Moonlight Square: Books 1-4 (Plus Bonus Prequel Novella), page 20
He heeded verse three.
Love must, in short,
Keep fond and true,
Through good report,
And evil too.
Else, here I swear,
Young Love may go,
For aught I care—
To Jericho!
Enthusiastic applause burst out and the tenor bowed. Then came the intermission. Jason longed to rush over to Felicity’s side, but still suffering the pangs of a guilty conscience after his delicious little fantasy, he was all the more cognizant of the likely result should he seem too attentive.
In the interests of not causing a scandal—and for the sake of that rare virtue prudence—he hung back, thinking he would let a little time pass before he sauntered over.
Alas, his reticence proved a mistake.
Within moments, the lovely and highly eligible Kirby heiress was swarmed with introductions to a dizzying array of bachelors, all moving in en masse to make her acquaintance.
He was annoyed, of course, but he couldn’t help smiling about it in spite of himself.
Good for you, girl.
After weeks of grieving and what truly had to have been long, tedious years of meekly attending the bossy old dragon, at last she was getting the chance to come out of Her Ladyship’s shadow and stand in the sun. Add to that all her worry about her brother and she deserved the pleasure of all the admiration suddenly pouring her way.
When she happened to catch Jason’s eye, he lifted his glass to her in a silent toast. Let her enjoy the attention, he thought. He could always see her later. If he knew women, nothing cheered a girl up more than being told she was beautiful by eligible men.
Which this one absolutely was.
Ah, well. So much for his hopes of playing her knight in shining armor. It was oddly depressing to see she didn’t need him at all, really. The papers he’d looked at yesterday were perfectly well in order, her cousins had been easily scared off, and she didn’t need his help in Society, since it looked like everyone suddenly wanted to meet her, even though she was not new to the ton.
The bleeders just hadn’t quite noticed her until the twenty thousand had dropped into her lap.
Thankfully, the dour presence of her chaperone, along with her black mourning clothes, seemed to restrain the bachelors who had now walled her in, at least somewhat. Jason still monitored the group, protectively keeping watch over her from a distance, even as he and Rivenwood got up to stretch a bit and hunt down another drink.
“Miss Carvel has become quite popular,” his fellow duke remarked.
“Yes. Would you like to meet her?”
He shrugged. “Why not.”
But before he could take the tall, tow-headed peer over for an introduction, the man got to chatting with some others, and then Jason had to nudge him.
“There is a young raven-haired beauty by the wall who’s been staring at you all this time,” he informed him discreetly. “Who the deuce is she?”
“Oh, not again.” Rivenwood turned around and spotted the girl, who flicked her fan as though to hide her face and spun away the moment she realized she’d been seen. “This is really getting rather tiresome,” the other duke grumbled. “I do wish she’d stop spying on me.”
“Who is she and what does she want with you?” Jason persisted, intrigued.
Rivenwood arched a brow. “Well, we have never been formally introduced, but to the best of my knowledge—and this is but a guess—that is Lady Serena Parker.”
“And?” Jason prodded.
“And I suppose she has recently discovered that we were once betrothed.”
“What?”
“As children. Ah, it doesn’t signify,” he said with an elegant wave of his hand. “The thing’s long since been nullified. It was arranged by our parents, and as you’ve probably heard, the lot of them were quite mad.”
A trill on the high notes of the pianoforte summoned the guests back to their seats for the second half of the night’s entertainment.
“Your fiancée?” Jason remarked as they sat down again.
“Ah, not since I came of age—she was just a child then, herself. I have a feeling she only stares at me out of morbid fascination, to ponder the fate she barely escaped.” Rivenwood shrugged in amusement. “Beyond that, I cannot fathom why she’s started stalking me of late. She’s got another beau by now, in any case.”
“I’m not surprised to hear it,” Jason said, intrigued.
Then Lady Pelletier bustled back to her spot before her guests and cheerfully hushed them for the next portion of the musicale. As they settled in, people were murmuring curiously to one another about the surprise performer, soon to be revealed.
But first, up to the pianoforte went their daughter, the decidedly mousy Lady Simone, who had made her debut the year before but still looked terrified of everyone. She curtsied to the audience, wide-eyed, then sat down at the bench and played a couple of short, charming sonatinas by Muzio Clementi to demonstrate her accomplishments to any and all possible future husbands present.
It was over quickly, and the girl seemed relieved. She shot to her feet, sketched another pink-cheeked curtsy to the applauding guests, then fled, leaving the rest to the professionals.
This was followed by the obligatory Haydn for the night, one of the impeccable Erdody Quartets, a masterwork with forty years of experience behind it. In fact, Lady Pelletier had selected Jason’s favorite of the lot, no. 3, known as “Emperor” in a tribute to the Habsburg crown.
The crowd sat quietly, basking in the rich elegance of that worthiest of masters, known as “the composer’s composer,” for Haydn had taught both Mozart and Beethoven their art, among others.
In the tender serenity of the second movement, Felicity sent Jason another kind of smile, subdued and gentle, sharing in the beauty of the piece with him. His very heart stirred as he gazed into her blue-green eyes from across the candlelit distance between them and found himself thinking, If I could ever be truly capable of love, my darling girl…
But by the time the agitated cadenzas of the fourth movement unfurled, its high-strung tension reminded him of what touching her could cost him. The friendship of a man who was like a brother to him, not to mention his own self-respect.
And then, at last, it was time for their surprise guest. He shoved his grim fears aside and focused on the moment at hand.
They heard the diva before they saw her, for the lady sent out a melodious trill from behind the curtains that framed the front of the music room.
“Can you guess who it is?” Lady Pelletier playfully asked her guests, standing to the side.
But unwilling to let anyone ruin the surprise for the others, the mystery guest did not wait. Jason’s eyes widened as the famous soprano Bianca Burns wafted out to the front of the ensemble to stand, preening, beside the pianoforte, as she was wont to do.
Oh no. He folded his arms across his chest and began sinking down guiltily into his chair, hoping somehow to go unnoticed.
Was it too late to hide?
CHAPTER 5
Serenade for a Scoundrel
As she swanned out into view, the voluptuous Bianca Burns moved her hands in a graceful arc, presenting herself. She smiled grandly, accepting the enthusiastic burst of applause from the many who had recognized her even before she showed her beautiful face.
With only a few brief bars of introduction from the chosen flautist who had stepped forward, she launched into a medley of well-loved songs by the English favorite Thomas Arne.
Her rapturous voice enchanted the whole room as she opened her performance with a Shakespeare song from The Tempest, “Where the Bee Sucks, There Suck I.”
Aye, and very well, at that, Jason thought wickedly, then he shoved the lecherous memory away with another stab of guilt.
The music carried Bianca on nimbly into the second tune in her Arne medley, the infamous cuckoo song from Love’s Labour’s Lost, “When Daisies Pied,” a warning to all husbands about springtime adultery from their amorous wives.
Jason had heard her sing both before, for God knew this was one art he had explored thoroughly. Indeed, it was the diva’s many pointed repetitions of “Come hither, come hither!” in the lyrics of the next song, “Under the Greenwood Tree,” that he had once heeded all too well.
When the striking blonde finally noticed him there, sitting off to the side and slumping down in his seat to try to make himself smaller, a gleam came into her playful, sparkly eyes.
Uh-oh. Heart pounding, he prayed Felicity didn’t notice that they were acquainted, but when, next, she performed “O Ravishing Delight,” he couldn’t help thinking it sounded remarkably like some of the noises she had made in his bed.
Unfortunately, considering the unceremonious manner in which he had ended their brief but torrid affair, Bianca must have been inspired to dedicate her next song to him. She turned around and murmured something to the orchestra, and they all flipped a few pages in their Arne songbook.
She spun about to face the audience again with a wicked smile stretching from ear to ear.
Oh, please, don’t.
Inwardly cringing, Jason refused to betray any outward sign of chagrin, but he held her frank stare as the soprano drifted toward him, took a deep breath, and then had at him, bursting into lively song: “Monster, away!”
Knowing male laughter rumbled through the rooms.
Jason didn’t flinch, merely arched a brow and looked askance at the other men, his lips pursed as he ruefully took his comeuppance. Still, he sincerely doubted he was the only chap in the room who had enjoyed her favors.
At one point, she leaned down and sang the words blithely in his face, just to make sure everybody got the point.
Every creature,
Fierce by nature,
Harmless is
Compared to thee!
Even Rivenwood chuckled beside him. “What did you do to her, man?”
“What didn’t I do to her,” Jason muttered, folding his arms across his chest, though he kept his chin high.
She sang on, having her fun with him with an air from the Arne opera Artaxerxes.
Paths explore
Where lions roar,
And devouring tigers lie!
Monster, away!
“You enjoyed it,” he chided politely for his pride’s sake over her singing, which only made people laugh more.
Mrs. Brown wasn’t laughing, however. And though Felicity would hardly be surprised to learn of this dalliance, he still couldn’t bring himself to look over at her while his ex-lover publicly serenaded him on what a beast he was.
Literally.
But having given him his deserved punishment, Bianca came back over, laughing, bent down, and kissed him on the cheek, letting bygones be bygones.
“Miss me?” she whispered.
He narrowed his eyes at her. She smiled, straightened up, and, while turning away, winked at Rivenwood—rich as he was. Always on the lookout for a new keeper, her sort.
Then she flounced away to resume the program as planned. As she returned to her spot, the sustained cheering and applause from the female segment of the audience, rewarding her for taunting him, was quite loud.
Jason finally scraped up his courage to glance over at Felicity. She shook her head at him with a chuckle, looking at once amused and rather irked, but far from shocked.
He sent her a shrug.
To conclude Bianca’s performance at the Pelletiers’ famous annual musicale, she quieted things down with one of Arne’s most charming, melodic confections on the subject of love, “O Come, O Come, My Dearest.”
O come, o come, my dearest,
And hither bring
Thy lips adorn’d
With all the blooming spring…
Sitting very still, Jason pondered the lyrics just enough to wonder what an innocent love of the sort the song described would be like. Something sweet and clean rather than something deliberately dirty.
…Heal me with kisses,
Or else I die…
The Pelletiers’ house fairly shook with applause when she finished. Then came the true test of his nerves…
It was not going to be an easy thing to face Felicity after that, but he was determined to brazen it out.
He rose from his chair, still feeling like a fool, and went over to Felicity before she was swarmed by all her new admirers.
“Well, that was lovely,” she declared as he approached, still dreading her disapproval. He could barely hear her over the din of the crowd. “They are all so talented! Thank you for securing me an invitation.”
“Absolutely,” he blurted out, startled by her lack of reproach. “Er, where’s Mrs. Brown?” he asked, feeling slightly disoriented.
“She went to say goodbye to a couple of her friends.”
He tried to hide his disappointment at the news that they were leaving. “You’re not staying for the supper?”
“Alas, Mrs. Brown has had enough. And I think it’s probably best that I withdraw now, since I’m still in mourning.”
“Maybe I shall go home, too,” he said with a sigh.
“Early night for you, I’d imagine.”
“I’ve had enough humiliation for one night, thanks,” he said dryly.
“Humiliation? On the contrary, Your Grace. I think every man here is jealous of your conquest.” She paused a beat. “I could do with some air. Will you walk me out to wait for our carriage?”
“Gladly. Ladies first.” He gestured to her to walk ahead of him, and they both ignored the curious glances as they left together, going down the grand staircase to the ground floor.
He glanced uncertainly at her as they stepped out in front of the house, where some other guests had taken refuge in the damp night, having a stretch, or getting some air. A few men were lighting up cheroots, while several women tugged their paisley shawls around their shoulders.
The wind had died down but the streets were wet, reflecting the gleam of the lanterns and streetlamps lining Moonlight Square. Across the street, raindrops dripped from the leaves of the trees in the garden square.
Felicity sent a servant running to tell her driver to bring her carriage round, then she turned to him. They exchanged a smile and waited.
Jason tried not to stare at her overmuch. “You caused quite a sensation here tonight, you know,” he told her in a low tone.
She smiled idly. “It doesn’t signify. It’s not me they want; it’s Lady Kirby’s fortune.”
“It’s both,” he warned, though in her brother’s absence, he had already made up his mind to monitor possible suitors for whatever designs they might have on her.
She shook her head. “I doubt it. I’ve been here all the time and they never even noticed me.” She paused, clutching the handle of her reticule with both hands. “Do you know any of those gentlemen?”
“Some.”
“Hmm.” She nodded and gazed off down the street, then eyed him shrewdly. “You’ll have to warn me which ones to avoid.”
“You’d trust my judgment?”
“Of course. Why?”
He floundered, the polite smile fading from his lips. “What must you think of me,” he ventured.
“Ah, you mean the little serenade?”
He sent her a penitent nod and dropped his gaze.
She smiled almost tenderly and shrugged the matter off, much to his amazement. “She may think you a beast, Jason. No doubt you gave her cause. But you’ve never been that way with me, have you?”
He nodded his thanks at that much-needed acknowledgment, but being Felicity, put on this earth to torture him, of course, she couldn’t leave it at that.
A mischievous glint danced in her eyes as she flicked a speculative glance over him and added, “Would it were not so.”
He nearly fell over, then averted his eyes, his heart pounding. He risked another wary look her way once his sardonic mask was firmly in place again, arching a brow as he tried to read her, but damned if he knew how else to respond.
Felicity laughed, blushed, and quickly changed the subject, as though remembering belatedly how things had gone the last time she had tried to flirt with him.
That was eight years ago, however, when she had been a budding little nymph instead of the ripened beauty now standing before him.
His lust rose fiercely in him again without warning, but Felicity had dropped her gaze, fleeing back to being demure after that quick flash of letting her desire show.
“Speaking as a friend, merely out of concern for you, of course, I don’t approve of your womanizing ways,” she admitted hesitantly. “But you are a grown man. It’s your life, and the lady is old enough to know what she’s doing.”
He was silent, his head rather spinning with the intensity of whatever this was between them. Something far more delicate—and complicated—than what he was used to with women.
Felicity lifted her head and passed a glance of cautious study over his face, and then a half-smile curved her lips. “You look shocked, Jason,” she murmured. “Did you expect me to have a fit of the vapors and faint over that little musical reminder of how many paramours you’ve had? Even after I caught you with those two unspeakable females the other morning?”
He could barely speak. “I’m…not sure what I expected, actually.”
“Come, I have known you all my life, don’t forget. I know your flaws. And your virtues,” she added with a decisive nod.
He simply scoffed. “Virtues.”
“Oh, they exist, beneath the roguery, I daresay,” she said in soft humor. “You’re kind and loyal and generous, and you have a measure of humility, where most in your position would exhibit only arrogance. But don’t worry. I shan’t tell anyone.” She patted him on the arm, while he stood there in tongue-tied confusion at her praise. “Your reputation as a rake of the first order is in no danger. Mrs. Brown, for her part, still thoroughly disapproves of you, if it helps to soothe your vanity.”
“Humph. Yes. Good,” he said in wry distraction. “She’d better. I worked hard to earn my dreadful reputation.”
