“Miss Winslow,” he said as he came to attention then bowed formally.
“Lord Greenville,” she quickly answered as she dropped into a deep curtsey.
He put out his left hand to help her up then smiled at her making her heart melt. He was pleased to see her. A secret fear of him regretting his actions five years earlier sank away. As his eyes studied her, she felt a quick sense of unease as her stomach began to flutter.
“You have changed,” he said with a quick smile.
“You have not, My Lord,” she responded before she could stop herself.
He laughed, “Perhaps not on the outside.”
Emily bit her tongue before she could tell him that he still appeared to be the tall strong Major she remembered. The man who set the standard by which all men were judged. Thankfully, she retained enough control to refrain from making a fool of herself.
“Welcome home Greenville,” Lord Hawley said with obvious distaste.
The Major ignored him as he slowly examined her. His eyes traveling up over her body and then studying her face. Inside, a warm shiver traveled through her body. She knew when a man liked what he saw. Thank God, she was no longer that gawky thirteen-year-old.
Taking a deep breath, she studied him closely. His uniform hung loosely as if he had lost a great deal of weight. He appeared pale beneath his Iberian tan. Had he suffered for a long period? she wondered. Then there was his shoulder in the sling. How serious was it? Was he in much pain?
He continued to peer into her eyes as if searching to solve a puzzle. A sense of feminine pride washed through her as a strange new feeling filled her. The Major’s eyes had narrowed with a very male look. He saw a woman, not a little girl she realized. Life could be so perfect she thought as she fought to stop from smiling too broadly.
The band began for the first dance.
“I believe this is my dance, Miss Winslow,” Lord Hawley said to her as he bowed.
Emily could not look away from the Major.
The Major smiled gently to her then finally acknowledged the other men. “Gentleman, If you will excuse me. I need to discuss some things with my ward.”
“I say, Greenville,” Lord Hawley said with a deep frown, obviously upset.
The Major turned on him, his smile dropped, and a steady, hard stare flashed behind his eyes. Emily balked, this was a man she had never known. A feral beast barely under control. The look of a wolf protecting his pack. What is more, Lord Hawley saw it as well.
Stepping back, he stammered for a moment then nodded slightly indicating he was not going to make an issue of losing his opportunity for a dance.
The Major scoffed under his breath dismissively then looked out over the crowd of men who had all been fighting for her attention. “I won’t keep her long gentlemen,” he said as he took her hand and tucked it into his left arm.
Emily’s insides turned to shaken pudding as she fought to retain control.
“Please tell me that Aunt Martha accompanied you. A young girl shouldn’t be left alone with that lot.”
She frowned, why was he mad? This was the ton. The best of Britain. Besides, she wasn’t a little girl. She was eighteen and more than old enough to take care of herself.
“Yes, My Lord,” she said as she pointed to the far end of the room where Lady Denton sat with her friends.
His shoulders slumped as he began to lead her back to Lady Denton.
“So, are you enjoying your season?” he asked. “From what I saw it seems so.”
She felt her cheeks flush.
“But then,” he continued, “a pretty girl always does attract the wrong sort.”
Her brow furrowed as she fought to understand. “Wrong? What is wrong with the men to whom I was talking?” The memory of the look he had given Lord Hawley sent a shiver down her spine.
He laughed, “They are men. And you are much too young to tell the good ones from the bad.”
Her stomach fell when she realized that he still thought of her as too young to know what was best for herself. A girl, not a woman. An anger began to build inside of her until she reminded herself that this was the Major. The man who had saved her from a miserable life. The man her father had respected so much. The man she had prayed for every day for these last five years.
“I can assure you, Lord Greenville. I am not an idiot, nor as naive as you think. Lady Denton has gone out of her way to ensure so.”
He frowned as he twisted to study her. A strange look came over his eyes before he returned to the stoic statue she had always remembered. “Perhaps. But, even Aunt Martha doesn’t know everything.”
Emily laughed, “I wouldn’t tell her that if I were you.”
The Major smiled and nodded. “I also am not an idiot.”
A sense of calmness washed over her as she looked up at him. He was home. Her prayers had been answered. But it was more. It was as if she felt connected to him. He had assumed responsibility for her very existence and wellbeing simply to fulfill a debt. When no one in this world had truly cared, he had swooped in and plucked her from a life of misery. Of course, she felt this sense of connection.
But, still, there was more. At some point over the years when reading his letters, she had come to realize that they viewed the world the same way. Honestly, with open eyes, they both knew the horrors and pain of the world. Yet could both appreciate the wonder and beauty of it.
“Greenville!” Lady Denton gasped as she stood and rushed to him. Emily felt him wince as Lady Denton pulled him into a hug, right there in the ballroom in front of a hundred people. All of which would spread the tale of Lady Denton’s lack of decorum.
Emily could well imagine the whispers. ‘Granted, the man had just returned from the front. And granted, he was obviously injured. A hero in every respect. But, hugging him. In public like that. It just isn’t done. Even with a nephew.’
Lady Denton pulled back to stare up into his eyes then gave Emily a broad grin. “I told you, didn’t I?”
Emily nodded, unable to stop smiling. It pleased her heart to see her employer so happy. Finally, able to put aside the fear that had hung over them all these years.
“So, what do you think?” Lady Denton said to him before nodding in Emily’s direction.
Emily felt her cheeks grow warm as the Major turned and slowly examined her again. “Remarkable,” he said. Nothing more. But it was the perfect word in Emily’s view. Her heart jumped.
“But,” he continued, “too young to be allowed to mingle with the likes of those rakes and reprobates unaccompanied. I am rather disappointed in you, Aunt Martha.”
Once again, Emily’s heart fell.
Lady Denton, however simply laughed and waved her hand. “No woman catches a man with an old lady looking over her shoulder. It makes the girl nervous and the man timid.”
The Major continued to frown, obviously not accepting Lady Denton’s opinion on the matter.
“I tell you,” the older woman continued, “I am hoping for a Viscount, or maybe even an Earl. You wouldn’t believe it. She is like a breath of fresh air. Calm, confident. I must say. I am rather pleased with myself.”
Emily fought to stop from blushing. Compliments had always been difficult. But now, here in front of the Major, they seemed preposterous. Looking up, she saw something behind the Major’s eyes. A fatigue that surprised her. Then, a small bead of sweat at the top of his forehead, buried in his hairline.
“My Lady,” Emily said, “the Major has come a long way and would probably prefer to rest.”
Lady Denton frowned, then studied him for a moment, taking in the sling and the paleness. Suddenly, realization sank in.
“Of course, of course,” Lady Denton said as she took his working arm. “We should go. Her Grace will understand.”
The Major stiffened, obviously upset to be thought of as infirm or in need of special consideration. “There is no need, I assure you. I had intended to hail a cab.”
“A cab. Never. We have the use of yo
ur brother’s coach,” Lady Denton said as she started to lead him to the Duchess so that they could say their goodbyes.
“I am surprised he is not here with you?”
“John?” Lady Denton exclaimed. “He is at King’s Dale. Has been for months. Liverpool gave him leave. Something about his intentions on some silly law. The Prime Minister prefers that he stay away from London for the moment.”
The Major frowned before slowly nodding.
“So, you won’t have that trauma for tonight,” Lady Denton added with a knowing smile.
Emily watched as the Major sighed heavily. She had never fully understood the tension between the two brothers. Lady Denton had refused to go into the matter. Some things - things such as family dynamics - were never discussed outside the family. And Emily was not family. Not truly.
Once the goodbyes had been completed and arrangements made for a less formal get together next week, the three stepped out onto the street as a footman hurried to retrieve their carriage.
The Major stood between them. Emily couldn’t stop from reaching over and touching his sleeve. He caught her at it and silently raised an eyebrow.
“I was just confirming that you were real and not a figment of my imagination. That the Major had actually returned.”
He didn’t laugh. Instead, he took a deep breath and stared off into the distance. Emily wondered what he was thinking about. What memory was eating at his insides? She feared she would never know the answers to the mystery that was the Major. A fact that created her own sorrow.
Chapter Six
Major Greenville winced as Corporal Jones slid the jacket up and over his injured shoulder.
“This is a mistake, Major,” Jones said.
“The shoulder is getting better,” the Major replied. “Your grandmother’s salve seems to be working.
Jones shook his head. “It ain’t the shoulder that worries me. It’s the malaria. It’s coming back, I can tell. The yellow eyes. Two days from now you’ll be flat on your back sweating like a spring rain and half out of your head.”
The Major took a deep breath. His man was right, he could feel it coming on. But that meant he only had two days to start things rolling.
After Jones had helped him slip his arm into the sling, he stepped back to examine his employer. “The first time I seen you in regular clothes, Sir. I wish you’d ‘uv given me time to let it out some.”
The Major laughed. “No need to ruin my brother’s coat. I’ll have a new wardrobe by the end of the week.”
Again, Jones shook his head as he pulled at the cutaway jacket to make it fall straight. “Not if you’re sick you won’t, Sir. Tailors can’t measure a man if’n he’s lay’n in bed. Except’n for a shroud that is.”
Shaking his head, the Major examined himself in the mirror. Yes, it would do. Looking at the reflection of Jones, he felt a deep sense of appreciation for the man. “Are you fitting in well?” He asked. “Any problems downstairs? Jarvis hasn’t given you a hard time?”
Corporal Jones laughed. “Sir, last night I slept in a soft bed between clean sheets. Didn’t hear no cannons. No men snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Mr. Jarvis could ‘uv been as fierce as Sergeant Major Powell and I would a still thought I was in heaven.”
The Major chuckled to himself, then grew somber as he thought of the men he had left behind in Spain. His men. How were they? Who had taken over his battalion? The feeling that he had abandoned his men created a hurt deep in his gut.
“I’m sure they’re doing fine, Sir,” Jones said with a concerned look in his eyes. The Major admonished himself for allowing his emotions to show. No, he would need to be careful around Jones. The man knew him too well and saw too much.
The Corporal quickly bent to pull at the back of the Jacket. The Major knew the man was giving him a moment to compose himself.
“You didn’t tell me,” Jones said without looking up. “That your ward was such a beauty. And sweet, the maids were telling me. Unusual for a pretty woman in my experience.”
The Major laughed. “Do you have a lot of experience with beautiful ladies?”
Jones continued to tug at the coat. “Ladies, … no. But women are women. If’n they be beautiful, other women look for a fault somewhere else. The fact that the maids ain’t found one is … unusual. Especially one who has risen so far above her station. It makes her a tempting target for their biting tongues.”
The Major ground his teeth, he despised the idea of the servants talking about Miss Winslow this way but he knew it would never be otherwise. A house just naturally filled with gossip.
“She cornered me, Miss Winslow, early this morning,” Jones said as he stepped back. “Asking to your health.”
“I assume you told her it was none of her business.”
Corporal Jones laughed, “No Sir. She was so obviously worried, and she is rather pretty after all.”
The Major turned to stare into his valet’s eyes. “And?”
The other man shrugged his shoulders. “I told her you were in the peak of health when you consider where you were two weeks ago.”
“Good,” the Major said as he turned to examine himself again.
“Then, I told her you were a hardheaded officer who wouldn’t listen to those of us who know better. And that if’n you weren’t careful you’d have one of them relapse things those idiot doctors talked about.”
The Major scowled. “Corporal Jones, I assure you, I can find another valet.”
The Corporal smiled back, “None that know the secret to my grandmother’s salve, Sir.”
Major Greenville rolled his eyes, then turned and left before he got into an even deeper argument with the man. Of course, as he stepped off the bottom step of the staircase, Miss Winslow chose that moment to step out of the parlor. Two newspapers folded under her arm.
For a brief moment, their eyes locked. The Major pushed down the tantalizing thoughts flying through his mind and took a deep breath. The woman was curved in just the right way. The way that held a man’s interest.
“My Lord,” Miss Winslow said as she dropped into a deep curtsey.
“Miss Winslow,” he said as he let out a long breath. “There is no need to be so formal, not here in the house. Especially when my brother, the Duke, isn’t present.”
“Of course, My Lord,” she said as her cheeks grew pink. Obviously, the girl was embarrassed which made him wince inside. These people were not hardened soldiers, he reminded himself. He would need to be careful or he’d have them scurrying around afraid of their own shadows.
Although, something told him that it would take a great deal to put fear into this young woman. Embarrassment yes, fear no. He well remembered finding her there on the factory floor. Her hands dancing in and out of that blasted machine. Then, accepting her new role without a hint of fear or hesitation. And at such a tender age.
Now, here before him, she hadn’t cringed away from his scowl.
“Are you going out for the evening?” she asked with obvious concern yet unafraid of confronting him. “Are you sure that you are well enough? My Lord.
The concern in her eyes made him turn and shoot Corporal Jones a look. The Corporal had the good sense to duck his head and hurry downstairs.
“Yes, Miss Winslow, I am going out for the evening. I have business to attend to. Then, If I am lucky, I will become extremely inebriated. At which point I will return but I will promise not to wake the entire house.”
Her cheeks grew even redder. Damn, he thought. Once again, he had gone too far. She thought he was putting her in her place for asking to his plans. A sense of shame filled him as he realized that was exactly what he had done. What was it about this woman that made him speak without thinking things through?
“Of course, My Lord,” she said as she dipped a quick curtsy then turned to leave. Probably in a rush to be away before he could admonish her once more.
“Miss Winslow,” he said. “Do you always wear your hair as such?”
&
nbsp; Her face blanched as her hand reached up to ensure things were still in place.
“Yes, My Lord,” she told him. “Why do you ask?”
He lifted his uninjured shoulder in a half shrug, “No reason, but I find it charming.”
Once again, her cheeks grew pink. For just the briefest of moments their eyes locked then she quickly turned. Obviously desperate to be away from him.
Taking a deep breath, he forced thoughts about Miss Winslow from his mind as he focused on the task before him. Later, when he stepped into Whites, the best gentleman’s club in London, he thought once again that here too was a part of England worth saving.
The polished oak. The footmen in livery. The scent of candles and whiskey. The low rumble of men talking amongst themselves. Rich, powerful men.
“Lord Greenville, for His Grace, the Duke of Bedford,” he told the footman at the door.
“Of course, My Lord,” the footman replied as he led the way to his three friends in the back corner. The three men rose to greet him.
“Does Wellesley know you are out of uniform?” Ian asked as he indicated to the footman to bring another round.
Duncan laughed, “Most of mine are cinders and ash. This will have to do until I can be properly fitted.”
A somber look came over his friends' faces. Duncan’s stomach clenched. He didn’t wish to get into his experiences. Or, at least not all of them. No, tonight was for something else.
“So, marriage,” he said to them with a smile as he shook his head. “All three of you. What, do they do? Issue a wife with the title?”
Jack threw his head back and laughed. “I would be careful. You are home now. A war hero. A rich brother. The young ladies will be pursuing you like a golden treasure. If not, then their mothers will be pushing them to do so.”
Duncan took a drink and let the whiskey burn its way to his stomach. “They will be wasting their time. An heir is John’s responsibility.”
“There are other reasons to take a wife,” Brock said, giving his friends a knowing look.
“Not good ones,” Duncan answered as he studied his friends. Granted, they appeared happy. Content even. But then, they didn’t have the memories he held burning in his mind every night. No, he would never burden a wife with himself. No woman deserved that.
A Duke's Decision (The Duke''s Club Book 4) Page 4
