Duke of Scandal (Moonlight Square, Book 1) (26 page)

She winced. He lowered his hand to his side, searching her face in dismay.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for who I’ve been in life. Please—it’s different now. You know that, don’t you? I've changed, truly. Everything is different now that I’m with you. You’re the one I love. The only one I’ve ever loved. You must believe me…”

She blinked away the threat of tears and nodded but wondered if she looked as ill and ashen-faced as she felt.

He opened the wooden front gate for her. She stepped through, then waited for him to pass her. Stoically, she followed him up the flower-lined pathway to the arched front door, her knees shaking beneath her.

Everything in her wanted to run.
I can’t do this. What do I say to this woman? What possible topic of conversation could we have? “Pleased to meet you, Miss Moore. So…isn’t he good in bed?”

Jason knocked before entering, but when they stepped into the neat little cottage, Felicity could have collapsed with relief when the maid revealed that the actress was not at home.

Unfortunately, they also learned that everybody in the house was sick to the point of retching.

Including Simon’s nurse, Jane.

The haggard-faced woman dragged herself out to greet her employer while Felicity stared into the parlor at the small, dark-haired boy curled up on the sofa in his nightshirt. He had a blanket embroidered with sailboats tucked around him and a stuffed toy dog in his arms.

Standing in the foyer, Felicity had gone motionless. She couldn’t take her eyes off the child.

The intense emotion of the past twenty-four hours nearly overcame her as she stared in wonder, suddenly choked up at the sight of Jason’s firstborn.

Oh my God,
she thought.
He’s beautiful.

And her eyes welled up with tears. He was like a little miniature Jason sitting there, hugging his little cloth dog.

Meanwhile, behind her, the nurse was making apologies. “Oh, Your Grace, I’m so relieved to see you, but you can’t have got my note yet. I just sent it moments ago.”

“No. What is it?” he inquired.

“Well, I hated to bother you, but you said to write whenever we needed help, and I’m afraid, well, I’ve asked my niece, Polly, to come in and help look after him. She’s willing, but she can’t get here till tonight. She’s a housemaid for the Ellsmeres,” she explained with a glance at Felicity.

“Polly’s a good girl,” Jason said with a nod. “She’s helped you here before.”

“Yes, sir. You see, poor little Master Simon came down with the fever yesterday afternoon. Nothing too serious, you needn’t worry,” she assured him. “Just some sort of stomach virus that’s been going around. The children down the street had it last week and they’re fine now. Unfortunately, I seem to have caught it, too. The fever hit me this morning.”

Indeed, Nurse Jane looked like she could hardly stand.

“You must let us help. You should be in bed,” Felicity said abruptly, blinking away her tears and only just managing to tear her gaze from Simon, who’d been staring back at her with a Jason-like look of suspicion.

“This is Miss Carvel,” Jason told the nurse. “The reason we actually came is that I wanted her to meet the lad, as she is to be my wife.”

The governess exclaimed over this news with amazement, but then Jason hurriedly asked, “Where
is
Chloe?”

She seemed hesitant to answer in front of Felicity, who managed a taut smile.

“It’s all right,” Felicity said.

“Er, Miss Moore is still in Brighton with Lord Hayworth, Your Grace. They were…going sailing on his yacht, I believe.”

“Have you written to her yet?” he asked.

The woman nodded wearily. “But if she’s out on the boat somewhere, I don’t know when she’ll get the message.”

Jason’s face darkened. “Typical.”

“Jason, why don’t you introduce me to the child?” Felicity asked, nodding toward the tot on the couch. “Once Simon’s comfortable, Nurse Jane can go to bed.”

“Oh, miss,” she protested.

“Not at all. You must rest and get better,” Felicity told her. “We can look after the boy until your niece arrives.”

“It’ll be all day.”

“We’ll manage,” she assured her. “His Grace is the child’s father, after all. ’Tis his duty.”

Felicity gave him a sharp look askance, and Jason nodded to the nurse, as though he dared not argue with his future wife’s decree.

“Come,” he said, then stepped into the parlor. “Hullo, Simon. I hear you’re feeling poorly.”

The small boy nodded as he twisted the floppy ear of his toy dog.

“I’ve been giving him a little burnt toast and peppermint tea to soothe his stomach,” Nurse Jane informed them. “He’s been in bed all morning. He just woke up.”

Felicity was already taking off her pelisse. “Well, we’ll keep him entertained.”

“Miss Carvel, you are welcome to have my driver take you back to Town,” Jason said, taking off his coat. “I’ll stay. I don’t want you catching whatever these two have.”

“Nonsense,” she replied with a frosty glance at the child’s errant father. What did a barely ex-rakehell duke know about taking care of a sick child, even his own? She, on the other hand, had spent the past several years taking care of a frail old lady. It couldn’t be that different.

“I don’t have any other plans today. I can stay. Off with you, now, Nurse Jane,” she said in a kindly tone.

Before the governess took her advice, she stopped to show Felicity where a few things were in the kitchen and such before gratefully accepting the suggestion.

Familiar enough after these instructions, Felicity returned to the parlor. She noticed Simon straightened up and hugged his dog tighter as his father sat down on the couch beside him.

Jason reached over and laid his hand across the boy’s forehead, checking for fever. “How are you feeling, son?”

Simon shrugged, warily eyeing Felicity as she approached.

“Simon, I brought this lady here today to meet you. This is Miss Felicity. She’s Uncle Pete’s sister.”

“Uncle Pete?” He brightened up at the mention of her brother. “Is he back from the jungle?”

“Not yet. But soon. Don’t you think so, Felicity?” he asked, trying to include her in the conversation.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be back any day now. It’s nice to meet you, Simon.” She offered him a smile. “I’m sorry you’re sick.”

He just looked at her, not sure what to make of all this, then turned to his sire.

“Can I have ice cream?” he asked rather slyly.

Felicity pressed her lips together to conceal her amusement at this unexpected ploy. “He’s your son, all right.”

Jason smiled ruefully at her, then at the boy. “Not till Nurse Jane says so, you little schemer.”

“That’s a nice dog,” Felicity offered, smoothing her skirts as she sat down on the ottoman beside the couch. “What’s his name?”

“He doesn’t have one.”

“No name?” she asked in surprise.

“He’s just pretend!” the little patient said in a prickly tone. “Mama says I can’t have a real doggy. When is she coming home?” he asked in a whiny tone, poor thing.

Felicity winced at the question, a pointed reminder of the love-starved childhood that had certainly played a role in shaping the man Jason had become.

Having grown up on the next estate, she well remembered Jason’s daily five-o’clock ritual that had often foiled their playtime. That was when he had to rush home and make himself presentable to be marched in front of one or both of his parents for approximately ten minutes a day—at least on those occasions when they were in residence at Netherford Hall rather than in Town.

They would treat their son to an interview of a few stilted questions, keeping him at arm’s length, of course, as they did not believe in indecorous shows of affection. They’d merely make sure their heir was still alive and then send him back to his caretakers. Felicity supposed the rogue had drawn the conclusion from all this that people had to be paid to love and care for him. That was all he’d ever known.

No wonder he’d taken to frequenting brothels as soon as the boy had become a man, she thought sadly.

But now he was causing history to repeat itself with his own son. She looked from one to the other.
I’m not going to let you do that to him.
In all fairness, though, she supposed Jason needed someone to
show
him how to love, and who better than his future wife?

Her mission clear, somehow Felicity kept her mouth shut about the absence of the boy’s mother. What mattered right now was Simon.

The awkward distance between father and son was obvious, though she could tell Jason yearned to break through the boy’s standoffish attitude toward him. It was written all over his face—confusion and uncertainty, with equal parts affection.

She could see he wanted to be a good papa, he just wasn’t sure how. It made her heart ache.

As for little Simon, he looked decidedly intimidated by his sire—not because he saw Jason as a threat, but he looked somewhat in awe of the big man, and eyed him as though he were something of a stranger.

Well, today, perhaps some good could come out of the boy’s illness. This would at least give the two a chance to get to know each other better. She resolved to do all she could to help the process along.

“Your mother will be back as soon as she gets Nurse Jane’s letter,” Jason was saying, smoothing the boy’s tousled hair back from his forehead. “But don’t worry, we’ll take care of you till Polly gets here to help. You like Polly.”

“She’s funny,” he conceded.

Felicity tried again to engage the tot. “How old are you, Simon?”

He clearly didn’t feel like talking—at least not to her—but he held up four fingers.

“My goodness! Four years old. Do you want something to drink?”

He was still reluctant, but their attention gradually drew him out. He giggled when Jason took his toy from him and pretended to make the dog bite him.

Unfortunately, Simon wasn’t entirely out of the woods yet. Later in the day, he started looking a little queasy and then suddenly leaned over and puked on the floor, even splashing some onto Jason’s fine leather shoes.

Felicity got a washcloth and wiped the child’s face but stopped herself from volunteering to clean up the vomit. “You’re his father. This is what parents
do
,” she told the duke, handing him a bucket and some rags.

He stared at her in astonishment, but all things considered—well aware that he was still on shaky ground with her—he wisely pressed his lips shut and cleaned it up without complaint.

She opened a window to let some fresh air in to rid the room of the smell, but, feeling better, Simon giggled at the sight of his towering, scary, important father cleaning up his vomit. The little rascal began experimenting with rhymes involving
duke
and
puke
.

“He really is you all over again,” Felicity remarked with a chuckle at the boy’s cheeky sense of humor.

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Jason said wryly, giving his smaller copy a playful scowl. “No more puking. It’s disgusting.”

“It’s funny!” Simon insisted, giggling like mad.

“Humph.” Jason left to get rid of the nasty bucket and wash his hands.

By nightfall, however, a change had come over His Grace.

Simon was well enough by then to nibble another piece of toast and have more tea. Felicity made Jason get the snack ready for the boy himself while she went to check on Nurse Jane. She took her time about it, too, deliberately leaving her rich, powerful fiancé to muddle his way through snack time and the various tasks involved in getting his son ready for bed.

After sauntering back down the upstairs hallway from checking on Nurse Jane, Felicity glanced in the doorway of Simon’s bedchamber, watching the Duke of Scandal doing his best to clean his boy up a bit for bed.

Jason looked up just then, blowing out a sigh of weary exhalation, and when he saw her there, he tried to conscript her. But she shook her head stubbornly and simply reminded him of the basic tasks that needed doing.

“Don’t forget to make him brush his teeth.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jason looked at his wee shadow. “You heard the lady.”

She could not help spying on their progress, however, tickled as she watched Jason helping the tot change his little nightshirt. He combed Simon’s tousled hair before the mirror, oversaw the brushing of his tiny white teeth, turned down his son’s bed for him, and lit his night-light.

When Felicity returned again from getting tea and toast for Nurse Jane, she found Jason seated in the rocking chair in his son’s room, looking slightly exhausted with the child on his lap.

Sleeves rolled up, cravat loosened, he was reading the boy a story. She had never heard his deep, rich voice sound so soft before.

Simon, meanwhile, was toying with the buttons on his father’s waistcoat as he read to him, his head resting on Jason’s broad chest like it was the best place in the world to be.

Felicity knew from experience that it was.

Loath to intrude on their sweet moment together, she almost continued past, but Jason caught her eye.

“Felicity, stay,” he called. “You must wait and hear the ending of this riveting tale.”

“Papa, they
find
the lost kitty,” Simon said flatly. “Nurse reads me this book every night. It’s my favorite one.”

“Well, you didn’t have to ruin the ending for me, pup,” he teased gently, giving him a chiding little hug. Simon giggled and kicked his feet in contentment. Then Jason glanced lovingly at her over his son’s head. “Stay, you. I mean it,” he said, while his dark eyes sent her a heartfelt thank-you.

She returned his smile tenderly, leaning in the doorway. There was no way to stay angry with such a man.

She might have been furious when they had arrived, but seeing him like this, she could not help falling in love with him even more deeply. She was also ridiculously proud of him right now. He’d had it in him all along.