Moonlight Square: Books 1-4 (Plus Bonus Prequel Novella), page 16
“No, no, of course not,” he said impatiently. “It’s not like that at all. Crikey, man, she’s Pete’s little sister!”
Hannah’s round eyes said it all as she listened to every word, but she kept her mouth shut, glancing over continually as she used her spatula to move the freshly baked cinnamon rolls off the baking sheet and onto a plate, where they could finish cooling.
Jason put his hands out, unwilling to wait; she tossed him one right off the spatula.
“Attagirl,” he said as he caught it. It burned his hands slightly, but it was worth it as he licked the icing off his finger. “No, Richardson,” he continued, “if you are implying that I would ever misbehave around Miss Carvel, you are grossly in error. That particular maiden is on the highest of pedestals in my eyes and always has been.”
“Is that so?” Richardson murmured, studying him from behind his rectangular spectacles.
“Mmm,” Jason said, quickly scarfing down another bite of pastry and washing it down with a swallow of tea. “Oh, that’s good.”
“You’re welcome,” Hannah quipped.
“Trust me,” Jason continued, “the fair Felicity is better guarded from me than the bloody Tree of Life from Adam and Eve, complete with killer angels wielding flaming swords. That, old chap, is what we call forbidden fruit.”
“I see.” Richardson fixed a piercing stare on Jason, then asked discreetly, “You gave her brother your word?”
“Long ago. Rue the day. He knows me too well. But,” Jason said, “I can most certainly help our little heiress as a friend. Aye, whether she likes it or not,” he decided, glancing at his servants. “I shall not stand by and watch a pack of fortune-hunting hounds tear my wee girl apart like a slab of fresh meat. Hell no!” He suddenly stood up straight, warming to his project. “I may have no purpose whatsoever in my life, but I do know this: her father’s in the grave. Her brother’s on a frigate in the middle of the ocean. Who else is there to keep the little widgeon out of trouble? I’m helping her whether she likes it or not.”
Hannah stared at him in shock.
Richardson was slightly more direct. “I never knew you to play the knight in shining armor, sir.”
“Ha! Yes. Well,” Jason drawled, “first time for everything—God help us all.”
CHAPTER 3
Family Matters
“Actually, the word that comes to mind is odious,” Felicity replied.
Charles, Viscount Elmont, laughed aloud at her words, but poor Cousin Gerald pouted.
“Am not! How now, coz! Honestly! That hurt.”
“Keep your voices down, please,” she chided. “My chaperone is sleeping.”
Mrs. Brown’s bedchamber was right above the parlor where Felicity had felt obligated to receive her two irksome kinsmen when they came calling.
The ladies had returned from Moonlight Square a few hours ago, but Felicity was sure that her chaperone would not have gone upstairs for her afternoon nap if she had known their dealings with annoying men were not yet over for the day.
This time, it was Felicity’s two exceedingly silly cousins.
Charles Carvel, Lord Elmont, the heir to her uncle’s marquessate, was a high-flying dandy, but the less objectionable of the pair.
Seated in a wing chair by the unlit fireplace, the lazy viscount took a pinch of snuff off his wrist and then sneezed prettily into his monogrammed handkerchief.
“You shouldn’t be snorting that stuff into your lungs with your consumption!” Felicity chided.
“Oh, I know. My physician hounds me to quit, but what can I do? Hopelessly addicted. I like to think it is my only vice.” Crossing his skinny legs in striped pantaloons, Charles looked over in amusement as beefy Cousin Gerald Carvel resumed badgering her as he paced back and forth across the parlor.
“I know it’s not what either of us wanted, Felicity, but you must admit that keeping all that money in the family is the most practical solution. After all, the Carvels have always been an old and respected clan, but never one of the richest among our set. Till now,” he added with a gleam in his piggish little eyes.
“Gerald, you’re dreaming!” Felicity exclaimed, standing and folding her arms across her chest. “I am not marrying you. Besides, if the whole family argument were legitimate, it should be Charles whom I wed, anyway, not you. And blech,” she and the viscount said simultaneously. “No offense intended, Charlie.”
“None taken, dear,” he said, for everyone suspected that his tastes ran otherwise. “Trust me, I’m quite happy with the fortune I possess.”
“As you bloody well should be!” Gerald fumed.
Felicity shook her head in amusement. “As for you, coz, I didn’t think practical was a word you even knew, judging by the gaming debts you’ve run up all over Town.”
Gerald scowled. With a thick body and thin hair, he was not a handsome man, but he walked with a swagger that said he thought he was, and he was very proud of his mustache. His coloring was as light as her own; Gerald, however, had got the ruddy jowls of their grandmother’s side of the family.
“If you ask me,” he posited with a harrumph, “our marrying was probably what Aunt Kirby had in mind all along.”
“And what on earth makes you think that?” Felicity nearly laughed, and could only wonder what stinging quip Aunt Kirby would’ve delivered in response if she could’ve heard this absurd claim.
The old woman’s portrait hung on the parlor wall, the gleam in her watchful eyes brighter than the jeweled brooch that adorned her silk turban with its peacock feather ornament.
Do tell, Nephew, her shrewd stare seemed to say.
“Well, she had no children, except for that thing,” Gerald muttered, pointing at Her Ladyship’s longhaired cat, Daisy, with the jeweled collar. The cat looked on from the windowsill with an air of disdain, twitching her fluffy tail, collar sparkling in the sunlight.
“It makes perfect sense when you think of it,” Gerald endeavored to explain, pausing in his restless march through the room. “There were only the four grandchildren in our generation for her to have chosen from as her heirs. Charles here is already handsomely well off, as the future marquess. Then there’s Pete, who’s more than able to fend for himself in this world, if he doesn’t blow his own head off first,” he added under his breath.
Felicity gasped. “How dare you?” she uttered, paling as she took a step toward him.
“I’m only being honest, coz! You know he came back from the war all wrong in the head. Demmed bloodthirsty, I hear. Even some of his regimental chaps say your precious brother started to enjoy the killin’ just a little too much.”
Her fists bunched at her sides. “That’s a lie!”
“Gerald, really,” Charles said with a frown. “Cousin Pete’s a bloody hero. Charging the French lines and all that. We all know you’re just jealous.”
“He isn’t here to defend himself, either,” Felicity growled, the offended sister.
Gerald waved it off. “Then there’s you,” he continued, nodding at Felicity. “I, as the only child of our grandfather’s third son, have less than all of you! That’s my point here. It isn’t fair!”
“You do have damned expensive tastes, though,” the viscount muttered.
“So?” Gerald retorted. “Am I to live like a peasant? Hardly! I’m from the same lineage as you two.”
“So find a rich lady to marry. Just not me,” Felicity said, narrowing her eyes at him.
Charles sighed and looked at her. “Won’t you just give in and get it over with, coz? You know he is a bulldog and won’t let go once his jaws clamp down.”
“That’s right,” Gerald said, folding his arms across his chest.
“Please, just humor him so I don’t have to keep picking up his tabs whenever we go out on the town, hmm?”
“No!” Felicity retorted.
“Well, why not?” Gerald demanded. “And don’t say I’m odious again! Lots of women find me charming, as it happens.”
“Drunk women?” Charles murmured.
Tempting as it was, Felicity let that point slide and stuck to the topic at hand. “First of all, if Aunt Kirby had wanted you to have a piece of her fortune, she would’ve put it in her will. She did not.”
“She forgot me! Senile old bat.”
“No, Gerald. She thought you were a bully. And I assure you, her wits were sharper than yours.”
Gerald ranted on, but Felicity looked at the ceiling, paying him no more attention than she would the throaty barking of a neighbor’s dog.
Her thickheaded, thick-bodied cousin had always been exasperating, but at least he was honest about his intents.
Much worse were the other fortune hunters who’d been calling on her for the past few days, offering their phony sympathies. The stampede of eligible bachelors with empty coffers to fill had officially begun. They accosted her in the park or pestered her at the shops as the news about her inheritance spread. Some were polite, but others had the nerve to pretend they had long been acquainted in Society and truly cared what she was going through.
Ugh. Felicity wasn’t fooled a whit. She scoffed at their compliments and even refused to learn their names, for they had scarcely bothered learning hers until she’d inherited her fortune. Their false praise was so unsettling that she was glad she’d have to be in mourning for a while, unable to dance with these would-be suitors at balls or even be seen too frequently in Society. Maybe by the time her somber observance was over, they’d have forgotten about her.
Just like Jason had…
These two, though, she had known all her life; as her relatives, it was harder to make them go away. Felicity glanced up at her aunt’s portrait and wondered what she would’ve thought about this explosion of male attention suddenly directed her way.
Why, the old schemer would’ve probably relished it with her usual wicked amusement. Indeed, perhaps she had intended it to some degree, for Aunt Kirby had always hated how Jason’s rebuff had turned Felicity into a willing wallflower. You were never meant to be so prim and meek, gel! Stand up straight! Hold your head high.
This had been a frequent refrain when Felicity had first come to live with Aunt Kirby after Mother’s death. Presently, she could almost hear the old lady’s sigh of impatience over this vexing visit from her cousins: Just throw them out, darling. Go for your wicked duke if he’s the one you really want.
I don’t! He’s not! He’s awful, she assured the shade of her aunt, as well as her own still-shaken heart.
After that trip to Netherford House, she could not erase from her mind the image of those trollops leering down at her from the top of the staircase. He’s horrid and debauched and thinks he’s the center of the universe.
Mm-hmm, Aunt Kirby seemed to say with that sly, knowing sparkle in her eyes.
Felicity shook her head discreetly at her aunt’s portrait. As maddening as the old spitfire had been, she missed her dearly. It was still hard coming back into the house, knowing she wouldn’t be here—although, sometimes, hearing Her Ladyship’s blunt opinions hadn’t been easy.
Thank goodness Mrs. Brown—the voice of reason—had also lived with them, for Aunt Kirby had loved urging Felicity to do something scandalous, disapproval be damned. Felicity had been aghast at some of her aunt’s suggestions about daring things to wear, dodgy places to explore, and shocking things to say to people.
I’m not you, Aunt Kirby! she had finally cried. I don’t want to be the talk of the town! I don’t care about excitement, and I want no part of adventure. That’s Peter’s territory!
Indeed, there had been times over the past fortnight when she had rather wished her aunt would have left the money to her brave, wise brother, not her. But Aunt Kirby had held an opinion even on the subject of Felicity’s obedient attitude toward her elder brother. In short, she hated it.
Felicity couldn’t understand why. It made perfect sense to her. Upon their father’s death, Peter, at age eighteen, had become the male head of their household. Once Mother had also passed away of a heart condition two years later, Felicity had viewed her then twenty-year-old brother in an even more parental light.
He was four years older than she was—the same as Jason—but more than that, Peter had always possessed an inborn air of authority, which no doubt had helped in his military career. He always knew what to do, had always been her protector. He charged at problems and sorted them out. Still, Aunt Kirby had had no patience for Felicity’s general lack of rebellion toward her brother and his conservative ways.
Oh, stop waiting for your big brother to tell you what to do and think about everything, gel! He’s no smarter than you are! Just because he is a leader doesn’t mean you need to be a follower!
But how could someone like Aunt Kirby ever understand? Neither she nor Peter were scared of making mistakes. Felicity was. How could she possibly trust her own judgment anymore when she knew how very high the cost of a bad decision could be? With one wrong move, she had made a fool of herself and driven away the lad she had adored.
“Well?” Gerald demanded, snapping her back to the present. “Do you see now, from everything I’ve said, that Aunt Kirby meant for us to marry?”
Felicity sighed. “No, Gerald. That is not what she intended at all. Frankly, she did not hold you in the highest esteem. And you never even tried to get on her good side.”
“Ha, like you did? I suppose you think you earned the loot, kissing up to her all these years!”
“Is that why you think I took care of her?” she huffed. “For your information, she was very dear to me.”
“Oh, of course she was,” he said.
“It’s true! We were close, even before my mother died. And then she took me in and raised me as if I were her own.”
Gerald narrowed his eyes and waved a finger at her. “Throwing your orphan status in my face isn’t going to make me feel sorry for you. Are you really so greedy that you’d hoard the whole twenty thousand quid to yourself, just so you can swan about, acting like some top-lofty thing?”
“I do nothing of the kind!” she cried.
“You’re not helping your case here, Ger,” Charles observed, examining his fingernails. “The dragon always did look fondly on Felicity,” he pointed out. “She tried to turn her into an Original. Not that it worked. Sorry, coz.”
Felicity scowled. “I never wanted to be an Original, Charlie. Or a diamond or a toast. I only wanted to be me.”
And blend into the background.
Pinching the bridge of her nose and striving for patience, she let out a sigh and looked again at her burly cousin. “You really must desist with this nonsense, Gerald. My answer is no, and if my brother were here, you know he’d put you through a wall for bothering me like this.”
Gerald paused. “I’ve figured it out,” he said, then leaned closer, glaring at her. “You know what you are? Selfish.”
“Indeed? Well, frankly, I would rather drown myself in the Serpentine than marry you. No offense intended,” she added sweetly.
Charles snickered, but Gerald feigned outrage.
“No offense?” he exclaimed.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! A lady picks a husband for his character,” she snapped. “Do you fancy I’ve forgotten how you used to bully Peter and me before he outgrew you? Both of you!” she added with a scolding glance at Charles.
“That was just boys having fun!” Gerald scoffed. Impatiently, he turned away, shooing the cat off the windowsill. Daisy fled with an indignant meow.
“Me, you only called names,” Felicity charged on, “but my poor brother? Why, the two of you used to gang up on him and use him for a punchbag—at least until he made friends with the neighbor boy and evened up the odds.”
“Neighbor boy?” a deep voice drawled from the doorway just then. “Is that all I was? Why, Miss Carvel, you cut me to the quick.”
All three of them looked over.
“Your Grace!” Charles jumped to his feet, but Gerald bristled when Jason appeared at the threshold of the parlor, hat in hand.
The butler looked a trifle worried as he showed the notorious scoundrel in. “The Duke of Netherford, Miss Carvel.”
“So I see.” Felicity stared at him in a shivery blend of wariness and pure thrill. I can’t believe he actually came.
Fortunately, she remembered she was still annoyed at him.
“What are you doing here, Netherford?” Gerald grumbled as Jason drifted in, drawing off his gloves. “Obviously, you know Pete’s out of town,” he said, then muttered under his breath, “I swear, this one thinks he belongs to this family.”
“Gerald!” Charles chided with an uncomfortable laugh, sending their blustery cousin a panicked look for insulting a higher member of the realm’s hierarchy.
But Jason ignored Gerald’s fuming with a telltale quirk of his brow—a signal that warned Felicity the rogue intended to enjoy this. “Why, I just popped by to congratulate Miss Carvel on her marvelous inheritance,” he said, smooth as silk. He bent down, picked up the cat, and began stroking her. “What are you gents doing here? Already trying to wrest the blunt away from her?”
“Trying to talk some sense into the girl is more like it!” Gerald retorted. “Not that it’s any of your concern, Netherford.”
“Cousin Gerald believes that I should marry him,” Felicity said wryly, setting her displeasure with the duke aside for now. “He doesn’t realize I am well aware he lives with his mistress and is deeply in debt.”
“You really should lay off the gambling, ol’ boy,” Charles offered helpfully.
“Can we not discuss this in front of him, please?” Gerald cried, his ruddy jowls growing apple red. “It’s none of his business!”
“Oh, don’t mind me.” Jason leaned his hip on the arm of the sofa. “I’m just here to have a glance at all the legal papers. Make sure Felicity’s best interests are protected.” He gave the word a meaningful added emphasis. “For her brother’s sake, of course,” he added, “since Pete is still away. That is all.”
“Well, if you have any influence over the stubborn chit, you should tell her that her best interest is to marry me! I’m sure that would be Pete’s advice, too.”
