A Gentleman by Moonlight

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  And that, above all else, she had agreed to a false courtship with Lewis for their mutual benefit.

  Eventually, however, Sophia managed to perfect a coy smile when asked about Lewis, which seemed to confuse many of her visitors even further since they weren't always quite certain if Sophia was lying to them or merely being shy. In short, her guests often left Reynolds House more than a bit off balance when it came to the state of the relationship - if there was any - between Sophia and Lewis. That was precisely the way Sophia preferred this parade of false friends through her home, for if she didn't yet know how she felt about this situation, then neither should anyone else.

  It wasn't as if she found Lewis Blackmore distasteful in any way. Sophia knew that many women in Society did, given his scar and his limp and his rather formidable size. She, however, found that all of those things gave him a depth of character that many of her former beaux lacked. Especially after her experiences with Lord Selby who was more style than substance in the end.

  Sophia could also admit that she found Lewis rather handsome in an unconventional sort of way. He might not be debonair, as Selby had been. Nor was he classically handsome the way her brother's friends Rayne and Frost were. He wasn't even slyly sensual like Lord Hunt was, either. No, Lewis Blackmore was raw and masculine, his appeal very different from the other men she knew.

  Most importantly, however, at least to Sophia, was that, surprisingly, she could tolerate his touch, and that was something she could not say for any other man, save for her brother Adam.

  After her manhandling by Selby, Sophia found that if a man so much as reached for her hand, it took all of her strength not to flinch and pull away like a scared child. She did not know why this happened, only that it did. And it was embarrassing. It was part of the reason why she had shied away from Society since the family had returned from Willowby Hill. There, at her family's country estate, she could hide away from everyone until she brought this peculiar new habit of hers under control. Or so she had thought.

  The only problem was, Sophia had never quite managed to do so. Oh, she didn't fear her brother or his new wife Abigail, or even any of the servants. However when the American, Daniel Weston, who also happened to be the new Marquess of Lansdale, and his sister, Lady Pearl, had stopped by Willowby for an introductory visit, it had been all Sophia could do not to cast up her accounts right there in the entry hall when the marquess bowed low over her hand and briefly squeezed her fingers in his.

  Sophia had told herself over and over again that she was being silly and childish and that such behavior needed to stop immediately. However she could never quite manage to keep her hands steady or the bit of tremble out of her voice when a man approached her.

  Except around Lewis. Until two days ago, Sophia hadn't even realized she could be around a man - any man at all - without shaking. However, for some reason, when she had entered the parlor to greet Lewis, her voice hadn't trembled once and when he reached for her hand to offer comfort, hers hadn't quaked in the least. She also hadn't given her reaction - or rather lack of reaction - much thought until after he had departed that first rainy afternoon. Then it occurred to her how vastly different her behavior had been in Lewis' presence. Almost as if she was her old self. Or some version of her old self at any rate.

  Sophia couldn't explain her behavior, nor did she know why exactly she didn't fear Lord Blackmore the way she did other men. Perhaps, it was as she had said before. He knew her secrets. He had been given plenty of opportunity to harm her before and he hadn't. He was large and she small, yet never once had she feared him. Perhaps that was the reason?

  Well, whatever the reason, she was thankful for it, especially after the latest spate of gossip. A part of her had known, of course, that her absence from Society would be remarked upon. Then there was the little matter about her mother's ultimatum regarding marriage before the next Season began. At one point, Sophia might have been able to appeal to Adam, hoping that he might change their mother's mind, but no longer. Her outright defiance and blindness where Lord Selby had been concerned left everyone in the Reynolds family questioning Sophia's judgment. Including Sophia herself. So it was for the best, really, that there was one man, and a gentleman no less, that Sophia could tolerate for the duration of an evening or more.

  Sophia hoped that her actions as of late would prove that she really was trying to do as her mother requested and that she was not merely being stubborn. Sophia knew very well that no one in her family really understood the fear that overtook her when she was in a man's presence, and that the lack of understanding wasn't their fault. Not even she really understood why she acted as she did. She only knew that it was a reaction she could not control, no matter how hard she tried. Thankfully, Lord Blackmore offered a brief reprieve from that fear and the pressures of her family.

  So what if she felt no attachment to the man? It did not signify, for it wasn't as if she intended to marry him. No, he had a very specific purpose in her life and he filled it admirably. Sophia did hope that Lewis would receive something from this little arrangement as well. Perhaps proving once and for all that he was still desirable as a man, even with his scars and injuries?

  As far as Sophia could ascertain, the man was not courting anyone - save for this false courtship of her, of course - and had not since he had returned from the war. She could not even begin to guess the reasons for this. After all, he was a likable, rather jovial man, at least on the surface, though she suspected there was far more to him than he allowed most people to see. He was also handsome, the scar not really detracting from his looks and, though he was the third son of a marquess and therefore not really able to inherit a title of any sort, he was wealthy enough in his own right, thanks in part to a string of deceased relatives with whom he had found favor over the years. There was even a rumor that a viscountcy might be in the offing if a distant uncle passed in the near future, though Sophia tended to doubt that since there was still the matter of the second Blackmore son, Silas, though he was rarely seen in public.

  Not that it mattered in the end, Sophia supposed. She wasn't going to become a part of the Blackmore family any time soon. She was simply going to spend this moment out of time in Lewis' company and then move on. Though where she went from here, she truly did not know. She would figure it out in time, she guessed. For now, that was answer enough.

  Now as she sat at her dressing table preparing for the evening ahead, Sophia wondered again about the woman looking back at her from the polished surface. Gone was the spoiled, willful young woman who had existed only a few months ago. The same one who had, in a fit of petulance, caused the woman who was now Adam's wife so much grief and pain at a house party - and who had received a broken nose in exchange. She also wasn't the same woman who had existed in the shadows for much of the remainder of the summer, either.

  Instead, she was someone new, a woman determined to move on with her life, no matter what. Sophia only hoped that this newfound courage lasted beyond the front doors of Reynolds House and for the rest of the Little Season as well. She could not even imagine what she would do if her resolve failed her. Perhaps hide under her bed and cry until Christmastide? At the moment, it seemed a plausible alternative.

  "Are you ready to depart? Your mother wants to arrive before Lord Blackmore does, if at all possible." Sophia turned at the sound of Abigail's warm and cheery voice in the doorway.

  Already round with her first child, Adam's wife fairly glowed with health and happiness and for a moment, Sophia felt a quick stab of jealousy. She had hoped her own Little Season this year would be much the same as Abigail's. That was before Sophia had come to realize that, even if she had been foolish enough to wed Lord Selby, she wouldn't have seen London again for a very long time. Not until she bore the man an heir and a spare and likely not even then. No, Selby's ultimate plan for Sophia had been very different from her dreams, and she was still realizing how close she had come to a life of pain and misery in seclusion with a man she never
really knew at all.

  "Almost." Sophia turned in her chair, thankful that her new sister in law was so lovely, kind, and above all, forgiving. "I was having a bit of difficulty deciding between the pearls and the emeralds, but I think I shall go with the emeralds."

  "The gems do speak to a certain level of confidence, I agree," Abigail replied as she settled herself in a nearby chair, her rounded belly making movement a bit difficult. Though she had not yet entered her confinement, the size of her stomach made it likely that the day for such a thing was fast approaching. "But do you wish to be confident this evening, Sophia? Or demure? There are two ways to play this, you realize, do you not?"

  Sighing, Sophia fingered the flashing green gems at her throat. "I do realize my quandary, actually, and I am not at all certain as to what path I should choose. In the past, I would have said confident, but now, I am no longer the woman I once was. But I do not wish to be demure either, for no one, especially Madame C. - whom I am certain will either be at Lady Stonebridge's affair in person or have numerous spies lurking about - will believe that I have suddenly become a demure creature. Fragile, certainly, for there are many who already believe that I am far too delicate to even exist. But demure? Likely not."

  "Nor would Lord Blackmore court a demure woman," Abigail added as she hefted herself out of the chair and approached Sophia's dressing table. "He is a military man and therefore would likely seek out a stronger-willed bride. So no, I do not think a demure look is suitable for you this evening." She picked up one of the emerald earbobs that Sophia had left on the table before biting her lip. "May I offer you some advice, Sophia?"

  "Certainly." Sophia turned and grasped Abigail's hands in her own. "I know that we had a rather inauspicious beginning as a family, but I would like to think that we have overcome that." She offered her sister in law a sheepish smile. "Mostly because you are an extremely kind, generous, and forgiving woman."

  That made Abigail laugh. "Fair enough and I am feeling low enough in spirits at the moment that I will take those comments with pleasure." She rubbed a hand over her stomach before expelling a long breath. "Being with child is not all that it is reputed to be."

  "But you will be starting a wonderful family with Adam very soon, and that is, I think, a fair exchange." Once more, Sophia was a bit envious of the life that lay ahead of Abigail. That was the sort of life Sophia herself had imagined enjoying with Selby. She had never even had the slightest inkling that such a dream was doomed from the very beginning. Or perhaps she hadn't wanted to see the truth. There was that possibility to consider as well.

  "We will." Abigail handed Sophia the earbob. "However to my point, I would simply ask that you be careful with this little farce your mother has concocted."

  Sophia's hand stilled as she began to slip the precious gem into the tiny hole in her ear. "I do not believe that Lord Blackmore would harm me, if that is what you are worried about." Quickly, she put in the other earbob and then rose to retrieve her cape that her lady's maid, Susie, had already laid out for her. "If he was so inclined, he has already had several opportunities to do so."

  Abigail grasped Sophia's hands in her own and for a moment, Sophia paused to consider the touch of another person's skin against her own, as neither of them had donned their gloves as of yet. "I am not worried that he might physically harm you. Lord Blackmore is renowned for his kindness and gentleness despite his enormous size. No, I am simply worried that something that begins as mere deception will end as something...more. And that you will be hurt again in the process of this farce dissolving, as we all know that it eventually will."

  Plucking her crushed velvet cape from the bed, her one hand still linked briefly with Abigail's, Sophia shook her head. "If you are concerned that I will form a tendre for Lord Blackmore, please rest assured that I will not. After Lord Selby, I cannot imagine ever considering marriage again."

  "But you have promised your mother that you will." Abigail crossed her arms over her chest.

  "And I am considering marriage. Just not very strongly at the moment." Sophia sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. "It has only been within the last few days that I can even tolerate a man touching my hand without flinching." She licked her lips and inclined her head. "In time, that may change, but for the moment, considering that I cannot abide being around most men without quaking in fear, I do not think it likely that I will develop feelings for one of them any time soon. And especially not Lord Blackmore."

  Abigail gave Sophia a considering look as she moved towards the door as well. "Is it his scars that bother you? The large one on his face is rather...obvious."

  Sophia noted that the other women did not refer to the wounds as hideous, however. "Not at all. In fact," she waved a hand in the air as her mother so often did when dismissing an absurd notion, "they give him a vaguely roguish look that I happen to find intriguing. Rather, Lord Blackmore is a practical sort. He is a man of business, as distasteful as some among our set might find that term, though I do not. He realizes this is a business arrangement, as do I. We both go into this matter with clear heads and a knowledge of the already foregone outcome."

  "If you are certain." Abigail clearly was not.

  "I am. I may have been foolish in the past, but I am doing my best to change, Abby. That includes looking at situations with practical eyes rather than romantic, airy-fairy ones." Then Sophia laughed, a harsh sound that she hated for its utter lack of true humor. "And as for Lord Blackmore? I think he would prefer a more sedate wife. One who might blend into the background. Even after all that has transpired, I am still not that woman." She gestured to her golden gown that was accented with cream-colored lace and the barest hint of pale green overtones in the sheer, shimmery overskirt. "And, as we can both see, I am far from sedate."

  Truthfully, Sophia had no idea why she had even chosen this gown for tonight. In the past several months, she had reverted to wearing the non-descript pastels, including a large number of white and cream shades, that young debutantes preferred. At least when she had gone out in public, which wasn't all that often, though she did wear brighter colors when she was alone. Still, those rather public frocks had hardly been of the colors suited for a woman of five and twenty and about to be on the shelf. Yet a part of Sophia had thought those colors helped her to hide and blend in to her background. To not be noticed in any way.

  Yet this gown was a gorgeous creation that had been designed by the renowned modiste Madame LaVallier herself to stand out in a crowd and be noticed by the crème de la crème of Society. Sophia had requested it be made up before Lord and Lady Enwright's infamous house party last summer. Before everything in her life had gone wrong. This was a gown crafted to make a woman outshine them all - just as Sophia had hoped to do as the new wife of one Lord Alex Selby.

  Sophia hadn't thought to ever wear the gown in public after that night, instead tucking the delicious creation away inside her wardrobe after it had been delivered the previous week. Yet when she had been required to select a gown for tonight's ball, this was the dress she had been drawn to immediately. This was the gown she had selected out of a wardrobe full of other choices. Why? Sophia could not say. Only that the golden silk gave her some measure of security in a way that another dress could not. This gown was her armor against the world, absurd as that might sound. It gave Sophia a confidence she did not otherwise feel. And if wearing this gown made her appear wholly unsuitable for a man like Lord Blackmore, then so be it. It wasn't as if they were really courting anyway.

  Abigail eyed Sophia askance, as if she did not believe a word the other woman had just said. "Still, please be careful. You are vulnerable, Sophia. I simply do not wish for you to be hurt even more than you already have been."

  "I won't be." Squaring her shoulders, Sophia grasped the doorknob and yanked, pulling the door - which always seemed to stick at the time of the year - open with a loud pop. "This is Lord Blackmore and neither of us is the swooning sort. We know precisely where we stand with each oth
er. Have no fear."

  "I pray that you are correct," Abigail replied solemnly as she preceded Sophia out of the door and down the hall to meet the rest of the family. "I truly do."

  As she followed Abigail, Sophia hoped the very same thing. For all involved. But especially for herself.

  Chapter Six

  The weather outside was utterly miserable, as a cold, almost icy rain had been falling for the better part of the day. Frigid tendrils of fog snaked through London's streets, curing around the street lamps that lined all of Mayfair's better neighborhoods, and extinguishing a few of the flickering flames in the process. In the dim light, carriages slowed to a crawl, their drivers unable to see the usual holes in the road, as well as the small, frozen patches of water that could cause a carriage wheel to slip, resulting in dire consequences for everyone involved. In short, all of the inhabitants of London were likely utterly miserable as well, including Lewis.

  Not that he would ever admit such a thing of course. He was a military man and accustomed to far worse conditions. He had also made a promise to appear at Lady Stonebridge's annual Ice Ball so that he might begin to appear to pay court to Sophia. If there was one thing Lewis would not do, it was go back upon one of his promises. No matter how much he would have preferred to stay home and nurse his thoroughly aching leg.

  Inside the Stonebridge's town home, however, Lewis was pleasantly surprised to discover that fires burned brightly in every room and there was a certain warmth generated by such a huge crush of people. That did help to relieve his aching limb somewhat, though not nearly as much as soaking in a tub of impossibly hot water might. Still, it was enough that Lewis had been able to move about with relative ease through the throng of people, talking and laughing and generally playing at being the gentleman most of his set assumed he still was. It was only a small salute from Lord Candlewood, the so-called "Bloody Duke," that let Lewis know that while his acting might fool most of the beau monde, it did not quite fool all of them. And especially not those who knew him well.