you talking about?" snapped Aunt Agatha.

  "Hmm? Oh nothing. Merely that Sophia is in such a muddle now, she has completely lost her composure. Why, she was jumping up and down in the hallway just a moment ago."

  "Indeed!" exclaimed Aunt Agatha as she peered anxiously at her niece. "Are you sure a trip to this Uncle Latimer's is appropriate?" She peered suspiciously at Lord Kyle. "Have you ever been there?"

  "Never," responded Reginald with a shrug. "But lately I have heard certain rumors, and I have dawdled much too long on investigating. Indeed, that was why I came to this area in the first place." He leaned forward and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "I would have gone much sooner, but I was waiting for Sophia to resolve her affairs. Truly, Sophia," he added with a wink, "did you not realize that there were people waiting on you?"

  That was the final straw. "Waiting on me!" She drew herself away from Lord Kyle and planted her fists on her hips, then alternated between glaring at him and her aunt. "You both knew I was in love, and yet you... you deliberately said nothing! How could you?"

  "My dear," drawled Reginald, "I do not interfere in the private lives of my friends."

  "You merely arrange assignations at the homes of the mentally ill," she returned hotly.

  "The perfect place for lovers," he quipped.

  "Harumph!" Sophia turned toward her aunt. "But how could you know?"

  "How could I not?" Aunt Agatha returned. "You two practically made love directly before my eyes!"

  Sophia started. "I most certainly did not!"

  "When you tried to get drunk, my dear. My, the two of you were dancing with such brooding intensity, I nearly had heart palpitations."

  "We did not!" she exploded, though she knew her face was heating with a guilty flush. She and the major had indeed been dancing most scandalously.

  Aunt Agatha threw up her hands in disgust. "Just because I snore does not mean I am asleep. Goodness, you would think I was blind, kissing that way right before my eyes."

  "Your closed eyes," said Sophia sternly, trying her best not to remember the major's kisses. "I specifically saw that your eyes were closed."

  Aunt Agatha pushed a trailing ribbon out of her eyes and gave an imperious sniff. "The sound is quite distinctive."

  Sophia did not have an answer. Indeed, she was very sure she did not have a coherent thought in her head. All she could do was stare at her two friends in horror. "I came out to the garden for you both to tell me I am not in love, that I am merely confused. I wanted to hear that this is perhaps a temporary aberration in an otherwise sane world."

  Reginald's grin grew even wider. "Well, that's exactly how I would describe love. Hence the trip to Uncle Latimer's."

  "But—"

  "Come, come, Sophia," said Aunt Agatha as she put away her gardening tools. "You must not upset yourself."

  "Absolutely," agreed Reginald. "You do not wish to appear haggard during your seduction."

  "Seduction!" gasped Sophia, spinning around to confront her friend. "Who said anything about a seduction?"

  "Well, that is the point of this outing, is it not?" Aunt Agatha asked Reginald, calmly fitting her gardening basket onto her arm. "Although, personally, I would prefer a picnic."

  Reg shook his head. "Not with that harridan around, Lydia's mother. She would see to it that everyone was miserable. No, this trip is much better, what with the beds and all."

  "Beds!" squeaked Sophia.

  Reg offered Aunt Agatha his arm, all the while speaking to Sophia. "Scores of beds at Uncle Latimer's. In that mausoleum, surely you can contrive to get into a compromising situation with the major somewhere along the way."

  "But—"

  "And then I shall arrive and shriek," put in Aunt Agatha. "He shall be forced to marry you!"

  "An excellent notion," confirmed Reg. There were a few moments before they noticed that Sophia was standing stock-still, glaring at them as if they had both just suggested she kill Anthony. Then, as one, they both turned surprised expressions to her.

  "Sophia?" they asked in unison.

  "I do not want to marry him like that!"

  Her aunt paused, disengaging from Reginald long enough to inspect a rose bush. "Like what, my dear?"

  "I cannot force him. Besides," Sophia added with a sigh, "if he did not marry me after a night in gaol, I cannot see that a kiss in a bedroom will force his hand."

  "Then take off your clothes," quipped Reginald.

  "Or, you could take off his," returned Aunt Agatha from her position behind the roses.

  Reginald frowned as he surveyed Sophia with a critical eye. "I am not quite sure she has the strength."

  Sophia just stated, alarmed by the sudden mental illness of the two. Seduction? Kisses? Ripping off the major's clothes? She felt her face heat in memory. Well, perhaps... She ruthlessly cut off her thoughts. "I cannot seduce him. I simply cannot."

  "Ah," sighed Reginald. "Pity. I would have liked to be the one to discover you." He waggled his eyebrows.

  Aunt Agatha stood up, brandishing her shears. "Do not be such a lech!"

  Lord Kyle merely shrugged.

  "Be serious!" Sophia exclaimed, annoyed by her companions' good-natured bickering. "I am at my wits' end, and I have come to you both for help."

  Her two companions frowned, each appearing to consider her options for this serious and weighty manner.

  "Rip off your clothes," said Reginald.

  "No, his," returned her aunt.

  And with that, the helpful pair both wandered away.

  Chapter 13

  Anthony stormed into the Stag's Heart Inn in an extremely foul mood. Kirby took one look at his face and found something else to do. Meanwhile, Anthony flopped down on his bed and began cursing, taking singular delight in exercising his vocabulary.

  God, she had looked lovely. Between the dress and her flawless complexion, not to mention her exquisite figure, it had been all he could do to keep from hauling Sophia into his arms. Yes, he had noticed the slight puffiness around her eyes, seen the telltale signs of her trying to mark it with her paint pot. He knew she had been crying, but that only made it harder to keep from comforting her. From touching her. From loving her.

  But then he had walked in. Lord Kyle, the handsome, stylish, perfect gentleman, who apparently had been visiting with Sophia for the last two weeks.

  Had Kyle been the cause of her tears? Or was it something else? Anthony did not dare hope she cried for the loss of their child, the child who had never been.

  Anthony rubbed his hand over his face, groaning in true unhappiness. She had not chosen him. She preferred to remain in the company of that fop.

  He knew what was happening. Lord Kyle was no doubt spending every moment poisoning Sophia's thoughts in an effort to win his thousand guineas. The man apparently did not know that he had already won.

  Sophia would never be his.

  Well, there was one thing that was absolutely certain. Anthony would not be accompanying her to any blasted house party. He had gone to her home to see that she was well. Her answer had been loud and clear. She was so well, she was entertaining handsome, rich young men. He would be damned if he ever visited her again.

  Anthony was raised from his dark thoughts by a discreet tap on his door.

  "Come in, Kirby," he barked. "I will not kill you."

  "Does that restraint apply to other guests as well?" inquired a cultured voice.

  Anthony sprung to his feet and hauled open die door. There, standing like his worst nightmare come to life, was Lord Kyle, his expression as urbane and annoying as ever.

  "Come for your guineas, no doubt," Anthony snarled. "You shall have them as soon as I contact my banker." And his father, as he himself had nothing close to a thousand guineas in his account.

  "Actually," drawled the man, "I had thought to speak with you on another matter entirely."

  "Perhaps another time. At the moment, I am in no mood for polite company." Anthony's voice was unnecessarily su
rly, but he could not restrain himself.

  "I shall endeavor not to be polite."

  At another time, Anthony might have smiled at that sally, but not now. And not with this man. He merely folded his arms across his chest and glared across the threshold at the intruder.

  Lord Kyle gave a put-upon sigh. "We can accomplish our business out here, but I would much prefer to be private," he said. His voice was calm, but there was an urgency beneath.

  Anthony considered. He would like nothing more than to keep the hateful gentleman out in the hallway, cooling his heels. But he had no idea how much the fop knew. Despite Sophia's promise not to tell a soul what had occurred between them, he could not be sure that Lord Kyle had not somehow wormed the truth from her.

  And that was something he had no wish to discuss in public; no matter her rejection of him, Sophia's reputation was still of utmost importance. With a grimace of distaste he stepped back, swinging the door wide. "By all means," he drawled. "Let us be private."

  Lord Kyle bowed slightly and stepped in, waiting calmly for Anthony to swing the door shut. When he had, Kyle turned and addressed him with a civility that turned Anthony's stomach. He would like nothing better than an excuse to punch the man.

  "I shall endeavor to be blunt," Kyle began. "Am I correct in assuming that you do not wish to accompany us on our outing?"

  Anthony frowned. He had not expected a discussion of this ridiculous excursion to a madman's house. "I intend to return to London posthaste." After all, there was nothing for him here.

  "I would like you to reconsider."

  Anthony raised an eyebrow, this time pushing aside his dislike of the other man to look closer. Beneath Lord Kyle's polished appearance and studied elegance, there was an intelligence that could not be denied. He appeared to be no more than a Jack-a-dandy, but Anthony could see determination in his stance, purpose in his eyes.

  "What do you intend?" Anthony asked, his suspicions well and truly roused.

  Lord Kyle shrugged, but the casual gesture did not fool the major for one moment. "As to that," Kyle answered casually, "I am not entirely sure. I have been asked to speak with my friend's uncle. Perhaps to make some inquiries into the situation there. There have been disturbing rumors of locked doors, angry fits. Guards of amazing brutality. It does not sound at all the thing. Not at all."