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View this author's other titles LENGTH: Mid Novel Cover art (c) Jenny Dixon 2006
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When Daphne Townsend sets out to learn the truth about her parents’ death, Barclay Stewart, Duke of Ravensthorpe, finds that his promise to protect his family’s honor is threatened by the secrets his father was willing to die to keep. Dragged into a dangerous cat and mouse game to prevent her from learning the truth and igniting a scandal, he soon finds that the biggest challenge of all may be in protecting his heart from the impulsive Daphne. For Daphne Townsend would risk anything to find out the truth, even crossing the dangerous Duke of Ravensthorpe. Rating: Contains violence, adult language, and sexual content. |
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RAVENSTHORPE LEGACY
Cover art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright July 2006 ISBN 1-58608-930-7 New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Prologue
Thunder crashed, shaking the windows. Lightning illuminated his dark study, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Wind whipped through the open window, snuffing the lamps. “No!” Holbrooke screamed, refusing to let the demon win again. But it was too late. Orange smoke filled the room. Out of the haze appeared the glowing, ghostly figure from his nightmares. “Leave me alone.” Holbrooke backed up as the apparition glided forward. “You know why I’m here.” Its deep, raspy voice echoed in the silent library. “I won’t tell you anything more. I’m not sorry. I made the right choice all those years ago. You would have squandered the money.” Holbrooke’s voice trembled. Tension hung heavy between them. All he could hear was the demon’s breathing and his own heart pounding. “This is my imagination playing tricks on me again. I have to get out of here.” He inched away from the glowing figure. “Need some air.” Thrusting open his balcony door, he limped out into the moonlight. “That wine sauce on the beef must have me seeing things again. I’ll have to tell cook to leave that dish off our list of menus.” Clutching the rail tightly, he glanced down at the rocky ground. A dark shadow fell over him, blocking out the moonlight. The ghostly figure’s presence loomed behind him. “No regrets? No last confession?” He could feel its breath on the back of his neck. This was no illusion. The apparition was close--too close. Its hands were pushing on his shoulder blades, trying to force him over the rail. His grip tightened, but that terrible thing was too strong. “Never!” Holbrooke screamed as he plunged over the rail. Lord Vengeance surveyed his victim’s body dashed on the jagged rocks below. Excitement ripped through him. Events were going according to plan. He reached into his pocket to pull out his notebook where he had written all his goals. The plan had been simple--almost too simple.
Step 2: Fear will make the others talk. Step 3: The death of the old Earl of Holbrooke will unlock the door to his past. Once open, force Holbrooke’s granddaughter, Daphne Townsend, to walk through it. She holds the key to his fortune. Step 4: Carefully lay the trap for the Fearless Four. The game always goes to the best prepared.
Chapter One
Daphne pulled the hood of the cloak tighter around her face, so no one would recognize her distinctive auburn hair. With a glance left and right, she crossed the dimly lit cobblestone street. Barclay Stewart, the Duke of Ravensthorpe, had been the last person to see her parents alive. She had no idea what was in the letter Ravensthorpe had delivered to them before they died, because her father had burned it. She had been in London for over a week, but had had no luck in her attempts to contact him. He had returned all her requests for a visit unopened. Tonight she would find out why. With that thought, Daphne took a deep breath and walked up the stone steps to Ravensthorpe’s townhouse. Here she would find all her answers. When she knocked, the door swung open. How curious. Daphne rechecked the address on the note, backing up to see the numbers. This was it. She pushed the door open all the way, poking her head inside. “Hello! Anyone home?” Only silence greeted her. She glanced up and down both sides of the street to make sure no one outside was watching. If no one was home, then she wasn’t going against her father’s last request not to contact Lord Ravensthorpe, right? Wrong! Daphne swallowed hard. This might be her one chance to get a glimpse into this mysterious man whose visit to her father had turned her whole life upside down. Rubbing her arms, she stepped inside and closed the door. The house was cold, yet the lamps were all lit. All the furniture appeared staid, as if nothing had been changed in years. Not a thing was out of place. It didn’t feel much like a home. Her body tingled. Something wasn’t right. Strange that there were no servants to chase her out. Her parents’ home in America had had some servants. She’d discovered while staying here in England that the nobility usually had large household staffs. Surely someone as high-ranking as a duke would have a small army waiting on his every need. She rounded the corner to find an open door. Ah, this room filled with books must be his study. Just what she was looking for. It smelled of cigars and leather. Partially closing the door, she stepped inside. Daphne had no idea exactly what she was looking for. Her hands shook as she went through the papers on the massive, dark wood desk. Nothing but unopened correspondence. Apparently, His Mightiness didn’t see anyone. That should have made her feel better, but oddly, it didn’t. On a corner table, she spotted a pile of letters addressed to her father that were returned unopened. Her mother’s handwriting boldly stated that they should be returned. Why? A cold draft swept through the room, making the lamps flicker out. The hairs on her nape stood up. She wasn’t alone. Warm breath tickled the back of her neck. Before Daphne could move, an arm clothed all in black snaked around her, pulling her body close to his wiry one. “Well, my lady. What do we have here?” A deep, raspy voice whispered close to her ear. One steely arm secured her as the other took the letters. He chuckled. “You’ve found just what I needed.” He tightened his grip as he fumbled to put the letters in his pocket. As the door in the hallway slammed, she felt the cold blade of a knife at her throat. Then, a burning sensation, followed by a warm trickle of blood down her neck. Merciful heaven, he’d cut her. “Quiet!” he growled, clamping a leather-gloved hand over her mouth. No! Too much was at stake. She wouldn’t die before finding out the truth. Getting her elbow free, Daphne poked her captor in the stomach. This movement offered her a moment of extra breathing space before his arm closed tight around her again. “Be still!” His tone infuriated her almost as much as being unable to break free. She stomped down on his foot, but his boots were too thick for her to even hurt him. His grip tightened. “Now you’ll pay.” The back of her head exploded with pain. Failure. Everything went black.
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