A Gentleman by Moonlight Read online

  Chapter One

  November 1820

  Reynolds House - London

  From the slightly harsh tone of her voice, it was abundantly clear that Lady Mary Reynolds, now the dowager Duchess of Hathaway, was beyond frustrated with her only daughter. "Sophia, please. Be reasonable! You must marry before the new Season begins or you will certainly be ruined! I am not certain how we have kept your secret for so long, but once everyone returns to London in the spring news of that night will get out. We have been over this at least a dozen times thus far. At least three Society gentlemen saw Lord Blackmore carrying you into the Bull and Toad Inn that night. They know that something was afoot with you, even if they do not know the details. If word spreads, not even Madame C. will be able save your reputation." She shook her head. "If the blasted woman even comes back to Town. Where are the bloody gossips when we need them?"

  Sophia knew her mother was angry with her - angry enough to swear, which was decidedly unlike her usually prim and proper mother - but she simply could not do what her mother asked. They had been over this so many times as of late that Sophia's head hurt from all of the arguing. However, all of her mother's pleas and cajoling and fits of anger could not change the way Sophia felt inside.

  Her mother's desires could not erase the never-ending cold or the yawning emptiness that threatened to swallow Sophia whole nearly every day since that night. Nor could any of those harsh words erase the near-crippling fear she endured every time she thought of even being held by a man for something as simple and brief as a country dance. Even though the last bit of her youth was quickly slipping away.

  Sophia did not care. She simply couldn't bring herself to care. All she felt was cold and empty. Dead inside. As if her life was already gone and there was no way possible to reclaim all that she had lost. No matter her true age.

  She was five and twenty. Not a young debutante any longer. She should have been married and with a family of her own by now. She could have been, she supposed, had she not acted like a spoiled child for so long and defied her brother until he couldn't endure her harping any longer and gave in to her demands. What had happened with Selby was not her fault. Sophia truly believed that, even if others might not. The events that had led up to that fateful night, however? The refusal to listen to her family, to understand that they were only trying to help? The refusal to stop and consider the words of those who cared most for her welfare? Well, most of those probably were her fault. She understood that now.

  That was not an excuse for what Alex had done, certainly, and in Sophia's mind, he alone was responsible for his reprehensible actions. She was not at fault for what he had done to her. However she could have been more careful in the time leading up to the moment she had stepped into that cursed carriage. In the past, Sophia had always felt the need to be right. Always. No one, not even her family, could tell her what to do, for in her mind, she was infallible. Untouchable. Too perfect to be wrong. And that blindness on her part had led her to make mistakes. Mistakes that had then led her to trust the wrong man. Mistakes that she was now paying for more harshly than she could have ever imagined.

  Sophia had chosen poorly once. What made her, or anyone else really, believe she was capable of making a reasonable, rational decision now? Especially one so very, very important, such as selecting a man to become her husband? If she could not see Lord Alex Selby for the snake that he was, how could she see any man for his true self? What if she made another mistake? This time, she might pay with her very life and that thought turned her blood to ice.

  For all of those reasons and more, Sophia simply could not choose a husband at the moment as if she was selecting a new pair of gloves. Not when the very thought of being bound in such a way to a man - any man - made her skin crawl. And certainly now when the mere idea of a man's hand in hers made her want to slice off the appendage before she could even feel the slightest hint of male pressure on her skin. She had once dreamed of love and marriage and a family, but no longer. That dream had ended back in June when she had foolishly chosen her heart over her head. And her heart - and her life - had been shattered by the man she thought she loved.

  The only consolation Sophia took from that night six months ago was that there had been no consequences from Selby's actions. As if to confirm that once more, she touched her still flat stomach and sent up a small prayer of thanks. Even though she had to live with the shame of what she had endured, at least she did not have to live with physical proof of what the man had done to her that long ago night.

  However she still had to live with the resulting shame and anger, and that was not as easy to bear as she had once assumed it would be. Then again, she was no longer the same woman she assumed she always would be. Situations changed. People changed. Whether they wanted to or not. Whether they - and others - liked it or not.

  It was also fair to say that most people did not like the changes in Sophia as of late. Which was fine, too, as she didn't much care for them herself. Yet she also saw no way to return to the woman she had once been. She also wasn't even certain she wanted to try. That woman hadn't been very nice. Sophia wanted to be a better person. Or at least she wished to be.

  What she also wished was to simply be left alone. Even if she had come to accept a few months ago that would never happen. Especially while her mother still drew breath. And the issue of Sophia's imminent ruin still hung between them.

  "Mama, we have already discussed this at length. Adam has stated several times that I do not have to marry if I do not wish to. So I won't. Please. Let this topic drop." Sophia settled back into her comfortable armchair, determined to end this conversation before it began. Again. The best way to do that, of course, was avoidance.

  Not that Sophia could avoid her mother while they were in the same room, of course. And not when Sophia had selected the most comfortable and coveted of chairs in the house for her own at the moment. These days, she took small pleasures where she could get them, uncertain of how many more would be coming her way. Over the last few months, Sophia had learned to take nothing for granted. That, she supposed, was progress of a sort. Maybe she could become a better person after all, and learn from her mistakes. Maybe then she could be confident in choosing a husband who would not abuse her.

  In the meantime, however, she was still loathe to give up her favorite chair, the one that wrapped around her and made her feel protected. Safe. She did not feel that way often as of late.

  Out of all of the chairs in the green parlor, this one was her favorite, the one she had always loved to be seated in when she received callers. But there were no callers today. There hadn't been for some time, though that was likely because she had asked their butler, Thompson, to send people away if they came to the door to visit. She really wasn't in the mood for company as of late. She wondered if she would ever wish to receive callers again. At the moment, she seriously doubted such a day would arrive.

  Not that there were any callers at Reynolds House anyway, given the current inclement weather and expected continuance of the icy rain that had begun to fall just before dawn. Nor would there likely be any callers tomorrow either. Or for the foreseeable future, at least if Sophia had her way.

  The Little Season had only just started, true, and the weather today was beyond abysmal, but even in the short time they had been back in London, word had spread quickly among her social set that Sophia was not receiving callers at present. Which, of course, only added fuel to the fires of gossip. She knew that. She simply could not bring herself to care.

  However, her mother did care, and Mary Reynolds had launched a one-woman campaign to make certain that her only daughter's reputation remained pristine and unsullied. Or at least tried to. The dowager duchess spread rumors that Sophia was ill with a nasty cough and that she had severely twisted her ankle recently, necessitating bed rest. Sophia's mother had even gone so far to suggest that Sophia might be dying from an unknown disease contracted the previous summer, which was why she was not receiving
callers, praying for a miracle and that she might regain her health.

  Unfortunately no one, at least no one with any sense among the ton - though admittedly Society people with sense were few and far between - believed a word of the gossip.

  Oh, they might have believed such nonsense if they had read it in the newspapers or scandal rags, but none of the usual gossips were willing to print the stories that Lady Hathaway fed them on an almost daily basis. Perhaps the mysterious Madame C. might have run a bit of something, but she was conspicuously absent from both London and her Town Tattler column since the Little Season began. So the only on-dit most people of consequence remembered was the rumor that Sophia might have been glimpsed being carried into the slightly disreputable Bull and Toad Inn on a rainy June night in the arms of a scarred and rather angry looking man.

  And true or not - and in this case, the rumor was the truth - such stories had a way of taking on a life of their own. Lives that refused to die no matter how much one tried to quash them with a different version of the truth.

  Which, of course, had left the dowager duchess in something of a quandary. Most of Society knew - or at least thought they knew - that something had transpired with Sophia the night of Lord and Lady Enwright's grand masquerade ball. However no one knew precisely what had occurred. Or if anything actually had at all. Rather, there was a lot of innuendo and speculation, which Sophia didn't care a fig about, so long as she was spared from bearing Selby's heir. Sophia's mother, on the other hand, cared quite a bit and had now come up with a plan to see Sophia married before the next Season began, thereby quashing as many rumors as she could that Sophia was possibly ruined and therefore unsuitable for marriage to a wealthy and titled peer.

  Except that, thus far, Sophia had refused to cooperate. She could not even tolerate the idea of a man touching her, not after what Alex had done to her. Perhaps in time. But not now. Even though she knew that eventually, if she did not wish to be forced into seclusion in the country, she would have to do something about her predicament. However knowing and doing were two entirely different things.

  Her mother, however refused to accept Sophia's decision and, for the last week and a half, had been hounding her daughter relentlessly about picking a man, any man - even if he was not titled since that was likely impossible anyway - and being done with things. Each day. Every day. Without fail. This cloudy and overcast Thursday with frigid rain pouring from leaden clouds was no different.

  "Your brother is an already-wed fool in love and cannot possibly understand the consequences you will face if this matter is not settled soon." After a long period of silence, Mary Reynolds once more attempted to stare her daughter down from her own position upon the settee across the intricately carved table that held a tea service and a partially eaten plate of cakes, biscuits and other sweets. Sophia had not been particularly careful with what she ate as of late, as evidenced by the new gowns she had ordered. They were a bit fuller in the seams than her previous gowns had been, but on this matter, too, she could not quite muster up the outrage she likely should have felt regarding her expanding waistline. In fact, as of late, she cared very little about topics that she had once held so dear.

  Sophia blinked several times as she attempted to center her thoughts and offer her mother some sort of reply. Once quick with her words and a sometimes overly sharp tongue, she found that she now had difficulty making sense of things in her own mind, let alone speaking the words so that they could be understood by others. Behind her, a fire popped and cracked in the grate, making the room warm and cozy. Yet all the while, she still felt cold inside and once more, she wondered if she would ever be warm again.

  If she would ever feel like herself again. Whatever that meant.

  "Adam knows the truth, Mama. Please. You know why I cannot marry." Well, Sophia thought silently, perhaps her mother only knew a bit of the reason why, for Sophia had never been able to speak much about that night in the carriage or the crippling fear she felt every time a man approached her. Not even with her beloved mother.

  "We can find you a suitable country squire, I am certain," her mother continued on as if Sophia hadn't even spoken. "Someone a bit on the aged side, perhaps in his fifth decade or so. A baron would be preferable, but we cannot aim too high, I suppose. Though he must already have children and not expect you to provide him with an heir."

  Picking up her embroidery in an effort to keep her hands occupied, Sophia stabbed the needle viciously through the fabric stretched taut through the hoop. She was abysmal at most of the feminine arts, but could do this well enough - most of the time, anyway. Her needlework also kept her mind from going to places it ought not. "This mythical man will eventually discover I am no longer chaste, Mama." She tried to say the words as softly as she could, not wishing to hurt her mother any more than she already had since that night.

  "Societal position can make up for much," her mother replied just as gently. "Do not underestimate the allure of being related to a duke, especially for a country gentleman."

  Deciding to humor her mother, Sophia drew in a deep breath, inhaling her mother's light, flowery scent in the process. She loved her mother so very deeply, and it pained Sophia to know that this woman who had been through so much already was hurting again. Especially when Sophia herself was the cause. "And where might we find such a man, Mama? It is not as if we know many barons or country squires."

  "Lord Hunt knows a few, I would imagine, since he has spent considerable time in the country as of late, particularly at Pebley Manor. It is his country seat after all, even if it is in need of considerable repair." The response was quick, as if Mary Reynolds had already given the subject considerable thought. "Hunt himself is also a possibility, though I understand he has become rather enamored with Lady Aurelia, so we should probably discount him as a potential husband. For a moment, I thought about appealing to your brother's friends Rayne and Frost for an introduction to that new American marquess. You know the one I speak of, I would hope. The gentleman who just inherited the Lansdale title? A Daniel Weston, I believe his name is." Then Sophia's mother shook her head sadly. "However he is still titled, even though he is American, and I suspect he would likely desire a chaste bride."

  None of those men her mother mentioned appealed to Sophia in the least. If they would even have her. Lord Hunt certainly would not, for Sophia knew from her friends that, despite his relative poverty, he was utterly smitten with the lovely Aurelia Tillsbury and she with him. As for Lansdale, the man was truly an enigma and had grown up in a rough and tumble place called Baltimore, Maryland, far away across the Atlantic Ocean. He was practically an American, despite his birth in England to a peer of the realm. Given her recently developed aversion to men, Sophia didn't believe that she would be a good match for him either, even if his reputed golden perfection was enough to make women throughout all of England swoon.

  "There will be someone, Mama, I am certain." Actually, Sophia wasn't certain of any such thing and, at the moment, would have preferred nothing more than to sit nestled here in the comfort of Reynolds House for the rest of her days.

  Except that could not be - for so many reasons. No, the only solution to all of Sophia's problems was, in fact, marriage before the next Season began again. There was no escaping the fact or the fact that, once more, her mother was right. If only the thought of a man touching her didn't make her want to cast up her accounts, that might be more easily accomplished.

  "Oh, I am certain there is such a man. And we shall find him." Her mother's voice was firm with conviction. "I am also certain that if your brother appeals to Lord Candlewood, the man can find a way to convince Madame C. and some of her more influential gossip friends to side with us and report what we tell them is the truth. Including your long-standing infatuation with whichever man you eventually decide upon. Yes, I am certain of it." Seemingly pleased with herself and her plan, the older woman picked up her teacup and took a long sip with a sigh.

  Except the sigh sounded more
desperate than pleased, which was what Sophia was fairly certain her mother had been hoping for all along.

  Because they both knew that Sophia no longer had her pick of eligible young swains to choose from. She could no longer count upon marrying a man of title and distinction, let alone one of good looks. She had gambled her future on a man that, in the end, she had not really known at all, and lost. Now she was left to face the consequences of her actions. Just as soon as she could manage it.

  Sighing now herself, Sophia settled back as she listened to the soothing sounds of the fire and the continued pattering of rain against the window. She would allow her mother to ramble on with plans regarding how to save Sophia's future for the rest of the afternoon if that was what she wished. Stopping her or continuing to correct her mother would do no good and it would only upset both of them in the end. They had reached some level of accord at the moment, and Sophia did not want to hurt her mother any further than she already had with her rash, reckless actions. Therefore, silence seemed like the best option for the moment. Even if Sophia still did not quite agree with her mother's decision - or plans.

  Lady Mary Reynolds was determined to see her daughter wed by Christmastide, or by Twelfth Night at the very latest. Any other outcome was unacceptable. There was no changing her mind on the matter. Deep in her heart, Sophia knew that her mother only wanted what was best for her, which included a way for her to remain in Society without taint or scandal. She also knew that her mother was correct when she said that Sophia would have to marry. Sooner rather than later.