A Gentleman by Moonlight

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  Hour after hour for the last several days, Lewis had pleaded his case and attempted to make his father see reason regarding the matter. He had even played upon his father's own love for Lewis' mother, reminding the older man that they had made a love match and that Lewis himself deserved no less. Even that, however, had not swayed the old man. Love, John Blackmore had said as he rubbed his eyes, clearly weary of the conversation, was for heirs. Not for spares. Lewis was fairly certain much of Society would disagree with his father on that count, but he hadn't pushed the issue any farther.

  There were some things that one simply did not argue about with John Blackmore. Any business surrounding the continuation of the Dunleighton line was one of those.

  Therefore, that left Lewis with two choices. He could do as his father commanded and be miserable his entire life without Sophia. Or he could defy his father, wed Sophia and then miss his family for the rest of his life, for he had no doubt they would cut off all contact with him immediately if he did not fall in line.

  For the first time, Lewis had some idea of how Valeria must have felt that long-ago day in Spain. Caught between two impossible situations, she had seen no way out, no way to make any option open to her work in her favor. So she had chosen the way that she thought would bring her the least amount of pain - by ending her life. Sadly, her pain might have ended but Lewis' had only begun. Until this moment, he had not understood just how impossible of a choice she had been faced with back then.

  "I would suggest that you leave quietly if you do not wish to make a scene."

  Lewis was not surprised in the least to hear the voice of Adam Reynolds hiss darkly in his ear. Lewis had chosen to attend the Knightly affair simply because Sophia was going to be here. Foolish as it was, he wished to see her a few more times before he was banished to Bedfordshire until the beginning of the next Season when he would be commanded to appear back in London with his new bride by his side and a shiny new title behind his name. Until this moment, he had also not realized that he was into self-punishment, either.

  "I simply desired to see her again." Lewis knew that Hathaway would not believe him, but he had to try. "I never meant to hurt her."

  "But you did." The duke's voice was frigidly cold. "You knew what you were about that morning when you walked into my home and destroyed my sister and the life she hoped to have with you."

  Lewis shook his head before closing his eyes and looking away. "You do not understand, your grace. This decision was not mine to make."

  "I understand that if you truly loved me, you would fight for me."

  Lewis' eyes flew open to see Sophia standing before him looking both defiant and hurt beyond measure. She was beautiful in her fury, her golden hair entwined with sapphires and a single teardrop diamond shimmering at her slender throat. The icy blue gown she wore clung to her delectable curves and once more, he found himself growing hard at the mere thought of what lay beneath that silken fabric. He should not be doing so, he knew, for she was not his to touch any longer. Still, his body continued to long for hers and given the way her nipples pebbled beneath her thin gown, hers still longed for his as well. He wondered if that would ever change.

  "I wish I could explain," he tried again but she held up her hand to silence him.

  "While I do not know everything that has transpired, I know enough to guess. Your father wishes to keep secrets and he feels that complying with silly edicts in the will of a madman will allow him to keep those secrets. You, out of a sense of duty or some other misguided notion, are going along with him at the expense of a future with me." She shook her head in disgust. "Men. Honestly. Have you no honor any longer, Lewis?"

  Behind Sophia, Lewis could see heads turning in their direction, especially as Lord Hunt and Lady Aurelia, as well as a few more of their inner circle of friends had closed ranks around Sophia as if to protect her. From him. Of that there was no question.

  Once more, Lewis was the outsider here. Not because of his scars or his military career but rather because he had hurt Sophia deeply. Once, he had been on the other side as well, doing everything within his power to keep her safe from harm. He had no idea how the entire situation had become so crossed up, but it had and he realized that he had failed her, too. In siding with his family, Lewis had ultimately betrayed Sophia - the one woman he loved more than life itself. And that knowledge hurt more than the idea of living without his family for the rest of his life. He had made the wrong choice and now? He had the impression that he could not undo the damage.

  "Not here," Lewis pleaded and was grateful when Sophia took his arm and allowed him to lead her into a small alcove.

  When a noise from her brother made them stop, she turned and looked at Adam and Lewis could see that fiery light he loved so well burning brightly in her teal gaze. "I will be fine, Adam. If I have not returned to the ballroom in five minutes, come and find me, please."

  "You have three," he growled mercilessly. "No more or I shall bring this very house down around us, scandal be damned. Use them wisely." Then he was gone, hiding their escape from the ballroom and shooing everyone away from the small hallway.

  Alone now, Lewis quickly led them deeper into the house, well aware of how the last time they had escaped a ball together had ended. Finally, he reached an empty room, devoid of even the most basic of furniture. That was perfect, for he would not be tempted to take her body with his if there was no furniture in the room. Or at least he would not be tempted much.

  Once they were inside, Lewis locked the door behind them, thankful he had thought to snatch a branch of candles from a table outside. "Sophia, please. Let me explain."

  "What is there to say?" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "I believe you made your position rather clear the other morning. You have chosen your family and this Watts chit over me." She tossed her head and for a moment, he was reminded of the Sophia who had battled her brother over Adam's courtship of Abby. The one who had endured a broken nose after a rather vicious game of battledore. This was not a good sign. "You made promises to me and then you broke them."

  Lewis reached for her but she stepped away. "I did not mean to. This is not my choice, Sophie. I would have chosen you had I been able. Please know that."

  "So your family means more to you than I do. Or are you so conflicted that you could not choose at all, so another made the decision for you? Like your father." Sophia bit her lip for a brief moment, as if wondering whether or not she had pushed too far. "Now I believe you know a bit how Valeria felt. How I felt that night with Alex."

  "I made a choice. I chose not to push my father and to keep my brother safe. It is not that I did not choose you, exactly." Lewis stared deeply into Sophia's eyes. "It was that I could not choose you." Oh, Lord. Now he was beginning to sound like his father with this odd, circular thinking. Again, this was not a good portent of things to come.

  Sophia shook her head in clear disgust. "This is not about choices, Lewis. It is about standing up for what is right. It is about fighting for what you love." She lowered her lashes and he could swear that tears sparkled there, though he knew her well enough by now to understand that she would not allow them to fall while in his presence. Perhaps once she might have, but no longer. "And who you love."

  Then when she looked back up at him again, she was defiant once more, his perfect Grecian goddess. "I love you, Lewis Blackmore," she whispered as she took a step back. "I have since perhaps that night in the carriage. Only I was too hurt to realize it at the time. But I trusted you on a night when I trusted no one. You. And no one else. You, with your big body and scarred face. You, the very sort of man I should have feared in that moment, reached for me and I went to you. I have often asked myself why. Why did I do that? Now I am able to answer that question. Because for me, Lewis, it was love at first sight. You. Always you."

  Another step, pulling farther away from Lewis and back towards the door. He would let her go. Because he could not do anything else. He felt frozen, as if he
was back in the depths of that terrible night after the first saber attack on the peninsula that had wounded him so badly, slashed his face and torn at his leg. That night, through the dim haze of laudanum, he hadn't felt anything. Neither good nor bad. He had simply...existed. Too dazed to move or think. That was precisely the way he felt now after Sophia's confession.

  When Sophia reached for the door handle, Lewis did not stop her. He wanted to, but his bad leg would not move. He could not walk forward. His arm would not reach for her. Instead he stood there, mute and frozen.

  She loved him. Lady Sophia Reynolds loved him. Him. Lord Lewis Blackmore. The ex-military man who had been tossed of out Bow Street. The man his family viewed as only good for one thing, to help protect the secret of Silas. The man that Society viewed as flawed and debutantes turned away from because he was damaged, only half of his face still bearing the handsome visage that he had been born with. The man whose inaction had, in some small way, led to the death of another - a woman he loved.

  All of that and Sophia, the most perfect creature he had ever met, still loved him. She was in love with him. Or she had been. He wasn't certain if she was any longer. He would not blame her if she changed her mind, if his rejection of her had irreparably damaged that love. For he certainly hadn't done anything to deserve that love in return.

  Seemingly stronger now, Sophia raised her chin and once more Lewis saw the flash of fire that he so loved about her flare up from deep inside. Loved. For he loved her as well. Though he was fairly confident that she would not want to hear those words from him just now.

  Sophia cocked her head to the side and closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again. This time, tears did shine there and a single one streaked down her cheek. Lewis wanted to reach out and wipe it away, but he didn't dare. He no longer had the right. He had thrown that right, and all of the other ones he had enjoyed with Sophia, away the morning he had given in to Guy and his father's outrageous demands. The morning he had walked away from Sophia, thinking he was doing the right thing for all involved. Now, he knew that he had made a mistake. Perhaps the worst one of his life.

  "I would have fought for you, Lewis," Sophia sighed sadly. "Had Adam denied me again, had he refused to allow me to wed you as he refused Alex, I would have fought him once more. Nor would it have been my first time to fight my family for what I believed in so passionately. You, of all people, know this. Even if I was wrong, I still would have fought. Because I loved. I loved you. You, and not some other man I have never met or the memory of Alex and the man I thought he was. Just you, Lewis. And only you. I have never loved anyone the way I loved you. And if you believe that was easy for me to admit just now, after all that I have endured, then you never really knew me at all."

  Then, as she began to cry in earnest, Sophia yanked on the door handle and fled the room. Lewis let her go. He had no right to stop her. But he wished that he still did. And he wondered if there was any way, any way at all, that he could reclaim that right. If he could fight to win back Sophia's love. She had said that she was willing to fight for him. If he loved her the way he believed that he did, shouldn't he be able to say the same?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Town Tattler

  I can confidently report that Lord Blackmore and Lady Sophia were witnessed in each other's company at Lady Knightly's ball last evening. Is this the beginning of a reconciliation? Or merely the finalizing of the end? For reputable sources tell me that there is, indeed, tension between the two. If one were to ask her brother, I am certain he would give you one answer. However I am not so certain that Lady Sophia would provide the same one. More to report as this develops, whenever that might be. Hopefully soon, for I do not grow any younger. I am also beginning to rethink my position on love matches. Perhaps arranged marriages are the proper way to handle matters of marriage after all.

  -Madame C

  As the carriage rattled down the street, Sophia did her best not to appear nervous. She was about to enter the proverbial lion's den and even a small flinch of fear would be enough to seal her fate she was certain.

  What she was about to do was foolish and beyond the pale, even for her. If anyone uncovered her actions, she would be shamed and cast out of Society. Likely Adam and Abby would suffer socially as well. Mama, too. Though Sophia doubted that they would be given the cut direct. After all, Adam was still a duke, not to mention a good friend of the Bloody Duke. People, in general, did not cut dukes, their wives or their mothers. Sisters, however, especially aged ones bordering upon spinsterhood, were an entirely different matter.

  No, Sophia was quite certain that this visit would have her banished from all of the best drawing rooms in London if anyone ever caught wind of it. On the other hand, she was no longer certain she wished to be in the best drawing rooms of London. Actually, she wasn't quite certain what she wanted. Save for one thing. Or rather, one person.

  Lewis. Sophia wanted Lewis.

  And, as of this morning, she was determined to fight for him.

  Last night as Adam and Abby had escorted her from Lady Knightly's, Sophia had held up well enough for a time. She managed to collect her wrap and give her thanks to her hostess, pleading a megrim for her early departure. All without shedding a single tear, save for the ones that only Lewis witnessed as she fled the room to seek out her family.

  However when she finally reached the safety of the family carriage, images of the future Sophia would never have with Lewis began to flash through her mind. She pictured him with the faceless Miss Watts, now the Countess of Hunterdon, round with Lewis' child, when they met by chance at an event next Season. She imagined him doting on his still-faceless wife, caring for her in the very same way he had cared for Sophia that night on the Great North Road.

  In fact, image after image of Lewis' life with this as-yet-unseen Miss Watts continued to torment Sophia all the way home to Reynolds House and through her bedtime routine. It wasn't until she was in bed and under the covers, the counterpane tucked up around her, that the images of Lewis and this other woman finally began to abate, only to be replaced by images of Sophia's future, alone and bereft. A future without Lewis.

  As she lay there in bed, the hot bricks at her feet doing little to warm the chill sweeping over her body, Sophia realized that she had never given up without a fight before. Even when her heart had begun to whisper that Alex was not the right man for her, her mind had insisted that she fight on, challenging everyone and everything that stood in her way. She had used her feminine wiles and every social trick she knew of in an attempt to bend Adam to her will. And though she had failed, she had still tried.

  Tonight, Sophia had simply walked away from Lewis. She had refused to fight. She claimed that she was willing to fight for him, yet she had done no such thing, even when her heart and her head were in agreement upon a matter for once. Instead, she had simply walked way, broken and defeated. That was not like her.

  She had fought to reclaim her life after Alex's attack, re-emerging into Society with her head held high, daring anyone to question her or her reputation. She had fought her mother's edicts regarding marriage, instead helping to forge her own future and find a man that she loved. She had fought to be a better Sophia. So why was she simply going to allow Lewis to slip away from her without that same sort of fight?

  She wasn't. And in the wee hours of the morning, Sophia had decided that if Lewis would not fight for her, then she would fight for him. Or at least she would try. In the end, she might still loose, but at least her heart and her head could rest easy with the knowledge that she had tried. It was the best she could do.

  Which was why, as the patchy, gray dawn streaked the London sky, Sophia and her maid Susie were tucked safely inside a non-descript black coach as it pulled up in front of the Marquess of Dunleighton's London home. She was going to fight. She was not so foolish as to believe that there would be no repercussions from her actions. Therefore, she had exercised some degree of caution as well. She had deliberately
called for the plain coach so that her family would not be implicated. There was little she could do about the matched grays that pulled the conveyance, but then, the family carriage horses were not exactly a unique color in London as of late, since gray horses were now all the rage. Sophia and Susie had also donned black, voluminous mourning gowns, complete with large veils, to cover their faces, hoping that if they were spotted entering the home, they would simply be mistaken for mourners related to the Hunterdon title.

  It was not much of a disguise, true, but it was the best she could manage on such short notice.

  Sophia had learned much over the past few months. Before Lewis, she would have simply pulled up to the marquess' town home in the ducal carriage and matched inside, head all but uncovered and in a Madame LaVallier creation known to be hers. There would have been little doubt as to her identity. So in that regard, Sophia supposed that she had learned something after all.

  Eventually, after presenting her calling card to the butler, and ensuring that Susie was safely spirited away belowstairs, Sophia was led into a dark, wood paneled study. It reeked of old cheroots and brandy, but it seemed comfortable enough, with its walls of old, leather-bound books and thick, heavy drapes to keep out the morning sun. Not that there was much sun that morning, but Sophia could imagine that in the spring and summer months, there was plenty of light, and that the room might actually be rather pleasant. Or, given the man that ruled this study with an iron fist, perhaps not.

  Now, candles flickers in branches scattered about the room, the drapes open only a tiny sliver, not that there was much light to spill into the room anyway. Even as the hour approached ten in the morning, the sun had yet to make an appearance, the thick, gray clouds and fog from last evening's rain blocking out even the feeblest of rays.