A Gentleman by Moonlight

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  In fact, Lewis had wished to bring Selby up some kind of charges right after the event had occurred, but the worm had darted off to the Continent before anyone could even think to charge him with a crime. And what would they have charged him with, at any rate? Not kidnapping certainly, as Sophia had gone with him willingly. Forcing one's self on a woman, especially a woman a man was about to take to wife wasn't precisely a crime, either. It might be morally wrong and reprehensible to many, but to just as many in Society, there was nothing wrong with what Selby had done. Sophia had agreed to marry him. Selby wished to anticipate their vows, even if she did not. As her soon-to-be-husband, he had, if not the legal right, then the moral right to do so. At least according to a good many men in society.

  So Alex Selby had wiggled away and out of the grasp of anyone, Sophia's brother included, who might wish to exact some sort of vengeance on their own before anyone was the wiser. That included Lewis who, though he had no personal stake in the matter, was also furious at Selby.

  Though Lewis had no claim on Sophia, he had met her a few times at social gatherings over the years when he had been home on leave from the military. She had always been bright and beautiful, and so far above the touch of someone like Selby that it was almost laughable. She was also above the touch of Lewis himself, but that was beside the point. Sophia had clearly deserved better than a lying piece of garbage like Selby, yet she was so blinded by his charm and wit and handsome face that she did not seem to see the ugly, twisted man beneath. Not even her brother could convince her of the man's true nature, and each time Lewis, with his scarred and twisted body had watched Selby and Sophia dance or flirt, something inside of him had soured and anger had flared to life.

  There was no reason for his reaction. It simply...was.

  Alex Selby didn't deserve someone so perfect as Sophia Reynolds. Yet he had her in his arms, while a man like Lewis himself couldn't even pay a prostitute for pleasure most nights. There was an injustice to the entire situation that ate at Lewis, though he could not say why. After all, he wasn't in love with Sophia. Instead, he simply assumed that it was simply because men like Selby always seemed to somehow managed to slither away from life unscathed, while men like Lewis bore the brunt of whatever dangers and evils befell them.

  Perhaps Lewis shouldn't have cared so much, but he did. After witnessing so much horror and injustice on the peninsula during the war, he couldn't help himself. Which was why, when the report of Selby's death had crossed the desks of Bow Street, he had gone directly to the chief inspector and asked to head the case, as well as inspect the body when it returned to England. Lewis had used the argument that he, unlike the other Runners, came from that world, the world of the ton, and would be better able to navigate its murky waters without causing a scandal for all involved. Including Selby's family.

  The chief inspector had only been too glad to hand off such a messy and potentially disastrous case to someone else. Which was yet another reason why Lewis was now sitting in Lady Sophia's rose parlor sipping tea and wishing he was someplace else. Despite the fact that there was also a part of him that desired to be precisely where he was.

  "Are you...certain?" For a moment, Lewis had been unaware that Sophia was speaking again and he had to force his mind away from the past and back into the present.

  Nodding, Lewis downed the rest of his tea inn one gulp. "I saw the body at the docks myself. It was him. There is no question in my mind, nor should there be in yours, either. As I said, I do not know the particular details of his death, but I suspect that it was a knife attack of some sort, given his injuries."

  Sophia clasped her hands in front of her, her lips twisting back and forth. "Did he suffer?"

  Lewis saw no reason to lie to her, even though she was a woman. She deserved to know the whole of the matter. "Probably."

  "Good." That single word shocked him and he looked up to meet her gaze. "Because of that man, I must wed before the next Season arrives, even though I cannot tolerate the idea of a man touching me. In fact, before today, I could not even be in a room with a man that was not a long-time servant or member of my family without cringing in fear."

  Sophia paused and looked at Lewis for a long moment. "But perhaps I do not fear you because you already know my secret. You know the worst about me, so there is no harm that you can do, for as I said, you would have likely done so by now, were you so inclined." Then she shook her head. "But whatever the reason, I have suffered because of what he did to me." She laughed mirthlessly, a single short sound that cut into his soul. "Horrible as this might sound to you, Lord Blackmore, I wanted Selby to experience just a small portion of the misery he has put me through. Even if it is not very nice or even ladylike to say such a thing." Then she cast her eyes down into her lap. "And you must think me an utterly reprehensible woman for what I have just said. Ladies are not supposed to speak in that manner or have those sorts of thoughts. Even though I meant every word."

  Lewis shook his head, briefly conscious that he still held her hands in his. "What I have heard is a woman who is being honest, which is rare amongst our set." He scooted to the edge of his chair. "Remember, Lady Sophia, that I have been to war." He touched his scar and was surprised when she did not look away but instead held his gaze. "I have seen horrors that others have not and could not even imagine. I am not some weak-willed fool like many of the gentleman of the ton. I know that life is not always kind and that the innocent suffer at the hands of evil all too often."

  "Still, my mother would be shocked if she knew what I had just said." Despite that, Sophia did not seem in the least bit sorry she had utter those words, either.

  "Then we will not tell her." For one of the first times since he had returned to England from Spain, Lewis laughed. This was a genuine laugh, not one of the false laughs he often used to hide his pain from the world. "Agreed?"

  She nodded once and wiped at her eyes. For some reason, he was even more proud of her that she did not cry. "Agreed."

  Sophia could feel Lord Lewis Blackmore's eyes upon her and yet she did not feel the urge to run as she had so often in the last few months. He was very large and very male, well over six foot three, with a powerful, muscular build that she had not found particularly attractive in the past. She vaguely remembered him from around the time of her come-out ball, but not much beyond that other than a few events here and there over the years. He had been in and out of England rather frequently because of the war, each time coming home more scarred and weathered than the next. As awful as it was of her, she had paid him little mind, for all of her attentions had been on Alex.

  Now, Lewis' slightly craggy but still handsome face was scarred, the jagged line being the first thing anyone noticed when they looked at him. Yet somehow, that same scar also made him a bit more dashing than terrifying, at least in her eyes. She also suspected that his scars ran beneath his clothes as well, given the way he limped and that the lines of his body were no longer as straight as they likely had once been.

  His slightly curling hair was dark in color, but neither truly blonde nor brown, yet something in between. He wore it longer than was fashionable, giving him the slightly disreputable air of a pirate.

  She should have been terrified of this big, hulking man before her. Sophia knew that. After all, he could harm her far more than most of the Society men she now shied away from on a daily basis. Yet she was not frightened in the least. It made no sense to her why she was not afraid. After all, he was a man and even the slightest scent of a musky male body had sent cold fear through her veins like ice since that June night. By rights, a man that looked and sounded like this one did should send her into a fit of the vapors if not an outright swoon.

  Yet when Sophia looked at Lewis Blackmore, even when she had only seen his calling card on the salver, she had seen not his scars, but instead remembered his eyes. They were an indigo blue so deep and rich she had never seen the like of them before. She had remembered them for all of these years after a dance at her com
e-out ball in what seemed like another lifetime. They had been mesmerizing eyes even then, but now they were something more.

  Those magnificent eyes of his were all she truly remembered of that horrible night with any degree of clarity. How they had stared at her, in fact almost stared right through her, knowing all of her secrets in an instant and yet somehow at the same time, letting her know without words that she was safe again. That all would be well.

  It was those same eyes that now gazed at her once more as he delivered the news she had never thought to hear, news that brought her pain mixed with relief and freedom and so many other emotions that she could not name. Her one-time love, Lord Alex Selby, was dead. He could not harm her again. He could not coerce her into his life or, worse, into his bed. She was free of him.

  As she stared into Lord Blackmore's indigo eyes, she knew that he understood perfectly what she was feeling in that moment. He understood because he had witnessed something just as horrible, if not worse, before. This event she had endured did not terrify him, this horror she had lived through not frightening him in the least. At least not as it would some others. Because he had lived through his own horrors, his own misery, and survived in spite of it all. He knew her secrets and she, Sophia quickly decided, knew his, even if he had not spoken them out loud. And that, she reasoned to herself, was why she was not afraid of him. In many ways, Lord Lewis Blackmore knew her better than anyone else likely ever would and there was a comfort in that knowledge she could not find with anyone else. Not even her family.

  Chapter Three

  Town Tattler

  Yes, dear readers, I have returned for the Little Season, just as I promised you I would. I say again that this might be my final Season among you, but that matter is for a later time. For now, there is much to report.

  First, I begin with the dreadful news that our own Lord Alex Selby has passed from this world and into the next. I am uncertain as to the details, only that it concerned footpads in a rather rough district in Paris and a gambling debt of some sort. Given the man's proclivities in that area, I cannot say I am surprised. There have been some rumors abounding as of late that this news was nothing more than a tragic mistake, but I am assured by the Chief Inspector of Bow Street himself that the death is, indeed, confirmed. One of his most trusted men met the body at the docks to confirm the identity of the late lord and in that, there is no mistake.

  So how does his former betrothed feel about this development? I cannot say for certain, particularly since Lord Selby's betrothal to Lady Sophia Reynolds did not end well this summer just past - or on good terms. That much I do know. Though I will say that it is likely that she did give the matter of his passing some manner of thought. Especially since Lord Lewis Blackmore, late of the 12th Light Dragoons and now a Runner in Bow Street's employ was seen leaving the Reynolds' Mayfair town home yesterday afternoon in an awful deluge.

  One supposes that Lord Blackmore was chosen to deliver the news since he is the third son of the Marquess of Dunleighton, and a member of the peerage. Though I do not believe in class separation as strongly as many of my sort do, I have to confess that for someone like Lady Sophia, a woman long believed to be a delicate and fragile flower, receiving such news from someone she is familiar with would be a blessing. Would that not be true of all classes, though, dear readers?

  That aside, perhaps the larger issue is the strange re-occurrence of Lord Blackmore in Lady Sophia's life. After all, rumor has it that he was seen with her at The Bull and Toad Inn along the Great North Road one night this summer just passed. I, of course, do not believe for a moment that she was swooning in his arms, as has been widely reported. The lady has more strength than that, certainly, no matter how delicate she might be otherwise!

  However I do not completely discredit the reports that they were in one another's company somewhere, and at some time around that fateful night of the Enwright Masked Ball. Though likely not at the Inn. That is just rather foolish to believe, especially of two such moral and upstanding young people. However, could Lord Blackmore be the man Lady Sophia turned to for comfort when her betrothal to Lord Selby came to a crashing end? It would not be the first time a distraught young woman turned to an old friend in the aftermath of such a disaster. I do distinctly remember them dancing and laughing gaily at her come-out ball several Seasons now past. And the man is still sinfully handsome, scars and all. It is not beyond the realm of possibility, is it?

  Just some things to mull over on this damp and rainy morning as the whirlwind of activity known as the Little Season begins to whir to life as we speed toward Christmastide.

  -Madame C

  Tossing his copy of the Tattler aside, Lewis had to keep from laughing at the absurdity of Madame C.'s description of Sophia as a delicate a fragile flower. If the notorious gossip could have heard Sophia yesterday, she would certainly change her opinion. Sophia Reynolds had more fight and backbone in her than a good many of the men Lewis had served with on the peninsula. And that was truly saying something.

  He didn't particularly care for the insinuation that he and Sophia were having an affair of some sort or even something as innocent as a courtship, but then rumors such as those were how the gossips of London made their living. Not that he would mind courting a woman like Sophia. Or, rather courting Sophia herself. However, Lewis was practical enough to realize that a man like him was not nearly good enough for a lady like her, despite them both being members of the aristocracy. He was a third son, though for reasons few knew, he was treated more like the spare heir than someone expendable. He had severed in the military. He was scarred and battle-worn. He was not fit for a beautiful, spirited and desirable woman like Sophia. Though right at this moment, he wished that he was.

  Digging into his desk for a fresh quill, Lewis was about to start working on some case reports when a dark shadow silently fell across his desk and simply stood there. Waiting. There was only one man brave enough to sneak up on Lewis in that manner - his superior, Chief Inspector Peregrine Egerton. The son of a well-respected barrister, Egerton had risen quickly in the ranks of Bow Street, garnering the respect of both the ton and the masses alike as he did so.

  Egerton was also known for being exceedingly fair and rational, slow to anger and unwilling to make rash judgments or pronouncements. Unlike many of his contemporaries, he preferred the new-fangled "science" of radical, yet methodical investigation techniques to those that his predecessors used - namely assuming the wealthy were always innocent and the poor always guilty. Egerton was also typically a gregarious fellow so when he hovered silently above Lewis's desk, the younger man felt his heart drop into his stomach a bit more than it might have otherwise. At thirty years of age and with many years of a life at war behind him, there was very little that could scare Lewis. However, Chief Inspector Peregrine Egerton was one of them.

  "Chief," Lewis began by way of greeting when he looked up to indeed find the man looming over him, his hands clasped tightly behind his back and a grim frown upon his usually relaxed face. "May I help you with something?"

  Egerton glared down at the copy of the Tattler lying on Lewis' desk. "So you have seen this morning's papers." It was not a question.

  "It is difficult to ignore them." Lewis leaned back in his chair, doing his best to remain both calm and cautious. "I still have to move within that set, as you well know, and it is best for me if I keep abreast of the gossip."

  The inspector gave him a knowing look. "And when you are mentioned in those same papers by name?"

  Lewis tapped the offending paper with his finger. "Then it is best that I know exactly what I am being accused of. Even if I am innocent of the crimes." Then he sat up straighter in his chair. "As you have always said, it is best to know what one is accused of so one knows how to properly defend themselves."

  Once more, Egerton's eyes strayed to the paper. "This puts us in a bad light, you know. Well, you, in particular, anyway."

  "How so?" For the life of him, Lewis couldn't imagine h
ow being associated with a woman like Sophia could be a bad thing. After all, he was still a part of Society and this was hardly the first time he had been linked with a young lady of note. "It is not as if I was serenading her at her front stoop or any such thing."

  "You were seen with her before." Egerton reached down to pick up the paper before tossing it aside after a moment with some disgust. "That night, in fact. It is only by the grace of God that word of her predicament did not spread further."

  So. They were back to this. A part of Lewis had always wondered if that night at the Bull and Toad would come back to haunt him in some form. When he and the other riders had departed Fairhaven in search of Sophia, he hadn't been thinking much about his reputation. He doubted any other members of the search party had either. Instead, they were all desperate to help the Duke of Hathaway rescue his sister from a man determined to hurt her. Perhaps even murder her.

  Lewis had simply been the first person to locate Sophia. And once he had looked at her utterly disheveled state and the smear of fresh blood on the hem of her gown, he had known the truth of the matter instantly. Then, she had collapsed into his arms as the carriage wheels continued to be stuck in the mud that grew thicker with each drop of rain that fell. He'd had no choice but to get her safe and warm and dry as soon as possible, lest she catch her death from a chill - which would have also been upon his head. It was a shame that the coaching inn had been the only option available to him, but when circumstances were dire, one did what was necessary.