Duke of Scandal (Moonlight Square, Book 1) (7 page)

“What he might…do? Surely you don’t mean…?”

“Yes,” he whispered in regret.

“Oh my God.” The words that escaped her were barely audible. She covered her mouth and stared at him with the ghastly realization.

“Pete’s a man of action. So I sent him on this adventure to the Himalayas and told him to make me a map. Name a mountain after me or a river or some such thing. Do you think I really give a damn about that sort of monument to my ego? No. I did it to save my friend’s life.”

Her voice fled, and his face blurred as tears welled up in her eyes.

Jason searched her face, then shook his head. “I’m sorry. You were never supposed to know this.”

“My poor brother,” she whispered.

“A man pays a price for being a hero. Which is why I generally stay away from it.” When he saw she was too upset even to smile at his wry jest, he whispered, “Sweeting,” and moved out of his chair and came closer.

Going down on one knee, he gathered her into his arms. Felicity was too dazed to protest. She fought not to weep outright as he hugged her and whispered reassurances.

“Don’t worry. He’ll be all right. This expedition was just the thing for him, I promise. Nearly a year in the wilderness will have no doubt helped your brother work out the savage part of him the war created. And who knows, maybe making this map will help him find his own way out of the maze he’s in. If not, by God, I’ll just send him off again. All right?” He took her by the shoulders and pulled back to gaze into her eyes. “I won’t let anything happen to our lad, don’t you worry. I’ll tell him to go find me some long-lost temple or something. He’d probably enjoy that.”

“And here I was, blaming you.” Her mind was reeling. “I just wish he would’ve told me he was still in pain.”

“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

L
ord 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.