A Gentleman by Moonlight

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  Not that it mattered, really, Lewis supposed. As long as enough people believed that he was genuinely attempting to leave the military life and his Bow Street duties behind him, settle down, and assume some sort of role in society appropriate for an independently wealthy third son of a marquess who was now openly courting Lady Sophia Reynolds, that was all that counted in the end. Or so he hoped.

  Once more, however, Lewis questioned his sanity as he moved through the overly crowded room and wondered why he had agreed to this absurd plan in the first place. At the time, he had assumed that it was merely to salvage the reputations of all involved, as well as regain his rightful place in Society without too much of a struggle. And, very well, there might have been some dash of nostalgia thrown in for good measure since, even though she very clearly did not remember him, Lewis did remember the bold and brash, yet still incredibly young Lady Sophia that he had danced with at her come out ball so many years ago.

  Now, though, he wondered if he had agreed to this absurdity simply because he was losing his mind. Why else would he subject himself to this sort of scrutiny otherwise? Surely there was a better way to re-enter Society without all of this drama and subterfuge. Wasn't there?

  Then, Lewis caught sight of Lady Sophia in her golden green confection of a gown, and he immediately recognized the strongest, and perhaps most compelling, reason as to why he had agreed to play her beau for the Little Season. For one single moment out of time, he wished to have a beautiful woman on his arm. To prove to everyone, including the gossips, that he was more than his scars and his limp. That beneath all of the surface damage, he was still a man, strong and desirable. And, more than that, worthy of a beautiful woman's affections. Even if it was a lie.

  For Sophia was supremely beautiful, without question, and the sort of woman any man would desire to have on his arm. Oh, she was not the right woman for him in so many other ways, but in the end, that trifle did not matter, as this was all a game anyway. Still, for a little while, he could pretend. He could imagine that he lead a very different sort of life and was free to choose a stunning, brazen woman such as Sophia for a bride. He couldn't really, of course. Couldn't risk taking a chance on any woman who might attract a bright light to the secrets his family wished to keep hidden. However, he could still dream. And at present, he was doing just that - dreaming dreams inspired by a woman he could never have.

  Tonight, Sophia wore a glorious golden gown that was accented with greenish hues seemingly woven into the very fabric itself that lent her skin a bronzed glow. As if she had spent a summer in the sun. Which, he knew for a fact she had after a brief meeting earlier in the day with Sophia's brother the duke who had not been quite as enamored of his mother's plan as the dowager had been.

  According to Hathaway, at Willowby Hill, Sophia had gone off for long walks on her own and rode her horse, Spitfire, across the lush, open fields of the estate as she pleased - for as long as she pleased during the course of a day. She had eschewed bonnets and any sort of covering for her face, neck and shoulders, defying the conventional wisdom that a woman should be exquisitely pale at all times, even in the height of summer when just about everyone - male and female both - took some color to their skin, though not much if they could help it, however.

  The notion of darker than normal skin hadn't bothered Sophia in the least and she had almost seemed to relish the deepening bronze of her body as the days slipped one into another. In general, while in the country, Sophia had dressed how she pleased, done as she liked, and generally behaved like a shadow of a person more than anything else, one who did not care a whit for Society when before, their approval was all she had lived for.

  Adam had confided in Lewis how utterly terrifying it had been to watch his once-strong and proud sister seemingly unravel right before his eyes. She had always been something of a contradiction, the duke had confessed, at times seemingly docile and delicate in one moment and then defiant and headstrong in another. Yet that sort of behavior was also one of the things that Society loved best about Sophia, at least according to her brother. To see her begin to fade away and become a shell of her former self had been frightening.

  Now, however, she seemed different once more, at least according to the duke and he had been living with her for some time after returning from his honeymoon with his new wife. So he, above all others, was in a position to note the changes in his sister's behavior.

  This creature was not the old Sophia, at least not according to Adam, but also not the wraith-like creature she had become at Willowby Hill, either. In the span of a single day, she had transformed again, and while Lord Adam Reynolds had no idea whether or not the changes in his sister would last, he credited Lewis for the fact that she had come alive again at all. So when Adam's mother had informed him of her plan for Lewis and Sophia to pretend to court in order to help them both socially, he had been skeptical - particularly of Lewis' motives in light of his temporary dismissal from Bow Street.

  After their early morning meeting, however, Adam's fears had seemingly been laid to rest, and Lewis had received the other man's blessing for the false courtship. That had been important to Lewis, for he didn't wish to bring any more harm to the Reynolds family, though he did wish to help Sophia for reasons that he still could not yet explain to anyone, including himself.

  As she made her way through the crowd, Lewis could see the fear begin to flicker in Sophia's eyes, but she marched on, as defiant as any battlefield soldier he had ever met. Her brother was on one side of her, her sister in law on the other, and they both shone brightly in their own right. However, in Lewis' opinion, no one could sparkle or dazzle more than Lady Sophia did in that moment. It was as if she was daring Society to even so much as suggest that she might be tainted in any way.

  There were persistent rumors, of course, and had been since that night at the Bull and Toad. However if those rumors were ever going to be laid to rest, Sophia had to give the fine folks of London something new to gossip about, something that suggested that she was still as desirable - and still as innocent - as she had always been. Tonight, she was doing just that and Lewis was ready to play his part. Despite some whispers from his conscience that this might not be the best course of action.

  "Your graces." Lewis dropped into as low of a bow as his leg would tolerate as the duke and duchess approached. "It is wonderful to see you this evening."

  "And you as well, Lord Blackmore." This "chance" meeting had all been planned between Lewis and Adam, of course over tea that very morning. As had the plan for them to play up the long ago dance between Lewis and Sophia, so that this sudden attraction and courtship would not seem like such a rushed - and quite possibly false - romance. "I had thought you were going to decline to attend this evening. Busy with Bow Street and what not?" It was a question that they both already knew the answer to very well.

  Lewis shrugged, well aware that the people around him were hanging on his every word while desperately trying to appear as if they really weren't at all interested in the conversation. "I have decided to take some time away from Bow Street. My father is unwell, and my brother Guy has requested my help at the estate. Especially since my middle brother Silas cannot be located at the moment I am afraid."

  With each lie that he told, Lewis felt the web of deceit he was weaving tighten around him, but he also knew that it was all absolutely necessary. Especially now when he had just received word from his family that very afternoon that his brother Silas, who had never been quite normal since he was a child anyway, had been removed once more to Westwind, the family's country estate in Dorset for the remainder of the Little Season. Though Lewis did not have any details as of yet, since the brief note sent by special messenger from his brother, Guy, had only been a scant three lines long, he knew that if Silas had been sent to Westwind, then his brother's behavior was very bad, indeed. This was not good news, especially with the issue of Sophia still looming before him.

  "Family first, as my friends and I always say," Lor
d Hathaway agreed easily. "That is why we are here after all, even with my wife nearing her confinement. My sister is still on the husband-hunt, I'm afraid, and she just cannot seem to make up her mind as to which of her many beaux she might finally settle upon." Adam made it a deliberate point not to mention Lord Selby, almost as if daring anyone else to either.

  "Your grace." This time, Lewis bowed to Abigail. "You are positively glowing this evening."

  She laughed, even though that was not the done thing, and once more Lewis marveled at how fortunate Lord Adam Reynolds had been to snare this lovely woman as his wife. The daughter of a wealthy merchant, the former Miss Abigail Northrup did not hold quite as fast to social rules as some other women of Lewis' acquaintance. He found that rather refreshing, actually, and suspected that the duke did as well. It was likely part of the reason why Hathaway had married her after so brief - not to mention scandalous - of a courtship.

  "Ah, you are such a silver-tongued devil, Lord Blackmore," Abigail replied with a glimmer of something speculative in her eyes. "It is little wonder that you have found Lady Sophia's favor as of late."

  And there it was. The entrance that Lewis had been waiting for, the single sentence that would make this farce of theirs seem less like something contrived and more like something that had been simmering between him and Sophia for some time.

  Once more, Lewis bowed low, this time taking Sophia's hand in his own. He noted that she did not quake at his touch the way he assumed she might. Good for her. She was truly remarkable in that fashion. "I am, indeed, very fortunate, Lady Hathaway. I am even more fortunate that this summer when we met again after so long, Lady Sophia remembered that long-ago waltz from her come out and did not find me lacking after all this time apart."

  Sophia giggled and tittered a bit before dropping into an answering curtsey as she clutched her fan almost too tightly within her fist. All the while, her eyes scanned the room as if looking for an escape, yet she did not run. Then, her gaze came to rest upon his and Lewis could see her visibly relax. "My lord," she said in a surprisingly steady voice as she rose again with only the slightest of wobbles. He doubted anyone but him - and possibly her family - even noticed the small slip. "It is a pleasure to see you this evening. I am so thankful that your other, numerous duties do not preclude you from joining us at such a lovely affair. Lady Stonebridge does host a magnificent ball."

  For a moment, Lewis wondered if anyone other than he and her immediate family could tell that Sophia was lying through her teeth, or that she was clearly terrified, but in the end, he supposed that it did not matter. What did matter was that this little scene had played out just as anticipated and so, when he reached for the dance card dangling around her wrist, his actions did not seem such an odd thing any longer. Especially not to those who had been keenly observing the exchange behind their own fans and dance cards. Lewis was certain that all those old tabbies and dragons had witnessed was a man and a woman - however flawed and whispered about - engaging in the proper courting rituals of Society without a single step out of place.

  After a little more idle conversation, the duke and his family moved off into the crowds, taking Sophia with them, as was appropriate. Though he would claim her soon enough for their waltz, which was really the only dance that Lewis could now perform with his injured leg, he was still hesitant to let her go. In truth, he was a little afraid for her this evening.

  Selby was dead; Lewis knew that. Therefore, the chances of word of her ruin getting out were slim indeed. However some protective instinct, likely the same one that had called him to serve his country when duty demanded he do so, rose up fiercely within him. He felt a need to whisk Sophia away from all of this madness, to take her someplace safe where the gossips' harsh words - for he was certain they would come on the 'morrow - couldn't harm her. Where he could protect her from anyone who wished to hurt her or savage her reputation.

  Which was utter and complete rubbish on his part. Sophia had her family for protection. This farce was to benefit both of them. Moreover, Lewis' own family likely needed him now more than Lady Sophia did.

  Not to mention that such thoughts were a dangerous path to trod - for all involved. Sophia did not want a husband, and while Lewis might eventually desire a wife, he needed one that would not draw attention to the Blackmore family. Sophia was like a siren in the night. She was not the right woman for him.

  Yet Lewis still could not deny that he felt her call stirring deep within him and that singular feeling bothered him far more than anything else had in a very long time. For such feelings were not like him. They never had been. And that made him very, very nervous.

  So instead of going after Sophia as he wished to do, Lewis instead snagged a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing footman and limped off to the far corner of the ballroom where he could observe and, in military terms, become familiar with the lay of the land. For in many ways, the ballrooms of London were each miniature battlefields and the guests nothing more than invading armies representing of hundreds of independent countries - all of them vying for a piece of that land to claim as their own.

  Matchmaking mamas plotted against unsuspecting gentlemen, hoping to snare husbands for their desperate daughters. Gentlemen mapped out careful battle plans to avoid title-grasping young debutantes, while those same young women created intricate tactics to ensnare those very same gentlemen in their webs, their feminine plots often so detailed and well thought out that Wellington himself would have been proud. Husbands kept sharp eyes out for their wives' lovers, while wives attempted to ferret out any of their husbands' mistresses who were bold enough to enter the world of the beau monde. Lovers made discreet plans to sneak away into the darkness of the hostess' home to engage in a few stolen kisses - or perhaps more if they could manage - and young, unwed ladies schemed to steal gentlemen away from other debutantes, some of them among their best friends in other circumstances, yet not when it came to battles of the heart.

  In many ways, these balls and other soirees were worse than any war, at least to Lewis' way of thinking. In a war, one knew one's enemy. Here, anyone could be an enemy. Or an ally. Depending solely upon the day. This was a world that Lewis had willingly stepped away from, one he had taken to an actual battlefield to escape. And once more, he wondered what in the hell was wrong with him for coming back to the one world he had vowed to avoid as much as was humanly possible for the rest of his life.

  Sophia could feel the press of the room around her, the crush of people all vying for an open bit of floor space among the glittering silver and blue decorations of Lady Stonebridge's grand ballroom. The entire setting was beautiful, from the "icy fairy dust" that had been sprinkled liberally around the edges of the ballroom to the cut glass crystals shaped like raindrops that sparkled high above the dancers.

  Yet Sophia felt nothing but a body numbing fear. This was the first night she had been out in Society since her rescue from the Great North Road, and she was wondering if she had done the right thing in attending this ball. Beneath her gloves, her palms were sweating and she wished for nothing more than a cool cloth at her forehead and a darkened room where she did not have to feel the press of the crowd or hear the rush of their conversation roar in her ears. It was all too much, and Sophia hadn't realized the true depth of her fears until this very minute. But perhaps she should have.

  However she would persevere and put on a brave face. She would not allow anyone to see her falter. For that was what she did. Always.

  Sophia had insisted to both her brother and Abigail that she would be fine while they found a quiet corner where Abigail could rest, the babe she carried seemingly not enjoying the ball any more than Sophia was. After all, Sophia's mother was here as well, seated along the wall with her friends, including Lady Diana's mother. Diana herself, now the Marchioness of Hallstone was somewhere in the crowd, or so Sophia thought. She hadn't spoken with her old friend in so long that she could not be certain. Sophia had seen The Bloody Duke about earlier so
she assumed that her other dear friend Eliza, now the Duchess of Candlewood, was about as well.

  However if they were, Sophia quickly realized, they were likely with their husbands. They were no longer unwed young things and not the close part of Sophia's inner circle as they had once been. Several months ago, Sophia hadn't given the matter much thought, believing that by the time the Little Season arrived she, too, would be a member of the new social circle they had all formed as newly wed ladies of a certain age.

  Now the Little Season had arrived and Sophia was still on the outside looking in. There was something rather disheartening about that bit of knowledge and she thought for a moment about turning and fleeing to the retiring room to hide. But no. The old Sophia would not have done something so cowardly, and while she had vowed to be a different person, a better person, there was nothing that said she could not take bits and pieces of the old Sophia and weave them into the new tapestry she was creating for her life.

  "Lady Sophia. How wonderful to see you! I was so afraid that we would arrive and I would not know a soul here."

  Surprised for a moment, Sophia turned to see Lady Pearl Weston at her side. She must have been so lost in thought that she hadn't heard the other young woman's approach, something that was difficult to achieve, as Lady Pearl was not the most graceful young woman in London.

  "Lady Pearl. I am ever so happy to see you." Sophia enveloped the woman in a quick hug. Out of all of the young women she knew, Sophia felt the most comfortable in the presence of Lady Pearl. She thought that perhaps it was because the woman knew very little of Sophia and her behavior before, or perhaps it was because the other woman was a magnet for gossip herself, being both new to London and having different, sometimes strange mannerisms, having grown up across the Atlantic in the American city of Baltimore. "I had no idea you would be in Town for the Little Season."