by Darcy Burke
Fanny Mendelssohn (1805-1847) was actively discouraged from composing by her father, who believed that being a housewife was the only suitable calling for a woman. Musical scholar David Montgomery has said of Fanny: “Only the lack of compulsion (or perhaps opportunity) to publish more often seems to have prevented her skills from developing to match those of any major European composer of the day.” In other words, Fanny Mendelssohn may well have been one of the most talented composers of her era, had her gifts been allowed to flourish.
Like Clara and Nicholas, Fanny allowed her compositions to be published under her brother, Felix’s, name. The story of the near-scandal alluded to in Sonata for a Scoundrel is true, although I took some artistic license by placing the siblings a decade early. Felix Mendelssohn was a great favorite of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, and the queen made a show of learning and performing one of his songs. Felix confessed that the composition was actually his sister’s, and only his high standing with the royals allowed him to emerge relatively unscathed from this social blunder.
Clara’s namesake, Clara Schumann (1819-1896), might also have been a great composer had she lived in a different time. Her husband, famed composer Robert Schumann, wrote in his diary: “Clara has composed a series of small pieces, which show a musical and tender ingenuity such as she has never attained before. But to have children, and a husband who is always living in the realm of imagination, does not go together with composing. She cannot work at it regularly, and I am often disturbed to think how many profound ideas are lost because she cannot work them out.”
It was not until the early 1900s that women composers began to be recognized as capable of creating more than small-scale parlor music. Even today, the musical contributions of women throughout history are often overlooked.
Darien Reynard is loosely based on one of the most famous violinists to ever grace the stages of Europe, Niccolo Paganini (1782-1840). Paganini was such a master on his instrument that he was frequently accused of selling his soul to the devil in exchange for his musical brilliance.
Unlike Dare, Paganini was also a talented composer. For decades, his music was thought unplayable due to the immense difficulty of his pieces. It is only with intensive modern violin approaches that performers are able to attempt Paganini’s pieces.
Clara’s compositions are partially inspired by the music of Frederic Chopin, who composed his works about a decade later than this novel is set. Baroness Dudevant, whom Clara observes at the salon in Paris, is the famous novelist George Sand, who carried on a tumultuous affair with Chopin from 1837 until shortly before the composer’s death from tuberculosis in 1849.
Franz Lizst is also introduced at the salon. He was, indeed, a halfhearted player, until he was inspired by a meeting with Paganini in 1832. From that point on, he applied himself to practice and composition, and became one of the great musical superstars of his age.
Pieces mentioned in the novel include:
Beethoven Violin Sonata No. 9 (Kreutzer), played at Darien’s first concert in London.
Telemann Fantasia No. 7, played in Brighton.
Handel Chaconne in G minor, also performed in Brighton.
Beethoven Sonata in D major Four Hands, Opus 6, played by Clara and Nicholas at the inn.
Amis, la matinee est belle from La Muette de Portici by Daniel Auber, performed by Henri at the inn.
Tartini Sonata in G minor, Varga’s opening piece for the duel.
Mozart Sonata in E minor K. 304, Varga’s second piece.
Telemann Canonic Sonatas, played by Darien and his daughter Annabel, mentioned in the epilogue.
Bach Prelude and Fugue BWV849, played by Darien and Clara’s son, Benedict, mentioned in the epilogue.
Additional recommended composers:
Fanny Mendelssohn
Clara Schumann
Paganini (especially his Caprices)
Frederic Chopin
Felix Mendelssohn
Robert Schumann
Franz Liszt
Hector Berlioz
THANK YOU!
Thank you for reading SONATA FOR A SCOUNDREL! If you enjoyed it, please consider helping other readers find this book:
1. This e-book is lendable – consider sending it to a friend who you think might like it.
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Find all Anthea’s historical romances at http://anthealawson.com/
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OTHER WORKS
Discover all of Anthea’s titles!
FULL-LENGTH NOVELS
PASSIONATE – A finalist for both the Golden Heart and the prestigious RWA RITA award, this Victorian-set novel takes the reader on a romantic adventure from the ballrooms and parlors of London through the Mediterranean to the exotic valleys of Tunisia. Fans of Julia Quinn and Connie Brockway will enjoy this witty foray into the outer edges of civilization – and propriety.
“A lush, exotic tale of romance and adventure.” – Sally MacKenzie, USA Today bestselling author
ALL HE DESIRES – Self-exiled on the Isle of Crete, an English doctor with a troubled past meets the one woman who can bring him out of the shadows and into the light.
“Lawson, a RITA-nominated husband-and-wife writing team, deftly combines danger, desire, and a deliciously different Victorian setting into a sexy version of Victoria Holt’s classic gothic romances.” –Booklist Reviews
SHORT STORIES, NOVELLAS, & COLLECTIONS
Maid for Scandal – Miss Anna Harcourt disguises herself as a maid to be near the man she thinks she loves, but little does she know how far this charade will lead her ... or how close to scandal.
~An Amazon Top 100 Regency Romance Bestseller for over two months~
Five Wicked Kisses – To pay a debt, Juliana Tate must accept five kisses from the Earl of Eastbrook ... but she never suspects how wicked each kiss will be.
~Five months on the Top 100 Romance Short Story bestseller list~
To Wed the Earl – Miss Miranda Price detests her neighbor Edward Havens, the rakish Earl of Edgerton - but when he catches her breaking into his library at midnight, secrets are revealed that will change the course of their lives... forever.
The Piano Tutor – Encouraged by her scandalous friend to take a lover, Lady Diana Waverly finds that the new piano tutor is more than he seems -- especially when it comes to passion.
This spicy Regency-set short story by RITA-nominated author Anthea Lawson originally appeared in the Mammoth Book of Regency Romance.
The Worth of Rubies – A Victorian-set short mystery. Noble ladies are falling victim to a string of brazen public jewelry robberies, but the inquisitive Miss Isabelle Strathmore suspects more is afoot than mere theft...
Kisses & Rogues – A collection of Anthea’s shorter romance fiction. Includes the titles above, with the exception of The Worth of Rubies.
COMING SOON!
A Countess for Christmas – From the upcoming Fiction River anthology, Christmas Ghosts. Publisher’s Weekly called this traditional Regency Christmas story a “standout.” Coming December 2013
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book owes much to the music teachers I’ve had over the years, and a childhood filled with music—including the long symphony rehearsals and concerts my brother and I were forced to sit through. Though some of it might have felt torturous at the time, my life has been immeasurably enriched as a result. Thank you: Mom, Kathie Jarrett, Willa Dean Howell, Shelley Clark, Dale Kempter and Ron Teare, Jim Bonnell, Betty Whiton, Tim Brock, Robin Boomer and all the founding
members of the OCO, and the many musicians I’ve had the pleasure of playing with over the years.
The novel itself was greatly improved by the input of my critique partner Peggy, my editor Laurie Temple, my beta readers Chassily, Sean, and Ginger, and the copy-editing skills of Arran Nichols at Editing 720. Additional thanks go to Anne Victory’s Oops Detection service.
Once again, Kim Killion proves her incomparable talent in cover design. Many thanks for a gorgeous cover, and thanks, too, to models Jimmy Thomas and Jax Turyna for a romantic pose that perfectly captures Dare and Clara.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Anthea Lawson’s first two novels were co-written by Anthea and Lawson, a husband and wife creative team living in the Pacific Northwest. Their first novel, Passionate, was released from Kensington books in October 2008, and was a finalist for the prestigious RWA RITA award for Best First Book. Booklist has named Anthea one of the “new stars of historical romance.”
Since 2010, Anthea has branched out solo, continuing to write historical romance, as well as award-winning YA urban fantasy under the pen name Anthea Sharp. Anthea is still happily married and living in the Northwest with her husband and daughter, where the rainy days and excellent coffee fuel her writing.
Discover more at anthealawson.com and on Facebook. To find out about Anthea’s upcoming releases, please subscribe to her mailing list. Thank you!
SCOUNDREL EVER AFTER
DARCY BURKE
Scoundrel Ever After
Copyright © 2014 Darcy Burke
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1939713188
ISBN-13: 978-1-939713-18-6
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Book design © Darcy Burke.
Cover design © Patricia Schmitt (Pickyme).
Copyediting: Martha Trachtenberg.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
DEDICATION
For Janice
The baskets in chapter eight are for you.
And they’re filled with gratitude and love
(instead of apples and chicken, though you can have those too).
Chapter One
London, September, 1818
Ethan Jagger ran like hell. Every swing of his arm pumped blood from the knife wound in his bicep and brought a fresh burn of agony. Still, he couldn’t stop. Stopping meant capture. Capture meant the hangman’s noose.
He didn’t chance a look back. Though he couldn’t yet hear them, he knew the Bow Street Runners were closing in. Wounded as he was, Ethan wasn’t sure he could outpace them. St. Giles was still too bloody far away.
He almost stopped cold. He couldn’t go to St. Giles. Despite his allies, and he had more than a few, everyone in the rookery would know Gin Jimmy was after him. And if they had to choose their loyalty, and they did, they’d award it to the man who could cause them the most harm: Gin Jimmy. Pursued by the law and the outlaw: Ethan was well and truly buggered.
There was no help for it. He had to get out of London and figure out what to do next. To do that, he’d need to get to one of the hiding spots where he kept his emergency funds. The closest one—and more importantly in the opposite direction of St. Giles—was in Berkley Square, which meant he had to double back.
But first he had to elude the Runners. He veered left onto a narrow street. And ran straight into a whore.
She grasped his arms to steady herself. Her hand closed around his wound. He sucked in air and white lights speckled his sight.
“Ho there!” She drew her hand away. “Wot’s wrong with ye?”
Lamplight from the wider street up ahead filtered back into the alley, but it was too dark for him to discern much of her features. He could, however, tell she was studying her hand. She had to have felt the blood seeping from the gash Gin Jimmy had given him scarcely a quarter hour before.
Aware that this pause was allowing his pursuers to gain on him, Ethan pushed her aside so he could slip past her down the alleyway.
“’Ey now, there’s no need to be rude!” she shrieked.
Ethan didn’t spare her a glance as he hastily set off once more. But then a very large man stepped in his way. “Ye shouldn’t be rude to me trollop.”
Bloody fucking hell. Ethan did not have time for a prostitute or her pimp. However, before he could take off running once more, the pimp stepped so close to Ethan that he could smell the man’s filth as well as the gin he’d swilled earlier.
“’Is arm’s ’urt,” the woman said.
Ethan braced himself, expecting the pimp to hit or grab him in the arm, but the hulking bloke only leaned in closer, sticking his face a mere inch from Ethan’s. “Jagger?” he asked.
It didn’t surprise Ethan that the pimp knew him, though the recognition was not reciprocated. One didn’t rise as far as Ethan had within the criminal ranks without developing a reputation and a ... following.
“Yes, Jagger. Now, back off.” He kept his tone even, yet commanding.
The pimp stepped back, and Ethan inhaled fresher air. His pulse was slowing, which meant he’d been motionless too long. The Runners were going to be on him.
“Ye don’t spend as much time at the flash houses as ye used to.” The pimp’s tone carried an edge of skepticism that Ethan didn’t like. “I hear ye’ve taken up with a diff’rent class o’ folk, and that ye might not even go by Jagger no more.”
Ethan didn’t have time or patience for the man’s inquiry. His arm was killing him and if he didn’t start running again, Bow Street would be upon him. “I need to be on my way. Move aside.”
Ethan made to dash past, but as he stepped to the side, the pimp’s arm shot out and he grabbed Ethan’s bicep. With a howl, Ethan spun and sent his fist into the pimp’s jaw. He would’ve followed up with another jab to his middle, but Ethan couldn’t make his right arm work.
A shout of “There he is!” came from behind. Damn everything to hell. The Runners had found him.
The pimp had been momentarily surprised by Ethan’s blow, but he recovered quickly and threw a fist toward Ethan’s gut.
Ethan danced away, barely missing the hit. “Those are Bow Street Runners, you imbecile. We need to move!” Whatever the pimp’s motive, he wouldn’t want to be detained by Bow Street. None of their class ever did.
The pimp straightened, his body angled toward where Ethan had come from.
“Hold there, Jagger!” one of the Runners called. Teague. He’d been hounding Ethan for years, but particularly during the last fortnight. Ethan didn’t mean for him to catch him now.
Jabbing his elbow out toward the pimp, Ethan took off running.
“Catch him!” Teague shouted. “Or find yourself in trouble!”
The pimp’s hand closed around Ethan’s bicep and dragged him to a stop. Agony spiraled up and down Ethan’s arm. “Sorry, mate.”
No. Ethan refused to go down like this. With a surge of energy, he threw off the pimp’s grip and punched him in the jaw again. The pimp was slightly more prepared this time and angled his head away, though Ethan still caught a piece of him.
Then the Runners were on them.
Ethan moved quickly, pulling his knife from his boot and squaring off before all three men could get to him. Suddenly a high-pitched squeal filled the air as the prostitute jumped on Teague’s back and began to beat him about the head. Ethan would’ve thanked her for her support if he hadn’t needed to dispatch the other two blokes.
He glanced around the narrow alley, gauging his options. A half dozen or so wooden crates were stacked to his right. But they were the only relief from the bricked walls rising up on e
ither side of the close.
The pimp rushed at him, but Ethan flashed his knife, which slowed the other man’s attack. Ethan didn’t want to cause him damage—the bloke was only trying to save his own hide—so he snatched up one of the crates to use it as a weapon instead of his knife, which he kept tucked into his left palm. He lifted the crate as the pimp came at him again. Ethan brought the box down over the man’s skull. The pimp stumbled backward as the crate splintered.
The second Runner rushed at him like a flash, his truncheon raised. Ethan pulled his arm back, but the truncheon hit his wrist hard enough that he dropped his knife. Swearing, Ethan skittered backward. He rubbed his wrist in an effort to banish the pain as he cursed the loss of his weapon.
The Runner eyed him warily. He kept a firm grip on his club, keeping it elevated. “Just come along with us now, Jagger. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
Though he’d lost his knife, Ethan thought he could disarm the Runner. Even so, Ethan doubted his ability to take down all three men—the prostitute surely couldn’t overpower Teague, though she was managing to keep him occupied. Still, Ethan had to do what he could to escape. He held his hands up and speared the Runner with a direct stare. “I’ll go with you.”
The Runner didn’t appear convinced. He edged forward slowly, tentatively.
When the Runner drew close, Ethan kicked him in the knee. The Runner went down, colliding with the pimp who’d been shaking off the remains of the broken crate. They landed together in a tangle of wood pieces and flailing limbs.
