Karla Darcy - [Sweet Deception Regency 04]
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Authors: The Scandalous Ward
Table of Contents
THE SCANDALOUS WARD
BY
KARLA DARCY
Presented By:
Glades Publishing
Readers love Karla Darcy
"
Fans of Downton Abbey and Jane Austen (without zombies) will adore this book. Karla Darcy makes us remember why we lose sense and sensibility for a sexy Regency hero and captures the era with a glorious and colorful voice!"
Roxanne St. Claire,
New York Times
Bestselling Autho
r
"Karla Darcy weaves one fabulous Regency Romance after another. Wise, witty and wonderful. Move over Jane for another Darcy you will love!"
Mary Alice Monroe,
NY Times
author of Beach House Memories
"… creates a particularly attractive heroine to captivate both the hero and the reader alike. Darcy is winning a large readership with her diverting novels in this most competitive genre."
Romantic Times
"A funny entertaining story. Her writing flows and her knowledge of the time period is evident."
Rendezvous Magazine
"Karla hooks readers and carries them along to a wonderfully satisfying ending."
"Excellent. This one had me weeping sentimentally near the end. [One of the best] Regency stories ever published."
"I simply couldn't put the book down. This emotionally intense love story will grip readers' attention."
"…writing is graceful and witty, plotting is clever, added to this are two characters who will charm and delight you."
"The humor and tenderness give this book heart and authentic details and great sexual tension make for a great read."
"…. weaves her magic spell once more in this intricately plotted gem of a book."
The Scandalous Ward
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2012 Karla Darcy
All Rights Reserved
Published by: Glades Publishing
License Notes:
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The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
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Published by: Glades Publishing
Visit the author website:
eISBN: 978-0-9857614-7-9
Original cover design by:
Tara O’Shea
Also by Karla Darcy
The Five Kisses
The Masked Heart
The Marriage Wager
DEDICATION
To Jean and Paul Wolfram
You’re always in my mind along with the gratitude for all you taught me and the happy childhood you gave me
.
Chapter One
May, 1811
"Bloody 'ell!"
The expletive burst from the boy's lips and he grimaced, clapping his hands over his mouth as if to prevent any more colorful language from escaping.
Paxton Rutherford, Duke of Ruhaven, stared in fascination at the boy standing stiff-legged before his desk. Pax still found it hard to believe that the small disheveled figure was a member of the nobility. But according to the papers on his desk, the child, who looked like the veriest street urchin, was Sir Leslie Lathrup, son of his own father's friend, Captain Sir Philip Lathrup. Dropping his gaze to his desk, Pax assured himself that the papers were still there, then looked up at the discomfited lad.
Lifting embarrassed blue eyes, the boy dropped his hands and straightened his shoulders. "Beg pardon, your lordship, but I was that surprised to hear of the death of your father. Are you the new duke then?"
Paxton Rutherford nodded, waiting as the boy digested this startling information.
"Please accept my sympathy on your loss, your Grace." Leslie executed a deep bow to show his respect for the late Duke.
"Thank you, Leslie. There was no way that you could have known. It was quite sudden. A riding accident."
The boy noticed the tightness in the voice of the sixth Duke of Ruhaven and nodded without further comment on the untimely demise of the fifth Duke. Paxton was impressed by the perception of the small figure. The arrival of the youngster and his two servants had created a most entertaining break in what had been an extremely trying day. Since morning Pax had been immured in the library attending to the boring details of running the estate. Leaning forward onto his elbows, he indicated that the boy should take a chair.
"If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd prefer to stand. It seems like I've been sitting for weeks." For emphasis the lad gingerly rubbed his backside.
Pax returned the rueful grin and once more took in the sartorial splendor of the boy. Khaki trousers of dubious ancestry had been cut down and resewn by an apparently blind tailor. A once-white silk shirt with flowing lace at the collar and cuffs drooped sadly beneath a hunting jacket, worn and patched from many years of hard usage. Despite the outlandish garments, the lad was good-looking with his intelligent blue eyes, wide mouth and thatch of unruly chestnut hair.
Hiding a smile behind his hand, he bent his head over the official documents spread out on the mahogany surface of his desk. A lock of black hair brushed his forehead, and he impatiently raked it back. For the hundredth time he cursed his ducal responsibilities. At twenty-five Pax preferred fishing or riding to poring over ledgers in the stuffy air of the library.
"I'll have to discuss all this with my man of business, but I presume the papers you've brought are all in order. I can't seem to locate your birth records. Perhaps your solicitor kept them with his other files."
The boy's hand jerked up to tug at his jacket but then dropped to his side. "I'm sure that's the case, your Grace."
"How old are you, Leslie?"
"Ten," the boy answered promptly. "I'm a bit skinny, but we didn't have much time for pleasure-eating on our travels to England."
"My father always spoke warmly of your father, lad. I gather they were in school together and the friendship remained close. My deepest sympathies are due you also, Leslie. Typhoid was it?"
"Yes, sir." For a moment the large blue eyes glistened damply, then the boy rubbed a rumpled sleeve across his desolate face, shaking himself free of his memories. "It was all pretty bad at the time. First my father took sick. I only had a light case but most of the household was down with some form of the typhoid. Though they couldn't save Father, Jacko and Manji did a topping fine job of caring for all of us." He smiled affectionately at his two companions.
"This is Jacko, your Grace." Leslie indicated the wizened figure standing protectively at his shoulder.
The old man drew himself smartly to attention. "Private Jacko, sir! General factotum to Captain Philip, sir! Right glad to be back in a civilized country, sir!" His voice rasped like sandpaper on wood.
Pax wondered if all Jacko's sentences ended in 'sir'? He guessed that the little Englishman was close to sixty, but his remarkably fit body made it difficult to determine. Under a wild mixture of black and white hair, the old man's face was tanned and wrinkled like ancient parchment. Silvery-blue eyes shone brightly in the otherwise expressionless face. Arms, impressive in their wiry strength, dangled from a broad muscular chest. Short bandy-legs completed the picture of Leslie's self-appointed bodyguard.
"And this is my other friend Manji." Leslie was positively dwarfed by the giant on his other side.
Although Pax was six feet tall, he suspected that Manji topped him by at least four inches, and outweighed him by a good six stone. The man was totally bald, the skin of his head gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight, giving a slight haloed effect. But the face beneath the shining dome was far from saintly. Manji had the look of a fierce brigand with slanted brown eyes under bushy brows, a nose that had a decided list toward the right side and a moustache bristling above and then drooping dispiritedly on either side of a glowering mouth.
"Manji, syce." The deep voice rumbled threateningly around the room.
"That means groom, your Grace."
Pax could feel an aura of menace emanating from both the older men, so the boy's calm explanation was a welcome relief. "And your mother, Leslie?" Pax asked forcing his eyes away from the giant and the gnome.
"She died when I was born, sir. The Captain---that's my father---was mostly busy with the army. Jacko and Manji pretty well raised me," the boy explained.
"And I can see they've done a fine job," Pax acknowledged hastily. He eyed the bizarre duo, curious despite himself. "Where did Jacko and Manji come from?"
"I can't say for sure about Jacko. He was sort of on the scene when I arrived. When Father first went out to India, he took Jacko as his batman. Since then, of course, the Captain wouldn't move without him. He's good at about everything." The boy grinned as the old man creaked once again to attention. "Sometimes I call him Teach because most everything I know I learned from him. 'Cepting that Manji taught me to ride."
"I wouldn't have thought there was a horse alive that could carry the man," Pax laughed.