A Gentleman by Moonlight

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  A large oak desk dominated the room and there were numerous chairs and settees scattered about, almost willy-nilly. The furniture appeared comfortable enough, but Sophia noted that the indentations in the well-worn leather cushions were only at the edges, as if people routinely sat in these chairs but did not allow themselves to become overly comfortable. Given what little she knew of Dunleighton, that actually made a great deal of sense.

  The room was a curious mix of both familial warmth but yet with a distinct undercurrent of coldness, a contrast that she found peculiar but yet familiar at the same time. This room reminded her very much of Lewis and his warm, giving nature and yet the undercurrent of cold duty that ran just beneath the surface of every action he took. For a moment, Sophia felt her heart sink. If this room was any indication of the way Lewis had been raised, then perhaps her mission here was even more foolhardy than she had imagined.

  As she continued to study the room, she heard the doors open behind her. Yet she did not turn around. To do so would be to give the man she had come to see the upper hand, and Sophia had watched and listened to her brother and his friends often enough to understand that she did not wish to be the first one to speak. It might be viewed as a sign of weakness on her part, and weak was not something she wished to be at the moment - and not ever again if she could help it. Let Dunleighton give in first so that she might score the opening points in this skirmish. For this was war and Sophia intended to win.

  "I'll have you know, miss, that I do not appreciate having my breakfasting interrupted." The marquess was grumbling but not roaring. Not to mention that he had, indeed, spoken first. Sophia smiled briefly to herself before schooling her face into an impassible mask as Adam often did when entering negotiations. There was, perhaps, hope yet.

  "Nor do I appreciate having my beau snatched away from me as we shared nothing at all." Sophia turned slowly and deliberately, just as she had seen Candlewood do so often, until she faced Lewis' father directly.

  For a long moment, both of them stood there taking the measure of each other. She was surprised to note that, though he was in at least his fifth decade, John Blackmore was still handsome. Lewis obviously took after his father physically as well, as they shared the same full mouth and high cheekbones, as well as the same indigo blue eyes and oversized build. The marquess' hair, while thinning a bit and more than a little gray at the temples, was the same peculiar mix of both blonde and brown hues and for a moment, Sophia wondered if this man saw himself when he looked at Lewis. For both Guy and Silas, with their slimmer builds, clearly took after their mother.

  Sophia also wondered what this man saw when he looked at her, clad as she was in her mother's ancient widows weeds, the only skin visible that of her face, which that morning had been abnormally pale and set off only by her red, puffy eyes. This was not the image that she had wished to project, certainly. She had wanted to appear strong and confident in front of this man. Recognizing in advance that physically she could not do do, she had instead fallen back upon the tricks she had learned from Adam, Candlewood, and their friends. So far, these tactics had worked well enough. However it was early in the skirmish yet, and she did not wish to become over confident.

  "It is too late, girl," Dunleighton sniffed as he entered the room further, allowing Sophia to notice the slight hitch in his gait. Just like his son's. "The papers will be signed later this morning. Lewis' fate has been decided. Not that he ever had any choice in the matter, really. Duty to family first. Always." He moved to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. "Care for a refreshment?"

  "Thank you. Scotch, if you have it." Sophia made certain that her face was still impassable.

  If Dunleighton was surprised by her request, he made no showing of it. Instead he poured her a drink, which she tossed back rather quickly. The marquess refilled her glass again and Sophia downed the second drink, though a bit slower than she had the first. She was not about to get into a drinking contest with this man, but she would if necessary. Another of Sophia's secrets was that she could hold her liquor far better than most men she knew, unlike her brother who never touched the stuff and became quite the idiot after merely half a glass.

  After pouring her a third glass, which Sophia accepted with a nod of thanks, the marquess tipped his own glass in her direction. "Though I have to admit that I think you would be better for my son than this Watts chit. Silly bit of plain fluff that she is. Or so I have been informed." He took a sip of his own drink. "But I have also been informed that this relationship between you and my son was a false courtship, only started to maintain your pristine reputation." He shrugged. "Not that it matters in the end. As I said, family first around here. Always will be."

  If this man thought she was about to give in so quickly, then he had greatly underestimated her. Well, he would not be the first. Nor would he likely be the last either. "It was. At first. I shan't deny that." Sophia took another sip of her drink, this time feeling the liquid burn its way down to her belly. If she was not careful, she would be foxed rather quickly. "I take it you know of my real first meeting with your son." It was not a question.

  The marquess gestured to a chair so Sophia took a seat. In a way, she was surprised that he had even deigned to speak with her, let alone that he was treating her as he would any man who had come to call. She had a feeling that this meeting was a test of some sort, for knowing that this man still believed in arranged marriages for his son, she could not believe that he actually thought her worthy enough to converse with in this manner. Perhaps he planned to expose her as a hoyden - or worse, a whore - to someone like Madame C. Perhaps having those two glasses of Scotch had not been such a good idea after all. No matter what point she was trying to prove.

  "My lady, everyone knows of your first meeting with my son. It is not as if your actions, not to mention his, went unnoticed." Dunleighton settled into his chair, clearly expecting Sophia to perch upon the edge of hers like a lady would. Well, she would not give him that satisfaction. Her future was at stake and she would fight dirty if she had to do so.

  "And my reputation?" He raised an eyebrow at her as she settled into the chair.

  The marquess eyed Sophia cagily. "Would be in shreds if you were anyone but the Duke of Hathaway's sister." He paused and scratched at his chin for a moment. "And a friend of the Bloody Duke, as well. Connections such as those will protect you well throughout your lifetime. They will not, however, convince me to change my mind, if that is why you are here at this ungodly hour." This time when he paused, the marquess smiled but not unkindly. "I wish that I could give my son a choice in this matter. I would have him marry for love if I could. But I cannot."

  "Silas." Sophia snorted in disgust. "So you would make one son miserable for the rest of his life in order to save another?"

  "In order to preserve my family," Dunleighton corrected her firmly. "Family, my dear is everything." He swirled his hand in the air. "Would you make a better countess for Lewis? Certainly, even with your past notoriously bad behavior. However, Modesty Watts will be meek and mild and, in time, I am certain that I can convince Lewis to give her a child so that the line might continue and all is right and proper, at least in Society's view." The marquess smiled more fully now. "Lewis might have to be the one to sacrifice, yes, but his child will have this free choice that you speak of so passionately. As will my son, Guy. The life of one is a small price to pay for the greater good of the rest. That is what the military teaches after all."

  Sophia delicately placed her glass on a nearby table and turned to face the marquess in an attempt to stare him down. "Forgive me, my lord, but you disgust me. And if you think for one moment that Lewis will forget me, that he does not love me, then..."

  Dunleighton, however, cut her off rather abruptly. "Do not cross me on this, Miss Reynolds, or you will regret the day you pulled this little stunt of yours. You and my son might be madly in love, which I do sincerely doubt, but it would change nothing. His duty is to his family. Not to you. I do not
mean to threaten you, but I will not be crossed on this matter. That is why I agreed to meet with you at all. So that you will know you cannot manipulate me into doing your bidding as you do so many others. For if you try, I shall ruin you. My son will marry the Watts chit. I cannot risk anyone sniffing around my family and discovering the truth about Silas."

  "Everyone in Society already knows the truth about Silas, you bloody imbecile."

  With a gasp, Sophia turned to see Lord Candlewood all but lounging in the doorway. He was leaning against the doorjamb rather insolently, a look of sheer boredom on his handsome face. Behind him, she could see Adam, as well as a third figure. When her brother took a step forward, the man behind him was revealed fully in the dim morning light. That, more than anything, caused her to rise from her chair.

  "Lewis?" Sophia was incredulous. No one amongst her set was even up at this hour! She had been so certain that she would not be seen. "What you are doing here?"

  "The same thing you are, I suspect." He, along with Adam and Candlewood took a collective step into the room. "You are pleading your case with my father, are you not?"

  She nodded, unwilling to back down now. "Though not very well, it would seem."

  "That is because the man you are arguing with has cork between his ears instead of brains." Candlewood strolled into the room, brushing at imaginary dust upon the furniture tops with his white gloved fingertips. He seemed rather disappointed not to find any. In that moment, he also looked far more imposing than Lewis ever had. "Especially if this same idiot truly believes that Society has been buying his nonsense about Silas gadding about the Continent all of these years." He shook his head in clear disgust. "Honestly, man? Do you truly believe that servants don't talk, especially when you pay them a mere pittance of their worth? That Silas' numerous trips into Town have gone unnoticed by everyone but the most blind among us?"

  "Yes. Yes, I do." Dunleighton was defiant now. "No one has countered those stories before, so I have no reason to doubt."

  "That is only because no one wishes to hurt your feelings." That came from Adam who was now lounging in the doorway, having adopted a similar pose to Candlewood's earlier one, his arms crossed over his chest for good measure. "They pity you, Dunleighton, certainly, since you feel the need to hide Silas away as if he is a terrible secret. And they will continue to perpetuate your lie, for that is simply the done thing among all of us. But they still know the truth." He looked at Sophia now. "Just as they all likely know the truth about my sister. Yet they will never say anything, for they do not wish to hurt her any more than she already has been. It was wrong of us to try and pretend otherwise. Or to think that this courtship ruse would change anything."

  Sophia's mind spun, though from the conversation or the drink, she was not certain. All she knew was that suddenly, she felt very dizzy. She reached back for the arm of the chair but instead of polished wood felt a strong, steady arm beneath her hand. She knew right away that it was her brother's. She hadn't even seen him move. She was that far gone, either from fear or drink. She did not know what would be worse in that moment.

  "Go. Please." Adam nodded in the direction of the doorway where Sophia could see Susie standing there wringing her hands, obviously terrified. "We shall deal with this." He glanced over at the marquess who was still glowering in place.

  "But I..." Then Sophia looked around at the other men in the room and fell quiet before nodding. It was clear that this was a battle she would not win on her own. In fact, she was not likely to win it ever. Only these men could, and she trusted them to fight on her behalf. "Very well. I trust you."

  That made Adam smile. "Those are words, my darling sister, that I never thought I would hear you utter again not so very long ago." He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "Now go, Sophie. There is nothing more you can do here, and your point has been well made." He glanced over to where Lewis stood silently, leaning up against the rows of books.

  Reaching up, Sophia hugged her brother tightly. "Thank you, Adam," she whispered in his ear. "For everything. And remember, if you bungle this, I shall flay you alive when you return home."

  Adam laughed. "There is my Sophie. Now go. Please?"

  "As you like." She dipped a curtsey, her knees still rather wobbly. "Gentlemen."

  Then she was gone leaving Adam, Candlewood, Lewis and the marquess alone in the library.

  "She is a troublesome chit," Dunleighton grumbled as soon as Sophia had departed with her maid. "She would make an even more troublesome wife, I fear."

  "Careful, Dunleighton," Adam cautioned softly. "That is my sister you are speaking about."

  "And the woman I love," Lewis added as he moved away from his place along the wall to face his father. "And likely the mother of your grandchildren. I will thank you not to disparage her."

  That remark brought a raised eyebrow from the Duke of Hathaway, but Lewis didn't care. Lord only knew that the man was no fool, and likely had already figured out that Lewis had tumbled Sophia at least once, if not more times than that. It was little wonder the duke didn't call Lewis out for his improper behavior with Sophia, especially without the sanctity of the marriage bed. Then again, Hathaway had arrived at Lewis' door that morning with the Bloody Duke accompanying him, so there might yet be bloodshed.

  With the Bloody Duke about, it was typically impossible to be certain until the very end.

  Lewis simply prayed that any bloodshed today was not his.

  In the depths of the night, Lewis had come to realize just how close to his heart Sophia's words had hit. She was right. People, even people of their station, fought for those they loved. If she was willing to fight for him, in however limited a fashion that might have been, he could do no less for her. In fact, he had been leaving his home on Curzon Street so that he could face his father when Hathaway's carriage had rolled up, Candlewood already inside, and had informed Lewis that Sophia had sneaked out of the house earlier that morning so that she could confront Dunleighton. A note left by the maid had luckily been discovered quickly. Otherwise, no one would have had any notion of where Sophia had hared off to at such an hour.

  "So are you going to be reasonable about this, Dunleighton, or will it be pistols at dawn?" It was no secret that Nicholas Rosemont had stepped into the middle of a duel involving the Marquess of Landover several years back and had expertly placed a shot at the man's feet, terrifying all involved and giving everyone a glimpse of the man who would later earn the nickname The Bloody Duke. "I will warn you that I am a bit out of practice, but I promise not to miss. At least not by much anyway." Then Candlewood smiled that same frigid, smirking smile that was now his trademark.

  "What would you have me do?" Dunleighton snarled angrily. "I cannot very well admit to all and sundry that my son is an idiot because he cracked his brain chasing a damn cat down some stairs when he was child!"

  Adam sighed and rolled his eyes as if completely annoyed. Lewis suspected the man might be at that, what with all the theatrics going on around him. "We are not asking you to do such a daft thing, either, Dunleighton. All we are asking is that you release Lewis from this absurd contract that was drafted by men even more addle-brained than you."

  The marquess was incredulous. "And what of Miss Watts? Surely you do not believe that her father will stand for this, do you?"

  Candlewood clasped his hands behind his back and circled the room as if inspecting it for more flaws. "I have it on rather excellent authority that Miss Watts and her father both are relieved to know that she will not have to marry a, how did she put it now?" He paused and tapped a single finger to his chin. "Ah, yes a 'scarred up, mangled, old relic of a city man who would only want her for the marriage bed.' Yes, I am fairly certain those were her precise words." He looked over at Lewis drolly. "No offense, Blackmore, you understand."

  "None taken." Lewis could not even begin to describe how grateful he was to the duke for that description of him - particularly if the words had come directly from the mouth of Miss Modest
y Watts herself.

  "And you would know all of this already, Dunleighton, if you had even bothered to send someone to Bedfordshire to check and see if this Miss Watts even wished to marry into this rather absurd family in the first place." Candlewood tisked at the marquess and Lewis realized that this was a man he would never wish to cross. "Now about those contracts..."

  As Candlewood continued, for the first time since Guy had visited his house on Curzon Street, Lewis knew a moment of relief. Perhaps his future was not so bleak after all.

  "And if I refuse?" the marquess cut in quickly, clearly not ready to be swayed in his decision. Or to give Candlewood the final say in the matter.

  "Then I shall marry Sophia anyway." Lewis had stood at the doorway in amazement earlier, watching the woman he loved face down his father for him. It was his turn to do the same for her.

  Dunleighton grumbled, glaring at his son angrily. "I shall cut you off," he warned ominously

  "I have a fortune of my own," Lewis reminded his father. "I do not need yours. Or Hunterdon's"

  "And I have some excellent investment opportunities that were just presented to me. Ones that I believe Lord Blackmore, or should I now refer to him as Lord Hunterdon, might find of interest as well." That came from Adam. "We might be obscenely wealthy gentlemen, Dunleighton, but where is the harm in accumulating just a bit more in the way of funds? None that I can see, certainly."

  "Not to mention that there is the offer of a position with the Home Office involving domestic affairs on the table, if Lord Hunterdon desires such a thing now that he is no longer with Bow Street. Nothing gauche, mind you, but something that might hold his interest when he is not increasing his holdings or working on filling up his nursery. He is an earl now, after all, and that, I am afraid, no one can stop, save for our dear prince regent." Candlewood yawned indifferently. "And, at the moment, I understand that he is not inclined to do so."