Skylark

Table of Contents

 

 

Five RITA Awards
The Readers’ Choice Award
The Award of Excellence
The Golden Leaf Award
Two Career Achievement Awards from
Romantic Times

Member of the Romance Writers of America
Hall of Fame

Member of the Romance Writers of America
Honor Roll

 

 

*
Romantic Times

“A well-crafted story of an ultimately very satisfying romance.”

—
The Romance Reader

“Jo [Beverley] has truly brought to life a fascinating, glittering, and sometimes dangerous world.”

—Mary Jo Putney

“Another triumph.”

—
Affaire de Coeur

“Wickedly delicious. Jo Beverley weaves a spell of sensual delight with her usual grace and flair.”

—Teresa Medeiros

“Delightful . . . thrilling . . . with a generous touch of magic. . . . An enchanting read.”

—
Booklist

“A stunning medieval romance of loss and redemption. . . . Sizzling.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“A fast-paced adventure with strong, vividly portrayed characters . . . wickedly, wonderfully sensual and gloriously romantic.”

—Mary Balogh

“Intrigue, suspense, and passion fill the pages of this high-powered, explosive drama. . . . Thrilling.”

—
Rendezvous

“Beverley beautifully captures the flavor of Georgian England. . . . Her fast-paced, violent, and exquisitely sensual story is one that readers won’t soon forget.”

—
Library Journal

“Deliciously sinful. . . . Beverley evokes with devastating precision the decadent splendor of the English country estate in all its hellish debauchery. . . . A crafty tale of sensuality and suspense.”

—
BookPage

Winter Fire
St. Raven
Dark Champion
Lord of My Heart
My Lady Notorious
Hazard
The Devil’s Heiress
The Dragon’s Bride
“The Demon’s Mistress” in
In Praise of Younger Men
Devilish
Secrets of the Night
Forbidden Magic
Lord of Midnight
Something Wicked

SIGNET

Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand,
London WC2R 0RL, England
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Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue,
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Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, Cnr Rosedale and Airborne Roads,
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

First Printing, May 2004

Copyright © Jo Beverley Publications, Inc., 2004

All rights reserved

 

REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

 

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

This 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.

 

BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE AT QUANTITY DISCOUNTS WHEN USED TO PROMOTE PRODUCTS OR SERVICES. FOR INFORMATION PLEASE WRITE TO PREMIUM MARKETING DIVISION, PENGUIN GROUP (USA) INC., 375 HUDSON STREET, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10014.

 

 

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eISBN : 978-1-101-11845-0

The Berkshire Informer,
October 7, 1816:

More likely a nasty shock to the system,
Laura Gardeyne thought, tucking her woolen shawl more closely around herself. The chancy sun had slid behind clouds again, and a cool breeze rustled the newspaper and the dying leaves in the oak above her seat.

But still, to be released from slavery and imprisonment must gladden any heart.

Her son ran up to her. “Mama, may I have my ball?”

As a child must gladden any heart. She smiled at three-year-old Harry and gave him the ball and a canvas bag. “Why not ask Nan to build a tower with your blocks? Then you can try to knock it down.”

He ran back to his nursemaid, a sturdy bundle of energy in nankeen trousers and a short blue jacket. Free, as happy children are always free. As adults rarely are.

She gazed around this small piece of Elysium. The park of Caldfort House was lovely, even on a dull day, designed as it was in the natural style. The grass that ran from the house to the River Cald was kept neatly short by sheep and dotted with majestic old trees.

Caldfort House itself stood on a rise, square, pale, and dignified—the very picture of a modern country home.

What had Lovelace written?

It worked in reverse, too. An idyllic setting could be durance vile. In fact, she remembered where the phrase
durance vile
came from: Robert Burns, the Scottish poet.

Her son’s laughter broke her mood and she shook herself out of poetic melancholy. It was not at all in her nature, and compared to most, she was a fortunate woman. She was a widow, to be sure, but that sadness was nearly a year old, and she had a handsome jointure that meant she need never fear poverty.

And she had Harry, the joy of her life.

She watched him roll his red leather ball again and demolish at least half the blocks. He was developing a good eye for a three-year-old, but then his father had excelled at every type of sport. Harry got his dark curls from her. The rest of him was pure Gardeyne— square chin, brown eyes and hair, and the promise of height and strong build.

His next attempt sent the whole tower flying. Laura put aside the paper and applauded. “Well done, Harry! Well done!”

He hurtled to her for a hug, then back to roll his ball at the rebuilt target. It hit only the corner, but it made a sound like an explosion. He raced back to her again. “Mama! Mama!”

Laura caught him up, thinking,
Thunder?

But crows had risen cawing into the gray sky.

It had been a shot!

Laura realized immediately what had happened, but she still held her son close. “Don’t be frightened, Minnow. It’s just your Uncle Jack enjoying some sport.”

The maid came over. “Shall I take Master Harry in, ma’am?”

“No, of course not. Reverend Gardeyne would never aim his gun near us, and Harry’s enjoying himself, aren’t you, darling?”

After an uncertain moment, Harry nodded and scrambled off her lap to run back to his game.

With hard-won skill, Laura kept a slight smile in place as she watched, then as she let her eyes move to the coppice wood that spread between the house and the village of Cald St. Edwin’s. The shot had come from there, but the wood offered no extra information. The crows had settled, and there was nothing to see.

Surely she’d spoken the truth. Her brother-in-law would not be careless about where he aimed his gun. Jack Gardeyne was vicar for the local parishes of St. Edwin’s and St. Mark’s, and a good one. As with all Gardeynes, however, hunting, shooting, and fishing were the true joys of his life.

In six years of marriage, Laura had grown accustomed to living among dogs, horses, and firearms. Guns hadn’t bothered her until recently. Until she’d begun to suspect that the Reverend Jack Gardeyne would like Harry dead.