A Night of Lost Innocence

By Patricia Catacalos

England 1862 – Lucien St. Ives, Viscount Manchester, believes that no lady would want him, a ‘freak of nature’. So periodically he arranges assignations with ‘clean’ whores. An impoverished Lady Christabelle Jacobs arrives unexpectedly, at his estate, to beg Lucien for the return of a family heirloom lost by her father in a card game and Lucien mistakes her for an expected prostitute.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patricia Catacalos
• Release date: Mar 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301568000

Patricia Catacalos

I hold a BA in Theatre from Seton Hill University and a MA in Theatre from the University of Denver. Years ago, when still single, I acted in and directed plays in the Philadelphia area but suffered the fate of many artists, struggling financially. So I entered a career in sales. But, my creative spirit needed to express itself and several years, ago, I started writing historical romances. I discovered that writing historical romances is my passion. I love weaving historical personalities into my plot, interacting with my fictional characters. Recently, I began writing historical mysteries/intrigue and again, love the aspect of interspersing historical fact and personalities into my story line.I am married to a loving and supportive man with a Greek heritage (which influenced a couple of my novels) and we live in southern New Jersey.

Book preview

A NIGHT OF LOST INNOCENCE

Patricia Catacalos

License notice: All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2013, 2015 by Patricia Catacalos

Second edition

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all incidents are pure invention.

CHAPTER ONE

England, 1862

The only light in his inner sanctum was that of the flickering fire blazing in the hearth. No gas lamps or candles were lit for he much preferred the darkness. Hidden in the shadows he felt whole. But the comfort of the darkness did not eliminate his intense loneliness which clung to his soul like an albatross, weighing heavily and painfully.

He sat fingering the brooch with his right forefinger as it rested on his thigh, marvelling at the unique design and the quality of the stones. It was obviously quite old. His forefinger touched a latch and the ‘turtle’s shell’ popped open to reveal a tiny portraiture of a little blonde-haired child.

Lucien St. Ives, Viscount Manchester blinked. He recognized the little girl grinning up at him from the open broach and his mind wandered back to a day long ago when he was surly and cruel to the inquisitive child.

Lucien was hiding again in his secret place far away from his verbally abusive father who called him a ‘cripple’ and his timid mother who could not look Lucien in the eyes. His father blamed his mother for their son’s deformity and she lived her guilt-laden life, in her husband’s looming shadow, ignoring the very existence of her only child.

So, Lucien had discovered a quiet and hidden spot, near a trickling stream on his father’s property bordering the neighbour's estate, and there Lucien would seek solitude and respite from his hurtful parents. He sat with his back leaning against an old oak tree with one long leg stretched out before him and the other booted foot planted flat on the ground so that he could brace his book against his bent knee.

He lifted his eyes from the page of the book he was reading and gazed down at the left cuff of his jacket where no hand protruded. His thoughts turned dark.

He had been born without a left hand and his fanatically religious father believed it was the ‘mark’ of the devil for his mother’s sins. To what sins Lucien’s father referred, Lucien was never privy. He only knew that neither his mother nor his father could tolerate each other’s presence and they abhorred the existence of their only son, openly rejecting him. Such parental rejection deeply hurt the sensitive seven and ten-year old Lucien.

"What are you reading?"

Lucien instantly shot to his feet, dropping his book in the process. The child’s voice had startled him, rudely invading his thoughts.

"I so love to read and if that book is a favourite of yours, I should like to borrow it." The brazen child leaned forward on the mare she rode, ingenuously smiling.

Lucien stood staring at the girl mounted bareback on an old mare with a large and sagging belly. The girl appeared to be perhaps ten years of age and dressed like a boy in knickers, suspenders and a loose-fitting shirt. Her long, blonde curls were tangled and windswept, producing a dishevelled appearance. The impish child looked like a gamin with long, gangly legs hanging on both sides of the horse’s flaccid belly and a wide grin on her dirtied face.

"You are on private property and I demand that you leave, instantly!" Lucien growled as he glared at the intruder.

The little girl stiffened as a hurt expression clouded her face. She cocked her head over her right shoulder as she seemed to examine the irate Lucien standing before her with booted feet braced widely apart and arms crossed against his chest effectively hiding the missing appendage.

He had not heard her approach for he was so engrossed in his thoughts. And her unannounced presence unnerved Lucien who preferred to be alone and left to his reading and woolgathering. However, he did feel a tinge of guilt. Perhaps he had spoken a bit too surly.

She smiled a thin smile before replying in a tremulous voice. My father and I are visiting Lord Cushing.

Lucien looked in the direction of the neighbouring estate.