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

by Lee, Jade

  "Then why do you go?"

  Kyle sighed as he took a delicate pinch of snuff. "I have already answered that, Major. I wish to investigate. Uncle Latimer was once a dear friend of my mother. I would hate to see him in a poor state." He paused, raising his gaze to Anthony's. "Of his own making or someone else's."

  Anthony shifted, wondering if he truly comprehended the undercurrents here. "Do you believe this Latimer is being unlawfully restrained?"

  Kyle shrugged. "I cannot say. I am merely intent on investigating." Suddenly the man's gaze sharpened. "Though I anticipate nothing untoward, I cannot be sure of Sophia's safety in this matter."

  Anthony stiffened. "Then don't take her!"

  "Unfortunately"—Kyle shrugged—"she is absolutely determined."

  Anthony felt his hands ball into fists. "You must dissuade her," he commanded. "Good God, what kind of man are you to endanger a lady?"

  "Sophia is no shrinking violet. She can care for herself." There was admiration in Kyle's voice.

  "Aye, she can," Anthony agreed reluctantly. "But she is also young, inexperienced, and has a fiery and impulsive temper. She is both a lure and a danger in ways she cannot even conceive." He shifted his weight to a more aggressive stance. "I will not allow you to hurt her in any way."

  Lord Kyle was silent as he appeared to study Anthony. His gaze was keen and penetrating, and Anthony allowed him to see his own absolute determination to protect Sophia in every way.

  Abruptly, Lord Kyle nodded. "Very good. I can see that Sophia will come to no harm in your care."

  "She has never been in danger from me," he growled.

  Kyle responded with a slow smile. "Yes, I can see that. Too bad I did not understand that before I wagered my thousand guineas. Ah, well, you will come, will you not? To protect her?"

  Anthony frowned, wondering if the man were as insane as his strange uncle. "I will do what I must to ensure Sophia's safety," he finally said, amazed by his own dogged stupidity. He ought to be in London dangling after some heiress. How many times would he court rejection at Sophia's hand?

  "Sophia will not thank you for your interference," said Lord Kyle softly, breaking easily into Anthony's grim thoughts.

  Anthony responded with a wry grimace. "She is the most independent female I have ever met."

  "It is one of her charms."

  Anthony grunted as he folded his arms. "Aye. And one of her greatest faults."

  Kyle hesitated, but then he spoke, his words tentative. "Then you care for her?"

  "Of course!" The very question was insulting, but even as he spoke, Anthony realized that there was more to Lord Kyle's question than was at first apparent. In fact, for a moment, he had the distinct impression that he was being interviewed as a father would question a potential son-in-law. He straightened his shoulders and stepped forward, a sudden suspicion making his eyes narrow. "Just what exactly do you intend for this outing?"

  "Why, nothing more than a pleasant trip on a dull afternoon." Lord Kyle's smile became positively mischievous. "I vow it shall be most entertaining."

  With that, he sauntered away.

  * * *

  Anthony wanted to hit something. In fact, he would have thoroughly enjoyed an hour or so pummeling a worthy target. Unfortunately, none was available.

  As promised, he had returned soon after luncheon, ostensibly to join the outing. In truth, he had intended to dissuade Sophia from joining this particular excursion. He knew he would have to tread carefully. Two months ago, he would have simply told her she could not go, then done everything from barring the door to tying her down to keep her safe.

  Now, he realized that such tactics were ineffective with Sophia. Not only would he infuriate her, she would no doubt find a way to cut through her bonds and climb out a window—just to prove that he could not control her.

  As if he had any doubts.

  What he had to do, he realized, was speak with her logically, sensibly, as an adult. That was where he had erred, he realized. From the beginning, he had tried to manipulate Sophia into what he wanted. First, he had played upon her sympathies, proposing from his deathbed. He had masked his fears of rejection by simply assuming that she would honor her promise. And when she had rightly refused to honor so ridiculous a proposal, he had tried logic and insane claims of England and duty. What woman found that appealing?

  When that too failed, he had maneuvered himself into her household and struck a nonsense bargain with her. Why, he had even bribed Baron Riggs to lock them in gaol for a night, believing that once Sophia succumbed to her natural passionate nature, she would be all too willing to marry him.

  And see where all that scheming had brought him? Right back where he started, standing in her hallway, begging for an audience with her. Only this time, he feared that the situation was so bungled that she would not deign to even speak with him.

  Yet, all he had learned did not matter, he decided. Whatever mistakes he had made in the past would just have to be repeated if he had no other options. He could not allow Sophia to risk her person on this mad outing. If he could not reason with her, he would simply have to tie her down and sit on her.

  That decided, he continued to pace, waiting at the foot of the stairs for her approach. Unfortunately, she was making herself completely unavailable to him. From the moment he arrived at her aunt's home, she had disappeared into her bedroom, and that was the last he had seen of her. He had sent a message up, but there had been no response.

  If he were still their butler, he could find some excuse to go up to her bedroom. Given his somewhat tenuous position as guest, he had no business on the upper floors at all.

  That, of course, would not have stopped him, except that Bowen blocked the stairway with the efficiency of one of the major's own best foot soldiers. Short of beating the elderly retainer senseless, Anthony was stuck on the main floor.

  She was avoiding him. There was no doubt in his mind. He was not blind to the tension that had permeated the room this morning, but he had thought it a product of his fevered imagination, a physical state due to lust, desire, maybe even lingering thoughts of his love. His unwanted love.

  Could it be that she felt equally unsettled, and this was her method of dealing with those emotions? But the very thought was insupportable. Sophia was not nearly so much of a coward. The truth was, she simply did not wish to be around him.

  Which made the prospect of this excursion all the more grim.

  * * *

  Sophia twisted her hands beneath the folds of her skirt. She could not believe she was doing this—hiding in her room like a toddler. She stared down at the major's note. He wished to speak with her directly regarding this potentially dangerous outing.

  Clearly he did not wish her to go to mad Latimer's residence, but why? It did not matter. Truthfully, she had her own doubts about the trip. But Lord Kyle had been most insistent. It was important, he had stressed to her at luncheon. And Reginald rarely felt anything was important.

  Still, she had not quite made up her mind. How could she go anywhere with Anthony until she decided what she would do? She had only just realized the true nature of her feelings toward him. But to go from such a shocking thought to Aunt Agatha's suggestion...

  It was just too far a step, too fast. She could not possibly just tear off her clothes and seduce him. Could she?

  Sophia glanced down at her serviceable yellow muslin gown. It was old enough to rip quite easily, but she could not do it. It would be too bold, too brash, too contrary to a lifetime of restraint. Besides, after all she had done to anger and frustrate the major, she sincerely doubted he could ever forgive her, torn clothes and offered heart or not. And she simply could not humiliate herself by throwing herself at him.

  But then she remembered how he had looked this morning. He had been haloed by the sun, his regimentals sparkling, the power in his strong form obvious to anyone with eyes. She remembered the pinched lines about his mouth and eyes—lines likely due to pain from his leg an
d anger at the current situation. She recalled everything she loved about him and more, and knew that she had to try to reach him, to try at least to beg his forgiveness.

  She glanced back at her door, seeing the major in her mind's eye. Suddenly, ripping off her clothing did not seem like so strange an idea. After all, he had not objected to just such an event not too many nights ago.

  She resolved to try. But first she would need to find the perfect gown.

  * * *

  Anthony was still standing by the stairs when Sophia finally came down. The carriage was waiting and everyone was assembled to depart. Everyone, that is, except Lydia's mother, who had declared the outing too vulgar for her taste.

  Anthony was actually pacing, working and reworking his thoughts on how to best approach her. His original plan had required time, which was now sadly lacking. As for tying her up, he could not very well do that with everyone else in the house watching. He would just have to rely on common sense and his forceful nature to get the message across.

  Frankly, he had grave doubts that either would be of any effect at all. Which was his last thought before glancing up and seeing Sophia.

  At one time, when he was feverish in the hospital, he had thought her ethereal, untouchable, an angel of mercy come from Heaven to minister to him. Looking at her now, he saw she was very much a thing of the Earth, a creature to be touched.

  Good Lord, she was dressed for seduction!

  Attired in light blue and gold, she should have looked like sunlight in the sky. But instead of thinking of things celestial, he watched the round, full curve of her breasts and her lush figure. Her gown shimmered and moved in just the right ways and in places he longed to touch, to caress, to kiss.

  Her hair was piled loosely on top of her head, as if the most casual wind would bring it tumbling down around her ears. Her face, usually radiant, seemed flushed and sensual. Then, to make matters worse, as he watched her descend, she nervously wet her lips. The sight of her tiny pink tongue electrified his body as if he had been struck by lightning.

  "My, my, Sophia," drawled Lord Kyle from the side. "You are a surprise."

  Anthony's spine straightened as he turned to glare at Lord Kyle. He noted the gleam of appreciation in the man's eyes, the ready and welcoming smile, and fury nearly overcame his restraint. How dare this fop look at Sophia that way! And yet, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Sophia was not his to command and never would be. His only hope for sanity was if he assured himself that for this afternoon, at least, she would be safe.

  At home. Alone.

  "Lady Sophia," he said curtly, "I wish to speak with you."

  She turned and raised her eyebrow. "You do not wish me to go to visit Reginald's Uncle Latimer."

  Anthony blinked, as startled by her perception as by her low, husky voice. "Uh, I believe—"

  "Not my Uncle Latimer," Lord Kyle interrupted. "My friend's."

  "Of course, Reg. How silly of me. And just who is this mysterious friend?" asked Sophia with a sweet smile. A smile that made a man think of mouths and kisses and illicit tastes.

  "Sophia!" Anthony exploded.

  She turned hack to him, her eyebrows raised. Then, before he could speak, she opened her delectable mouth to address Lord Kyle. "The major believes this will be a most vulgar and potentially dangerous event." She descended the last of the stairs, reaching automatically for Lord Kyle's extended arm. "You did say Uncle Latimer had a predilection for chasing women around tables and all."

  "So it was rumored," answered Kyle with a grin. Anthony noted that the man's eyes were fixed slightly lower than Sophia's face. In fact, his gaze seemed to be trained upon the stunning expanse of creamy white flesh left exposed by her ridiculously low-cut gown.

  "Sophia," he growled. "This is unwise."

  "Piffle," she shot back. "I am going." And with that she sailed past him on Lord Kyle's arm.

  Anthony could only stare at her, his thoughts too tangled to sort, especially as his gaze focused directly on the gentle sway of her curved behind.

  "Coming, Major?" asked Sophia's aunt as she came up behind him, latching her hands around his arm. "I must confess that this activity seems somewhat odd to me. I would much prefer to have a trained soldier along. Yet, if you feel too uncomfortable, I do understand."

  Anthony looked at the sweet lady and nearly groaned out loud. He had no choice now. Even if he could physically drag Sophia from the carriage, it would still leave Percy's fiancee and Lady Agatha subject to Lord Kyle's strange scheme. Whatever was going to happen on this mad outing, he had no choice but to tag along, protecting the ladies to the best of his abilities.

  "I would not dream of being anywhere else," he answered dryly. Calmly he took Agatha's hand and escorted her to the waiting carriage.

  Chapter 14

  "What is the gentleman's full name?" asked Anthony irritably as they tooled down the rutted driveway toward the manor home that was their destination. He felt silly asking, but it was better than listening to Lord Kyle as he teased and cajoled smiles out of Sophia—fond, soft smiles like she had never given him. "We cannot call him Uncle Latimer."

  "Oh, he does not mind," responded Lord Kyle with a wink at Sophia. "He especially enjoys being familiar with lovely ladies such as yourself."

  Anthony felt his hands curl into fists as he imagined himself punching the man directly in the face. As it was, he barely restrained his curt tone. "His name, if you please."

  "Lord Blakesly," answered Lord Kyle with a smile.

  Sophia looked up, a frown pulling at her lips. "Blakesly? Have I met him? I have met the younger Blakesly and cannot say I care for him at all."

  "Blakesly the elder had a sudden illness two years ago," supplied Lord Kyle. "Soon afterwards, he was put here to be cared for, and young Blakesly adopted the title. Some felt it was most premature, but then again, he is young and—"

  "Impertinent?" interrupted Sophia. "That is what I most remember. Impertinent and boorish."

  "You said," put in Anthony, his voice barely civil, "that he purposely stumbled so as to touch you in a most inappropriate way." His blood burned at the thought. But what struck him more was the look of total amazement on Sophia's face.

  "You heard me say that?" she whispered.

  He frowned at her. "Of course I heard it. I heard everything you said."

  "But you were in hospital then. You..." Her voice trailed away as she remembered. "I thought you were unconscious."

  He shook his head, stunned by how little she realized her importance to him. "I assure you, Lady Sophia, were I buried six feet under, I would still hear everything you ever say to me."

  The silence that greeted his words was somewhat unnerving, but only because Sophia was quiet, staring at him as if seeing him for the first time. The others were less important, though some part of him registered the smug expressions on both Lady Agatha's face and Lord Kyle's. Still, his eyes were on Sophia, and it was she who lightened his mood with a soft smile.

  "My apologies, Major. It appears I severely misjudged some things."

  Just as he had misjudged her, he now realized. Stupid from the start, as one of his oldest lieutenants had been fond of saying. Why hadn't he met her and courted her in the usual way, right from the beginning? But there was no help for it now.

  A moment later Miss Lydia Smyth, the boy Percy's fiancee, was speaking, and there was no more time to think. "I remember a different on-dit," she said softly. "Something about a girl. His niece, perhaps?"

  "Ah, yes," returned Kyle coldly. "Melissa eloped. With a Scotsman."

  Anthony looked up, surprised by the sudden anger in Lord Kyle's tone. The man's face had changed, too, closing down to become inscrutable. Clearly there was something more here, he realized, but there was little he could do to explore the issue as the man deftly changed topics. With an almost feminine gesture, Lord Kyle pulled back the carriage curtain and began pointing out at the scenery.

  "Look, we are nearly there," he
said.

  Sophia leaned forward to see and nearly butted heads with Kyle as they both tried to peer outside.

  "Oh, my, pardon me," she gasped.

  "Not at all, my dear. Not at all," he responded congenially. Then, suddenly, all was as it had been moments before. Gone was the moment of rapport between Anthony and Sophia. In its place was that cheerful camaraderie between her and Kyle, creating a cozy scene that made Anthony grind his teeth in frustration. What on earth had ever possessed him to join this ridiculous trip?

  The carriage at last pulled to a stop, and as they all tripped and stumbled their way out of it, Anthony remembered exactly why he had come. One look at the bizarre structure before him and all his military instincts went on alert. He was here, he recalled with grim purpose, to protect Sophia from whatever lived inside it.

  "Oh, my," whispered Lady Agatha from his side. "It does look somewhat forbidding, doesn't it?"

  Anthony could only nod. Lord Blakesly's manor was set in a beautiful meadow of classic pastoral charm. Unfortunately, the house itself looked like a dungeon drawn from the bowels of the earth by a cruel giant's hand. The stone was dark and solid, the windows shuttered, and the ivy so thick it appeared menacing.

  Miss Smyth pronounced the place "delightfully odd" as she snuggled closer to Percy in mock terror. Sophia simply frowned at the dreary structure. Anthony barely restrained a groan, feeling as if he had fallen into a Grimms' fairy tale.

  Lord Kyle remained unfailingly cheerful. "Come along," he said. "No doubt they saw us coming up the drive."

  Indeed, someone had. A rotund, jolly fellow named Sween appeared at the door and introduced himself, exuding good cheer. He shook hands and bowed with all the joy of a preacher finding a new congregation. "My, my, what a surprise," enthused Mr. Sween. "Come in, come in. Always happy to have visitors."