The Devilish Montague Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Teaser chapter

  PATRICIA RICE

  PATRICIA RICE

  “Patricia Rice’s historicals are deliciously fresh,

  sexy, and fun.”

  —Mary Jo Putney

  The Rebellious Sons Series

  The Wicked Wyckerly

  “A heartwarming tale that kept me smiling all the way through. Every character entertains and satisfies, from the engaging scapegrace hero, whom I loved more and more through the book; his wild insecure love child; and the loving, down-to-earth heroine, right down to the devious old butler and the dyslexic assassin. It’s a sweet, sexy, fun romp with so much heart. I can’t wait to read the next book in the series.”

  —Anne Gracie, author of The Accidental Wedding

  “Charming, witty, and completely wonderful. A delightful book from start to end.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Jillian Hunter

  “Filled with engaging characters and astute dialogue, Rice’s new Rebellious Sons series gets off to a rollicking start. With her voice she combines a bit of whimsy, mayhem, and a lot of love and laughter in this delicious and highly entertaining read.”

  —Romantic Times (4½ Stars)

  “Rice is a master storyteller as she takes her endearing if roguish hero and spunky, stubborn heroine through all the trials evildoers and Regency society can concoct. A wonderful blend of humor, pathos, adventure, and charm, this page-turner is book one in Rice’s promising Rebellious Sons series.”

  —Booklist

  The Mystic Isle Series

  Mystic Warrior

  “With its complex characters, Rice’s last book in the Mystic Isle series pits a stubborn, seasoned warrior against an equally determined young woman. Rice combines an overview of the French Revolution, depths of emotion, mysticism, and great love into one passionate and fiery story.”

  —Romantic Times (Top Pick, 4½ Stars)

  “Definitely a good addition to any library.”

  —Once Upon a Romance Reviews

  Mystic Rider

  “With whimsical and subtle touches of humor and memorable characters, [Rice] cleverly blends the paranormal with the historical events of the French Revolution in this passionate, very sensual romance. Her powerful voice and talent as a great storyteller make this one another keeper.”

  —Romantic Times (Top Pick, 4½ Stars)

  “Filled with history, romance, and passion, a story that pulled me in and held me captive. . . . Ms. Rice makes the Revolution come alive. I can’t wait for the next installment in the amazing Mystic Isle series! I am hooked!”

  —Romance Reader at Heart

  “An enthralling tale that should not be missed.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  Mystic Guardian

  “Extraordinary characters . . . subtle touches of humor and clever dialogue.”

  —Romantic Times (Top Pick, 4½ Stars)

  “Will enchant readers.”

  —The Romance Readers Connection

  “A fine, fresh series kickoff, Rice’s latest is passionate, rich in historical detail, and peopled with enough captivating secondary characters to pique readers’ curiosity for many volumes to come.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Charming, magical.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  The Magic Series

  Magic Man

  “Never slows down until the final thread is magically resolved. Patricia Rice is clearly the Magic Woman with this superb tale and magnificent series.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  Much Ado About Magic

  “The magical Rice takes Trev and Lucinda, along with her readers, on a passionate, sensual, and romantic adventure in this fast-paced, witty, poignant, and magical tale of love.”

  —Romantic Times (Top Pick, 4½ Stars)

  This Magic Moment

  “Charming and immensely entertaining.”

  —Library Journal

  “Rice has a magical touch for creating fascinating plots, delicious romance, and delightful characters both flesh-andblood and ectoplasmic.”

  —Booklist

  “Another delightful magical story brought to us by this talented author. It’s a fun read, romantic, and sexy with enchanting characters.”

  —Rendezvous

  The Trouble with Magic

  “Rice’s third enchanting book about the Malcolm sisters is truly spellbinding.”

  —Booklist

  Must Be Magic

  “Very sensual.”

  —The Romance Reader

  “Rice has created a mystical masterpiece full of enchanting characters, a spellbinding plot, and the sweetest of romances.”

  —Booklist (Starred Review)

  “An engaging historical romance that uses a pinch of witchcraft to spice up a tale. . . . The story line mesmerizes. . . . Fans will believe that Patricia Rice must be magical as she spellbinds her audience with a one-sitting fun novel.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “I love an impeccably researched, well-written tale, and Must Be Magic, which continues the saga of the Iveses and Malcolms, is about as good as it gets. I’m very pleased to give it a Perfect Ten, and I encourage everyone to pick up this terrific book.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  Merely Magic

  “Simply enchanting! Patricia Rice, a master storyteller, weaves a spellbinding tale that’s passionate and powerful.”

  —Teresa Medeiros

  “Like Julie Garwood, Patricia Rice employs wicked wit and sizzling sensuality to turn the battles of the sexes into a magical romp.”

  —Mary Jo Putney

  “One of those tales that you pick up and can’t put down. . . . She is a gifted master storyteller. With Merely Magic she doesn’t disappoint. Brava!”

  —Midwest Book Review

  Other Historical Romances by

  Patricia Rice

  The Rebellious Sons Series

  The Wicked Wyckerly

  The Mystic Isle Series

  Mystic Guardian

  Mystic Rider

  Mystic Warrior

  The Magic Series

  Merely Magic

  Must Be Magic

  The Trouble with Magic

  This Magic Moment

  Much Ado About Magic

  Magic Man

  Other Titles

  All a Woman Wants

  SIGNET ECLIPSE

  Published by New American Library, a division of

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

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  First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, July 2011

  Copyright © Rice Enterprises, Inc., 2011

  ISBN : 978-1-101-51681-2

  Excerpt from The Wicked Wyckerly copyright © Rice Enterprises, Inc., 2010

  All rights reserved

  SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  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.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

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  Acknowledgments

  To the St. Louis brainstormers, who kept me from bashing my head against the wall while deciphering Percy’s antics and Jocelyn’s motivations, and particularly to Chi and Pam, who reminded me that romance is about romantic tension and not parrots.

  And, as always, to the Cauldron, who let me simmer in my own juices while stirring the pot and flinging mangelwurzels into the brew.

  1

  “I should marry to save England?” Blake Montague asked, not hiding his sarcasm.

  His thick dark hair had been marred with a silver streak since birth, lending an air of authority to his demeanor. He had the stern features and military bearing of an experienced officer, standing with legs apart, hands clasped at his back—except he wore the tailored clothes of a civilian with a casualness bordering on the disrespectful.

  The youngest of Baron Montague’s three sons, Blake had sought out Lord Castlereagh, Secretary of State for War, in the Duke of Fortham’s library while the rest of the house party played at spillikins and cards in the salon. The interview had not gone well. Blake continued with hostility, “Without a position in the War Office, I have no other means to pursue decrypting this code except to buy officer’s colors and rejoin the army to obtain more examples. For that, I must marry money.”

  “It’s just that kind of insolence and intolerance for the way things are done that holds you back,” the secretary retorted acidly. In his middle years now, Viscount Castlereagh had breathed the heady power of government for most of his adult life, and his impatience with this interview was plain. “For all your intellect, you could not even finish Oxford without waving the flag of your noble code of honor and getting yourself kicked out.”

  “Without honor, we are not men,” Blake argued. “The dean gave the grade and the prize I deserved to his lover. If a dean cheats in choosing award winners, is he any more right than a student caught cheating on an exam? Are men of power allowed more leeway than others?”

  In response to Blake’s righteous anger, the molting parrot perched in a cage in the corner woke with a start and cried, “Égalité!”

  Blake fisted his fingers to prevent flinging an inkpot at the bird. His frustration oftentimes got the better of him. With his future riding on this audience, he couldn’t afford to vent his annoyance here.

  “Sometimes, yes,” Castlereagh said. “Men of power are in a position to know more than the common man. Had you obeyed your commanding officer in Portugal and not galloped down a hillside to save a damned enlisted soldier, you might not have taken a bullet to your leg, and you could have earned your colors and been working on your wretched code by now. Your behavior will not suit our office, Montague.”

  “It cost me the price of a uniform, a horse, and transportation to volunteer as an officer, my lord. With all due respect, I cannot afford to volunteer again. I will have to enlist as cannon fodder in the front lines, with little chance of obtaining what I need.”

  “If you do not want to be cannon fodder,” Castlereagh retorted impatiently, “then yes, I suggest you purchase an officer’s colors, join Wellesley, and learn to take orders, even if doing so means marrying for wealth. Or is that beneath your dignity also?”

  “The future of England is at stake!” Blake retorted, ignoring the insult. “All I need is more examples of this code, and I’m certain I can break it. Wellesly can stop Napoleon in his tracks if he has the ability to read French messages. I’ll work at home if I’m such an irritation to your office.”

  “And if we do not provide sufficient copies of the code, will you shoot us as you shot Carrington? Don’t think we don’t know about your duels. It was only because you provided discreet witnesses and were not caught that you were not prosecuted.”

  “Lord Carrington is a cheat and a fraud and a plague upon society. He is fortunate I chose not to kill him,” Blake said maliciously, aware he’d lost the argument and would get no sympathy in this quarter. Carrington was a viscount, a lord of the realm. Blake was nothing but a thorn beneath his aristocratic instep.

  Castlereagh’s scorn was apparent. Blake did not flinch as the great man gestured dismissal. Throwing back his shoulders, he offered a mocking salute, turned on his heel, and marched out. Or rather, limped out. The bullet from his brief stint in Portugal had torn ligaments in his left leg that had not yet healed. The bullet may have ended his volunteer status and sent him home with the wounded, but he did not regret having saved a man’s life.

  Physical frustration was as much a part of his fury as his indignation at the obstacles thrown in his way by those in power. Until the wound knit properly, he’d been ordered to stay off horses and forgo fencing. Without physical release, he had no means of venting the ire boiling inside him.

  Avoiding the laughing company in the parlor, Blake aimed for the study, where the brandy was kept. Entering, he encountered a languid, elegantly tailored figure already occupying a wingback chair, his boots propped upon the desk. Nicholas Atherton held out the decanter to his old friend.

  “Irish boy turned you down, did he?” Nick asked, without much sympathy. “Probably for the best. You would have punched his snout the first day at a desk.”

  “I am not a barbarian,” Blake said crossly, finding a glass and adding a goodly portion of the duke’s finest. “I’m quite capable of carrying out a civilized argument when all else is equal. Castlereagh made it plain that I am not his equal and, therefore, my opinion is of no importance.”

 
“Men in power have been known to be wrong,” Nick said idly, swinging his glass and admiring the portrait of the voluptuous late duchess hanging on the far wall.

  “If I thought even for a moment that he would take the information I’ve given him about Jefferson’s wheel to someone in a position to work on this damned code, I’d let it go. But he won’t. Yet the fate of Wellesley’s army could depend on reading these ciphers.” Blake pulled a folded paper from his pocket and shook it open. It had come into his hands when he’d served briefly in Portugal. Deciphering puzzles was his expertise.

  “You wouldn’t let it go,” Nick said with a laugh. “You never let anything go. You chew a problem to death until you decide whether to spit it out or swallow.”

  “That’s a disgusting image.” The brandy didn’t mellow Blake’s humor. “I enjoy a good conundrum. Generally, however, they don’t affect the fate of armies and possibly the future of England. If the French are using a code wheel for communication, we’ll never decrypt it by our standard old-fashioned methods.”

  “Chewing it to death,” Nick reiterated through a yawn. “You haven’t the blunt to volunteer again, and the War Office won’t have you. You know your only choice if you want to see more of that code is to marry wealth and buy colors. So either give up the problem or marry. A simple enough choice.”

  Blake ran a hand through the silver hair at his temple and spoke through clenched molars. “What, precisely, have I to offer a wealthy wife?”

  “Certainly not charm,” Nick said, amused by his own wit.

  Blake knew he couldn’t throw a punch at his best friend, not in a duke’s study leastways. Besides, despite all his indolent manners, Nick had a punishing bunch of fives of his own. And he was right, confound it. Content with the freedom of his bachelor life, Blake had never cultivated charm.