Till Dawn with the Devil (5 page)

“What are you doing?”

“The waltz,” he said, immune to her outrage. “This is not the time to fuss. People are watching us.”

She ceased struggling at his announcement.

“How many?”

Reign grinned. “Enough. Everyone is curious. They will think I chased Enright off because I wanted to claim your first dance.”

“That was not the reason why you ran Mr. Enright off.”

As they stirred the air with their movements, Sophia noted that Reign’s scent differed from
Mr. Enright’s. It was heavier, a heady mix of musk, wood, and smoke. She tried not to inhale too deeply.

“No, I ran him off because I despise the sniveling bastard.” They slowly circled about with the other couples. “Of course, only you and I know the truth.”

“You honor me,” Sophia said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Reign tossed his head back and laughed. “More than you know, my lady. Lord and Lady Harper’s guests are watching you with interest. Who is Lady Sophia, the mysterious lady who lured the Earl of Rainecourt out onto the ballroom floor to dance the waltz? I wager half the
ton
will be knocking on your door tomorrow afternoon.”

Gracious, her brothers would be furious with her if the earl was correct. “I do not want to be mysterious or interesting, my lord!”

“Liar,” the earl countered, his smile taking the sting out of the insult. “All ladies crave attention.”

“Perhaps I am a different sort of lady, Lord Rainecourt,” she said, mildly annoyed with the earl’s opinion.

“Reign,” he pleaded, infusing enough charm into the request that Sophia could not think of a reason to refuse him. “Mayhap you are correct, dear lady. After all, you have managed to do the impossible.”

“Now you are teasing me.”

“A little,” he conceded. “However, I cannot
resist. Your cheeks turn a delightful pink hue and your blue-green eyes sparkle like a chest of priceless gems. It flatters a gent to think all that beauty shines for him alone.”

Sophia glanced down and would have stumbled if Reign had not pulled her closer.

“Now you truly flatter me,” Reign said, smoothly setting her apart without missing a single step. “The secret is to keep your gaze on my face. I am tolerably good-looking, would you not agree?”

Sophia bit back a smile. She did find him more than tolerable in looks. Not that she would dare admit it. “You want compliments? I thought you told me that it was only the ladies who craved attention?”

“Only a foolish man would not desire a beautiful lady’s interest,” he said lightly.

Was Reign actually flirting with her? The deadly intent that had driven the man to separate her from Mr. Enright had vanished, and now she was uncertain how to proceed. After all, once the earl learned of their connection, their friendly alliance would come to a sudden end.

“Ah, now you are frowning. What are you thinking about?”

Sophia gave Reign what she hoped was a scolding look. “It is rude of you to inquire.”

The annoying shadows and blurring that obscured her vision ebbed and flowed as they circled the ballroom with the other dancing couples.
Focusing on Reign’s face helped to quell her frustration. It was no hardship to study such masculine beauty. Dark brown hair that was as rich and thick as molasses. Strong cheekbones, a fine blade of a nose, but it was his eyes that drew her gaze, ensnared her. Framed by dark, thick brows and long lashes, his dark blue eyes were an unfathomable sea of restraint, confidence, and intelligence. During their brief encounter, Sophia had glimpsed in those beautiful eyes cold mute fury, calculation, humor, and—even though it rankled to silently admit it, since it had been directed at her—pity. What she now saw in his gaze wasn’t pity. It was frank appreciation for the lady in his arms. Sophia’s stomach fluttered like restless butterflies in a cage at the thought that Reign’s interest was more than gallant flattery to bedazzle his dancing partner.

Reign ruined her speculative thoughts with his next words. “Squinting like that should give you a megrim.”

Sophia’s lips parted in surprise at his rude observation. Perhaps she had been wrong about the appreciation. “Forgive me. It is the reason why I never dance. My eyes . . .” She let her explanation trail off into silence.

His hand flexed and then tightened over hers. “So you were telling the truth. I thought you might have exaggerated your claims in an attempt to refuse my invitation.”

Invitation? The man had literally dragged her
across the ballroom floor to join the other dancers. “Why would I decline such a polite invitation, Lord Rainecourt?” she asked a tad too sweetly.

The earl had the grace to wince. “If you wish to berate me for my boorish behavior, let us adjourn to a less public setting,” he muttered, taking charge of the situation in his usual high-handed manner. He took Sophia by the elbow and escorted her away from the dancers.

“My lord—Reign, I cannot just leave the ballroom with you!” Sophia protested.

“No one will object, Lady Sophia,” Reign said, guiding her toward the open doors that led to the terrace. “My reputation does provide certain benefits, and I am selfish enough to savor them.”

“And what of
my
reputation, Lord Rainecourt?” Lady Sophia demanded, punctuating her concern by driving the end of her elegant walking stick into paved stone that was laid out on lead.

Reign glanced out, noting that Lord and Lady Harper’s sunken gardens had four tiers, each darker than the last. If he had been the total scoundrel Lady Sophia assumed he was, he would have dragged her down to the final tier where couples dallied with the forbidden.

“So tell me, my lady, why have we never met until this night?” Reign asked, curious about the lady he had practically abducted from the ballroom. “Do I know your family?”

“My family,” Lady Sophia said, stumbling over the words. “My brothers—are protective. I usually do not join them when they come to Town.”

“Because of your eyesight?”

“Not quite,” Lady Sophia hedged, clearly reluctant to discuss her family or the reasons why she had been tucked away in the country.

The lady’s brothers were almost certainly attempting to protect their beautiful sister from being ravished by lusty rakes like him and his friends.

“Perhaps we should return to the ballroom before we are missed?”

Instead, Reign gestured toward an empty stone bench that was positioned beneath a cozy arbor covered in a tangle of grapevines. When Lady Sophia did not move, he belatedly realized that the night probably hindered her limited vision.

He lightly placed his hand on the small of her back and nudged her toward the bench. “There is no sin in taking fresh air into your lungs. With the light of the ballroom in sight, you are quite safe from my baser instincts. Ravishing innocents is best done on the lower levels.”

Lady Sophia gave him an odd glance as she sat down on the bench. Her walking stick was clutched firmly in her hand. Reign suspected she was capable of cracking his thick skull if he misbehaved.

“Is that how you usually spend your evenings . . . ravishing young innocents in the lower bowels of your host’s gardens?”

“Only on Thursdays,” Reign said in a matter-of-fact manner as he settled down next to her on the bench.

“How could you? Why Thurs—?”

Reign chuckled at her horrified expression. “I confess, though teasing you is a delightful amusement, I would not wish to blacken my character
beyond what I deserve. In truth, I stay away from innocents and their enterprising mothers.”

Lady Sophia stared off in the distance as she mulled over his confession. “But you are here with me,” she said, turning her head and giving him a curious side glance.

“Should I worry about your mother?”

Lady Sophia hastily turned her face away. “No, my lord. You are quite safe. My mother died when I was a small girl.”

The lady’s dear mother in all probability had died in childbed. It was a common enough tale of female mortality. Still, it had left its mark on Lady Sophia.

“Forgive me . . . I am being rude.”

Again.

Without looking at him, she raised her right hand to silence his apology and nodded.

She had not spoken a single chastising word, and yet Lady Sophia made him feel like a damn bounder.

“I understand your loss. I—my mother died when I was a boy,” Reign said, wondering why he had mentioned his mother to a stranger, especially when she seemed unwilling to discuss her own family. Even under the best of circumstances, he never spoke of his mother.

Lady Sophia seemed equally startled. Reign’s stomach clenched in response to the empathy he saw in her eyes.

“I am sorry for your loss, my lord.”

Frost and Vane would have laughed if they
had been eavesdropping on his and Lady Sophia’s conversation. Dead mothers hardly inspired passion in a young lady.

This evening had gone from mildly annoying to an utter farce.

If he had any sense, he should apologize to Lady Sophia for his abominable manners and leave.

And yet, he remained.

Reign did not want to dwell too much on his reasons for straying from his own rules. Lord and Lady Burrard’s presence at the Harpers’ ball might have spurred him on his wicked quest to scandalize the
ton,
and Enright had led him to Lady Sophia; nevertheless, he remained at the lady’s side because he desired her company.

Lady Sophia was unlike his first wife or the conquests that came after her. At first glance, she seemed so delicate, though she had proven to have a streak of stubbornness bred into her spine. Her pale blond hair, refined slender bones, flawless skin, and large blue-green eyes gave her the appearance that she was touched by the fae as she tried to discern the world around her.

“What do you see?” Reign asked quietly, knowing that it was extremely rude of him to ask.

Lady Sophia did not seem offended by the question, which told him that it was a subject she had addressed often. She lightly bit her lower lip as she stared off into the distance at the light shimmering from the ballroom.

“Think of a bottle filled with oil, water, and
warm pitch that shifts and churns as I go about my day,” she said, her eyelids narrowing as she concentrated on the light. “The pitch is black and impenetrable, the oil distorts and blurs, while the water is what anchors me and permits a certain amount of independence.”

To Reign, it sounded like hell. His admiration for Lady Sophia increased as he thought about the chaos in the ballroom, and how she had dealt with his outrageous behavior when he pulled her into his arms and insisted that they dance the waltz. Had he described her as delicate? A weak-spirited creature would have fainted or screamed at his touch. Lady Sophia had the courage of Boudica. Or perhaps she was a poetic incarnation of Atë, the Greek goddess of infatuation and mad impulses. The comparison seemed apt. Lingering at Lady Sophia’s side certainly bordered on recklessness since the longer he remained at the ball, the greater the risk of a confrontation with Burrard and his friends.

Instead of leaving, Reign asked, “Were you born with this affliction?”

Lady Sophia shook her head. “No. There was an incident when I was a child. I took a blow to the head that should have killed me.”

“Christ! What man would strike a child?”

She gave a dainty shrug, seemingly unwilling to satisfy his curiosity. “I was incoherent and feverish for days. When I awoke, I found myself in a world of shadows.”

An unexpected wave of protectiveness rose
within him. Where were Lady Sophia’s family and friends? How could they abandon her for their own selfish pleasures and leave her at the mercy of strangers? “How do you bear it?” he asked, silently regretting the thoughtless question.

“How could I not?” Lady Sophia countered; her smile was friendly and guileless.

Reign felt the impact of it like a punch to his temple. Later, when he reflected upon the evening, he would decide that a type of madness had seeped into his brain. Born of instinct, he leaned forward and lightly kissed her. Lady Sophia stiffened as his lips brushed over hers. He swallowed her breathy surprise, and savored the tantalizing sweetness of her soft, yielding lips.

Her walking stick hit the paved stone with a clatter.

“So this is what innocence tastes like,” Reign murmured against her lips, in undisguised wonderment.

“Get your bloody hands off my sister!”

Lady Sophia groaned, clearly recognizing the voice of the angry gentleman.

Reign nipped her lower lip in a playful farewell. “A pity, sweet Lady Sophia,” he whispered into her ear. His fingers lightly caressed the light blue bows on her shoulders, the ones that had caught his eye from across the crowded ballroom. “Your mouth is a tempting treat, one I could have taken pleasure in for hours.”

“Hours?” Lady Sophia soundlessly echoed.

Reign had known that someone was bound to
rescue the lady from the Devil of Rainecourt. Ever since he had taken Lady Sophia onto the terrace, he had expected one of his friends to charge through the open doorway and tear him away from the obvious madness that had struck him this evening.