Free Duke of Scandal (Moonlight Square, Book 1) by Gaelen Foley Page B

of his coat aside as he sat down, then tugged his white silk waistcoat into place. “Evening.”
    They sat in silence for a moment while the rest of the audience snatched up fresh drinks before settling into their chairs for the first hour of the recital.
    “So who’s the young lady?” the archangel of death drawled under his breath.
    Jason looked askance at him, briefly wondering about the reason for his interest as he met the man’s wary, pale blue eyes.
    “That’s Felicity Carvel,” he conceded.
    “Ah. The Kirby heiress I’ve been hearing so much about?”
    “Yes.”
    An idle pause while he contemplated her. “And who is she, exactly?”
    “Do you know Major Peter Carvel?”
    “Heard of him. Gentleman soldier turned explorer. You’re funding his expedition, no?”
    Jason nodded. “Great friend of mine since boyhood. That’s his sister. Known her all my life. I’m keeping an eye on her for him while he’s away.”
    “Now there’s a pleasant task.” Rivenwood was now studying Felicity intently through narrowed eyes. “What is her lineage?”
    “Why do you want to know?” he asked, forcing a tone of amusement, though his thoughts were otherwise.
    Don’t even think about it. You’re too damned strange.
    Now, now, he scolded himself. The attentions of multiple dukes would help any girl in Society. Even dukes known as scandal hounds and spooky quizzes.
    Rivenwood waited.
    “She’s the niece of the Marquess of Bellingham,” Jason told him.
    “Ah, so she’s Elmont’s cousin.”
    “Yes.” They exchanged a knowing look, having both heard the stories about that particular dandy.
    Rivenwood furrowed his brow. “If Elmont doesn’t sire an heir, isn’t Major Carvel next in line for the title?”
    “Yes. Lord Bellingham only has the one son.”
    “Hmm,” said Rivenwood.
    Thankfully, Lord and Lady Pelletier stood up in front of the orchestra before his friend asked any more probing questions about Felicity. Jason found himself wanting to keep every luscious detail about her all to himself.
    Their hosts were all smiles as they faced their two roomfuls of guests to introduce the evening’s entertainment. Egads, they were holding hands in front of everyone.
    Jason furrowed his brow, slightly embarrassed for them. It was ghastly unfashionable how in love they were, despite having been married for more than twenty years. Pelletier did not keep a mistress, and not even Byron had succeeded with the lively countess. They were that rare thing in the ton called faithful .
    Lady Pelletier was the real music aficionado, as Jason knew from the friendly tug-of-war they’d had over Herr Schroeder. Alas, Her Ladyship’s charm had won out with the German over Jason’s money.
    Their hostess welcomed everyone to their home, thanked them all for coming, and reminded them of the light supper that would be served at the end of the recital. The earl said nothing, just stood there beside his wife, gazing at her with a doting look that said, Ain’t she clever?
    “And now I give you our dear Herr Schroeder,” she finished. Then she and her lord skipped off to their seats.
    The German bowed to the audience, then took his seat at the pianoforte across from the other two members of the trio, on violin and cello. The rest of the ensemble waited in the background for their cue.
    Schroeder looked at his fellow soloists, and all at once, they launched into the Sonata in G major by the crowd-pleasing Ignaz Pleyel.
    It was a smart way to start off the performance and warm up the crowd before unveiling his new piece, Jason thought. The light, charming composition showcased the famous Austrian composer’s hallmark sweetness.
    Jason watched Felicity enjoying the music and felt an idiotic glow of warmth stealing into his heart. The entire atmosphere of the room had changed for him with her arrival.
    The sense of drifting through Society unanchored had vanished, and he congratulated himself on his foresight in placing her well in