Moonlight Square: Books 1-4 (Plus Bonus Prequel Novella), page 18
“Sweeting, he only told me when he was drunk. It’s not the sort of thing a man admits. Especially one who’s used to being fully in control at all times.”
“Oh, Jason, he’s got to be all right. I need my brother back in one piece. He’s all I’ve got.”
“I know. Try not to worry,” he whispered, smoothing her hair. “He’ll be much more himself again by the time he gets home, I’m sure. He sounded rather happy in his letter when he wrote to let me know they were on their way back to England.”
“Really?” she asked with a sniffle.
He nodded. “I’ll bring it next time I see you so you can read it for yourself. But I’m telling him it’s your fault his surprise was ruined once he gets here, so don’t blame me,” he teased in a gentle tone, coaxing a smile out of her.
“Thank you,” she whispered earnestly. “I am sorry for those accusations. I didn’t understand.”
“I know. It’s all right.” He rose and returned to his seat with a look of reassurance. “I don’t want you to worry overmuch. He survived the war. He managed not to get eaten by any tigers in those tropical mountain forests, so I think it’s safe to wager he’ll make it across the sea in one piece and you’ll have him back soon. Don’t tell him what I told you, all right? He just needed a distraction for a while to help him readjust. I only suggested it because it seemed to me a spot of survival in the wilderness would make a good middle step for him between war and civilian life. And, of course, when we were children, he always daydreamed about seeing elephants in the wild.”
“I remember that,” she said with a rueful smile. “He hated seeing that one locked in its cage in the zoo. Well…” She wiped the last tear off her face. “At least in the future, now that I’m rich, I can pay for my brother’s adventures myself if he needs to go off somewhere again.”
“Excuse me, are you trying to steal my glory? I might have to fight you on that,” he teased.
“Don’t be greedy! Maybe I want a mountain named after me, too.”
“You’re much too pretty for a mountain,” he said softly. “Maybe some species of orchid. Or possibly a waterfall.”
They gazed at each other for a long moment.
“May I ask you a question?” she murmured.
His glance slid away from hers, and he sat back in his chair. “Hmm, I suppose. If you must.”
“Why didn’t you go with him?” she asked. “You don’t seem very happy here. It might’ve been just the thing for you, too.”
A shadow passed behind his eyes, but he hid it with a jest. “What, a duke sleep on the ground? With the insects and the snakes? Get dysentery? No thank you, madam.” He feigned a shudder. “Not my idea of a holiday.”
“You’re lying,” she whispered with a tender smile. “You’d have loved it. Just like you wanted to go fight in the war, too.”
He arched a brow in surprise, but he did not deny it. He waited a thoughtful moment, then shrugged. “I have obligations here,” he said at length. Secrets flickered behind his eyes, but he didn’t share them.
He drummed his fingers idly on the table, playing the role of the wealthy scoundrel once again. “No, my dear, some men are born to go forth into the world and do great and interesting things, while others merely exist to foot the bill. That’s me.”
“You’re bored, Jason,” she murmured with a knowing shake of her head. “That was always when you got into the most trouble, as I recall.”
He chuckled. “You know me too well.” He rose from his seat. “I must be going.”
He bowed to her, but she remained seated. “Jason,” she said as he started to leave. “Thank you for coming to look at the papers. Thank you for what you confided in me, too. And thank you most heartily for what you did for my brother.” She paused. “You’re a good man underneath it all. I just wanted you to know that I do know that. And, yes, you were always a gentleman with me.”
Unfortunately.
He was silent, absorbing her acknowledgment for a moment like rain on a thirsty field. But it was only a heartbeat before the next ready jest sprang from his sardonic lips. “Well, for God’s sake, don’t tell anybody. I can’t have that sort of talk getting round.”
She smiled wryly. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
He winked at her like the rogue he was and strolled away, but he paused when he reached the back door of her house. “By the by, when you receive an invitation to the musicale at Lord and Lady Pelletier’s house in Moonlight Square, I hope you will accept.”
“Lord and Lady Pelletier…? I don’t know if I’ve ever been formally introduced to them.” She furrowed her brow. “When is it?”
“Tomorrow night at eight p.m.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. “I did not receive an invitation.”
“You will. And I hope to see you there.”
“But, Jason, wait—I’m still in mourning for Aunt Kirby for at least another fortnight.”
“That’s why I suggested this occasion,” he replied. “A private house concert should be decorous enough even for your esteemed chaperone.”
Her pulse pounded as it sank in that he wanted to see her again. Soon. Tomorrow night!
She tucked her hair behind her ear and did her best to seem nonchalant. “Well, if Mrs. Brown does not object, and if you really think you can get me an invitation at this late date…”
“Child’s play,” he declared. “Until tomorrow night, Miss Carvel.” Then he bowed to her once more and took his leave.
“Your Grace.” The farewell left her lips on a whisper, as he’d left her breathless yet again.
But after he had gone, Felicity sat trembling for a moment and stared unseeingly at the garden, contemplating where his sudden attention might lead. Hadn’t she hurt herself badly enough before, chasing after him? Suddenly, London seemed more dangerous than the jungles that her brother had just traversed, while Jason’s words echoed in her ears: Sounds as though Pete’s not the only adventurer in the family…
But she wasn’t thinking of Aunt Kirby this time. No, to Felicity’s dismay, it appeared that her brother’s best friend was still the only adventure she craved.
She closed her eyes and shivered with a sense of impending doom, for she wanted him even now.
I am such a fool.
CHAPTER 4
Nocturne
Lord and Lady Pelletier’s intimate musical evenings were always very well attended. About a hundred guests had crowded into the earl’s impeccable home in Moonlight Square, but so far, none of them was Felicity.
Jason wandered restlessly among the crowd, starting to get a bit nervous over whether she was actually going to come. He nursed a single malt Scotch and watched the top of the staircase for her arrival. On the main floor of the house, the pocket doors had been rolled back, joining the drawing and music rooms for the occasion, so he had a clear view from the post he now took up on the far end of the space, near the ensemble.
A gleaming pianoforte had been rolled into place in front of a small chamber orchestra of about twenty musicians. The players were tuning up, chatting, checking their sheet music, and receiving a final bit of pestering from Herr Schroeder, the Pelletiers’ very capable German composer, who would be debuting a new piece for the Season on this very night.
The recital would soon begin. For now, liveried footman scurried among the guests offering beverages. All around him, the elegant house was full of the sounds of people talking and laughing, glasses clinking, and friends meeting up, and he was feeling, as usual, slightly out of place.
This was caused, in part, by the several ladies sending him scowls and icy stares from around the room. Marriage-minded mamas dealt him expert snubs, but it was the trio of debutantes giggling at him from behind their fans that was making him feel the most self-conscious. What the hell was so funny?
He did his best to ignore them, turning his attention to his male acquaintances. Chaps he had last seen sprawled around the Satin Slipper had recovered and were out again tonight. The dandies were arguing over brands of pomade. The rakes were talking about who had lost the most at faro last night. The older gents were talking politics, which made Jason want to bang his head against the nearest column.
Sometimes it shocked him how much he did not fit in anywhere, really. Perhaps Felicity had been right. Perhaps he should have gone east on the grand trek with Pete.
But no. Even he possessed enough of a sense of family duty to realize that a duke could not go traipsing off into the jungles and risking his life until he had first sired an heir.
A legitimate one.
For, in truth, his title aside, there were two small but very important reasons he could not just go off risking his neck as his mate had, no matter how much he might like to do it.
Bored, he drifted over to talk to the musicians while he waited for Felicity. He had a genuine admiration for artists of all kinds. The musicians greeted him warmly, knowing who he was because of his patronage of that blasted good-for-nothing Italian, Leandro Giovanelli. But even as he chatted with them and learned that some surprise musical guest was to appear tonight, his mind stayed on Felicity.
If she did not arrive in short order, he supposed he should give up. Perhaps the weather had kept her indoors, he thought, already braced for disappointment. There was a steady drizzle tonight with gusts of wind and no stars.
Just then, the composer himself came bustling over to his ensemble again, tension apparent on his lined face. Jason greeted him with a smile. “Surely you’re not nervous, Schroeder? I’m sure you’ll dazzle us, as always.”
“Ah, Your Grace is very kind. Actually, sir…I would be obliged if you would listen for the key change at the end and tell me later on if you like it. I’m not sure if I should keep it.”
“My good man, that is far too much flattery for a dilettante like me. Believe me, I shall be listening with pleasure, but I am in no way qualified to advise you in your art.”
“Ah, but sir, my friend Giovanelli would argue that. He assures me Your Grace has an excellent ear.”
“Humph.” Of course, Giovanelli would say anything to keep the money flowing. Sometimes Jason even wondered if the bleeder was faking his Italian accent. But curse him, he was just so amusing that Jason could never quite bring himself to toss the man out on his backside.
“Tonight, sir, you see, it is the reaction of an educated audience member with taste that I desire most at this stage, not the critiques of my rivals,” Schroeder said confidentially.
“Well, if you think it would help you, I shall listen intently and give you my honest opinion. Speaking of your rivals,” Jason added, “I am grateful that your piece was ready for this evening. I know the Pelletiers pride themselves on unveiling new music for the Season at this annual concert night of theirs. Giovanelli’s new string quartet was to have been finished in time for tonight, but he cried off at the last minute. Claims the muse is not cooperating.”
“Ah, we have all had to wrestle the angel now and then,” Schroeder answered with a sympathetic shrug.
Jason did not say as much, but Giovanelli had quite embarrassed him by missing his deadline. He feared the flamboyant Italian had a work ethic that was even worse than a duke’s.
There was no getting around it. The contest among aristocrats for the honor of attaching one’s name to real talent through patronage was fierce, and in Herr Schroeder, Jason glumly had to admit that his neighbors had got the good one.
He left the German to his mission with a smile. “Best of luck, ol’ man. I’m sure it will be splendid.”
Schroeder bowed. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
With an encouraging nod at the orchestral players, Jason withdrew, not wishing to pester them as they prepared for their performance. They had more important things to do right now than humor him.
When he turned again toward the doorway, at last, his vision was rewarded with the sight of Felicity.
She was just walking in alongside her chaperone, her cheeks still pink from the tossing of the wind outside, her golden blond hair fetchingly tousled.
The sight of her nearly stole his breath.
He was still slightly in knots over their conversation yesterday on her terrace. The merely friendly visit he had meant to pay her had taken a far more serious turn than he had expected. He couldn’t believe that she didn’t know how he really felt about her.
But how could she? To him, his desire for her had been like a thorn stuck in his paw for years. He was constantly aware of it. But to her, all she saw was his pointed effort to stay away from her. As he’d always known he must. He had a frightfully low resistance to temptation. Best just to stay away. So why had he asked her to come here tonight?
When she caught sight of him from across the room and sent him a little wave, the doubts and questions fled. He smiled at her, quickly striding over to her side to make her formal introductions to their hosts, since he gathered she did not know the earl and countess personally. Though Felicity had been out in Society for a few years now, they hadn’t seen much of each other—partly by design on his part.
On those occasions when they had even attended the same balls, Felicity and Lady Kirby had either been on their way out or had already left when he was just arriving. After all, rakes of a certain stature did not go out before eleven, and dowagers of a certain age did not stay up much past ten.
It had frustrated him sometimes that they were always missing each other, but it was probably just as well.
Of course, current circumstances had changed the situation. Felicity needed him now, and being needed was something Jason secretly craved. His life of pleasure and luxury left him starved for a chance to be of use and do something—anything—that really mattered.
Helping his darling girl had given him a much-needed mission. One he’d complete, whether she liked it or not.
Upon joining her, he introduced her and Mrs. Brown to their hosts and their daughter, Lady Simone. As greetings with welcomes and thanks for the last-minute invitation were exchanged, Jason noticed Mrs. Brown looking rather less than pleased to see him.
“Do take your seats, ladies,” the glamorous Countess of Pelletier said, relishing her role as the grand hostess of the evening. “They’ll be starting any moment now.”
“You see? You got here just in time,” Jason said fondly to Felicity as they drifted into the joined concert rooms side by side.
“I wasn’t sure we were going to make it at all,” Felicity confessed as they put just a little distance between the two of them and her chaperone.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. You look beautiful,” he added.
She laughed off the compliment, glancing around at all the brightly garbed ladies. “I feel like a lump of coal in the midst of a rainbow!”
“Well, at least you’re not the only lump of coal here. I wore black, too, so I could match you. See?”
She chuckled. “Maybe we’re just two diamonds in the rough.”
“Ah, me, no doubt. But you, my dear, are already very much a diamond.”
“Such charm! And directed at me, of all people! Are you feeling all right?” she asked pertly.
“Of course I am. I just don’t want you to feel out of place on account of your mourning attire. Lump of coal, indeed. It’s not the clothes that determine a woman’s beauty, anyway.”
“You would know.”
He ignored the jibe. “Besides, very soon, you are going to blossom like a flower into beautiful color again, and then you will outshine every woman here.”
She squinted up at him. “I really am going to call the physician if you keep saying things like that. Do you have a fever?”
“I’m just glad you came.” He gave her a rueful smile and offered her his arm.
She took it, her gaze intrigued. “So am I. The invitation arrived, just as you predicted.”
He smiled at her. “The Pelletiers are good friends of mine. They were dying to know why I wanted you here.”
“So am I, frankly.”
“What? To cheer you up in your mourning, of course. Why else?” he drawled. “Anyway, word has it there’s going to be a special guest for tonight’s grand finale,” he confided as he led her toward the orchestra, ignoring the stares as people watched him with Felicity, a young lady who, despite her beauty, had somehow managed to stay in the background of Society for the past few years.
As if she did not want to be noticed, hiding behind her eccentric dragon of an aunt.
As if some part of her was ashamed of herself. Or at least, did not trust herself.
And that was all his fault.
Oh yes, deep down, Jason knew how he had hurt her by rejecting her adorable, kittenish advance on him eight years ago. He’d had no choice. She was too young, too tempting, and at nineteen, he had been in no wise ready to take a wife, which was what the situation would have demanded.
Why, at that age, he hadn’t even known yet who he was, other than a randy young buck who wanted sex all the time, but good God, not from her!
Thankfully, he had discovered he at least had some semblance of morality that day, to his relief, and had walked away from what she had offered, turning his back on the girl that he knew worshiped him for some ungodly reason.
He had even told her brother what she had done, feigning mere concern about his little sister’s fast behavior. But in truth, he simply had not wanted her trying to tempt him again. He wasn’t that good.
Nevertheless, he ached to know how hard she had taken his rejection. No wonder all that anger had flashed out at him yesterday afternoon from under her smooth surface. She had reason.
At the moment, though, things were friendly between them, almost like the old days of childhood, before the little widgeon had decided that she wanted to marry him when she grew up. He had laughed at that when she was eight, scowled about it when she was twelve, and run like hell from it from the moment she had sat down on his lap.
“So who is this special musical guest supposed to be?” she was asking.
