Lewis' kisses were better than any that she had received from her previous beaux and they were certainly better than Alex's, as he tended to be rather sloppy when he kissed her, often forcing his tongue into her mouth. Briefly, she wondered what that sort of kiss would be like with Lewis. She doubted that he would be as messy or distasteful. She also knew that if she asked him to stop, he would.
Parting her lips slightly, Sophia darted her tongue out to brush along the seam of Lewis' lips, teasing him just a little. As much as she dared. Though her eyes were closed, she heard him draw in air, clearly shocked at her boldness. When she did it again, this time he returned the favor, licking at her lips with his tongue until she opened for him.
Sophia knew a brief moment of panic when his tongue darted inside of her mouth but then she began to realize how delightful he was making her feel, creating tingling sensations deep within her that raced through her body, making her feel languid and relaxed. She kissed him back just as deeply, all the while knowing that she was skating close to the edge of hysterical fear, yet not truly wishing to pull away. This felt too good to stop. Moreover, this was Lewis.
When he did not press her for further intimacies, instead seemingly content with the kisses, Sophia found that her fear abated quickly. Oh, she was still afraid of what came next, but this was...nice. Actually, it was more than nice. It was absolutely delightful, and for the first time, she could see a future that included a husband. For if she could kiss a man, then likely she could do more. Not yet, certainly, but in time.
"I can't let you go just yet, Sophia," Lewis whispered raggedly. "For I fear that if I do, then I will wake up and this will all have been a dream."
"It is not a dream, Lewis. Of that I can assure you." Slowly Sophia opened her eyes and took in his handsome face. In the dim, flickering lights of the room, he reminder her of a painting she had seen once of an ancient warrior - scarred and battle-weary yet strong and unyielding at the same time. She wanted more of this, more of him. And even if it meant a return to her old, headstrong ways to have him, she was determined to take what she desired. "Now do be quiet and kiss me again. Please."
Lewis smiled, this time his eyes lighting up with merriment as he did so. "With pleasure, my lady. With pleasure."
Neither of them spoke another word after that and they kissed for long into the night, heedless of how many people might be looking for them and how their prolonged absence from the ball might be remarked upon. All they saw was each other and together they basked in the realization that for the first time in what seemed like ages, each of them had found someone who understood.
Chapter Eleven
Town Tattler
It is of little surprise to this Society watcher that Lady Carlisle's grand Ice Ball far surpassed Lady Stonebridge's ball of the same name, which was held a scant few days before. After all, who would not find it entertaining to be nearly impaled every time one moved by those dangling bits of sharp-edged crystal, beautiful though they were? Yet the threat of possible death aside, the far more entertaining news from the fete was the disappearance of the Little Season's most watched couple - the lovely yet fearsome Lady Sophia and the dashing yet still humble Lord Blackmore. They both disappeared from the ballroom for over an hour, which cannot be a coincidence - especially after the lady in question was witnessed staring daggers at a possible rival for the former military man's affections. I would suggest that Lady Lizzie Ashford watch her back if she does not want to find herself being given the cut direct during the Christmastide season. After all, Lady Sophia is a Ton favorite while Lady Lizzie is...less so.
So are wedding bells in the offing for those two? Only time will tell, I suppose, though Lady Sophia did eventually emerge from "the retiring room" looking thoroughly mussed and exceptionally well-kissed. Not that I, as a single lady as well, can blame her! After all, what woman among us would refuse a kiss from so handsome a man as Lord Blackmore?
It should be noted that also in attendance was the increasing popular "American Marquess," as Lord Daniel Weston, the Marquess of Lansdale is quickly becoming known. His sister, Lady Pearl, was not present at the gala, but I am told that she will appear at one more event or two before the Little Season ends. Let us just hope that her chaperone, Miss Nightingale, is not present at the affair, for I do not think that Society could bear another row such as the one that took place earlier in the week. It is simply not the done thing. Let us all hope someone has informed Lord Lansdale of that little fact.
-Madame C
Lewis awoke with a painfully throbbing body and an even more painfully throbbing erection. His dreams last night had been filled with nothing but Sophia lying lush and naked in his arms as he took her again and again, driving her to new heights of pleasure. When he first awoke, it took him a moment to realize that his fevered visions were only dreams and not reality, though upon further reflection, he supposed the fact that in the heat of passion, his body was strong, perfect and without scars should have been a good indication that they had, in fact, been nothing more than dreams.
Dressing himself that morning proved to be a chore as well, and so for the first time in ages, he actually called upon his valet, Pilkington, to assist him with the task. In general, Lewis did not care for the peerage's habit of having another man dress them. In the army, and even before, he had grown quite accustomed to taking care of his own needs, as well as dressing and shaving himself. However, that particular morning, with a storm of some sort likely bearing down upon London, Lewis' body throbbed with pain, every last saber cut and bullet wound that he had taken over the years reminding him that even though he was only just thirty, he had the body of a man in his sixth decade - if not seventh.
When he eventually managed to sit down for breakfast, Lewis was thankful that his limbs had loosened up somewhat and that he was able to move about with a bit more ease. The storm was still approaching; his body told him thus. However, he was thinking now that it would likely hit Town in the evening rather than during the day. Which meant that he could ride Thunderbolt, his magnificent black stallion, though the park that day to help clear his mind of those delightfully naked and all-too-real dreams. After all, he was scheduled to escort Sophia at the theater that evening and he could not behave so loutishly around her, at least not if he wished to keep his secrets from her. That was why he hoped to ensure that he had plenty of time for some fresh air today before being stuck indoors for the evening where she would likely once more consume his every waking thought. Not that he minded all that much, really.
Before returning to Society with Sophia, Lewis had spent a great many of his evenings out of doors to help keep his mind clear and calm, even if that meant simply meandering about his gardens or making the short trip to Vauxhall. His time in the army had given him a thorough appreciation for clean, fresh air and wide open spaces to help ensure mental stability - not that there was much of either to be found in London, but he made do as best he could.
Just as he was about to tuck into his eggs after sending one of his footmen to the stables to request that Thunderbolt be readied for him, Lewis looked up when he felt a pair of eyes watching him in silence.
"Yes, Crawford. What is it?" Lewis could instantly tell when his butler was lurking about without even looking up from his plate.
A fellow army officer, Joshua Crawford was missing several fingers on his left hand, having caught the bad end of a cannon explosion, and had been discharged around the same time that Lewis had been. They had both been placed on the same ship home as well, and a strange but fast friendship had formed between the two men as they traversed the waters towards home. When they landed in England, Crawford was greeted with the news that he had been presumed dead after the cannon incident, so when a fever took his family, his small baronetcy had been given over to another, more powerful local lord who had been craving Crawford's prime piece of Yorkshire farmland for years.
Feeling a bit lost himself and not at all eager to return home to a family he wasn't
certain that he knew any longer, Lewis had suggested that Crawford accompany him back to London. It would be as a favor to him, Lewis had implored, as he wasn't certain he could adjust to living back among the peerage after being away and in the military for so long. For whatever reason, perhaps even out of boredom, Crawford had agreed. A few months later, Timothy Pilkington, another fellow officer who had also suffered grievous injuries on the peninsula, had come to call, hoping to find some word of his wife who had been a maid in one of the nearby Mayfair households when he had departed for Spain.
When Timothy discovered that his wife had been killed by a runaway delivery wagon, he had been distraught. Lewis could not in good conscience allow the man to leave his care, especially as the man had no place to go, save for a flophouse in Whitechapel.
Over time, particularly when members of Lewis' family came to call, both Crawford and Pilkington slipped into discreet and proper roles within the household. Pilkington had served as a valet once before, so it was only natural that when Guy came to call and inquired as to whether or not Lewis had finally secured a new valet, Pilkington had appeared as if by magic, looking the part of the world's most perfect valet. And as Crawford had some exposure to the peerage and their ways, it was only logical that when callers arrived, he served as de-facto butler since Lewis had never quite gotten around to hiring one upon his return.
Now, Lewis' household ran smoothly and he had two of his closest friends by his side at all times - even though most people who passed through his doors assumed the two men were merely servants. Lewis never felt the need to correct them, instead preferring to keep their secret out of fear that Society would not understand. However their long and close association, as well as Lewis' time in the army, meant that he was always well aware when someone entered a room - particularly his butler.
"Crawford?" Lewis asked again, this time looking up. He noticed that his old friend had a sick pallor about him. "Is something amiss?"
"A Mr. Peregrine Egerton to see you, sir." Crawford shifted from foot to foot, as he did when he was embarrassed. "He refused to wait in the hall, sir, and I was...unable to make him."
Meaning that Egerton had taken advantage of the fact that Crawford was missing some fingers to push past the butler and into Lewis' home. Just because Egerton was Lewis' superior did not give the man free reign to abuse Lewis' staff, especially in his own home.
Pushing to his feet, Lewis nodded at his old friend. "Thank you, Crawford. That will be all for now."
"Very good, sir." Just as quietly as he had entered, the man turned and was gone, leaving Lewis to face his Bow Street boss.
Placing his napkin on the table, Lewis came around to stand nearly nose to nose with Egerton. Considering that Lewis had a few inches on the man, it was more like nose to chin. Lewis rarely used his imposing height and size to intimidate others, but this morning he felt like making an exception. "I thought I was not currently in Bow Street's employ."
"You aren't," Egerton replied stiffly, not backing down either. Lewis admired him for that. "Though there are plenty among our ranks, including the esteemed and respected Harry Greer of all people, who have lobbied rather vigorously for your return. You have powerful friends, Lord Blackmore."
Lewis quirked an eyebrow at the use of his title. "I see." Then he cleared his throat. "If we could get on about business, Egerton, let us do it and be done. I have a busy day ahead of me. Family business and all of that." Actually, other than his ride through the park, Lewis didn't have a single event on his calendar until that night. But Egerton didn't need to know that. "I am also to escort Lady Sophia at the theater tonight." He did feel the need to add that little bit, however.
"Which brings me to the point of my visit." Egerton stood up straighter. "I asked you to take some time off from Bow Street, get this business with the Reynolds chit sorted out."
"Which is what I am doing." Lewis adopted a relaxed posture, though inside he was anything but relaxed.
"No, you are making a spectacle of yourself. Parading about with her, disappearing for hours upon end, landing in the Town Tattler with some alarming frequency." Egerton was puffed up with indignation now and Lewis had the impression the man was here to relieve him of his position within Bow Street permanently. Not that Lewis would truly mind. He was beginning to tire of being assigned only Society cases anyway.
"I was absent from the ball last evening because my leg was paining me. You know how it is with me some days, especially when a storm is approaching, just as one is today." If Lewis was going to be tossed out of Bow Street completely, there was no reason not to have some fun with Egerton in the meantime. He had always been the stuffy sort. Even more so than Lewis himself usually was.
"I am certain your leg did pain you at some point last evening." Egerton's eyes roamed the breakfast room, clearly taking in the rich and tasteful decor, as well as Lewis' obvious signs of enormous wealth. "Though I doubt that it was at the same time that Lady Sophia was reported to be in the retiring room."
Lewis stiffened, his eyes narrowing in speculation. "You have spies among the ton?"
Egerton rolled his eyes. "Everyone has spies among the ton. Even your friend Candlewood, though he takes orders directly from the Home Office itself, so it is not as if we can touch him."
"I would not advise such a thing, even if you could." Lewis stifled a yawn. He really had not slept well the previous evening. Too many naked dreams of Sophia. "The Bloody Duke is not a man to be trifled with."
"If you know the man so well, perhaps then you could appeal to him for a job when you have finished your social obligations for the season." Egerton was now ramrod straight and obviously angry.
By contrast, Lewis was far more relaxed than he had been before. In truth, he had been anticipating this day for some time now. To a point, he was a bit surprised that his dismissal had not happened sooner. After all, he did not really fit in with his fellow Runners and never truly had. He had also always suspected that they were keeping tabs on him just as much as he was keeping tabs on others - especially with his connection to Candlewood. "So I take it that I am released from all of my Bow Street obligations?"
"Now and in the future." Egerton looked as if he wished to run straight out the front door but his training would not allow him to act so rashly. Lewis wasn't certain what the man had expected by way of a reaction, but it was clearly not the cool indifference that Lewis was displaying at the moment. "Now if you will excuse me, Lord Blackmore, I will show myself out." Then he was gone in a flash of brown tweed, the preferred colors of most of Bow Street.
For a long moment, Lewis simply stood there, processing the news. On one hand, he had expected his dismissal, yet that did not mean that the delivery of the news still did not hurt. He had known from the first that his time among the Runners was temporary, simply a way to pass the time until he figured out what to do next and where he fit in - if anywhere at all. Or until the Home Office came calling by way of Candlewood, which, given his newly unemployed status, they - and the duke - just might.
For the moment however, Lewis truly had no idea what he would do with the rest of his life, especially now that continuing his Bow Street career was not an option. Well, whatever came next in his life, it would have to wait until this business with Sophia was over and done with. He would not include Silas in the list of items that had to be dealt with, for Silas was family and no one was ever really finished with family.
No longer hungry, Lewis called for Crawford to bring his coat and then strode out towards the stables. He could feel the beginnings of another megrim coming on, worse than the other night, and he needed air to help clear his mind. A ride on his favorite stallion would not always help, but it did typically do some good and he wished to be clear-headed tonight for the theater. He had quickly discovered that dealing with Sophia always muddled his mind and when he was not thinking properly, he did things he ought not to - like kiss her senseless in a furniture-filled parlor in the middle of a ball.
&
nbsp; Within minutes of Egerton's departure, Lewis had mounted Thunderbolt and was riding across London towards Hyde Park as fast as he could. At this early hour, few Society people were up and about, and those that were awake would likely not care that he had forgone his hat and other social niceties in order to simply be free of the cloying restraints of their world for a time.
Here on the streets of London, Lewis could pretend that he was just a regular man, as he had been in the army. Not a gentleman with responsibilities to his utterly disorganized family. Not a man who had been tossed from Bow Street. Not a man who might be falling in love with a woman he had no business desiring. He was simply a man on a magnificent black horse and nothing more.
Yet the harder and faster that Lewis rode, the more difficult it was to escape the looming specter of Sophia that hung over him. He should not have kissed her last night. More over, even if he had kissed her once, he should not have continued to kiss her. That was a mistake. He should have learned his lesson from Valeria. Opening himself like that, allowing himself to care for a woman? It only led to disaster. In the case of Sophia, he knew going in that they could not and would not last. That theirs was a temporary and false courtship. And yet what had he done anyway? He had kissed her and allowed her to creep her way inside of his heart. He had allowed her to nestle into the part of him that was cold and empty and full of guilt over Valeria's death. Over not being able to save her, especially since she was a large part of the reason Lewis had raced to save Sophia that night.
Lewis did not want to desire Sophia. But he did. He wanted her very much, even though he knew that she was not ready for that sort of intimacy. She might never be, not after what Selby had done to her. Yet that did not change the fact that Lewis ached for her, so much that he now dreamed of her.
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