Duke of Scandal (Moonlight Square, Book 1)

by Gaelen Foley

  “Does that look straight, miss?” The maid glanced over her shoulder to consult with her mistress and suddenly saw him. “Oh—sir!”

  “Good day,” Jason said politely.

  Felicity whirled around on her heel and suddenly saw him. “You!”

  “You,” he countered, raising an eyebrow at this peculiar greeting.

  The way her face suddenly lit up with delight at his arrival chased off much of the gloom that had settled over him. At least someone in the world was glad to see him. Jason hung his hat on the coat tree. “What’s all this, then?”

  “Come in, come in!” Felicity bustled over, taking his hands. “You’re just in time to help.”

  “I am?”

  “The fellows here can’t get the cabinet to budge. Roll up your sleeves, Duke, we need your help.”

  “Miss!” The butler nearly dropped the oil lamp on the footman’s toe, so aghast was he to hear the young lady ask—well, order—a duke to exert himself. To say nothing of the poor chap’s apparent horror over his own failure to answer the door. “Oh, Your Grace, I am so dreadfully sorry, I-I didn’t hear your knock.”

  “Quite all right, my good man.” Jason nodded over his shoulder toward the foyer. “I just let m’self in. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Vous êtes ici chez vous,” Felicity replied brightly with a welcoming gesture about the room.

  “Merci,” Jason replied, holding her gaze just a moment too long in amusement. “You might like to know, however, that you are about to receive more visitors.”

  Felicity groaned. “Not again!”

  “Afraid so. There are two nincompoops driving around and around outside your house. I think they are trying to decide if they dare approach.”

  She winced. “Did they see you come in?”

  “Certainly not. I eluded them with the utmost cunning,” he said dryly.

  “Clever fellow! There were a few others trying to barge in an hour ago. I had Foster here tell them I was not at home.”

  “Oh…” Jason suddenly felt awkward. “If this is a bad time, I can show myself out just as easily—”

  “No, no, don’t be silly! That doesn’t apply to you.” She slipped her hands through the crook of his elbow and beamed at him. “Old friends are always welcome. Especially ones that I can put to work.”

  The butler shook his head at Jason with an agonized look of apology, but he didn’t mind at all. Indeed, he decided on the spot that he quite adored being a part of all Miss Carvel’s domestic hubbub.

  Just then, an eager knock pounded at the door, and this time, everybody heard it.

  “Warned you,” Jason said with a grin.

  Felicity laid her finger over her lips to hush everyone, then waved her hands in front of herself to the butler, shaking her head to make it plain she was not at home.

  Foster nodded resolutely and pivoted, marching off to carry out her orders.

  “Go and back him up in case they insist on waiting until I am available,” she whispered to her footman.

  “Aye, miss. We’ll get rid of them…again.”

  “Thank you. Such a nuisance. Oh, and, er, I won’t require either you or Foster for a bit when you’re through.”

  The footman seemed startled by this pointed request for privacy with her caller, but he dropped his gaze, sketched a slight bow, and followed the butler.

  Jason turned to the lady in charge. “Right. So what are we doing, then?”

  Felicity pointed. “Moving this piece of furniture from here to there.”

  “Again,” the maid said under her breath with cheeky humor.

  “Dorcas! That will do, you saucy thing. Why don’t you run along and fetch us some refreshments. Jason, wine?”

  He shrugged. “Whatever you’re having.”

  “White wine, and something small to eat,” she told the maid, giving her a look that said, And take your time about it.

  “Yes, miss.” Dorcas climbed down off the stepladder and trundled off to her task.

  As soon as she had gone, Jason turned to Felicity with a speculative gleam in his eyes.

  Alone at last.

  CHAPTER 8

  Just Once

  For a long moment, they just stood there gazing at each other, drinking each other in with a warm and intimate smile.

  Coming here had been a good idea, Jason had to admit. But it took everything in him not to reach over and cup that lovely face and kiss those pink, beguiling lips…

  Felicity tilted her head, studying him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Hmm?” He came back to earth and shook his head. “Nothing. Why?”

  “You looked a little glum when you came in.”

  Blast it, she was too perceptive by half. He smiled ruefully. “Well, I’m feeling much better now.”

  “Because of me?” she exclaimed, eyes twinkling as she stepped back and lifted her chin.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  “Never. Now help me, would you? Here, take off that handsome coat so you don’t rip it.”

  “Undressing me the moment we’re alone, Miss Carvel?” he murmured as she moved behind him and peeled his snug merino wool tailcoat off his shoulders.

  “I know. Aren’t I incorrigible?” she purred.

  He thrilled to the feel of her hands running down his shoulders and then gliding, for no particular reason, down his biceps through the thin, crisp linen of his shirtsleeves.

  He liked her touch a great deal. She withdrew to go and lay his coat over the back of a nearby chair.

  He turned around to face her and gestured at the chaos in the room. “So what’s all this about?”

  “Oh, it’s so exciting!” She dashed back to him and took his hands, pulling him toward the sofa. “Remember how you told me I needed to figure out ways to spend some of my money? Well, it came to me this morning! Look!”

  “I thought I was moving furniture.”

  “In a moment, yes, but look first.” She tugged him down onto the couch beside her. “I decided to begin my new life by making this house I’ve inherited, you know, more my own. Put my own stamp on it. Not to be rude, but the decor is out of date and, well, frankly a little…old-ladyish, if you will. I want to make it fashionable and new. It’s a wonderful house, in all. It just needs some freshening up. So I’ve decided to redecorate!”

  “Is that so?” he murmured, ridiculously pleased she had taken his advice.

  “That’s good use of my money, isn’t it?” she asked, waiting innocently for his answer.

  He nodded.

  “I had a fine cabinetmaker here today to talk about some new furniture, or at least new upholstery on the pieces I inherited. He left these books for me to look through. Chairs, tables, sideboards… And these fabric swatches are just some of the selections I can choose from for the chairs and couches. Isn’t it exciting?”

  “Thrilling,” Jason drawled. “Now, if you need any help choosing a new bed…”

  “Naughty!” she scolded with a happy little gasp, blushing as she slapped him lightly on the thigh.

  Which took him aback and delighted him at the same time.

  She seemed to have surprised herself, also. “Ahem, as I was saying,” she continued, “I want it to be nice and bright and airy in here, and I need to get rid of all these knickknacks. They only gather dust and make me sneeze.” She tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear as she chattered away. “You must give me your opinion on several of my choices.”

  He watched and listened to her, entranced.

  “After all, you have an excellent eye, Jason. There’s no point denying it, now that I have been to your artists’ house. I had fun yesterday, by the way,” she added, elbowing him fondly.

  “As did I.”

  Odd, he thought. Miserable as he had felt just a short while ago, now all was right with the world again. And once more, his gaze strayed down to Felicity’s sweet lips.

  So very tempting.

  He swallowed hard,
dragged his stare away, and loosely clasped his hands to keep from reaching for her, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “Where’s the Brown today?” he asked, striving for levity despite his rather strangled tone. Craving the ripened, charming woman beside him, he stared blindly at the printed booklet of various chairs for sale.

  “With the ladies’ altar guild. They’re planning their next charity effort.”

  “Ah.”

  “What have you been doing today?” she asked pertly.

  He shook his head. “Not much.”

  He did not like lying to her, but she seemed to read in his eyes that he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Very well. So tell me which of these two fabrics you like better, then. Don’t mock, this is serious business! For you see, you’ve inspired me with a marvelous new quest, Jason.”

  “I have? That one,” he added, pointing at the subtle, pale brocade.

  “Oh, good, that’s the one I like, too!”

  “What quest?” he inquired.

  “Aha, well, once I’ve brought my house up into the first stare of fashion, I mean to begin holding salons and musicales here, much like the Pelletiers, only on a much smaller scale, of course,” she hastened to add.

  He studied her in wonder. “Really?”

  She nodded eagerly.

  He pondered this, thunderstruck, for despite his love of the arts, he had never contemplated such a notion before. All of a sudden, it seemed wonderfully obvious, a tiny glimmer of what was possible if he were married someday.

  To the right lady.

  He and his duchess could arrange pleasant evenings for their friends, just like Lord and Lady Pelletier did…

  “Oh, dear. No response.” Her face fell. “You hate my idea? Is it too presumptuous?”

  “No, it’s brilliant. Can I help?” he asked, giving her a boyish bump with his shoulder.

  She looked delighted. “Certainly, i-if you like! You could host it with m— Oh, but I suppose that would be too shocking for Society. They’d take it wrong, wouldn’t they? Especially with…you being, well, you.”

  “Mmm,” he admitted in dismay.

  “You do know they call you the Duke of Scandal, right? Naughty Netherford?”

  He twisted his lips at the nickname, dismayed she’d heard it, though God knew he’d earned it.

  She laughed at his rueful expression. “It doesn’t bother me! You’ll just have to be my silent partner, then. My right-hand man. Nothing official, nothing for people to gossip about. But your job will be to help lure important guests to my grand occasions! Before you know it, I’ll be all the kick.”

  “You already are, love.”

  “That’s not me, that’s the money. But thanks anyway.”

  He shook his head and smiled. “Count me in.”

  She held his gaze for a long moment, then looked away, adorably pink-cheeked. “That reminds me of something else I wanted to ask you about. Do you think your Signore Sanfratello would make me a small statue or figurine to fit in the alcove over there? Nothing excessive, of course, I just have the perfect spot for it.” She pointed toward the left wall of the parlor. “I would love to have one of his works here to admire all the time.”

  “Then you shall. It will be my housewarming gift to you.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that!”

  “I’m his patron and your friend. And I’m happy for you, getting this inheritance. It seems like it’s rather changed your life. Though, to be honest, I daresay it’s a lot of trouble to go to, remodeling this place, when I doubt you’ll live here very long.”

  She cocked her head. “Why do you say that?”

  “Suitors banging down your door. Half of London angling to snare you. Mark my words, you’ll be wedded and bedded and living elsewhere by the time the Season’s over. And then I won’t get to visit you anymore or people will talk,” he said in a studied tone of wry humor to mask his dismay as the realization unfolded. “They’ll say we’re having a tryst. Then your husband will call me out. And it’ll all end in tragedy, and perhaps they’ll make a musical about it.”

  “No doubt. Unless I marry you,” she blurted out cheerfully.

  He arched a brow.

  “Or not.” She turned red and immediately dropped her gaze to the catalog, turning a page. “I mean, it does seem a good solution at first glance, so we could both be a part of my little project. But you’re right. Being married to the Duke of Scandal sounds very inconvenient, and besides, nobody’s life turns out the way they planned at eight years old. That’s just silly.”

  She flashed a blithe smile, turning to him, and her wicked gaze dipped to his lips. “Well! Since it seems the clock is ticking before—as you say—I’m married off to some very lucky man and the two of us are not allowed to play together anymore, I suppose we’d best enjoy it while we can, hmm?”

  “Yes,” he said warily, his pulse thundering. He had not expected that vixenish answer.

  To be sure, his friend’s little sister was all grown up now and very much a woman. In truth, his head was rather spinning at the deft circles she was running round him, emotionally speaking.

  What the hell is going on?

  And what exactly was she suggesting when she’d said we should enjoy it while we can?

  And what of this other claim, that being married to him would be too “inconvenient” for her? What was that supposed to mean?

  He was suddenly unsure if he was offended or relieved, but he was certainly confused.

  “Oh, have I shocked you, Your Grace? You must think me very naughty,” she whispered, laying her hand on his thigh.

  He looked down at it, and then at her, instantly on fire. The minx was toying with him, and he found her utterly irresistible.

  For a long moment, he sat stock-still, fighting what he wanted and panicking slightly to feel the chains of his resistance falling away. He wasn’t sure he was ready to let them go.

  “Felicity,” he said in a strangled tone.

  “Yes, Jason?” she breathed.

  “You shouldn’t be touching me.”

  “I’ve heard that song before. It didn’t work then, either. Did it?” She began inching her hand slowly up his thigh. Just like she’d done to the Hades statue. “You want me to believe that you prefer me as a good girl…all prim and proper?”

  You little hellion. His heart slammed in his chest.

  “Stop me if you don’t like it,” she whispered, daring him with those stormy sea-green eyes.

  Passion blazed through his body; the need was too strong. When he dragged his gaze up from the pretty hand creeping up his thigh and looked at her again, the impulse got away from him.

  Suddenly—not sure what he was doing but past caring—he leaned in and claimed her mouth with years’ worth of ravenous need.

  # # #

  Finally. Oh God…

  Having only just saved the situation with a change of subject—namely, some brash flirting to cover up her blunder of mentioning marriage to the consummate rakehell—Felicity barely dared move, treasuring the wild, fevered caress of his lips taking hers.

  At long last.

  When a person dreams of a thing for years, yearns for it with every inch of her body and every beat of her heart, it is easy to be overwhelmed when the moment finally comes to exquisite fruition.

  Jason’s kiss was that dream for her, and it nearly made her fall apart. Its sudden crashing into reality made her body throb like the white-hot birth of a star.

  Her heart raced with the impossible thrill of knowing that, in this moment, she finally had her idol’s full attention. She wanted to slow time and savor every second of it, but crazed want pounded in her veins, and Jason’s kiss was frantic. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap while his tongue plunged into her mouth like he would consume her.

  Felicity clung to him in trembling excitement, overwhelmed with pleasure. God, he could’ve had her right there on the couch in the middle of the dayti
me if he wished it.

  It shook her, facing how much she really craved him. Because deep down, she feared this still meant nothing to him. That she would ultimately prove just another female to him, or worse, he would suddenly find his little conscience once more, push her away completely, and break her foolish heart a second time.

  And yet, even knowing the danger she was in, she couldn’t make herself stop kissing him back.

  She wanted this too badly. She slid her hand around his nape and opened her mouth for him, following his lead.

  He groaned her name with such despair amid the deep, delicious licking of his kiss that, with one arm draped around his neck, she melted against his big, muscled body. Every inch of her had gone sweetly heavy with desire, yet with her other hand, she stroked his face in reverent longing as he went on kissing her.

  I love you so much.

  As her trembling fingers molded the angle of his chiseled jaw and explored the warm smoothness of his clean-shaven cheeks, she did not want to admit it to herself. But there was no getting round it. There had never been anybody else for her and there never would be. If Cousin Gerald was right in calling her a spinster, it was all Netherford’s fault.

  As his tongue swirled in the depths of her mouth, he gently pressed the small of her back, pulling her closer still, gathering her to him. She went eagerly as he guided her astride him, moving onto her knees to straddle his lap, her hands planted on his broad shoulders.

  He hitched her skirts up a little to make it easier for her to move. “Are we really doing this?” she panted, staring into his eyes. They had darkened to midnight with desire.

  “It would seem so,” he said in a gravelly voice.

  “Thank God.”

  “It’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it?” he whispered.

  She lowered her head in answer and claimed his mouth with the utmost enthusiasm. Perhaps she was acting fast, but he seemed to have no problem with it, welcoming her without a word to do as she pleased to him. He leaned against the back of the sofa, thighs sprawled, his hands molding to the curve of her waist.

  She kissed him fiercely, oblivious to anything but his mouth, his hands, his skin. She had him pinned down now, all to herself, and he wasn’t getting away. With her tongue in his mouth, she reveled in the delicious taste of him, not caring about propriety, not even listening to the soft footfalls as the maid returned.