Beloved Monster

Book 1: Ravenswood Chronicles

by Karyn Gerrard

Genres: Historical Fiction; Gothic; Victorian Romance; Science Fiction Romance

Synopsis

What makes a man? The wild and dissolute Viscount Ravenswood lives only for his own pleasure, caring not one wit for the broken hearts left trampled in his wake. But his decadent lifestyle finally catches up to him in a fatal carriage race. It’s an infamous and spectacular end to a brief, immoral life—or is it? And who is the woman who loves him? When Glenna Parker stumbles upon her cousin Reed Parker’s cluttered laboratory, she could never have imagined the mad experiment he is about to embark upon—to bring a man back from the dead. Not just any man, but Ravenswood, who once shattered her heart. With no memory of his former life, Glenna calls him Luke, and finds herself enchanted by his compassion—and passion. Protecting the scarred Luke has become Glenna’s sole mission, but can she protect her heart from her beloved monster?

Release date: September 13, 2016

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 180

Sample

 

October, 1895

Lucas Madden, Viscount Ravenswood, only son and heir to the Earl of Whitestone, was quite dead. His untimely demise, the result of a carriage race, caused the village of Charlwood to buzz excitedly for days. Since Ravenswood reached the age of sixteen, his outrageous exploits had kept the chattering gossips in various parlors titillated. Though the hearsay consisted of salacious tales of drinking and gambling to excess, his sexual conquests sparked the villagers’ interest the most. The stories, shocking as they were in their breadth and depth of carnality, raised the handsome heir to an unprecedented level of notoriety. Dissolute and lacking all morals, it came as no surprise to all who knew of the young man that he would meet such a spectacularly violent end.

Since the accident occurred on the outskirts of London, the earl and his lady wife immediately caught the train to Town. The earl engaged the best doctors to no avail, for the young viscount’s injuries, particularly the head wound, were deemed mortal. In desperation, he even summoned Charlwood’s doctor, Samuel Twington, to assist in the case. Four days later, after lingering in a coma, the son and heir died. Lord and Lady Whitestone had escorted his remains the hour journey back to Charlwood. And today marked the burial.

Glenna Parker stood by the juniper trees that surrounded the village cemetery and pulled her shawl tighter about her shoulders as the wind held a decided chill. She stayed well back from the mourners of which there were only a few. Despite his popularity in certain circles, the viscount was neither well liked nor respected, and no doubt the people who deemed to show up did so to stay in the earl’s good graces.

As Glenna took a sweeping glance about the area, she noticed one other person standing well back from her position. An older woman, modestly dressed and leaning on a cane. The elderly lady wiped away her tears with a tattered handkerchief, her gloved hand slightly trembling. Who was she and why did she mourn Ravenswood? Most unusual. Glenna’s wild imagination began to spin all sorts of scenarios. Could the lady be a lost family member or an old nurse or nanny? Surely the woman was not one of his many past conquests. That was certainly one of her more bizarre thoughts. No matter. Shaking her head, she turned back to face the mourners.

The comforting words of prayer recited by the vicar, Mr. Dornan, carried across the autumn breeze, and Glenna heard snippets of condolences and claims of returning to the earth, solemn wishes that at last, Ravenswood would find peace. Her mouth curved in a small but sardonic smile. Highly doubtful.

Though not invited, Glenna came today to prove to herself the devil viscount truly was dead. For some morbid reason, she wished to witness him being placed into the ground. The finality. The closure of a hideous chapter in the lives of many--and perhaps in her own. She glanced at the solemn Earl of Whitestone. Dressed in black and leaning on a silver-tipped walking stick, he stood with his head slightly bowed, clutching his hat in his gloved hands, but he did not weep. Although Lady Whitestone put on quite a show by sobbing uncontrollably. Their daughter, a couple years younger than Glenna and whose name eluded her, comforted her mother. The earl did not. His face remained emotionless and austere throughout.

What could the man be thinking? That the horrible nightmare was now at an end? Perhaps he thought his only son and heir, no doubt a great disappointment, met the calamitous and pathetic end he deserved. There could be no other explanation for the earl burying Ravenswood in the common cemetery and not in the family crypt on the Whitestone Estate. No doubt there would be speculation by the villagers on this strange and puzzling development for a long time to come.

The earl appeared disconnected, his bitter expression daunting. But then she’d heard he was a cold man. Perhaps somewhere deep inside he wept for all that had gone astray. Glenna did not know the man personally, but one would lament the loss of a son and heir, would he not? Mourn at the sheer waste. Ravenswood, tall and incredibly handsome with wavy black hair and sky-blue eyes, appeared as dashing as one would expect an heir to an earl to look. A glorious future awaited him. Money and title. Reverence and deference. The foolish young man threw it all away. But then, Glenda did not believe Ravenswood possessed any brains at all. To her, he’d been a vacuous, selfish creature who lived for his own pleasure, not caring about whom he hurt along the way.

The words “ashes to ashes, dust to dust” reached her ears. Good. This would soon come to a decided conclusion. With a final blessing, the vicar and the mourners walked away, including the older woman who headed toward the village proper. Standing to the side, two local men stood leaning on shovels, waiting to perform their duty.

Glenna strode toward the grave, glancing at the mourners disappearing over the small knoll. Straightening her shoulders, she looked down into the hole. In it lay a fine casket, expensive mahogany wood with gold handles. It’s top blanketed in a spray of lilies. A fancy final resting place befitting the viscount’s station in life.

She scooped up a clump of dirt, then cast it into the dark hole, and it hit the top of the casket with a loud thump. “Ravenswood. May you be cursed for all eternity.”

The men, gripping their shovels, gave her a puzzled look, but she turned on her heels and marched from the grave with her chin held high.

 

 

Three days later

The village of Charlwood, as Glenna predicted, bustled with rumors concerning the recent death of Viscount Ravenswood, the depraved late heir. At the booksellers, she’d heard the viscount’s curricle careened off an embankment, smashing on the rocks below, leaving the man a pile of blood and broken bones, his remains carried away in buckets. At the bakery, the prevailing gossip stated the carriage had been tampered with; no doubt the jealous husband of one of his many varied and scandalous dalliances.

Glenna knew she would obtain the absolute truth from her friend, Susan Twington, wife of Doctor Samuel Twington. Though why Glenna longed to know all the details she could not hazard to guess. Perhaps there was nothing else to do in this quiet village but discuss the salacious gossip. Regardless, she would find out the particulars today.

Walking briskly toward the village carrying a basket of fresh cinnamon buns, she nodded and gave cheerful “good mornings” to people of her acquaintance as she made her way to Susan’s home. As is their custom, she and her dear friend met once a week for tea and conversation and Glenna looked forward to animated discussions on various subjects.

Susan and her doctor husband owned a modest, brick home that spoke of their middle-class standing. Both were well-respected and liked. Glenna knocked on the door, and the maid showed her into Susan’s sunny front parlor, the tea tray and frosted cakes awaiting her arrival. Susan stood and rushed to her before embracing her warmly.

Glenna handed her cloak to the maid, who then curtsied and left the room. “Here, my dear. It is a new recipe, and if I do say so, they turned out quite spectacularly.”

With a smile, Susan took the basket and lifted the cloth. “Oh, I love frosted cinnamon buns! Glenna, you never arrive empty-handed. Please, do sit. How flushed and healthy you look; the brisk walk has done wonders for your coloring. But then, you always appear fresh and pretty.”

Glenna flushed further at the kind words as she took her seat. Susan poured and passed her a cup, milk and sugar already added. Her friend knew her well. “Dare we talk about the shocking death of Ravenswood?” Susan winked.

Glenna nodded. “Of course, what else is there to discuss? I have heard varied tales of his demise, but I knew you would have the truth of it.”

Susan glanced about. Glenna was not sure why as the door to the parlor remained closed; no one would hear. “As you are aware, Sam was called to London. How gratifying the earl takes such stock in Sam’s healing abilities, but there was naught to be done. I can tell you the viscount’s body was not quite smashed beyond recognition as the bookseller is saying.”

Glenna sipped her tea and smiled in amusement. “You must admit, it was a gruesome tale. Buckets indeed.”

Susan reached for a cake and took a delicate bite, then swallowed. “Here is what I know. His left hand had been all but severed when he became caught up in the rigging. The horses, the poor creatures, went off the embankment along with the viscount. The animals broke his fall to an extent, but not enough to save him. Besides his hand, he also had a twisted, fractured leg. Sam set it, but there was no hope. There was a gaping head wound with part of his scalp and facial skin hanging forward….” Susan blushed and smiled. “Oh, dear. I do revel in the gory details. Sam tells me everything and I soak it up like a sponge. You can tell me to be quiet at any point. I do not wish to put you off your tea and cakes.”

“Do go on, you know I love gruesome tales as much as you do. And I can keep a secret.” Glenna winked.

Susan leaned forward in expectation. “Well, it is said he attended an orgy at a Duke’s townhouse. Men and women alike, and we have heard of Ravenswood’s appetite for both sexes in the past. However, it seems he’d been issued a challenge at this debauched affair. The winner of the race would have the use of a pair of costly courtesans for one year, expenses paid by the loser. The courtesans were twins, a brother and sister.”

Glenna curled her lip in disgust as she bit into the jam cake. Racing for sex. How like the dissolute Ravenswood to participate in such scandalous doings. Sibling courtesans. How typical of the man.

“Apparently he was in the lead, but something went horribly wrong.” Susan’s eyes sparkled with interest as she relayed the account. “There is talk, but no absolute proof, that the carriage and horses were tampered with. Sam believes the head wound was too critical for any sort of recovery. In examining Ravenswood, he could see exposed brain matter as a piece of the skull was missing. Quite beyond hope. It was merciful he died, as he no doubt would have been a drooling simpleton had he survived.”

Glenna snorted. “Apt justice.”

Susan placed her tea cup on the tray. “Still bitter, Glenna?”

Yes, blast it. What woman had not been seduced by Ravenswood? His honeyed seductive words, glorious looks, and spectacular form clouded her senses from the first time she laid eyes on him. And when she did not succumb to his crude overtures, the vacuous viscount walked away and never looked back. Cold, cruel man. How easily she’d fallen for his charms, and how devastated she’d been when he spitefully turned from her.

“Perhaps. For a brief moment in time, I thought… It is no matter. In truth, I had a lucky escape. Others in our acquaintance did not.”

Susan shook her head. “No. They did not.”

The door to the parlor burst open and a small boy tumbled in, landing on his hands and knees. With nary a moment to react, he stood and ran to Susan before throwing himself in her arms. “Mama!”

A harried maid followed the energetic lad into the room. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Twington. He wriggled away from me.”

“It is quite all right. Jeffrey, can you say hello to Miss Glenna? Bow as I showed you.”

Jeffrey scrambled from Susan’s lap and turned to face her. She’d not seen the boy in a couple months, and when his eyes met hers, her breath caught in her throat. Ravenswood. The child definitely resembled him. From the perfectly sculpted cheekbones, sky-blue eyes, and tousled black hair, there was no mistaking Jeffrey was Ravenswood’s son. His bastard. At five years of age, the lad had no idea of his tragic parentage. Jeffrey smiled, with the innocence his sire lacked, and it nearly broke her heart. What a beautiful boy. She hoped he would not turn out to be like his father. Susan and Sam would make certain he did not. Of that, Glenna had no doubt.

He gave her a perfect bow the likes of which any gentleman would give a lady in a ballroom. “Good day, Miss Glenna.”

Already a charmer. When he grew up he would be a heartbreaker for certain. She couldn’t help but smile. “Good day to you, young sir.”

Susan laughed and pulled the child back into her embrace. “There now. Go with Molly and she will give you a jam cake. Later I will come and read you a story, all right, my dear?” She laid an affectionate kiss on the top of his head.

Jeffrey took Molly’s hand and headed toward the door. He turned and waved with the enthusiasm of a happy, contented child before Molly closed the door after them.

“My heavens, Susan, the likeness is uncanny. I see none of Hannah in the boy at all.”

Susan picked up her cup. “None. He is Ravenswood through and through. He will not escape the connection, I fear. Sam and I decided when he is old enough to understand we will tell him of his parentage. Hopefully before he hears the tattle.”

Glenna sipped her tea. “Any news on Hannah?”

Susan sighed. “She is still in the asylum in Scotland. I fear she will never be released. All this compounding tragedy has made me terribly sad.” She reached for a cake. “I was distraught when I found out I could never have children and leapt at the chance to adopt Hannah’s child. He is a precious, sweet boy. Such a sunny disposition.”

No doubt Ravenswood once was a happy, carefree lad, Glenna surmised, but she would not voice the disturbing thought aloud to Susan. “If any couple can give a child a loving home and stable upbringing, it is you and Sam.”

Susan finished her cake and passed her the plate. Glenna took one, then bit into it. “The earl comes to see him. Sometimes once a month,” Susan revealed.

Glenna was shocked, then concerned. “Whitestone? Is that wise?”

“It is his grandson, after all. He also offered to pay for Jeffrey’s schooling at Eton and Oxford. How can I refuse such an opportunity for him? He claims he will leave him a substantial inheritance.”

After adding the milk, Glenna poured a little more tea in both their cups. “I would ask for that in writing and have it officially seen to. However, he won’t give Jeffrey the family name though, will he?”

“Well, legally, I do not suppose he could. Whitestone Estate and the title are entailed to the next in line whom I believe is his nephew. He could not hand it over to his illegitimate grandson. But the earl did say he would do all he could to ensure Jeffrey’s future, and he wished to visit him now and then. How could I say no?”

“You are a kind-hearted soul. I do not blame you for doing all you can for Jeffrey. Just…be careful. I do not entirely trust the earl, I am not sure why, but I don’t. What kind of man would let his son run wild through the land, doing whatever he pleases?” Glenna licked the frosting from the tip of her finger.

“Oh, speaking of running wild. I hear there is another child of Ravenswood’s here in the village,” Susan stated.

Glenna shook her head in disbelief. The dissolute rake no doubt left issue all the way to London and back. “Anyone we are acquainted with?”

“I do not believe so. The farmer Fenton’s daughter gave birth to a girl two weeks ago and claims it is Ravenswood’s.”

Glenna frowned. “Did he rape her as well?”

Susan gave her an incredulous look. “No, my dear. No more than he raped Hannah. You said no to his advances and he respected your wishes. Though Hannah swore me to secrecy shortly before Jeffrey’s birth, I will reveal she lied to her father claiming she’d been raped, hoping he would not be as angry about her condition. Apparently the earl paid them good money to keep the entire matter secret. Hannah went to the viscount’s bed willingly because she loved him. He broke her heart.”

Poor Hannah. Most of this drama happened before Glenna arrived in Charlwood three years ago, but she did make Hannah’s acquaintance through Susan, and how heart-wrenching to watch the young woman’s mental decline. After Hannah gave birth, her family did not want to keep the child. Susan and Sam stepped forward. A lump formed in Glenna’s throat. “And look where her love got her. There is a chance she will never recover.”

“No. I believe not. I will do all I can to protect Jeffrey from the vicious gossip, but I fear it will follow him all of his life.” Susan shook her head sadly.

Later, as she waved good-bye to Susan, Glenna found herself strolling toward the cemetery. Along the way she gathered a few wildflowers, and her mood turned melancholy. All this talk of death, tragedy, and wrecked lives. And all of it Ravenswood’s fault. Too bad he no longer could answer for his reckless actions, though it could be argued he paid the ultimate price. Death.

Ambling past the leaning, long-neglected tombstones, she found herself standing before the resting place of Ravenswood. Suddenly, she felt remorse and embarrassment at her overly dramatic graveside declaration of three days ago. Curse him for eternity? How petulant and childish. He broke her heart two years ago. Later, she discovered she had been one of many in a long line of besotted women. Enough time had passed since her romantic folly. She should be over the incident by now, and for all intents and purposes--she was. But Ravenswood had stimulated her heart to life, introduced her to passion only to spurn her for more enticing and salacious delights elsewhere.

Today, Glenna felt a little sorry for the waste of life. For the children he would never know. She laid the wildflowers on the mound of dirt. “Well, your lordship. Here’s hoping your offspring live a better life. And they should; now they are free from your example. Let us hope blood will not win out.” She hesitated. “Do rest in peace.”

A sudden breeze came up, swirling the fallen leaves at her feet. Branches from a nearby juniper scraped together in the wind, creating an eerie sound, as if the dead answered her with a mournful voice. She shivered. Glenna gazed at the mound of dirt more closely. It looked as if it had been…disturbed. The gravediggers did not do a thorough job; it was . . .