One Moonlit Night (Moonlight Square: A Prequel Novella) by Gaelen Foley Read Free Book Online

inquired.
    “Don’t look now,” she said confidentially, “but the cad who tossed me aside is staring at us. I daresay he’s looking quite perplexed.”
    “For what it’s worth, he’s an idiot,” he whispered as they circled, holding both hands.
    “Well, he’d have to be, wouldn’t he?” she said.
    Gable’s smile widened; he decided on the spot that he loved her frankness and this sense of mutual understanding he felt with her.
    Very strange indeed.
    But alas, when the figures of the dance turned him around again, he saw that the fool who’d rejected her wasn’t the only one whose gaze was pinned on them.
    So was Lord Hayworth’s. Only, his was more of a murderous glare.
    Gable felt his stomach clench when he noticed the older man watching his every move. Usually, Hayworth was busy leering at the debutantes and making all the young girls uncomfortable, but at the moment, Gable could practically feel the drunkard’s hatred aimed at him like a spear.
    Right, he thought with a slight, grim gulp, instantly aware of what was coming. Ah, well. Obviously, he had brought it on himself.
    His cool smile wavered only for a moment as he continued dancing with the fair Katrina, saying nothing about the unpleasantness that he had a feeling was about to descend.
    He scanned the ballroom briefly and noted that Lady Hayworth wasn’t there. Could it be the old goat had found out and finally put his foot down with his lusty wench of a wife?
    Ah, damn. Why me? Everybody had dallied with Lady Hayworth. Having hit her early forties, she was having all the fun she could cram in before her beauty faded. But it seemed that Gable was to be the lucky chap who had caught her lord and husband on the day the old drunk had had enough of her antics.
    How the devil had Hayworth found out, though? Gable wondered. Had they been seen? Or had the marquess perhaps intercepted the earring when he had sent it back to her? Of course, it was possible they’d got into one of their famous rows and she had told her husband everything just to throw it in his face.
    However it had happened, Gable shuddered at the whole bad business. With marriages like that all around him, was it any wonder he was in no rush to wed?
    With the final bars of the music stretching out, Katrina curtsied to him, and he bowed as the song ended. He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles through the white satin of her gloves.
    “Thank you for the dance,” he whispered. “Ciao, bella.”
    He tried, he really did, to get away from her before the ugliness exploded, but he failed. Hayworth wanted his blood, and came pushing toward Gable through the crowd before he’d put much distance between himself and Trinny. The instant he was in arm’s reach, the marquess drew back his hand to strike Gable across the face with the traditional glove.
    Gable caught his wrist in midair. “Sir—please, don’t do this,” he ground out in a low tone.
    “What, you’re a coward as well as a dishonorable cur?” the marquess slurred in red-eyed fury, then flicked a disgusted glance over him. “No accounting for taste.”
    Gable quirked a brow, but refrained from pointing out that Lady Hayworth had married him .
    Unfortunately, the angry husband read the irreverent humor in his look and lost his mind, shoving Gable in the chest. “You find this amusing?”
    Gable took a step back, catching himself. “Don’t touch me, old man,” he warned quietly.
    “I’ll kill you, is what. You are without honor, Roland! Your father should be ashamed. Name your second, and we’ll settle this at dawn.”
    Gable glanced grimly across the crowd at Netherford. His friend gave him a regretful nod. Both of them had served in the capacity of seconds for each other before. “Netherford.”
    “Figures,” Hayworth muttered, then spun about a trifle drunkenly and stormed off, pushing curious gawkers out of his way.
    Netherford extracted himself from the knot of females surrounding him and left the room. Gable