Loretta Chase - Lord Perfect (Carsington Family Series)

LordPerfect

LorettaChase

Chapter 1

Egyptian Hall, Piccadilly, London, September 1821

HE LEANT AGAINST THE WINDOW FRAME, OFfering those withinthe exhibition hall a fine rear view of a long, well-proportionedframe, expensively garbed. He seemed to have his arms folded and hisattention upon the window, though the thick glass could show him nomore than a blurred image of Piccadilly.

It was clear in any case that the exhibition withinofthe marvels Giovanni Belzoni had discovered in Egypt hadfailed to hold his interest.

The woman surreptitiously studying him decided he wouldmake the perfect model of the bored aristocrat.

Supremely assured. Perfectly poised. Immaculatelydressed. Tall. Dark.

He turned his head, presenting the expected patricianprofile.

It wasn't what she expected.

She couldn't breathe.

BENEDICT CARSINGTON, VISCOUNT Rathbourne, turned awayfrom the thick-paned window and the distorted view it offered of thelively scene outsideof horses, vehicles, and pedestrians inPiccadilly. With an inner sigh, he directed his dark gaze into theexhibition hall, where Death was on display.

"Belzoni's Tomb," exhibiting the explorer'sdiscoveries in Egypt a few years ago, had proved a rousing successsince its debut on the first of May. Against his better judgment,Benedict had formed one of the nineteen hundred attendees on openingday. This was his third visit, and once again, he had much rather beelsewhere.

Ancient Egypt did not exert over him the hold it didover so many of his relatives. Even his numskull brother Rupert hadfallen under its spell, perhaps because the present-day place offeredso many opportunities for head-breaking and hairsbreadth escapes fromdeath. But Rupert was most certainly not the reason for LordRathbourne's spending another long afternoon in the Egyptian Hall.

The reason sat at the far end of the room: Benedict'sthirteen-year-old nephew and godson Peregrine Dalmay, Earl of Lisleand sole issue of Benedict's brother-in-law, the Marquess ofAtherton. The boy was diligently copying Belzoni's model of theinterior of the famous Second Pyramid, whose entrance the explorerhad discovered three years ago.

Diligence, Peregrine's schoolmasters would have toldanyoneand had told his father, repeatedlywas not one ofLord Lisle's more noticeable character traits.

When it came to things Egyptian, however, Peregrine waspersevering to a fault. They had arrived two hours ago, and hisinterest showed no signs of flagging. Any other boy would have beenwild to be out and engaging in physical activity one andthree-quarters of an hour ago.

But then, had this been any other boy, Benedict wouldnot have had to come himself to the Egyptian Hall. He would have senta servant to play nursemaid.

Peregrine wasn't any other boy.

He looked like an angel. A fair, open countenance.Flaxen hair. Clear, grey, utterly guileless eyes.

A group of boxers under "Gentleman" Jackson'ssupervision had been employed to keep Queen Caroline and hersympathizers out of the king's coronation in July. These fellows, ifthey stuck together, might have contrived to keep the peace whileLord Atherton's heir was about.

Other than theseor a large military forcetheonly mortal with any real influence over the young Lord Lisle wasBenedict-the only one, that is, apart from Benedict's father,the Earl of Hargate. But Lord Hargate could intimidate anybodyexceptfor his wifeand he certainly would not stoop to looking aftertroublesome boys.

I should have brought a book ,Benedict thought. Stifling a yawn, he directed his gaze to Belzoni'sreproduction of a bas-relief from a pharaoh's tomb and tried tounderstand what Peregrine, along with so many other people, found sostimulating.

Benedict saw three rows of primitively drawn figures. Aline of men whose beards curled up at the end, all leaning forward,arms pressed together. Lone hieroglyphic signs between the figures.Columns of hieroglyphs above their heads.

In the middle row, four figures towed a boat bearingthree other figures. Some very long snakes played a part in thescene. More columns of hieroglyphs over the heads. Perhaps thesefigures were all talking? Were the signs the Egyptian version of thebubbles over caricatures' heads in today's satirical prints?

On the bottom, another line of figures marched undercolumns of hieroglyphs. These had different features and hairstyles.They must be foreigners. At the end of the line was a god Benedictrecognized: Thoth, the ibis-headed one, the god of learning. EvenRupert, upon whom an expensive education had been utterly wastedLordHargate might have fed the money to goats with the same resultcould recognize Thoth.

What the rest of it meant was work for the imagination,and Benedict kept his imagination, along with a great deal else,under rigorous control.

He turned his attention to the opposite side of theroom.

He had an unobstructed view. For most of the Beau Monde,the exhibition's novelty had worn off. Even their inferiors wouldrather spend this fine afternoon outdoors than among the contents ofancient tombs.

Benedict saw her clearly.

Too clearly.

For a moment he was blinded by the clarity, like onestepping out of a cave into a blazing noonday.

She stood in profile, like the figures on the wallbehind her. She was studying a statue.

Benedict saw black curls under the rim of a pale bluebonnet. Long black lashes against pearly skin. A ripe plum of amouth.

His gaze skimmed down.

A weight pressed on his chest.

He couldn't breathe.

Rule: The ill-bred, the vulgar, and the ignorantstare.

He made himself look away.

THE GIRL STOOD at Peregrine's shoulder. He tried toignore her but she was standing in his light. He glanced up andquickly back at his sketchbookenough to see that she had herarms folded and her lips pursed as she stared at his drawing. He knewthat look. It was a schoolmaster look.

She must have taken the glance as an invitation becauseshe started talking. "I wondered why you chose the model of thepyramid," she said. "It is all angles and lines. Souninteresting to draw. The mummy in the sarcophagus would be morefun. But now I understand the trouble. Your draughtsmanship is notvery good."

Very slowly and deliberately Peregrine turned his headand looked up at her. He was startled at first, when he got a goodlook. She had eyes so blue, they looked like doll eyes, not realones.

"I beg your pardon?" he said in the icilypolite voice he'd learnt from his uncle. His father was a marquess, apeer of the realm, and his uncle had only the courtesy title ofViscount Rathbourne at present, but Uncle Benedict administered farmore devastating set-downs. He was famous for it. At his mostexcessively polite, it was said, Lord Rathbourne could freeze boilingoil at fifty paces.

The icy politeness didn't work so well for Peregrine.

"There's a perfectly good cross section of thepyramid in Signor Belzoni's book," she said quite as though he'dbegged her to rattle on. "Wouldn't you rather have a souvenir ofone of the mummies? Or the goddess with the lion head? My mothercould make you a superlative copy. She's a brilliant draughtsman."

"I don't want a souvenir ,"Peregrine said witheringly. "I'm going to be an explorer, andone day I shall bring home heaps of such things."

The girl stopped pursing her lips. The severe look wentaway. "An explorer like Signor Belzoni, do you mean?" shesaid. "Oh, that would be something grand to do."

Try as he might, Peregrine could not tamp down hisenthusiasm in the proper Lord Rathbourne fashion. "Nothing couldbe grander," he said. "There are more than a thousand milesalong the Nile to explore, and people who've been say that what yousee is like the tip of an iceberg, because most of the wonderfulthings are buried under the sand. And once we learn to read thehieroglyphs, we'll know who built what and when they did it. Atpresent, you see, ancient Egypt is like the Dark Ages: a greatmystery. But I'm going to be one of the ones who finds out itssecrets. It'll be like discovering a whole new world."