Till Dawn with the Devil (6 page)

Rough hands seized him by the upper arm and attempted to separate him from Lady Sophia. Reign was pulled to his feet, only because he allowed it. At six feet in height, he had a five-inch advantage over the lady’s brother.

“Stephan . . . no!”

“Sophia, stay out of this,” her brother snapped, barely sparing her a glance. “What are you doing outdoors without a chaperone and with
him
?”

Reign glared at Lady Sophia. Her guilty expression only fired his temper. He could not believe it. Stephan Northam, Earl of Ravenshaw, was her brother. “Lady Sophia . . . Northam. How wicked of you not to mention your family connections. For you see, I had forgotten the name of the little girl who had managed to survive my father’s brutal attack when her parents had not.”

Lady Sophia glanced warily at her brother before she faced Reign. “When I realized who you were, I did not know how to tell you.”

“Once you realized who Rainecourt was, you should have sought out your friends,” her brother shouted at her. “Have you taken leave of your senses? Why did you leave the ballroom?”

With a snarl curling his upper lip, Reign said, “Do you really want to hear Sophia’s answer,
Stephan?” Reign was deliberately provoking the gentleman by using their given names.

Lady Sophia crouched down and retrieved her walking stick. She foolishly walked toward them, positioning herself between the two men who were staring at each other with mutual loathing.

“Leave him alone, Stephan. If you must blame someone, blame me. Lord Rainecourt was unaware of my connection to you or the Northam family. Besides, there is no sin in taking some fresh air after dancing,” she said, restating his earlier words.

“Fresh air?” Ravenshaw sneered. “He was close enough to—”

“To do what exactly?” Lady Sophia glared at her brother and dared him to speak his accusation aloud. She waved a delicate handkerchief like a flag in front of Ravenshaw’s face. “Lord Rainecourt was kind enough to remove an irritant from my eye.”

Despite his annoyance, Reign could not help but admire the lady’s inventiveness. She must have pulled the handkerchief from her reticule when she bent down to collect her walking stick.

Regrettably, Ravenshaw remained unconvinced. “Rainecourt? A gentleman? Not bloody like—”

Lady Sophia was no longer listening. She was distracted by the appearance of another gentleman. “Henry, is that you? Thank goodness! Pray
talk some sense into Stephan before he does something foolish.”

Reign raised his brows in a mocking fashion. “It would not be the first time, eh, Stephan?”

The earl’s mouth flattened. “That is Lord Ravenshaw to you, sir!”

He and Lord Ravenshaw had clashed several times over the years. Their most recent encounter occurred when the young earl had solicited membership to Nox. Reign had taken great pleasure in rejecting Ravenshaw’s petition.

His only mistake was that he had forgotten about the younger sister.

“There was an incident when I was a child. I took a blow to the head that should have killed me.”

Reign shut his eyes against the painful realization that his father had struck down the six-year-old Lady Sophia after he had murdered her parents.

“Stephan, be reasonable,” Lady Sophia begged, striving to soothe her brother’s anger. “Nothing untoward has happened.”

Ravenshaw grabbed his sister by the arm and shoved her at his younger brother. “I knew it was a mistake to bring you to London. Take Sophia home, Henry.”

Unlike Ravenshaw, Henry Northam shared his sister’s fair coloring. “Why do I have to be the one?” he whined, unhappy with his role as his sister’s chaperone. “Let her friends return her home.”

“Thank you so much,” Lady Sophia said, shaking off her brother’s hold. “I feel so wanted.”

Reign shifted his stance, half tempted to tell the troublesome lady that if they had dallied longer over their kiss, he would have been able to give her proof that she was truly wanted. The disheartening fact that she was Ravenshaw’s sister kept him silent.

“Do not argue with me,” Ravenshaw said, his voice heavily laced with fury. “Leave us before someone sees you with
him.
”

“Reign,” Lady Sophia said, struggling against her brother’s hold. “Stephan seeks only to protect me. Please do not hurt him.”

Ravenshaw was so aghast by his sister’s plea that he dropped his guard and turned his back on Reign. It was the earl’s first mistake. The second occurred when he uttered, “Silly chit, since when do I need your protection?” The earl dismissed her and pivoted toward the true source of his ire.

Reign was still angry at Lady Sophia for not revealing their unpleasant connection. Nevertheless, he liked Ravenshaw’s vitriolic tone toward the lady even less.

“Which one bothers you more, Stephan: the notion that we are sharing the same air or the knowledge that Lady Sophia was handling me just fine without your interference?” Reign crossed his arms. “In fact, if you had tarried longer in the ballroom, I would have returned the favor.”

Even someone as thickheaded as Stephan could not miss Reign’s insinuation.

Ravenshaw’s eyes flared before he slammed his fist into Reign’s jaw. Lady Sophia cried out as Reign staggered back a step. He rubbed his injured jaw as he stared at the young earl. There was murderous intent in Ravenshaw’s dark gaze. Earlier, Reign had been looking for an outlet for his frustration with the Burrards. Since Lady Sophia was beyond his reach, her irate brother would suffice.

“Get her out of here,” Reign barked at Henry from over his shoulder. There had been bad blood between him and Ravenshaw since the tragic death of their parents. Reign was not squeamish about shedding a little of it.

“No!” Lady Sophia vigorously fought her brother. “Reign!”

It was a losing battle. The two men were beginning to draw Lord and Lady Harper’s guests. No one seemed to notice her and Henry as the guests pushed by them and formed a small crowd on the terrace.

No one seemed to care who or what had started the argument.

The spectators just wanted to see blood spilled.

Sophia fought the hands that dragged her away from Reign and Stephan. Everyone was talking at once. The noise and pressing bodies were making her light-headed. She was scared for her brother. There was no doubt in her mind who would be the victor if the two men fought. Tears burned beneath her eyelids. This was all her fault. She
should have had the courage to reveal her full name, and her notorious connection to his family.

“Sophia!”

Sophia felt Fanny’s gloved fingers on her face. The familiar scent that her friend favored assailed her nose. The two women embraced. It was then that she sensed Griffin quietly standing off to the side.

“Forgive me, Sophia,” Fanny said, drawing back so she could see for herself that her friend was unharmed. “I did not intend to leave you so long. When I finally returned to the alcove to tell you that your brothers had arrived, you were gone. I almost fainted when someone announced that Lord Rainecourt had carried you off into the gardens.”

Sophia wiped the corner of her right eye with her finger. “A ridiculous exaggeration. We stepped out onto the terrace for some fresh air,” she said, determined that no one would learn of the kiss Reign had stolen.

Not even Fanny.

“If Stephan gets trounced by Rainecourt, he’s going to be in a devilish mood,” Henry muttered under his breath. He had always been a little fearful of his older brother, and past beatings had forged his loyalty.

“Then perhaps he should not pick fights with opponents who can soundly trounce him!” she snapped.

Her brother did not know how to respond to
her angry retort. “Well, it is best if we get ourselves home.”

Sophia held her chin up as she allowed Henry to escort her through the crowd that had gathered around the doorway and across the ballroom. Reign had been looking for trouble when he pulled her into his arms and danced the waltz. He had found it in spades. By breakfast, everyone would be eagerly chatting about the brawl between Rainecourt and Ravenshaw. It was as if a twisted version of the past was being played out, and there was nothing that Sophia could do to stop it.

“You must have been distracted for someone like Ravenshaw to have planted a good one,” Simon Wyndham Jefferes, Marquess of Sainthill, observed from the threshold of one of Nox’s private rooms.

“Your excuse sounds better than mine, Saint.” Reign accepted the damp cloth Nox’s steward, Berus, had prepared the poultice to help bring down the swelling on his left cheek. Suspicious, he sniffed the cloth. “It stinks of oil of elder and beeswax.”

“Among other things,” Berus said, unruffled by the complaint. His lofty position as the Lords of Vice’s steward had afforded him many privileges and given him a unique perspective about his employers. These days, there was little that astounded the servant. “Since you have your friends to coddle you, I will return to my duties downstairs.”

Reign winced as he pressed the cloth to his sore cheek. “Thank you, Berus. You are too good to us.”

The steward sniffed. “Indeed, milord. Best you remember that fact when I demand higher wages.” He shut the door, leaving the gentlemen to their evening.

“So what is your excuse, Reign?” Dare asked, looking up from his cards. He had been born Hugh Wells Mordare, the second son of the Duke of Rhode. Anyone foolish enough to call him “Lord Hugh” never repeated the mistake.

Reign glanced over his shoulder at Dare as he played cards with Frost. “Sentimentality?”

Saint and several others chuckled at the absurd notion.

“It doesn’t wash,” Vincent Bishop, Earl of Chillingsworth, or Frost as he was called, blurted out as he discarded a card. “In situations like this, a pretty wench is always involved.”

Vane and Hunter snickered. A silent exchange passed between the two men as they raised their glasses of brandy and let the sides collide with a distinctive
clink.
Knowing the pair, they had probably placed a private wager on how swiftly Frost would deduce the details Reign had carefully omitted.

With the exception of Sin, who had promised to join them later after he had escorted his wife home from Lord and Lady Harper’s ball, the Lords of Vice had all congregated at Nox. On the level below, their gambling hell thrived under Berus’s watchful management. Fortunes were being won and lost at the turn of a card or the casual toss of the dice. Usually Reign and his friends were in
the thick of it, but his mood had turned decidedly somber after his brief, violent brawl with Ravenshaw. The arrogant puppy never would have landed his lucky punch if some helpful arse hadn’t hooked his arm around Reign’s neck in a futile attempt to pull him away.

“So who is she?” Frost drawled.

Reign hesitated. Impulsive and always looking for a fight, Frost could not be trusted. His meddling in Sin’s affairs when he was quietly courting Lady Juliana was proof enough. Nevertheless, by now half the
ton
knew about Reign’s outrageous behavior with Lady Sophia and her brother. If he did not reveal the lady’s name, Vane and Hunter were likely to surrender it.

“Lady Sophia Northam.”

The cards slipped from Frost’s fingers. “Northam? As in Ravenshaw’s younger sister?”

“I had forgotten about the sister,” Hunter said, his voice reflective as he privately contemplated the ramifications. “She must be of marriageable age by now. Is she pretty? I will wager her brothers are of the mindset of marrying her off this season.”

“Yes. And if you wish to keep your teeth in your head, you will stay away from her,” Reign said, inexplicably annoyed by Hunter’s suggestion that Ravenshaw might have brought Lady Sophia to London in hopes of finding her a suitable husband. “As for her aspirations for marriage, the subject did not arise.”

Frost was still recovering from Reign’s revelation. “Are you mad?”

Reign could not blame his friend. No matter how tempting, Lady Sophia was forbidden territory. He would have never approached her if he had learned beforehand that she was related to Ravenshaw.

“The lady in question did not volunteer her full name,” Reign said with a shrug.

Hunter placed his arm behind his head as he reclined on the sofa. “And why would she? After you threatened Enright and bullied the fair lady into dancing the waltz with you.”

Frost ignored the part about Enright and concentrated on the part that shocked him the most. “You danced . . . with a woman?”

Now the gent was being simply nasty. “No, I danced with a baboon. Of course I danced with Lady Sophia. What did you expect? That I had asked that sniveling bastard Enright?”

“You never dance,” Vane added helpfully.

Reign took his time adjusting the medicinal cloth Berus had provided. “It seemed like a good idea, though I might have reconsidered if I had known the lady was related to Ravenshaw.”

“I do not recall dismissing you.”

Defeated, Sophia pressed her forehead against the cool wood of the door. Since Stephan had entered their town house with a split swollen lower lip and several spectacular bruises around both eyes, he had been an absolute tyrant to her and Henry. She had wondered if Lord Rainecourt had also been terribly injured in the brawl with her
brother. However, she did not have the courage to inquire after the gentleman’s health since the animosity between Stephan and the earl had been palpable on the Harpers’ terrace.