Authors: Lucinda Brant
Dair Devil
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Dair Devil
A GEORGIAN HISTORICAL ROMANCE
Roxton Family Saga Book 4
L
UCINDA
B
RANT
A
CCOLADES
FOR
D
AIR
D
EVIL
Lucinda Brant continues the saga of the Roxton family and delights her fans with another passionate romance, the story of Alisdair ‘Dair’ Fitzstuart and Aurora ‘Rory’ Talbot, granddaughter of Lord Shrewsbury, England’s Spymaster General. Set in the 1770s, the story encompasses politics and intrigue, both at home and abroad, and also the secrets and lies a great and powerful family perhaps needs to conceal! Readers who have been avidly following the Roxton series will be delighted to pick up on clues from previous books. Ms. Brant has a way of intertwining those threads into a constantly developing tapestry. Highly recommended.” —5 STARS— Fiona Ingram,
Readers’ Favorite
“
Dair Devil
is book four in an unsurpassed series of historical romances. What a cast of characters Brant has blessed us with in this fourth book of the series. Some old and already endeared to the reader and some new and candidly outlandish, wonderful ones. Each book so far in this series of charmers definitely stands on its own merit but following along on the path each of these characters lives take is a joy. Hard for me to choose a favorite so far but
Dair Devil
is going to be hard to top.
Dair Devil
starts as a joyous romp and evolves into a mesmerizing page turner. Any fan of historical romance is sure to fall in love with this series and by extension its author Lucinda Brant.” —5 STARS— SWurman,
Night Owl Reviews
A
Sprigleaf
Publication
Copyright © 2014
Lucinda Brant
All rights reserved.
2014 Amazon Kindle edition
ASIN B00JX9ILWS
eISBN 9780980801378
Edited by Martha Stites & Lisa Smith
Art, design, and formatting by
Sprigleaf
Please purchase only authorized editions; do not encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of an author’s rights.
Except for brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews, no part of this ebook may be reproduced in any printed or electronic form without prior permission from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction; names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Resemblance to persons, businesses, companies, events, or locales, past or present, is entirely coincidental.
for
Cinda Ann
Hearfelt thanks to Marguerite, Ann, Susan, Saybre, Lydia, Bea, Kathryn, Jerelyn, Maria, and Cèline. Dair and Rory’s story is all the better for their considered feedback.
O
NE
CAVENDISH SQUARE, LONDON
THE FIRST WEEK OF MAY
1777
A
LISDAIR
‘D
AIR
’ F
ITZSTUART
pulled the white linen shirt up over his square shoulders, scrunched it into a ball and tossed it to his batman. Bill Farrier caught this crumpled article with his one hand and shoved it inside a large canvas haversack, atop his lordship’s midnight blue silk waistcoat and matching frock coat. His master’s black leather jockey boots he had set beside a high stone wall, out of the way of passers-by. Pedestrians, however, were unlikely given the location and the hour.
Red Lyon Lane was at the rear of a row of elegant townhouses that fronted Cavendish Square. Tradesmen and their ilk used it. It was not an address frequented by gentlemen, unless engaged in mischief. The three inebriated gentlemen taking hearty swigs from a wine bottle being passed amongst them were definitely up to no good. Bill Farrier knew this for fact. The phlegmatic ex-soldier also knew no good would come of their antics.
It was dusk and there was a new moon. It meant the night would be as black as soot. This was just as well, thought the batman. His master and two friends might have a chance of escaping into the night without being caught or recognized. He had every confidence in Major Lord Fitzstuart. Five years as his lordship’s batman had given Farrier a measure of the man. He would follow him to the ends of the earth, and fall off the edge if required. He did not have the same confidence in his master’s two civilian companions. They looked to have as much courage under fire between them as his lordship had in his pinky. But as they had been the Major’s boon companions since his days at Harrow, it was not his place to pass comment unless asked. Farrier had not been asked. He remained silent and patiently waited for his lordship to divest himself of the remainder of his clothing: Stockings, buckskin breeches, and drawers. He then flicked a finger at a linkboy to step forward, as if illumination by a flaming taper would shed light on the discussion taking place, or, at the very least, provide a spark of warmth for the bare-chested Major.