Loretta Chase - Lord of Scoundrels

Thanks to: Sal Raciti, for the choice Italian phrases; Carol Proko Easton, for the loan of her splendid books on Russian icons; Cynthia Drelinger, for computer processing my pencil hieroglyphics; and my husband, Walter, and our friend, Owen Halpern, for an unforgettable journey through Englands beautiful west country.

Prologue

In the spring of 1792, Dominick Edward Guy de Ath

Chapter 1

No. It cant be, Sir Bertram Trent whispered, aghast. His

Chapter 2

Above the whirring and clicking of the automaton, Jessica heard

Chapter 3

It would have eased Jessicas mind, could she but have

Chapter 4

Dain had given Miss Trent more than enough opportunity to

Chapter 5

Then he nearly trampled her down because, for some insane

Chapter 6

On the afternoon following Madame Vraisses party, an unhappy Roland

Chapter 7

Dain knew the house. It had belonged to the previous

Chapter 8

The shot threw Dain back against his chair, which crashed

Chapter 9

On the way to Calais, Dain had ridden with Bertie

Chapter 10

On a bright Sunday morning on the eleventh day of

Chapter 11

Jessicas dinner appeared about twenty minutes after the mill. Her

Chapter 12

Despite the unplanned-for pause at Stonehenge, Dains carriage drew up

Chapter 13

Jessica wasnt sure when exactly shed become aware she was

Chapter 14

Hell and damnation, Dain muttered as he gingerly withdrew from

Chapter 15

Andrews entered then, and the first footman, Joseph, with him.

Chapter 16

Half an hour after hed stormed into his bedroom and

Chapter 17

At two oclock that afternoon, Dain stood with his wife

Chapter 18

An accomplished strumpet Charity Graves certainly was, Roland Vawtry thought.

Chapter 19

Mrs. Ingleby had told Jessica that when Athcourt had been enlarged

Chapter 20

At two oclock in the morning, Lord Dain emerged from

About the Author

Praise

Cover

Copyright

About the Publisher

I n the spring of 1792, Dominick Edward Guy de Ath Ballister, third Marquess of Dain, Earl of Blackmoor, Viscount Launcells, Baron Ballister and Launcells, lost his wife and four children to typhus.

Though hed married in obedience to his fathers command, Lord Dain had developed a degree of regard for his wife, who had dutifully borne him three handsome boys and one pretty little girl. Hed loved them insofar as he was able. This was not, by average standards, very much. But then, it wasnt in Lord Dains nature to love anybody at all. What heart he had was devoted to his lands, particularly Athcourt, the ancestral estate in Devon. His property was his mistress.

She was an expensive one, though, and he wasnt the wealthiest of men. Thus, at the advanced age of two and forty, Lord Dain was obliged to wed again and, to satisfy his mistresss demands, to marry pots of money.

Late in 1793, he met, wooed, and wed Lucia Usignuolo, the seventeen-year-old daughter of a wealthy Florentine nobleman.

Society was stunned. The Ballisters could trace their line back to Saxon times. Seven centuries earlier, one of them had wed a Norman lady and received a barony from William I in reward. Since then, no Ballister had ever married a foreigner. Society concluded that the Marquess of Dains mind was disordered by grief.

Not many months later, His Lordship himself gloomily suspected that his mind had been disordered by something. He had married, he thought, a very beautiful raven-haired girl who gazed at him adoringly and smiled and agreed with every word he uttered. What hed wed, he found out, was a dormant volcano. The ink was scarcely dry on the marriage lines before she began to erupt.

She was spoiled, proud, passionate, and quick-tempered. She was recklessly extravagant, talked too much and too loudly, and mocked his commands. Worst of all, her uninhibited behavior in bed appalled him.

Only the fear that the Ballister line would otherwise die out kept him returning to that bed. He gritted his teeth and did his duty. When at last she was breeding, he quitted the exercise and began praying fervently for a son, so he wouldnt have to do it again.

In May of 1795, Providence answered his prayers.

When he got his first look at the infant, though, Lord Dain suspected it was Satan whod answered them.

His heir was a wizened olive thing with large black eyes, ill-proportioned limbs, and a grossly oversize nose. It howled incessantly.

If he could have denied the thing was his, he would have. But he couldnt, because upon its left buttock was the same tiny brown birthmark in the shape of a crossbow that adorned Lord Dains own anatomy. Generations of Ballisters had borne this mark.

Unable to deny the monstrosity was his, the marquess decided it was the inevitable consequence of lewd and unnatural conjugal acts. In his darker moments, he believed his young wife was Satans handmaiden and the boy the Devils spawn.

Lord Dain never went to his wifes bed again.

The boy was christened Sebastian Leslie Guy de Ath Ballister and, according to the custom, took his fathers second highest title, Earl of Blackmoor. The title was apt enough, the wags whispered behind the marquesss back, for the child had inherited the olive complexion, obsidian eyes, and crow black hair of his mothers family. He was also in full possession of the Usignuolo nose, a noble Florentine proboscis down which countless maternal ancestors had frowned upon their inferiors. The nose well became the average Usignuolo adult male, who was customarily built upon the monumental scale. Upon a very small, awkwardly proportioned little boy, it was a monstrous beak.

Unfortunately, hed inherited the Usignuolos acute sensitivity as well. Consequently, by the time he was seven years old, he was miserably aware that something was wrong with him.

His mother had bought him a number of handsome picture books. None of the people in the books looked anything like himexcept for a hook-nosed, humpbacked devils imp who perched on Little Tommys shoulder and tricked him into doing wicked things.

Though hed never discerned any imps upon his shoulder or heard any whisper, Sebastian knew he must be wicked, because he was always being scolded or whipped. He preferred the whippings his tutor gave him. His fathers scolds made Sebastian feel hot and clammy cold at the same time, and then his stomach would feel as though it were filled with birds, all flapping their wings to get out, and then his legs would shake. But he dared not cry, because he was no longer a baby, and crying only made his father angrier. A look would come into his face that was worse even than the scolding words.

In the picture books, parents smiled at the children and cuddled and kissed them. His mama did that sometimes, when she was in a happy mood, but his papa never did. His father never talked and played with him. Hed never taken Sebastian for a ride on his shoulders or even up in front of him on a horse. Sebastian rode his own pony, and it was Phelps, one of the grooms, who taught him.

He knew he couldnt ask his mother what was wrong with him and how to fix it. Sebastian had learned not to say much of anythingexcept that he loved her and she was the prettiest mama in the worldbecause nearly everything else upset her.

Once, when she was going to Dartmouth, shed asked what hed like her to bring back. Hed asked for a little brother to play with. She had started crying, and then shed grown angry and screamed bad words in Italian. Though Sebastian didnt know what all the words meant, he knew they were wicked, because when Papa heard them, he scolded her.