Lord of Scoundrels

by Loretta Chase

Dominick Edward Guy de Ath Ballister, third Marquess of Dain, Earl of Blackmoor, Viscount Launcells, Baron Ballister and Launcells,

“I am Daenery’s of House Targaryen, first of her name...”

“You are not to speak of her again. She is an evil, godless creature. Her name is Jezebel, and ‘The dogs shall eat Jezebel by the wall of Jezreel.’”

Jesus his dad is a dick

He wouldn’t mind seeing her pop Lord Dain’s cork for him.

I bet she’ll pop his cork 😏

As to the body…

She has discovered that he is an attractive man

“Now, if you’ll pardon me, I had better extract Bertie from his negotiations. The tone of his voice tells me he’s trying to count and, as you so perceptively remarked, that isn’t good for him.”

Hahahahahahahahahaha

“Ah, you are familiar with my reputation, are you, Miss Trent?” Dain enquired. “Oh, yes. You are the wickedest man who ever lived. And you eat small children for breakfast, their nannies tell them, if they are naughty.” “But you are not in the least alarmed.” “It is not breakfast time, and I am hardly a small child. Though I can see how, given your lofty vantage point, you might mistake me for one.”

I LOVE JESS

I am in lust with Dain.

he was on the brink of flooding her virginal womb with the hot seed of latent Ballisters,

At this moment, he was about eight years old on the inside and nearly three and thirty on the outside, and thus, beside himself.

“Say your prayers, Miss Trent,” he told her very softly.

Oh fuck

He was overwarm and short of breath, and his heart pounded as though he’d been running very hard after something. And just as though he had done so and got it at last, he was not about to let it go. His fingers closed around her hand and he gave her a fierce look, daring her to try—just try—to get away.

Holy 🥵

“The Marquess of Dain has been seen in the company of a lady,” she said. “He has been seen and heard wooing her.” She looked up, her silver eyes gleaming. “It was lovely. I had no idea Italian was so…moving.”

Jesssss 🙌🏻

The only disturbing sensation she experienced was an altogether irrational urge to rip those two strumpets’ hair out by the dyed roots and break all their fingers.

It’s horrible, I know, but I love jealousy.

An annoyance had resulted nine months later, but that was easily enough dealt with.

Baby

She kicked him in the ankle.

Omg she kicked him!

He stared at her tiny, booted foot. “Good gad, did you actually think you could hurt me with that?” He laughed. “Are you mad, Jess?” “You great drunken jackass!” she cried. “How dare you?” She tore off her bonnet and whacked him in the chest with it. “I did not give you leave to use my Christian name.” She whacked him again. “And I am not a ha’pennyworth of a chit, you thickheaded ox!” Whack, whack, whack.

I fucking love these two

Then she drew back, made a fist, and struck him square in the solar plexus.

Now she’s punched him! Ahahahahaha I’m cackling

you plague and pestilence of a female!”

Sognavo di te. I’ve dreamed of you. Ti ho voluta tra le mie braccia dal primo momento che ho vista. I’ve wanted you in my arms since the moment I met you. He stood, helpless in the driving rain, unable to rule his needy mouth, his restless hands, while, within, his heart beat out the mortifying truth. Ho bisogno di te. I need you.

🔥🔥🔥

“Oh, Genevieve. He was so adorable. I wanted to kiss him. Right on his big, beautiful nose. And then everywhere else. It was so frustrating. I had made up my mind not to lose my temper, but I did. And so I beat him and beat him until he kissed me. And then I kept on beating him until he did it properly. And I had better tell you, mortifying as it is to admit, that if we had not been struck by lightning—or very nearly—I should be utterly ruined. Against a lamppost. On the Rue de Provence. And the horrible part is”—she groaned—“I wish I had been.”

In the end, he threw it into a trunk, which contained, along with various souvenirs of his travels, one mangled bonnet and one frilly umbrella.

He has her bonnet and umbrella with his souvenirs omg

Dain turned back to Miss Trent and, still smiling, broke each stick, one by one. Then he thrust the demolished fan into the fern pot.

I should not be attracted to this

He went to work with speedy efficiency on the other glove. “I must be besotted,” he said evenly. “I have the imbecilic idea that you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. Except for your coiffure,” he added, with a disgusted glance at the coils and plumes and pearls. “That is ghastly.”

🤣🤣 freaking Dain

You made me want you, he told her in his mother’s language. You’ve made me heartsick, lonely. You’ve made me crave what I vowed I would never need, never seek.

She had made him believe he was beautiful.

Dain 😭😭

“Say your prayers, Dain,” she said. His gaze lifted from the pistol to her glittering, furious eyes. “Jess,” he whispered. She pulled the trigger.

She just shot him! Jess OMG!!!

“I insist upon being jailed, for my own protection,

Masculine pride was an exceedingly precious and fragile item. That was why males built fortresses about it, practically from infancy.

He made a mental note to order a new mattress for the ancestral bed in Devon, and to have all the present bedclothes and hangings burnt.

Why do I love the new bed trope???

he was her monster.

HER MONSTER!

A bloodred stone for the brave girl who’d shed his blood. And diamonds flashing fiery sparks, because lightning had flashed the first time she’d kissed him.

Dain 😫

He had said that someone had to marry her because she was a public menace, and he supposed he was the only one big and mean enough to manage her.

“She shot me,” said Dain. “She had to be punished.

She was also aware of a most irrational frustration…and hurt, if she were to be completely honest.

Awwwe Jess 😢

She felt his body stiffen. She looked up. His jaw was tight, too, his mouth set in a hard line. She wondered what nerve she’d struck inadvertently. She didn’t have time to work out the riddle, because Dain snatched up her forgotten bonnet and shoved it on her head backwards, and she had to right the hat and tie the ribbons. Then she had to try to make a dress she’d traveled in since early morning look presentable, because the carriage was turning in to a gateway, and Dain’s ill-concealed agitation told her the drive beyond led to his home.

Dain. You insecure buffoon

Where in the name of heaven had he obtained the idea she was fragile or missish? This was the woman who’d shot him!

Finally he sees the light 🙌🏻

I’ve been in lust with you from the moment I met you.”

For the first time, Dain had an inkling of what it must feel like to be Bertie Trent, owning the necessary human quantity of grey matter, but possessing no notion how to make it function.

Ahahahahaha clever way to say idiot

“Fussing?” he echoed, his hand falling away from her. “Fussing?” “Like a two-year-old who’s missed his nap,” she said. “A two-year-old?” She nodded, her eyes ostensibly upon the match, her consciousness riveted upon the outraged male beside her. He took one—two—three furious breaths. “We’re leaving,” he said. “Back to the carriage. Now.”

Dain and his tantrums 😂

“Oh, it’s much simpler than that,” said Charity. “All you have to do is give me the picture.”

This bitch

“Jess, the only unforgivable thing you can do is leave me,” he said. “Se mi lasci mi uccido. If you leave me, I’ll kill myself.”

😭😭

He entered with his crippled arm in a sling. “Adjustments,” he said after Bridget had wisely fled without waiting to be chased out. “Marriage requires bloody adjustments. You want a sling, Jess, you get a sling.”

He finally has his arm in a fucking sling

“I’m Papa.”

😭😭