Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
T he grande-salle was filled with the sounds of tuning violins and light murmurs as the attendees gathered for the musicale.
Eloise entered with her mother, her chin held high but inwardly feeling more self-conscious than ever. She smoothed down the peach-colored gown, the altered neckline now more daring than anything she had worn before. It made her intensely aware of her own body.
As they made their way to their seats, Eloise spotted Felix lounging near one of the columns, his eyes scanning the room. Lady Danridge, ever attentive to social propriety, busied herself greeting the other guests, leaving Eloise to herself.
As soon as Felix spotted Eloise, he headed directly towards her. His eyes traveled from her face to her neckline before giving her a nod of approval.
“Good job with the gown,” he remarked in a deep voice.
Eloise shot him a glare, crossing her arms in an attempt to cover herself although she felt a flush of pride that he had noticed.
“I feel like a fish on display at the fishmonger’s,” she muttered through gritted teeth.
Felix chuckled softly, his tone both teasing and reassuring. “You should not be embarrassed about your body, Eloise,” he said as his eyes moved downward again. His focused gaze once again stirred the smoldering coals inside of her. “You have more than enough to catch any man’s attention.”
Have I caught yours, Felix?
Eloise cleared her throat sharply, trying to suppress the blush creeping up her neck. How could she even think such a thing?
Before she could respond, Felix glanced past her shoulder and spied Lady Danridge returning from her rounds. He quickly leaned towards her, his voice low and conspiratorial. “When Mortcombe starts rambling about music, do not correct him, even when he says something asinine.”
Eloise blinked incredulously. “What? But what if?—”
“Let him,” Felix interrupted, his voice firm. “Men need to feel important, not corrected. Trust me, he will adore you for it.”
Eloise narrowed her eyes, resisting the urge to argue. “I am not in the habit of letting men spew nonsense just to feed their egos.”
Felix smirked, his amusement clear. “Consider it part of the lesson. You can outsmart him in every other way. It is all about playing the part.”
Just as Lady Danridge returned, Felix gave her a quick wink. “Good luck. You are so stubborn, you will surely need it.”
Felix slipped into the crowd, leaving Eloise irritated and flustered. Did he just compliment her? More than once? The thought sent a small thrill through her.
He is your brother’s friend and a known rake. He probably compliments every woman he converses with.
While she knew that to be true, she still could not hide the warmth in her cheeks or the odd titillation that was still coursing through her.
Lady Danridge touched her daughter’s arm, unaware of the exchange. “Shall we find our seats, darling?”
Eloise forced a smile, trying to focus on the task ahead. Mortcombe, music, and the intricate game she had agreed to play.
Just as she was thinking about it all, he appeared before her.
“Ah, Lady Elo—oh!” Lord Mortcombe looked down at her gown quite openly, his eyes wide with surprise. “I… er…” He cleared his throat. “You look lovely this evening, Lady Eloise, if I may so.”
Eloise smirked. Whoever knew it could be so easy?
Felix.
“That is very kind of you to say, Lord Mortcombe,” she replied with a curtsy.
The poor man’s jaw bobbed up and down for a moment as he gathered his wits and turned to Eloise’s mother. “And Lady Danridge,” he smiled, “I truly do not know which one of you shines brighter.”
“Well, are you not the charmer.” The Dowager beamed at his words as the three of them continued to walk toward their seats, eventually settling into them. Fate had seen to it that Lord Mortcombe’s seat was right next to Eloise’s.
“I was actually hoping I might find you here this evening,” he said, his voice oily with self-importance.
“You were?” she asked, feigning surprise.
“You shall certainly enjoy the musicale.”
Eloise plastered a bright smile on her face, remembering Felix’s words. She straightened her posture, letting her shoulders pull back slightly, enough for Mortcombe to notice her altered gown once more but not so much that it seemed obvious. The movement reminded her of Felix’s hand at the base of her spine, and she felt a spark of warmth at the memory.
“Indeed, My Lord, it is to be a lovely performance,” she replied, lowering her lashes before looking back at him as though he was the most fascinating man in the room.
Mortcombe’s gaze lingered on her neckline for a moment longer, his interest clearly piqued. “Ah, music,” he continued, his voice loud enough to draw attention from those nearby. “It’s such a rare thing these days to meet a young lady who truly appreciates the greats—Bach, Beethoven… Mozart.”
Eloise nodded, trying to appear as though she was hanging onto his every word. Inside, she braced herself for what was to come. “Mozart, of course,” she said, her tone light and deferential.
Mortcombe leaned towards her, smiling as though he was about to impart a piece of great wisdom. “You know, I have always found it fascinating that Mozart composed most of his work after he lost his hearing.”
Eloise froze, feeling her muscles tense.
Mozart… what? No, that’s Beethoven!
Her brain screamed at the inaccuracy, but she remembered Felix’s warning. She bit the inside of her cheek and forced a dreamy expression.
“That is… quite remarkable, My Lord. How extraordinary that he was able to accomplish so much without his hearing. You are full of such fascinating knowledge,” she managed to say although it required every bit of her conscious effort.
Mortcombe puffed up, clearly pleased with himself. “Indeed! Quite an inspiration. It is the sort of genius that can only be found in men, would you not agree?”
Her stomach turned at his arrogance, but she offered him a soft, admiring smile. “Absolutely, My Lord. Such brilliance is rare,” she murmured, her voice laced with faux admiration.
As they continued to talk, Eloise applied all the techniques Felix had taught her: fluttering her lashes when he spoke, tilting her head slightly when he made observations, and most importantly, not correcting him, irrespective of how utterly wrong he was.
Each small gesture, each smile, seemed to draw Mortcombe further into her web. His attention continued gravitating towards her, his gaze lingering longer each time, and she felt the thrill of the victory that was nearly in her grasp.
Mortcombe leaned closer, clearly enjoying her feigned adoration. “You know, Lady Eloise, I find it rare to meet a young woman so appreciative of the finer things in life.”
She gave him a demure smile. “Listening to you speak has truly been a pleasure.”
Mortcombe grinned, looking utterly self-satisfied. Eloise resisted the urge to roll her eyes but silently congratulated herself for handling the conversation with the practiced charm Felix had imparted. It was working—Mortcombe’s interest was growing, and Eloise was now firmly on his mind.
Just then, the music swelled, providing her with an excuse to end the conversation gracefully. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh, the performance is starting,” she said, casting a glance toward the stage. “We should not miss it.”
Mortcombe nodded. “Indeed, Lady Eloise. We will speak more later.”
Eloise exhaled, relieved that she had managed to keep her temper in check. Despite the absurdity of it all, her plan was starting to take shape.
Felix was right. As ridiculous as Mortcombe is, he is falling for it.
Felix leaned against a marble column, his gaze locked on Eloise and Lord Mortcombe. The way Mortcombe leaned in, eager and self-satisfied, stirred a familiar jealousy within him that coiled like a spring. But why should he be jealous? It was only Eloise!
Perhaps it is because my needs have not been met, nor will they be met for some time to come.
He sighed with resignation, just as Percy strolled up, his eyes darting between Felix’s scowl and the scene unfolding before them.
“Why are you staring Mortcombe down like that?” Percy asked, then followed Felix’s gaze further. “Ah, that makes sense.”
Felix shot him a glare, irritation bubbling to the surface. “What do you mean?”
Percy rolled his eyes, his expression one of playful exasperation. “You know exactly what I mean. The way you are watching her like a hawk—it is painfully obvious.”
“I am merely observing,” Felix said, trying to sound indifferent, but a note defensiveness slipped into his retort.
“Of course. Observing. Right.” Percy leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I just had a run-in with Lady Wellington. She asked about you. Seems she was rather disappointed about some arrangement you two had?”
Felix had all but forgotten about it. Ordinarily, it would have been the only thing on his mind. Something had changed, but he could not identify what, how or why. But a bet was a bet, and Felix had every intention of winning it.
Felix waved his hand dismissively. “I am not interested. Not in her or anyone else.” It was, of course, a temporary decision, but he wanted to sound convincing. He wouldn’t allow Percy to think it was anything other than his own decision.
Percy arched an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Oh really? Because I saw another of your past conquests flitting about here too. Lady… Livingstone, I think? You could have quite the evening, you know.”
Lady Livingstone was the epitome of beauty by general standards. Yet, much to his surprise, she did nothing to stir desire in him tonight.
Felix’s jaw tightened. “I will not be entertaining ladies for some time,” he stated firmly, trying to sound resolute.
Percy burst into laughter, his disbelief evident. “Right, naturally! That is what they all say after a night at the gaming hell. You will be back to charming your way through the season in no time. You cannot simply stop, Felix, it is ingrained in you.”
Felix shot him a sidelong glance. “Do you think I am joking? I mean what I say.”
“Come now,” Percy said, still chuckling. “You are telling me you would rather listen to Mortcombe butcher the history of Mozart than enjoy an eager woman’s company?”
Felix’s eyes flickered back to Eloise, who was now giggling at something Mortcombe had said. “I am not just watching him. I am ensuring he does not make an utter fool of himself… or her.”
“Is that all?” Percy was not convinced. “I remind you that is Jeremy’s sister. I cannot imagine how he would respond if you two were to?—”
“It is nothing like that!” Felix raked his fingers through his hair, knowing he was going to have to tell Percy something, or he would never hear the end of it.
“I made a bet with her. I am teaching her how to win over that clown Mortcombe. She has one month to seduce him. I also have one month, during which I must steer clear of… well, intimacy with the ladies. It is not a bet I intend to lose, Percy.”
Percy leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, come now. There is a better chance of seeing pigs fly than you abstaining from your nightly pleasures. You of all people, a month without a conquest? That is practically laughable.”
Felix crossed his arms. “I agree that it is a novel situation, but I refuse to lose. Not to her.”
Percy thought about it for a moment. “May I say once more, she is Jeremy’s sister. That means a new level of stakes exist here, and I daresay that might just alter your usual game.”
Felix scowled, fighting a smile. “I have no idea to what you are referring.”
“And yet, here I am, with the best view of your impending failure,” Percy chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just remember, if you do slip up, I expect the most dramatic confession.”
Felix shook his head, a reluctant grin breaking through. “I will prove you wrong, mark my words.”
Before Percy could offer any retort, a sultry voice cut through the air. Lady Livingstone glided toward him, her striking features framed by soft curls.
“Your Grace, I was beginning to think you had forgotten me.” She batted her lashes, her voice infused with flirtation.
Felix initially regarded her with cool indifference, his thoughts lingering on Eloise. But when Eloise glanced in his direction, a mischievous smile replaced his stoic demeanor. He turned to Lady Livingstone, his charm effortlessly reappearing.
“Of course not, my dear Lady Livingstone. How could I ever forget you?” He offered a charming response. “I have merely been busy.”
“So I have noticed,” she said, revealing a row of pearly-white teeth, framed by luscious, rouged lips.
As she leaned closer, whispering something tantalizing, Felix’s gaze drifted back to Eloise. Mortcombe leaned in, an insipid grin plastered across his face, and Felix felt a wave of irritation overtake him.
The musicale began shortly thereafter, leaving no more time for talking. The room filled with enchanting melodies. Yet, as the music swelled, Felix found himself increasingly distracted by the sight of Eloise. Mortcombe’s presence beside her only fueled his simmering jealousy.
What in Heaven’s name is wrong with me?
He could see that she had been diligently applying his lessons, leaning into Mortcombe’s words, her laughter dancing lightly in the air. Felix clenched his jaw, torn between admiration at her cleverness and an insatiable urge to interrupt her charade.
He had never considered that his plan might backfire.