Major Wyclyff's Campaign (A Lady's Lessons, Book 2) (7 page)

"You think he will come back for me?" Sophia asked softly.

Aunt Agatha shifted uneasily on the bed. "He will act according to his nature."

Sophia looked up at her aunt, unable to fathom what she was suggesting. "What?"

Her aunt gave a fond smile, pushing up as she prepared to leave her niece's bedroom. "He is a military man. Think, Sophia; what does a good officer do when faced with clear defeat?"

"Retreat."

The older woman nodded. "And then what?"

Sophia shrugged. She had not the slightest clue.

"He tries an oblique assault, my dear. If I were you," the woman added with a slight wink, "I would prepare for a flanking maneuver."

"But whatever is that—" she began.

Agatha waved her to silence. "And when he does," she continued, "perhaps we could arrange a simple test, a way for him to prove his commitment to you. You find him arrogant and demanding? Perhaps we could force him to serve—with constancy and humility." Then before Sophia could demand an explanation, Agatha rose and wandered from the room, a pensive smile on her face.

Sophia frowned at her aunt's departing form, wondering what test the dear lady could devise. It did not matter, she decided. She had her own plans for thwarting the major.

Chapter 3

Anthony's leg was stiff as he dismounted in front of the Rathburn house, but it was not the pain that made his movements so awkward. It had been years since he had brought a gift to a lady. In fact, the last time had been when he was no more than fourteen, carrying a bunch of wildflowers to his mother for her birthday.

This time, he was bringing a whalebone corset to the woman who had summarily dismissed him only three days before. Still, he reminded himself, he had no cause to be awkward. She was a reasonable woman who no doubt had come to see the error of her earlier decision.

He did not come to this conclusion lightly, but had spent a great deal of thought on the probability of it. If he guessed correctly, Sophia had spent the first day after his appearance in righteous indignation. His continued existence had obviously come as a shock, and her reaction had been one of confusion and distress at so unexpected an event. In his experience, it generally took women approximately a day to calm their emotions.

The next twenty-four hours had likely passed in silent thought as Sophia's temper cooled and reason once again asserted itself. It would have taken a little less than another day for her to step logically to the realization that she had made a mistake in trying to cry off their engagement.

So it was this midafternoon, three days after Sophia's refusal, that Anthony arrived with corset in hand, intending to once again ask Lady Sophia to set the date of their wedding.

"She will not receive you."

Anthony paused in the act of handing his horse to a servant, turning slightly as he searched for the source of the muffled voice. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said, 'She will not receive you.'"

The sound came from behind him, and Anthony once again twisted awkwardly, scanning the near gardens for the source of the female voice. The woman emerged slowly, backing out from beneath a large hedge, her round posterior quivering as she wiggled and twisted.

Lady Agatha, Sophia's aunt.

"These vines are terribly difficult," she muttered as she tugged on a rather long and twisted vine of unknown progeny. "They were a special gift from a dear but dotty old friend, imported from the Continent. The plant, not the friend. I thought to simply kill the thing, but everywhere I turn, there it is again, growing in the most difficult places. Here," she continued, pushing the greenery in question into his hand. "Have a tug."

Anthony had no choice. Good manners insisted that he comply with the lady's request. Wrapping the vine around his glove, he pulled... to no avail.

"Come now, Major," Lady Agatha chided as she finally stepped out of the shrubbery, her ribbons trailing behind her. "Put your back into it."

"Perhaps your gardener..."

"Nonsense. This will take but a moment."

Anthony sighed, impatient to see Sophia, but the girl's aunt appeared blithely ignorant of his desires. Finally giving in to the inevitable, he put aside his wrapped package and added his other hand to the first and began to tug.

Nothing.

Frowning, he set his feet wider and pulled again. This time, he was rewarded with a slight hitch as at least one root gave way.

"Oh, bravo, Major. Please, keep pulling."

"Madame—"

"Pull!" The lady added force to her command by laying her hands on top of his and adding her own bulk to his weight. Together they hauled on the vine while her ribbons brushed his nose and fluttered in his eyes.

"Madame," Anthony sputtered. "Your bows... madame!"

But it was too late. Though he tried to fight the urge, the sneeze was as undeniable as the persistent tickle of her ribbons. It exploded through him with the force of a gale, ripping the roots from the soil and throwing both him and Lady Agatha backward.

He landed flat on his gift of fashionable unmentionables and skidded directly into a patch of mud.

"Bravo, Major!" Lady Agatha cried as she tumbled off of him, further mangling what was left of his package. "I feel certain we have finished this usurper once and for all!" She waved the uprooted vine, then gained her feet, calmly shifting the vine to inspect its dirty base. "Oh, bother! I thought you would be strong enough to get more of the root system." She sighed heavily. "But I supposed there is a limit to what even a major of His Majesty's army can achieve."

Anthony did not dare comment; he was busy surveying the damage done to the poor corset, not to mention his now soiled attire. Surveying his damaged gift, he realized the shopkeeper had been less than expert in his wrapping. The box had split open and a whalebone corner had cleaved a deep rut through the mud.

Really, he thought as he lifted the item from the muck, why did women subject themselves to such torment? The corset looked most uncomfortable to him.

"A corset, Major? That is a tad unusual."

He glanced up, feeling his face heat to the roots of his hair. "Lady Sophia suggested, um, that I purchase her new ones as I, uh, ruined her—"

"Ah, yes, that silly ritual." Lady Agatha shook her head and turned away. "I thought it would be good for her at the time, but I can see it has just confused her mind even more."

Anthony frowned as the lady began walking away. Confused her mind? Perhaps this sweet lady possessed the answer to Sophia's strange behavior. "Lady Agatha," he called as he hurried to catch up with her. "What do you mean, confused her mind?"

"Hmmm? Oh, she wished to be rid of everything related to London, and burying corsets has always sounded like a perfectly delightful thing to me, so I suggested she do it. Now it appears she was more interested in burying you." She bent down to lift up a basket of cuttings, pausing to take a frowning look at his muddy clothing. "I suppose I cannot blame her for refusing you, if that is your choice of attire when calling."

He looked up at the lady, frustration washing over him as he catalogued the things he now must do before finishing his business with Sophia. Not only would he have to go back to his room to bathe and change, but he would have to purchase a new corset, a most humiliating affair, to be sure. By the time that was accomplished, Sophia would no doubt be bedded down for the night.

"Well, you need not glare like that at me," exclaimed the lady as she calmly folded the vine into her basket. "I am not the one who has barred the door to you."

It was not until Anthony had given up trying to clean off his pantaloons that her words sank in. But by that time, the woman had already begun wandering to the near gardens, and he was forced to catch up to her there. "Sophia has barred the door to me?"

Lady Agatha grasped one of her fluttering ribbons and tugged on it far enough to pull back the wide brim of her bonnet. "Did I not just say so?"

"Well, of course," muttered Anthony as he measured his pace to hers. "But that must have been two days ago. By now your niece has reevaluated the situation enough to—"

"To be seeking your visit?"

Anthony smiled. "Yes."

"No."

"But..."

Lady Agatha took a sharp turn to the right, and Anthony had to struggle over a rather strange purple hedge to remain by her side.

"She will not see you, Major. She will not even go out of the house in case she might chance to meet you. In fact, she has vowed to remain inside until her mother writes that you are safely ensconced in London, wooing some other girl."

It was fortunate that Lady Agatha chose that moment to suddenly stoop down over a broad-leafed weed, for Anthony stopped dead in his tracks to consider her words.

"Sophia is not nearly that stubborn," he said, as much to himself as to the girl's aunt.

"Oh, I assure you, Sophia is that stubborn and more. You shall have quite a time if you intend to continue wooing her."

Anthony did not answer. He was too busy considering his options. There were not many. "She has truly barred the door?"

"Most explicitly."

"Does she take walks?"

"Not anymore."

"She must ride."

"She sold her horse in London."

"Damnation! Then how am I to see her, short of dancing on the rooftops and dropping whole into her bedroom?"

"Oh, pray do not do that!" cried Lady Agatha. "You would undoubtedly crush the rare plants I have cultured by her window."

Anthony stared at the plump woman digging gingerly at some weed as if she was born to the task. Then, suddenly, she turned her head and he gazed into her pale green eyes. He had not realized they were so keen, but here with the sunlight falling full on her face, he felt the weight of a stare his commanding officer had never managed.

Instinctively, he stiffened his spine. "Madame?"

She stood slowly, bringing the muddy weed with her. "So you intend to continue wooing my niece."

It was not a question, but he answered it nonetheless. "Yes, my lady."

"Why?" she asked. "Certainly there are other girls available to you."

"Lady Sophia has already consented."

The woman snorted as she tossed the weed away. "Sophia is locked in her room for fear that she might see you. Is that how you wish to spend your married life? With a wife who bars the door to you?"

"Of course not! Sophia is not truly so intemperate."

"You know full well she is," the lady snapped. "I repeat my question: Why Sophia?"

He answered without thought, as if commanded by a superior officer. "Because she is perfect in every way."

Clearly that was not the correct answer; Lady Agatha shook her head, and her eyes narrowed as she inspected him from head to toe. "Sophia finds you domineering and inflexible. I cannot say that I disagree."

Shock jolted him out of his rigid posture. "But that cannot be true," he said, as much to her as to himself. "Our conversations in the hospital were spirited and entertaining." His tone softened in memory. "She even said I had a stimulating perspective on the world."

"Are you certain she said that?"

His posture stiffened, and he found himself somewhat offended. "Those very words."

The lady sighed, then ambled forward through her garden while Anthony hurried to fall in line with her. But even as they moved, his gaze shifted upward, to Sophia's bedroom window. He had to speak with her. Surely, face to face he could find a way to convince her.

Then her aunt was speaking, jolting him out of his thoughts. "You must prove to her that you can be flexible. That you can serve."

Anthony frowned. "I was a soldier in His Majesty's army. I served every day of my career."

Her chuckle set her ribbons to dancing about her hair. "A wife is a much more difficult taskmaster than His Majesty."

Anthony stopped walking, his impatience getting the better of him. "My lady, I beg of you, call your niece outside. Allow me to speak with—"