Duke of Scandal (Moonlight Square, Book 1) Page 4

  “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.”

  “How’s that?” Jason inquired.

  “Keep the fortune in the family! After all, I’m the one that needs it.”

  “Gerald expected to receive a share of our great-aunt’s money,” Felicity explained.

  “I daresay many of his creditors were under that impression, too,” Charles interjected. “Well, it’s true, Ger.”

  “Very well, so I admit it!” Gerald exclaimed with a scowl. “My straits are…slightly dire. But that is easily amended if she’d stop being such a mule! What are you waiting for, anyway, woman? You’re at your last prayer as it is.”

  Felicity’s jaw dropped.

  Jason glanced at her, his dark eyes dancing. “How can you resist a proposal of such sweeping gallantry?”

  “Indeed,” she choked out. “I am quite speechless.”

  Jason stood, turning to her. “Pray tell, do you have the papers from the solicitors, Miss Carvel? Won’t you be a dear and fetch them?” The hard look he sent her from across the room left no doubt in her mind that he wanted a word alone with these two gentlemen.

  Uh-oh.

  “Oh, er, of course.” Felicity gulped as Jason set Daisy down on the back of the couch, where the cat perched. Striding out into the hallway, Felicity strained her ears trying to hear what was being said.

  Low murmurs were exchanged. Stammers from Charles. Bluster from Gerald, of course. And a flinty, cool tone from Jason in reply.

  The sheer impropriety of eavesdropping suddenly made her lose her nerve. Why was it she lost all sense of decorum when that man was anywhere near her?

  Wide-eyed, she pressed her lips shut and turned away from the doorway, heart pounding. She sped off to fetch the folio of legal papers from her chamber.

  When she returned to the parlor, Gerald’s face seemed redder than usual. Charles’s bland smile looked brittle, and Jason leaned against the couch again, serene as the cat, who rubbed against his leg, purring noisily.

  “Ah, here we are, then.” Jason came toward her and took the documents from her, fully in control. The disheveled rakehell from this morning was nowhere to be found. “Well, gentlemen, Miss Carvel and I have business to discuss. If you don’t mind.”

  Gerald’s cravat suddenly seemed too tight for him. “And what if I do mind, Netherford?”

  “Come, Gerald,” Charles said, turning gracefully. “We are wanted at our club.”

  “Indeed,” said Jason, his cold stare fixed on Gerald.

  “Good afternoon, coz.” Setting his hat at just the proper angle, Charles hastened out the door, but Gerald lingered a moment longer, bristling, his thick legs planted. He reminded Felicity a bit of a wild boar as his beady eyes shifted back and forth angrily between her and Jason.

  “This isn’t over,” he informed them both.

  “Oh, but it is, Mr. Carvel,” Jason said softly. “Good day.”

  Whatever Gerald read in Jason’s eyes made him back down, at least for now. He stomped toward the door, snatching his hat off the coat hook on the way. “You’re as mad as the old dame was, Felicity,” he muttered. “No wonder you’re a spinster.”

  The front door slammed a moment later.

  “Spinster?” she cried, turning to Jason, who scowled at her.

  “Neighbor boy?” he retorted.

  But staring matter-of-factly at each other, they both started laughing at the absurdity of the exchange.

  Felicity shook her head and cupped her temples. “Why in the world would I want to marry Cousin Gerald?”

  “Why would anyone want to marry him?” he countered.

  “Good point,” she replied. “That boor!” She sighed, then shook her head again with a chuckle, holding his gaze. “Remember the battles you boys used to have?”

  “Do I ever. Hurling everything from rocks to mud pies at each other.” He grinned. “Good fun.”

  Propping her hand on her hip, Felicity looked him up and down. “Well, you might have got rid of him for me, Duke, but don’t think this changes anything. I am still cross at you. And rather shocked you actually showed up.”

  “Eh, don’t get too excited.” He gave her a sardonic look. “I’m only here to see the papers.” He brushed past her, folio in hand. “Arrived not a moment too soon, though, by the look of it. Oh, what fun you have in store, Miss Carvel. If you think your cousin is obnoxious, wait till word of your inheritance really gets out. Trust me, you’ve entered a whole new realm of false friends and toadies. Welcome to my life,” he added under his breath. “I need more light. This writing’s tiny.”

  He stalked through Aunt Kirby’s pretty stone house—or rather, her house now—as if he owned it, breezing out through the back door onto the shady terrace, where he headed for the wrought iron table and chairs.

  Felicity followed. “I noticed that about the print on all those documents. Why do they make it so small?”

  “Because they’re hoping you will never actually read it.” He pulled out one of the cushioned chairs for her and waited for her to sit.

  Felicity fought not to get drawn in by his charm or the wonderful air of command that he was capable of when he chose to use it. “Is this really necessary?” she asked.

&
nbsp; “You might show some gratitude,” he said crisply, though his eyes still danced like the stars at night. “Do you think I would subject myself to the torture of reading legal jargon for just anybody?”

  She tried not to smile at that.

  “Chop, chop, girl, before I change my mind and leave you to the parasites and sharks.”

  “Humph.” She plopped down into the chair while Jason sat down beside her in the shade.

  He opened the leather binder and began turning the pages, assessing what was there.

  “Why did Her Ladyship leave everything to you, anyway?” he asked as he skimmed another page, only glancing briefly at her. “It does seem slightly surprising.”

  Felicity smiled and propped her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her hand. “Aunt Kirby had rather particular ideas about the role of a woman in the world. That’s why people called her eccentric. She loved being a wealthy widow because she didn’t have to abide by anyone’s rules.”

  “She didn’t like her husband?”

  “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant. She adored him for the decade she had him, but he died so young. After that, all she had was his money. She told me once that she wouldn’t have remarried for the world.”

  He eyed her curiously. “What if she fell in love?”

  “Oh, she did fall in love. Lots of times. But she preferred to keep her independence.” Felicity paused. “Did you know she took herself on a Grand Tour well before the French Revolution?”

  He smiled. “No, I didn’t. Sounds as though Pete’s not the only adventurer in the family.”

  “That’s true. Aunt Kirby said the fortune she’d inherited from her husband permitted her the freedom to live an extraordinary life. She wanted that for me, too.” She heaved an unhappy sigh. “That’s why she left me this ridiculous pile of money.”

  “I see.” He closed the binder, studying her. “So what kind of extraordinary life do you envision, Miss Carvel?”

  She looked at him for a long moment, a slight flicker of panic rising in the back of her mind at the question. Not a single answer came to her. Not a single dream dared present itself for her to chase, and that in itself frightened her.