How the Scoundrel Seduces Read Online Free

and lost. He still had the money Milosh had given him, but now he was running for his life, his family with him. Because it had not been a dog he’d heard outside the stables—it had been some man who’d identified Tristan as having stolen the horse.
    George was scouring the countryside for him and Blue Blazes, Mother and Lisette had been kicked out of the cottage, and they’d had to use part of the moneyto purchase secret passage to Biarritz, France, so they could go by land from there to Toulon, where Mother’s family lived. Because George was already trying to get him hanged.
    Staring over at his mother’s grief-stricken expression, he swallowed hard. She’d lost her home and her true love all in one day, and he was responsible for at least half of that.
    Lisette slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “It’ll be all right, Tristan,” she whispered. “Dom says he’ll write to us faithfully to let us know what’s going on. And surely one day we’ll be able to return.”
    Tristan winced. That was the worst of it. Dom had not sided with George. Dom had sided with them, and it had cost him everything. And all because of Tristan’s rash theft.
    No, damn it! Because their negligent father hadn’t bothered to update his will after Dom was born, which was why George had been able to burn the codicil and leave Dom and the rest of them penniless. Even if Tristan hadn’t stolen the horse, George would have kicked them out. They’d still have ended up having to leave the cottage with nothing, just not so soon.
    And though they could have stayed in England, what good would that have done them? George would never allow Dom to give them one penny, so they would have lost everything anyway.
    Father’s words came to him: Up to you . . . to take care of . . . your mother and sister. You’re . . . the man of the house now.
    Yes, he was. And he’d done what he must to make sure they could survive until he found work. The true villain in this was George.
    Squaring his shoulders, Tristan stared out over the waters that would soon separate him from the only home he knew. It didn’t matter. He would endure. They would all endure, even if he had to work like an ox to manage it.
    But no one was ever getting the better of him or his family again. He would learn how to maneuver in this stupid, treacherous world however he could. He would learn how to fight, and he would learn how to win.
    Then one day he would return to Yorkshire with all his newfound knowledge. And when he did, George had best watch out. Because Tristan would make his half brother pay for his villainy if it was the last thing he ever did.

1

    London
    February 1829
    W HEN THE HACKNEY halted, Lady Zoe Keane drew her veil aside and peered out the murky window to survey the building standing opposite the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden.
    This couldn’t be Manton’s Investigations. It was too plain and ordinary for the famous Duke’s Men, for pity’s sake! No horses standing at the ready to dash off to danger? No imposing sign with gilt lettering?
    “Are you sure these are their offices?” she asked Ralph, her footman, as he helped her out.
    “Aye, milady. It’s the address you gave me: 29 Bow Street.”
    When the brittle cold needled her cheeks, she adjusted her veil over her face. She mustn’t be recognized entering an office full of men, and certainly not this office. “It doesn’t look right, somehow.”
    “Or safe.” He glanced warily at the rough neighborhood. “If your father knew I’d brought you to such a low part of town he’d kick me out the door, he would.”
    “No, indeed. I would never allow that.” As Mama used to say, a lady got what she wanted by speaking with authority . . . even if her knees were knocking beneath her wool gown. “Besides, how will he find out? You accompanied me on my walk in St. James Park, that’s all. He’ll never learn any different.”
    He mustn’t, because he would almost certainly guess why