Jane Feather - Charade by Unknown (top rated books of all time txt) 📗

thoughtfully. So the duke was dead. The storyhad only just begun, of that he was sure, but the child needed timebefore she would be able or willing to tell the rest. The quick blinkof hot tears had not gone unnoticed. But why, in the name of all thatwas good, was this daughter of one of the oldest and noblest familiesin France scratching a starvation existence in the back alleys of Paris?

"You learned your English from your mother?" He reached for the appletart, cutting the crisp crust, slicing through the artisticallyarranged apple pieces under their glaze of raspberry jam. When had thischild last seen a dessert, let alone eaten one? A small head shook adefinite negative as he offered her a piece.

"Perhaps later, when you have unburdened yourself." He felt the mostabsurd urge to take the waif onto his lap, to cradle and comfort heruntil the full desolation of her secret had been revealed. Wisely herefrained. Whatever Danielle de St. Varennes had experienced it cameunder the panoply of adulthood and could not be wished away bynurseryland comfortings. Neither could the story be forced. The Earl

of Linton was at a standstill when suddenly the soft voice began tospeak.

"Use English, child," he interrupted with conscious briskness. "It willhelp to distance the reality."

A small accepting nod and the hesitant voice launched into a tale ofblack horror presaging the greater horror to come.

Chapter 2

"I was raised in Languedoc, on my grandfather's estates. You know, ofcourse, the way these 'affaires' are conducted?" A quick underlashglance ensured her of her audience's comprehension. "The tithes andtaxes that the serfs must pay are at the discretion of their seigneur

.

He also has the right to usetheir land as and when La Chasse dictates.

Mon grandpere

. . . my grandfather .. . used his seigneural rights indiscriminately as did my father and myuncles. They also exercised their droit de seigneur

over those virgins who interestedthem and also over those matrons who . . . who . . . challenged them.Or perhaps

it was their husbands who challenged them?" The small chin now restedon the heel of a palm, elbow-propped on the table. The eyes held adreamy, faraway look and the soft educated voice was almost a monotone,enlivened occasionally by a satirical note quite out of keeping withthis fresh-faced innocent. The earl sat still and quiet, waiting forthe revelation. So far he had heard nothing unusual.

"My sex was a disappointment to

grandpere

,and to my father. My uncles somehow could not manage to ... to ...persuade any sufficiently aristocratic family that they were fithusbands for their daughters. They bred many bastards on the estate,male ones at that, but they could hardly be recognized as thelegitimate heirs to the dukedom." For an instant this afternoon's impflashed across the intent face.

"You are perhaps shocked, milord, at my free speech?"

"No, brat, I am not. Pray continue." The earl's lips twitched despitehis bone-deep knowledge that this seemingly light-hearted speech wasbut a preamble to a vast hellish chasm.

"I am .. . was . . . the only grandchild. Philippe would, of course,inherit after Lucien, mon pere." A small shrug accompanied thestatement. "You are aware how these matters are arranged. My role was,of course, the well-dowered marriage into the carefully chosen family."The bitter note of disillusionment crept apace into the soft-spokenmonotone and the Earl of Linton reflected that such arrangements weresufficiently customary amongst his class as to make the brat's obviouscontempt most unusual. But then, of course, she was Louise Rockford'sdaughter. He abstained from comment.

"Maman decided that I had a mind which should be educated beyond theusual requirements of a brood mare."

At that the earl inhaled sharply.

"Have I shocked you now, milord?"

"Just a little. But I must remember that you are Louise Rockford'sdaughter." He spoke aloud his earlier thought.

"You knew

Maman?

" The eagerquestion and the sudden brightening of the eyes spoke volumes.

"A little, she is rather older than I," he said circumspectly. Itseemed hardly appropriate to disclose that eighteen years ago LouiseRockford as a twenty-one-year-old disillusioned wife had initiated himat the age of sixteen into the joys and mysteries of love.

He let his mind drift. Louise must be thirty-nine now. She'd beenwhisked back to the seclusion of the Languedoc estates after that briefseason in London and at the French court. The de St. Varennes wereknown as a reclusive, miserly lot, eschewing the debaucheries of LouisXVI's court in favor of the cheaper but infinitely satisfyingexcitements available on their estates. They were a hard-drinking,hard-riding group of look-alikes with an innate brutality thatcharacterized them all.

Louise had been a dewy-eyed eighteen-year-old when Lucien, Vicomte deSt. Varennes, had captured both her heart and her virginity. The Earlof March had yielded to his favorite daughter's eatreaties andconsented to a marriage that all his instincts and society rumor madeabhorrent. By the time the youthful Justin first succumbed to thecharms of the young

vicomtesse

,Louise de St. Varennes had presented her lord with two stillborn sonsin rapid succession. With a courage and fortitude extraordinary in awoman of her class she had banned Lucien from the marriage bed at thepoint of a dagger, demanding time for her body and spirit to recuperatebefore a fresh assault of pregnancy. The

vicomte

had given way, bothbecause he still desired the svelte body and because the provision ofan heir eventually was of paramount importance. He had also been not alittle influenced by the dagger and the soft-spoken threat that anattempt at force would result in the death of his wife, or himself, orboth.

The excursion into society was an attempt to placate and to ensureeventual compliance. Louise, in spite of her willingness to sharediscreetly the joys of the flesh with the young heir to the Earl ofLinton, had honored her side of the bargain and returned withoutprotest to exile in the wilds of Languedoc. This scantily clad,emaciated, spirited little vagabond opposite him was clearly the