A Gentleman by Moonlight

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  With a sigh, Abigail leaned back against the wall and rubbed her stomach, though she was not tottering and shuffling about as Diana had been. Unlike Diana, Abigail did not seem to be having as much difficulty maneuvering about with her pregnancy as the other woman was. Then again, it was likely that Abby was not quite as far along as her friend either.

  "Soon I shall have to remove myself from balls and parties, I fear. A pity really, as I was just starting to enjoy myself." Then Abigail gave a great yawn. "Not that I shall mind, really, as I can barely keep myself awake past eight in the evening these days."

  "You will be fine," Sophia replied, taking Abby's arm and leading her back towards the green parlor where the remains of Sophia and Diana's tea still lay spread out. As Sophia rang for a fresh tea tray, she helped Abby into the comfortable chair that Sophia usually favored, sensing that her sister in law needed the support and comfort the old piece of furniture offered far more than Sophia did at the moment. "And once the babe is here, I know that Adam will be eager to whisk you back out to any ball or party you desire. He loves to show you off."

  "Hmmm." Abby made a rather noncommittal noise as she settled in, seemingly a bit more comfortable. "I shall take your word for that because at the moment, I am rather beginning to feel more like a bloated cow than a lady." Then she shook her head. "But enough about me. What of you, Sophia? I know of your mother's plan to restore your reputation until you can choose a husband who is to your liking. Still, you seem unsettled."

  Once more, Sophia was presented with an opportunity to confide in someone, yet she hesitated to take it. What could she honestly tell Abigail that would make any sense? Especially to someone who was blissfully wed - and might very well report something incriminating back to Sophia's brother.

  "It has only been a few days," she replied as she plumped a pillow and placed it beneath Abby's back.

  "That is enough to know if you and Lord Blackmore might suit." Abigail sighed. "I know that is Adam's fondest wish."

  With a disgusted sigh of her own, Sophia flopped down onto a nearby chair. "Adam should be worried about you, Abby. Not me. I have learned my lesson well."

  "You are his sister. You know he cannot simply stop caring for your welfare. Especially after what transpired and after your mother came up with this strange plan." Abby closed her eyes. "I suppose all he wants to know is whether or not you are happy and well."

  "I am, actually." Strangely, Sophia found that she did not have to lie about that. "I cannot say that I will feel thus in a few days or even a few weeks, but for the moment, I am...content." Which, to be fair, was far more than Sophia had ever thought she would feel again. In fact, as she had lain in that cold, lumpy bed at the Bull and Toad, she had wondered if she would ever feel even a small shred of happiness ever again. While she could not claim to be blissful at the moment, she was content and perhaps even looking forward to seeing Lewis that night. So that, in Sophia's mind anyway, was progress.

  Abigail did not appear to be completely convinced, though she did not say as much. "As long as you are certain that Lord Blackmore will not harm you and that he makes you happy."

  "I cannot claim to be happy, Abby, but as I said, I am content. I also have no fear of Lewis. He might do many things, not all of them good perhaps, but harming me is not among them." Of that Sophia was certain.

  Once the tea tray arrived, Sophia poured for both of them but in short order, Abigail nodded off to sleep as she usually did at this time in the afternoon. Plucking the cup from the other woman's hand, Sophia tidied up a bit and then snuck quietly out of the room so that her sister in law could rest. As it was, Sophia had a ball to prepare for and she wanted to look her best.

  It was silly, she knew, especially since this was simply a business arrangement, but there was also a rather large part of her that wished to look good for Lewis. It was largely vanity; she knew that. After all, it wasn't as if he would see her across the ballroom tonight and immediately fall in love with her. He was far too practical for that and, more to the point, his heart was not engaged with hers. Nor was it likely to ever be. However dreaming of the possibility was still a nice fantasy and she wished to indulge herself, if only for a moment.

  Sophia also had to admit that after that frigid day by the Serpentine, she had been thinking quite a bit about how wonderful it had felt to be held within the safety of Lewis' arms. About how right it had felt for her to be there, and the lack of fear she had experienced. For the briefest of moments, she had known that same cold snake of fear uncoiling within her. She admitted to that willingly. However, that unwelcome sensation had lasted but a moment and then she had relaxed into his warmth. In short, Sophia had felt as if she belonged there in his arms.

  She had also wondered as of late what it might be like to kiss him. She had enjoyed a few stolen kisses over the years, but she had the distinct impression that Lewis would kiss very differently from the other men she had dallied with in the past. Those other beaux had been boys. Lewis was a man.

  From there, Sophia's mind wandered to other, far more scandalous musings. Now that she had some idea of what went on between a man and a woman in the bedchamber, she could not help but wonder what it would be like to lie with Lewis - a true man and not a child as Alex had been.

  It would likely be...different. She knew that. She also wondered what it would feel like. Her experience in the carriage had been both brief and painful and she wondered if there was more to love and passion than what she had known. She wanted to believe that there was. Eliza and Diana made it seem that way, certainly, but then, they were both passionately in love with their husbands. Sophia could not see that sort of future for herself.

  At present, the only man she could even imagine marrying was Lewis and given his career aspirations at Bow Street, not to mention his need for a quiet and dull wife, Sophia doubted that a man like him would ever consent to taking someone like her as his bride. Or even bedding her, for he was not the sort of gentleman to engage in a quick tumble with a lady if he did not care for her. And while the idea of being with a man still made icy fear claw tightly at Sophia's heart, the entire idea was not nearly so terrifying as it had once been. Especially if the man beside her, bedding her, was Lewis.

  For Sophia was beginning to worry that she felt more than a simple bit of old friendship for the man. After only a few days, such an idea was preposterous, really, but yet, Sophia could not quite ignore the little thrill that shot through her whenever she thought of Lewis and the way he had looked the other day in those delightful breeches. Those were feelings and desires and emotions she had never thought to feel again - for any man.

  Yet she also knew those feelings belonged to her silly, girlish mind, the part of herself that she was working so diligently to bury. She needed to be an adult and view things clearly now. Her foolish ways had already cost her dearly and she did not wish to fall victim to them again, not that she believed for a moment that Lewis would hurt her the way that Alex had.

  Still, for that little slice of time alone in her chambers, it was utterly lovely to think about Lord Lewis Blackmore and dream about what could have been.

  Chapter Nine

  By the time he arrived at Lady Carlisle's Ice Ball, Lewis was in a foul temper and not even the delightful prospect of seeing Sophia again that evening could shake him out of his wretched mood. His problems had begun very early that morning when his father had summoned him to the family's town home on Grovesnor Square. In order to maintain some distance from his family, when he had returned from the war, Lewis had purchased his own town home on Curzon Street from a peer who had fallen onto hard times. Though he always had a standing offer to return to Dunleighton, as the family referred to their London home, Lewis had, thus far, resisted their urgings to return to the fold. It wasn't that he disliked his family. In fact, he loved them very much. However it was painful to be in the home where he was reminded daily that he and not his brother Silas was technically the "spare" Dunleighton heir.

&n
bsp; Oh, it wasn't as if the subject was brought up every day. It wasn't. In fact, just about everyone in the home made it a specific point to avoid the subject as much as possible. However the truth about Silas and his unsuitability as the spare was always present, hanging over the entire household like the proverbial Sword of Damocles - but especially hanging over Lewis. Especially on those rare occasions when Silas was in the home as well.

  When he had been born, Silas was just as normal as any male child, if perhaps a bit more precocious than he ought to have been. That was also likely the reason he had taken a tumble down the steps at Westwind at the age of six. Silas had been chasing one of the family cats through the country home's massive hallways as was typical, and the frightened feline had been anxious to escape the none-too-gentle petting of a young boy more inclined to pull poor Miss Kitty's tail than actually pet her. When Miss Kitty had, in an act of desperation, raced down the steep main steps that led from the second floor to the great room and entry hall, Silas had quickly followed suit, blissfully unaware that he was not nearly as graceful as the animal he was chasing.

  The resulting fall had split Silas' head wide open. Or so Lewis had often been told. As he was only three at the time, he had no recollection of the events. All he knew was that as he grew up, he was well aware that Silas was not like the other children in the household or the nearby village. He was slowed and used simple words. Sometimes he acted out or, in turns, stared off into nothingness, unresponsive to just about everyone save for his mother, Agatha.

  When Lewis was eventually sent off to Eton as his older brother and family heir Guy had been, he was keenly aware that Silas still remained at home, locked in a world of his own making that no one could understand. Privately, Lewis felt that the family kept Silas locked away a bit too much, and that part of the reason his brother acted out so frequently was purely from a desire to be near the people he loved. Unlike most people, Lewis believed that while Silas was mentally damaged, he was not a complete idiot or a candidate for Bedlam - as if the Blackmore family would ever reveal such a thing, anyway.

  No, when anyone asked about Silas, the family's response was that he was a wild one, and was still roaming Europe, unlikely to come home any time soon. If news of something regarding the "renegade heir" did become public knowledge, as it had the other week when a well-intentioned servant had brought Silas to London and he was spotted - and spotted acting peculiarly, no less - then the family simply concocted yet another story. The Blackmores were also always quick to point out that Silas' "unpredictable" nature was why they had decided that Lewis should be the "spare heir."

  The whole situation did not sit well with Lewis, but he also understood the necessity of such an arrangement. Silas could barely write his own name. There was no way he could manage a marquisate. In fact, he couldn't even manage to dress himself some days.

  Which was why, when news from Westwind had arrived in London that morning that Silas had hurt himself again, this time by falling out of a tree, Lewis had been summoned to Dunleighton to "discuss" how to handle the situation. A country neighbor had supposedly witnessed the event and was now eager to tell anyone who would listen that the erstwhile Dunleighton "spare heir" had returned, resulting in a large number of visitors to Westwind, all of them eager for a glimpse of Silas. When turned away, most people simply grumbled but a few people, all of them eager for a juicy tidbit they could sell to the gossip rags, had attempted to break into the estate.

  If such a thing ever came to pass, all of Society would know the Blackmore's family secret, which would likely be devastating to everyone involved, but especially to Silas. That was the reason why Lewis' father had quickly called a family meeting earlier in the day. He wanted everyone to know that he was thinking of sending Silas away permanently, perhaps even to America, where he could not be seen again. It was rash, of course, but as the Marquess of Dunleighton, Lord John Blackmore felt as if he was running out of options where his second son was concerned.

  Lewis had watched his father and Guy argue back and forth for nearly an hour upon the subject. Guy was convinced that Silas could be kept safe and out of sight at Westwind. All he needed was a better guardian. He had pleaded with their father not to send Silas away and then, when pleas did not work, began arguing his point rather vigorously - just on the verge of shouting. It had taken all of Lewis' self-restraint not to jump into the fray, for he could see both men's points very clearly. He also had no better solution to the problem, though he did not agree with sending his brother away forever. Nor did he think that simply hiring a more competent caretaker was the answer either.

  All of that, combined with his mother's copious tears and unrelenting wailing over her "damaged" son had left Lewis feeling uneasy and out of sorts, as well as with a pounding at his temples that was growing impossible to ignore. When a letter from Peregrine Egerton had arrived via special messenger just as Lewis was about to depart for the Ice Ball, his mood had grown even worse. It seemed that during Lewis' absence, Bow Street was beginning to question whether his services were needed at all, even after the "business" with Lady Sophia was cleared up to everyone's satisfaction. The note went on to explain that the decision was not Peregrine's to make, but rather, would be made by those in the Home Office. Why the Home Office was involved, Lewis did not even wish to guess, but the entire situation made him distinctly uneasy and worsened his already foul temper.

  Now, as he stood in an overheated ballroom filled with sharp shards of glass meant to mimic ice crystals dangling from the ceiling, Lewis wondered if he should simply give Lady Carlisle his regrets and return to the quiet of Curzon Street. He could claim that his leg was paining him, as he had done so often in the past, and that would be that. He was a war hero, a member of the infamous "Supple Twelfth," and that, he had learned over the years, bought him a great deal of goodwill that no title would ever be able to garner.

  However, just as he was about to make his way towards the front hall where his hostess for the evening was surely still receiving guests, Lewis heard Sophia's name announced over the crowd and he could not help but look up to the top of the stairs. And as he did so, his heart stopped in his chest and he wondered for a moment if it would ever start beating again.

  She was breathtaking, more improbably beautiful than he had ever imagined a woman could look. Perhaps he had gone without for too long or perhaps it was because Sophia was the first woman in recent memory to look at him and actually see the man beneath the scars, but whatever the reason, Lewis felt his body respond to her in a way that would leave him very embarrassed if he did not do something about his increasingly straining erection rather quickly. Yet each time he tried to imagine his Great Auntie Edith, with her gouty feet and that hairy mole on her chin, he was once more distracted by the vision in gold high above him.

  Lewis had seen Sophia wear a golden gown before, but nothing could compare to this magnificent creation. The sheer, gauzy overskirt shimmered with reds and oranges, like the deepest colors of a summer sunset, while the golden layer of silk beneath was tinged with rich greens and vibrant purples. Taken together, Sophia looked as if she was the sun itself, fiery and bright and outshining anything - or anyone - in the room.

  Her golden locks were done up in some sort of elaborate twist that was held in place with ruby-studded combs while a strand of rubies had been wound through her hair as well, making her shimmer as if kissed by the light itself each time she moved. Despite the frigid night, her creamy shoulders were deliciously bare and they, too, seemed to glisten in the candlelight, making Sophia herself appear as if she was made of quicksilver. A single ruby teardrop pendant at her throat sparkled as she moved and when she swished her skirts, he caught a glimpse of dazzling ruby slippers beneath her gown as well.

  The entire look was daring and certain to have all of the tongues in Society wagging both tonight and in the papers tomorrow morning. More importantly however, for tonight, she was also all his.

  As quickly as his bad leg would allow
, Lewis strode towards the bottom of the staircase. Thankfully, the offending appendage was not paining him too badly this evening and he was able to arrive before all of the other young swains did, each of them now eager for Sophia's attentions. It was not lost upon Lewis that this sort of reaction was precisely what the dowager had been hoping for all along - to make Sophia enticingly appealing again and to make certain there was no taint or hint of scandal associated with her name. He supposed that one could argue that they had already succeeded in their task with only a few outings, but a quick glance up at the dowager confirmed his suspicions that she did not truly believe they had accomplished their goals as of yet. After all, one night of male attention did not a successful plot make.

  And for that, he was eternally grateful.

  By some miracle, Lewis reached the bottom of the stairs around the same time that Sophia and her family did, so he did not have to fight off a crowd to reach her side. "Your grace." He offered a low bow to the dowager, knowing full well that all of Society's prying eyes were upon them at the moment. "It is lovely to see you this evening. You look as enchanting as ever and perhaps even lovelier than the last time I laid eyes upon you. I swear it on my mother's name."

  "Oh, go on with you, Lord Blackmore. You flatter me all too much." Still, the dowager looked pleased with his attentions, as well as his attentions to both Adam and Abigail. In fact, she all but beamed with pride, and Lewis couldn't help but think that she had more ulterior motives for this plan of hers than she was letting on to anyone - including her family.

  When he finally turned to greet Sophia, Lewis was a bit unnerved to discover that she was blushing a bit, indicating that she was nervous. He prayed that was not a sign of bad things to come, but if it was, they would weather whatever transpired together. She had been through a terrible trauma. It was very likely that she would regress from time to time. So many of his comrades had done the same, the horrors of war too much for them to bear.