My Favorite Major (Heroes Returned Book 1) (12 page)

Behind her, someone cleared his throat and she turned to find her butler, Higgins, just a few feet away holding a calling card in his hand. “For you, milady.”

Cordie reached for the card and frowned at the name emblazoned on the velum. “Lord Haversham?” Heavens, it had been forever since she’d seen the marquess, and even then she had been quite adamant that Clayworth would not be happy with his one-time rival calling on her in the future.

“
Said it was urgent, milady.”

Cordie tapped the card in her free hand. “Where is my husband?”

“
I believe he is visiting Lord Astwick this morning.”

Yes, that was it. Clayworth had mentioned a planned meeting with his old friend the night before. She sighed. “Very well. Show the marquess into his lordship’s study then, Higgins. I’ll meet with him in there.”

She strode immediately down the corridor and around the corner, into her husband’s private domain. It was as formal a setting as she could think of. Just as she settled behind Clayworth’s desk, Marcus Gray, the Marquess of Haversham, appeared and leaned his large frame against the doorjamb.

“
Radiant as ever, Cordie,” he drawled.

She scowled at him. “I can’t imagine what you are doing here, my lord.”

He bit back a grin and stepped over the threshold. “You used to be much warmer in your greetings, Cordelia. I am wounded.” He touched a theatrical hand to his heart.

“
Oh, I have no doubt,” she replied drolly and gestured to a chair in front of her husband’s desk. “You may sit, if you like.”

“
No, I won’t be long. I just thought you might like to know that someone has been asking quite a lot of questions about your friend Major Moore.”

Cordie sat up straight. “What sort of questions?”

Haversham shrugged. “The sort Kelfield would not be happy about.”

Cordie’s belly twisted. “Something about Olivia, then?” Rumors about his wife would get His Grace’s ire up faster than anything else.

“
In a roundabout way, I suppose.”

“
Marc!” He always had been one of the most exasperating men of her acquaintance. “Pray tell me what you’ve come to say and stop making me jump through hoops.”

“
You should have picked me, Cordie. Clayworth can’t be nearly as exciting.”

She was certain he could hear her teeth grind together even from the distance between them. “Marc!”

“
All right, all right.” His light eyes danced with mirth. “Last night, a fellow found me at a Hazard table and wanted to know every last detail about Kelfield’s duel with the good major.”

Amelia’s jilted fiancé. It had to be. Who else would be asking such questions? And especially now? “What did you say?” Cordie rose from her spot.

The marquess grinned. “That Kelfield is the most gifted swordsman of my acquaintance, my old friend would be quite put out if I said otherwise, but that Major Moore was even better. And that rumor has it, the fellow’s an even better marksman.”

“
And what did the man say?”

“
Not much, as everyone else at the table chimed in with tales of Moore’s bravery and valor on the battlefield.” Then he shrugged. “One would think a man so decorated would have been awarded a title for his efforts.”

Cordie sighed. “The man challenged Philip last night.”

“
I figured as much, and I also figured you’d be unhappy about such turn of events. So I added that anyone who faced Moore might as well dig his own grave. The fellow lost a little of his color after hearing everything I had to say.”

For as much as Haversham pretended otherwise, he really was a very decent man. “I could kiss you for that.”

“
So that Clayworth would call me out?” He chuckled. “And I thought you still liked me a little. I’ve already taken one bullet for you.”

He had, and she’d always love him for it. “I adore you, as you well know.”

“
I am glad to hear it.” He winked at her, then turned to leave. “Give Caroline Staveley my regards when you see her next?”

Cordie shook her head, though she couldn’t hide her smile. “So Caroline will call
me
out?” she teased him. “She doesn’t like discussing you.”

“
Pity.” He nodded in farewell, then sauntered from the study. “Until next time, my dear,” he tossed over his shoulder.

Until next time, indeed. Cordie sank back down into her husband’s chair and closed her eyes. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Haversham had actually frightened this Mr. Mason into withdrawing his challenge? And with Philip asking Amelia to make their betrothal one in reality, her old friend just might get the happily-ever-after he so deserved.

She should go and check on Amelia and Philip. Happily-ever-after notwithstanding, they really shouldn’t be alone for such a long period of time. At least not until after their marriage, which Cordie had no doubt would be sooner rather than later.

She left her husband’s study and returned to her green parlor only to find that Philip had already taken his leave, honorable man that he was. Amelia, however, paced the floor as though she couldn’t sit still.

“
All alone?” Cordie asked.

Amelia frowned at her. “Major Moore just left a moment ago.”

Cordie glanced at Amelia’s traveling cloak, lying in a puddle in the middle of the floor. “Am I to take it you’ll be staying in London after all, then?”

“
I—”

A loud shot rang out, interrupting whatever Amelia was going to say.

“
Heavens!” Cordie started for the corridor. “What was that?”

Higgins appeared in the hallway the same moment. “I believe it came from outside, milady.”

Cordie, with both Amelia and Higgins in her wake, bolted for the front door. She turned the knob and stepped outside and nearly stumbled down the steps at the sight that met her. Philip lying lifeless, facedown in the middle of Hertford Street.

Amelia screamed and then rushed past Cordie, dropping to her knees beside the fallen major.

Tears stung Amelia’s eyes as she collapsed beside Major Moore. Dear God, he wasn’t moving. She touched his back and her heart clenched when her fingers found a patch of sticky wetness. Blood. A lot of it.

Behind her, she heard Cordie order someone to call for a Doctor Watts and to get help, but it was all a blur, as though she was watching it from somewhere above herself. And in the pit of her soul, Amelia knew this was all her fault. Major Moore was dying in her arms, and there was nothing she could do to help him.

“
Move!” barked a gentleman who’d come out of nowhere.

Amelia somehow scrambled out of his way and numbly watched as the finely dressed man helped a footman carry the major inside Clayworth House.

“
Marc,” Cordie ordered, “take him to the first room at the top of the stairs.”

Amelia glanced down at her blood-covered hands, still in a daze, not quite believing what had transpired.

Just moments earlier he’d touched her, kissed her, held her close. And now
—
she stared towards her cousin’s home
—
he was dying.

“
Amelia!” Cordie’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Come along.”

Numbness had set in, but Amelia refused to leave Major Moore’s bedside. She wasn’t certain how he was still clinging on to life and neither was Doctor Watts, who had rushed to Clayworth House to attend the fallen officer. The doctor had stripped the major’s jacket and shirt from his body. He’d extracted a bullet from the officer’s back. Then he’d cleaned and dressed the wound. Amelia had assisted in the entire process. There’d been so much blood, and though she’d felt faint more than once, she’d persevered and kept her focus on helping in any way she could.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Amelia knew that if she left him, the major would take his final breath. So she’d done everything Doctor Watts had asked so he would allow her stay. Now she sat in a wooden chair beside her pretend fiancé and waited.

Behind her, someone cleared his throat in the threshold. Amelia glanced over her shoulder to find Clayworth frowning from his spot just inside the room. “Cordie says you’re refusing to eat.”

She shrugged and turned her attention back to the bed. “I’m not refusing. I’m just not hungry.”

“
Sitting vigil in a sick room is hardly conducive to your health, Amelia.”

“
I won’t leave him. I can’t.”

The earl sighed and stepped further into the room, squeezing her shoulder in silent support. “A fellow from Bow Street would like to speak with you. I’ve already told him everything, but he’d like to hear it from you too.”

“
Will he attend me in here?”

“
Yes, of course. I’ll stay with you as well. He’s not a bad sort. You can trust me on that.”

Amelia nodded, though she barely heard him. All of her attention was focused on Philip Moore, willing him to wake.

The earl departed, only to return a moment later with a rather stoic man in an unfashionable brown jacket. Clayworth gestured to his companion with a tilt of his head. “Amelia, this is Mr. Blackaby from Bow Street. Blackaby, my cousin Miss Pritchard.”

“
Mr. Blackaby,” she mumbled.

The runner nodded in greeting. “Sorry to meet you under such circumstance, Miss Pritchard.”

Clayworth walked the length of the chamber and settled against the window frame. “Cordie and I met Mr. Blackaby last year after we found ourselves in an unfortunate situation.”

“
Lord Haversham was involved with that incident too,” the runner remarked. “You don’t think someone was aiming for him again?”

Amelia didn’t even know who Lord Haversham was. Or did she? Was he the gentleman who had helped carry Major Moore back inside Clayworth House?

“
Anything is possible.” Clayworth shrugged. “The man has enough enemies, but as I said below, I don’t believe so. Haversham stopped by to warn my wife about a fellow who was asking questions about Major Moore.”

Someone had been asking questions about the major? Amelia blinked at her cousin. “What sort of questions?”