One Moonlit Night (Moonlight Square: A Prequel Novella) Page 10

  “Don’t worry, I won’t!”

  Then she slammed the kitchen door in his face and pounded up the stairwell, shaking from head to toe.

  # # #

  Gable stood there, stunned. What the hell just happened?

  His friend let out a low whistle. “Little fireball, that one.” Sid sauntered over, studying him with a curious look askance. “Wasn’t that Beresford’s eldest daughter?”

  Gable nodded, in a daze.

  “Hmm,” Sidney said.

  “What?” Gable ground out.

  Sid shrugged in his nonchalant way. “Not that it’s any of my business, but, er…why in the hell are you out here fooling around with a virgin? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Apparently so,” Gable muttered. Because I want her like I’ve never wanted anyone before.

  “Careful, mate,” Sid warned. “I fear wedding madness has got to you.”

  Gable glanced at him regretfully, then shook his head in distraction. “I don’t think that’s it.”

  Wedding madness on its own couldn’t cause the bizarre heartache that filled him after Katrina’s shocking decree, banishing him from her life.

  No, he feared the sickness was something far worse.

  Bloody goddamn love.

  To a rakehell, the disease usually proved fatal.

  Chapter 6

  A Farewell

  The room spun when Trinny awoke the next morning. The cheery tweeting of the birds outside felt like pins being driven into her ears. Her head thumped mercilessly, and her mouth was as dry as if she’d been eating shredded paper all night long.

  Oh God. She tried to sit up but failed, and she pressed a hand to her brow as she lay back down, feeling positively awful.

  It took her a moment to get her bearings. Lud, I’d never make it as a rakehell.

  And that thought suddenly recalled what had transpired last night between her and Gable. Her stomach immediately lurched, and she squeezed her eyes shut as it all came flooding back.

  In an instant, the memories chased away the blissful forgetfulness of her dead drunken sleep.

  Oh no…

  She remembered the way he had touched her and kissed her, pressed her against the wall of the Grand Albion.

  And then she remembered their fight.

  She flicked her eyes open and stared dizzily at the rotating ceiling. Horrified regret paralyzed her. How could I say those things? How could I tell him never to call on me again?

  Forget that, her better sense opined. How could you let him put his hands up your dress? His mouth on your cleavage?

  Oh God. Her pulse was now pounding with panic. What if that brash moment of moon madness had been found out? Was she ruined even now?

  Could a spinster even be ruined?

  The queasiness intensified. Because, right now, the only thing worse than indeed never seeing him again would be finding out their tryst had been discovered and then being forced to marry him—given the awful way they had left things between them.

  Oh no, no, nooo. The thought kept repeating in her mind, along with, I’m never drinking again!

  But after a momentary panic, Trinny realized her mother would not have left her sleeping the night away if Society had found out about how she and Lord Roland had slipped away together during the wedding.

  She must be in the clear, for she’d have been instantly awakened and forced to face her parents’ wrath. So she was probably safe, thank God.

  Still, it was hard to feel any genuine relief when she recalled her ugly fight with Gable. Had she really banished her handsome friend from her life?

  She sat up in bed, feeling as though she might throw up at the memory.

  Was it too late to plead innocent, blame it on the wine? In vino veritas? But her heart sank, because the old maxim held water. Every harsh word she’d said to Gable had been true.

  That was the most sickening part of all. Knowing she had made the right decision by pushing him away. She had to stand her ground and let him go. It would hurt less that way.

  She was surprised at the tears that flooded into her eyes, considering how desiccated she was from the wine. She closed her eyes and lay back down, trembling. Then she pulled her pillow over her face to muffle a sob of despair.

  # # #

  Across the square, Gable had also awakened, but he was not suffering any aftereffects, as he hadn’t overindulged. But he felt nearly as ill as he supposed—and hoped—Trinny did, for different reasons.

  Gable was still angry. The first thought in his mind when his eyes flicked open was, How dare she accuse me of such dishonorable dealings?

  Who did the little quiz think she was?

  He had been hurt, bewildered, indignant, and then mad as hell when she had kicked him out of her life last night. Being ordered to go to the devil, being rejected and sent away, was not exactly something he was used to from the fair sex.

  Frankly, he was used to them doting on him. Treating him like he could do no wrong. But this one… Gable shook his head as he sat up.

  So she refused to see the benefits to the offer he had proposed, though they were manifold. To hell with her, then. He hoped she regretted her foolishness this morning to the bottom of her vain heart.

  Indeed, he hoped she came round groveling, because he couldn’t wait to tell her it was too late. That he had pledged himself to another. Which he meant to do first thing today.

  Hell, he’d toss the bloody names into a hat and pick one out at random, just to spite her. Then she’d be sorry.

  Except he doubted she would care.

  As he rose from his bed and went about his morning ablutions with a glower, he could not help feeling a little used, frankly. The little hussy had allowed him to pleasure her, then sent him away.

  He growled under his breath, raking his comb roughly through his hair. He nearly bit his valet’s head off when the man came to help him dress.

  “Go away!”

  “Yes, sir! Apologies, my lord.”

  He dressed himself in a rage, making a muck of three cravats in a row before giving up on a neckcloth entirely, crumpling up the one he held, and throwing it aside in disgust.

  It was easier to be furious than to let himself feel what lay beyond the anger.

  As he sat down to put on his shoes, glaring at the floor in a brown study, he could not help wondering uncomfortably if this was how some of the women he’d dallied with had felt afterward. If so, then it seemed the proverbial boot was on the other leg.

  The fitting old maxim so annoyed him that he hurled his shoe across the room, where it crashed against the wall and left a black streak, and as a consequence, he both scared the dickens out of his servants downstairs and burdened them with needless work.

  But what did a selfish rakehell care?

  Jaw clenched, Gable prowled downstairs, heading for the morning room and his breakfast. As he traversed the gleaming, quiet halls of his bachelor refuge, his fine terrace house seemed remarkably large this morning for some strange reason. Maybe he was merely hungry, but it seemed a longer walk today than usual from his chamber to the breakfast table.

  He stopped in the marble-floored corridor, struck by the stillness. His house was so quiet…all the elegant rooms seemed ever so empty.

  A little unnerved, he hurried on.

  Before he even arrived at the morning room, though, he could already feel a disturbing change taking place in his emotions. The anger was giving way to sorrow.

  Regret.

  Dangerous guests to entertain and very unpleasant first thing in the morning.

  He sat down at the table, then stared unseeingly at the newspaper his butler handed to him, already folded open to the sports page.

  When his plate was set before him, he looked at it and wasn’t sure he could eat it in the wave of sickening disgust that washed over him.

  Self-disgust.

  Because she’s right, came the blunt thought. That is who I am. That is what I do.

  And in fact
he had brought women to that spot before.

  You’re exactly right about me, Trinny.

  And suddenly it seemed to Gable that he had much bigger problems than having his funds cut off.

  He set the newspaper aside and then slowly scanned the table. It was a round table, meant for a family. Or at least a husband and wife, but he sat here alone every day, and the fact was, he had relished it, had treasured his bachelor sanctuary here.

  Until this very moment. And now, with no warning, it had just become unbearable.

  He pushed away from the table and rose. “Think I’ll eat at the club this morning,” he told his bewildered staff.

  Then he left in a hurry.

  # # #

  Gable took care to remain in the company of his rakehell friends around the clock for the next two days. Rogues, scoundrels, and hedonists all, they distracted him, made him laugh, got him drunk, didn’t ask what the hell was wrong. Didn’t even notice anything was wrong, probably. But then, Gable always had been a fairly smooth liar.

  On the third night, at an expensive but disreputable establishment called the Satin Slipper, the lads were lounging around wasting time and watching the scantily clad girls dance and writhe.

  Netherford had captured one of them on his lap, and she was feeding him strawberries from the refreshment table as though he were a sultan. Sidney, meanwhile, had made a game of things, as was his way, trying to catch the berries in his mouth as his favorite courtesan laughingly tossed them to him from across the room. He kept missing, as his reflexes were not exactly sharp after all their drinking.

  Oh, it was great fun, Gable thought darkly.

  If you were seventeen.

  Unfortunately, he could feel a saturnine mood, cold and dark, settling over him. He glanced at Netherford in annoyance. The Duke of Scandal was in his own world, hair mussed, cravat undone, the courtesan teasing him with cherries now, passed from her lips to his.

  “So, Netherford,” Gable spoke up in an almost surly tone, “what’s going on between you and Felicity Carvel?”

  The sound of that name had a curious effect upon His Grace. It so startled him that he seemed to swallow a cherry pit, choking on it slightly. Recovering in a heartbeat, he dropped the harlot off his lap, sat bolt upright in his chair, and glanced around wildly. “What? Where?”

  “Hey!” the girl yelled from the floor.

  Gable arched a brow at his friend. “She’s not here, man. We’re in a brothel, remember?”

  Netherford scowled at him. “You nearly killed me.”

  “Well? What’s going on between you two?”

  “Nothing!” he said, quite unconvincingly. He scoffed as Sidney dashed over to play the hero and dotingly picked up the dropped harlot off the floor.

  “There, there, dear little darling,” he soothed in merry gallantry, dusting off her shapely bottom for her. “What a rudesby! Come sit with me, poor thing. I may not be a duke, but I will be a marquess when my old man turns up his toes, and you know I’d never drop you…”

  “Thank you, my lord. At least someone here’s a gentl’man.” She draped her arms around the waist of the golden-haired charmer, who winked at them over his shoulder as he stole her away.

  Netherford made no effort to stop his plaything from escaping, for the mention of Miss Carvel seemed to have taken all the fun out of other female company for him.

  He eyed Gable in suspicion. “Why do you ask me such a thing?” he demanded.

  “No reason,” he answered mildly, and the way his friend furrowed his brow and turned away in distraction disturbed him, for the look on Netherford’s face seemed to express exactly the same sort of inward tug-of-war that Gable was feeling.

  In any case, the duke didn’t protest when another pretty creature sidled over to show him her wares. Ignoring Gable now, Naughty Netherford passed a lazy glance over her, offering her a hand as she lowered herself onto his lap.

  “And what’s your name, lovely?” he asked, as if it mattered.

  And all of a sudden, Gable was done.

  Absolutely finished. With all of it. He just wanted out of here. Out of this place. Out of this life.

  He didn’t even finish his drink. Heart pounding, he set it aside, stood, bade his friends farewell, slung his coat over his shoulder, and marched out, sickened by it all. He couldn’t stand another minute of that mode of existence.

  Outside, the fresh night air helped to clear his head.

  Then it was a quiet drive home in his phaeton. It was lonely, but he didn’t mind. The streets were deserted, the serene gibbous moon riding high.

  When he got home, he retired, but before lying down, he stepped out onto the balcony off his bedchamber to gaze at the night, mentally marking the occasion.

  His last night on earth as a rakehell.

  Then he went back inside. Good riddance.

  With that, he blew out the candle and went to bed. But as soon as his head hit the pillow, thoughts of her were not far from his mind. He folded his arms beneath his head and stared into the darkness.

  You were right about me, Trinny. I see that now. But you were wrong about one thing…

  A leopard can change his spots.

  You’ll see.

  # # #

  “To what do I owe this honor?” his father drawled when Gable called on him the next day. “If you’ve come to plead for more time, I am not in a giving mood.”

  “No, sir,” he said. “I haven’t come to plead for anything.”

  “Good,” his father said, all business, as usual. He sat back down at his desk. “Then how goes the search?”

  “That’s what I came to speak to you about, sir.”

  “Well?”

  Gable paced back and forth across his father’s office once or twice before he found the nerve to state his decision out loud. “Father, I’m going to ask for the hand of Lord Beresford’s eldest daughter, Lady Katrina. But…there is a good chance she’ll say no,” he added in a taut voice. “And if that is the case, I’ve come to say I accept your pronouncement to cut off my funds.” He shrugged. “I really can’t blame you. But I can’t marry someone else for convenience’s sake when I…I…” His words trailed off, and silence hung between them.

  His father slowly arched a brow. “I see,” he murmured, looking fascinated. “Well, well.”

  “I also want to apologize to you, sir, for any…disappointment that I’ve caused you over the years…with my, er, prior mode of life. But I want you to know, everything has changed.”

  “Indeed?” The earl stared at him in shock, as though he feared he might be sleeping and this was naught but a strange dream.

  “Yes. I don’t expect you to believe, but you’ll see.” Gable dropped his gaze, self-conscious. “That is all, sir. I know you are a very busy man, so I shall endeavor not to waste your time. Good day.” He bowed to him and retreated.

  “Isn’t she the saucy one from the wedding?” his father said behind him, still sounding mystified.

  Gable paused, facing the door.

  “The young lady who thinks that all the world should wed for love?”

  His back still to his father, a rueful smile spread across Gable’s lips at the memory of how she had shocked some of the stuffing out of his stuffy Lord Sefton.

  He turned back and nodded. “Aye, sir. She’s the one,” he said with quiet, meaningful force.

  “I see.” His father looked terribly amused; understanding glinted in his eyes. “Well! Good luck, son. I hope she takes your offer. Since there is a castle at stake, after all,” he added with a subtle note of knowing humor in his voice.

  “For the record, that has nothing to do with it,” Gable said quietly.

  “That is your own affair. Do let me know if we have happy news, hmm?”

  Gable nodded wryly and crossed the office, wondering in hindsight if he’d misjudged his father all along. He was beginning to see that his father was just looking out for him, in his own, domineering way. But whatever the earl’s lim
itations, he was merely a concerned parent and had meant it for good.

  Indeed, perhaps all of his father’s sober hard work had merely filled Gable with self-recrimination, and that was why he had chafed under his authority. But perhaps there was some small way he could make it up to the man.

  He paused when he reached the office door and turned around. “By the way, Father, I seem to have a lot of free time on my hands these days. If there’s anything I can do to help you with your work, I should like to be of use.”

  Lord Sefton once again looked astounded. He all but pinched himself. “Er, yes, actually. If you can get a few of your friends with seats in the Lords to attend the session next week, I could use their votes on my bill.”

  “I can do that,” Gable said smoothly. “Do you have an extra copy of the latest draft? I’m better at persuading if I know what I’m talking about.”

  “I’ll have one sent over to you this afternoon.” His father seemed to marvel at this transformation. “Thank you, son.”

  “That’s what family is for,” Gable answered with a warm but guarded smile. Then he showed himself out.

  He was quite tickled by how well that had gone. The amazement on his father’s face was almost worth all the annoyance his old man had caused him over the years. But although he walked out feeling that his meeting with His Lordship had gone better than expected, now came the real test. He braced himself for his next appointment with destiny.

  Facing his father had always been a little nerve-racking, but at least he usually knew what to expect. His next mission, by contrast, was fraught with perilous unknowns. He was indeed venturing into terra incognita, even though it would take place on the well-trodden ground of his club.

  A short while later, Gable resolutely strode into the Grand Albion, dry-mouthed, his heart racing.