Dear Readers,
As the burnished leaves fall and the snows of winter impend, the imagination might long for India, with its exotic heat and mysterious customs. But one must take caution, for all is not as it seems for two travelers who have returned from thence to our fair kingdom.Only last month, Miss F, having spent her youth in India, returned to England to find a suitable husband. Under the auspices of Lady P, the young lady attended one of her hostess’s excellent and entertaining house parties. No sooner had the esteemed hostess introduced Miss F to her other guests than the young lady made the most shocking comments, proving herself incapable of commanding her tongue in public! One may only assume the climate of India had affected her brain–though a certain very eligible gentleman seemed quite willing to excuse her, and to seek her out again. Perhaps her exotic influence has infected his sensibility as well–a warning to all susceptible young men.In quite another quarter, a certain Captain D recently returned from service in India to claim an inheritance from his godmother, only to find his claim challenged by that lady’s son, Lord F! It is highly like that his lordship’s claims were heavily influenced by rumors set forth within a week of Captain D’s arrival that a trove of diamonds had been found in the house. Speculation on the matter has set the whole town on its ear, for if they are real and not the product of fevered imaginations, it remains to be seen whether they were indeed part of the old lady’s legacy, or were brought by the captain from mysterious India. A certain very pretty young lady seems quite eager to discover which is the case–though her sensible cousin seems quite satisfied with the captain himself.It seems that India cannot help but imbue its residents with mystery. Must must only decide how curious one is to delve into them!
A Winter’s Romance, Volume 2: a Regency anthology
Authors: Christina Dudley, Jayne Davis, Judith Hale Everett, GL Robinson, Audrey Harrison, Penny HampsonAnother winter anthology to captivate the heart and charm the spirit. Daunting obstacles and second chances, surprise attraction and mysterious gifts all combine with delightful romance to satisfy your winter longings!
Stories featured:Francis and the Magic Stone, by GL Robinson
Blurb: An inexperienced young lady discovers a strange stone from her Indian nanny has the power to boost her confidence—perhaps a bit too much!Lady Lavinia’s Legacy, by Jayne Davis
Blurb: A former soldier discovers part of his godmother’s legacy is missing, and follows her clues with an unexpected ally. But the clues concern more than his fortune.Preorder your copy for the November 5th release: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0HJ3TLMC8
About the Authors:Glynis Louise Robinson is from Portsmouth in southern England, and writes romances in memory of her dear sister Francine, who died unexpectedly in 2018. GL likes gardening (except for weeding!), reading in bed, having tea parties with her grandchildren and boiled eggs for breakfast at the weekends! Visit her website at https://romancenovelsbyglrobinson.com, where you can sign up to her email list and find out how to receive a free copy of The Earl and the Mud-Covered Maiden.
Jayne Davis was hooked on Georgette Heyer and Jane Austen from her teens, and always wanted to be a writer. Now she has 14 romancespublished, all set in the Regency or Georgian Eras. Find her on Facebook and Pinterest, or go to her website at https://www.jaynedavisromance.co.uk where you can read a free short story, sign up to her mailing list, and stay up to date on her new releases.
Sam threw the manuscript on the desk. “What is this nonsense?” he demanded.
The journalist – a weedy little man with haunted eyes, an early bald spot, and the meagre beginnings of a moustache – jumped in fright. “Sir,” he protested, “I have it on the best of authority. The Bluestocking Belles themselves have vouched for these stories. Suitable for Halloween, they said.”
Picking up the manuscript again, apparently just so that he could throw it down with even more force, Sam thundered, “Rubbish!” Then, more reasonably, he pointed out, “I ask you, Fanshawe, is this the medieval era, and I have apparently just dreamt that I own a newspaper in the nineteenth century? This is an enlightened age, and we rational creatures no longer believe in… Let me see.”
He picked up the manuscript once again, this time to scan it, making a comment on each of the stories. “A ghost that only one person can see, and no one can hear. And that, furthermore, might not be a ghost at all. Does that sound likely?” He snorted. “And what about this one? A lady who sees ghosts meets a duke? One can only guess how ridiculous such a gentleman might find her. Oh, and look here, two ghosts assist in their romance. Ridiculous.”
Sam was just getting started. “And then there’s the lady who takes a message to a marquess. Reasonable, you might think. But a message from his dead father? I daresay any reasonable peer would show her direct to the door. And this one. A hunter is seeking his kidnapped son and stumbled across a lady on a similar mission. But not just a lady, mark you. A fairy. An actual bone fide fairy! Will our readers believe that? Or will they think we have taken leave of our senses?”
“But sir,” protested the journalist. “The ladies say…”
“The ladies, bless them, have their fingerprints all over these stories,” Sam declared. “I am very fond of them all, mark you. But fairies, ghosts, and look here – this one has a wish granting mouse! Have you ever heard of such a thing. Here’s another. More ghosts, and this time the poor ghost is trying to stop a determined lady from changing things. I could have told him that one should not stand in the way of a determined lady.” He chuckled.
“In the next one are two friendly ghosts, a wounded man, and yet another lady. Oh yes, and a dastardly plot. Well, that’s something I suppose. And last, but not least, we have a pressed-ganged man dreaming of his wife, while she dreams of him. Well, she would, I imagine. Poor thing. I wonder if he finds his way home to her?”
Greatly daring, the journalist said, “You would need to read the book to find out, sir.”
Sam glared at him from over his spectacles and harrumphed. “Very well, then. I’ll print it. Perhaps I won’t be laughed out of London.”
Sam has briefly described the stories in Moonlight Madness, the Bluestocking Belles’ 2026 collection. My contribution to the collection is Moonlight Becomes You, in which a lady sees, but cannot hear a ghost who attempts to warn her about a man who will die if she doesn’t find him soon.
Moonlight Becomes You
By Jude Knight
Hester Williamson doesn’t want to be at this house party. She barely knows anybody, and now, she is seeing things. A man. The ghost of a man, for he appears in rooms without the bother of opening doors, she can see furniture and walls through him, and no one else can see him.
Barnabus Radcliffe seems to be a ghost, though he doesn’t remember dying. Still, why else would he be inaudible, unable to grasp or lift objects, and invisible to everyone except Miss Williamson. And why does he is he certain he is alive somewhere, and that time is running out?
Meet Barney
Barney Radcliffe has a full and interesting life, with money to spare and useful work helping his father with the responsibilities that will one day be his.
And then everything changes. All of a sudden, he is at a house party, and he seemed to be a ghost.
Meet Hester Williamson
Bluestocking Hester does not much enjoy house parties. They are full of suitors who like her money but not much else about her. But when she retreats to the library, she meets a man who seems to admire her appearance as well as her practical good sense. Unfortunately, he seems to be a ghost.
An excerpt from Moonlight Becomes You
The ghost was upset about something. He followed them all back to the house, his misty shape almost disappearing in the sunlight, and came right into Hester’s bedchamber when she went upstairs to remove her coat, bonnet, and gloves.
Here, out of the direct sunlight, he was a little more solid, and she could tell he was attempting an acted charade for her to guess. Two fingers—thin columns of mist. Two syllables. Or two words, perhaps.
He held up one finger—the first syllable. He shook his head and both hands.
“No?” she tried.
That wasn’t it. “Not?”
He nodded approvingly, and held up a second finger.
He lay down on his back, his feet together, his whole body straight, his hands together on his chest in prayer position. The dark patches that marked his eyes disappeared. Had he shut his eyes?
She could think of one word that might fit. “Dead?”
He bounced to his feet, nodding.
“Not dead? Are you saying you are not dead, Mr. Ransome?”
More nodding.
“But you are a ghost. I can see that with my own eyes.”
Mr. Ransome shook his head, and then went into a whole acted routine. She guessed the first bit. He mimed riding a horse, and then threw himself to the ground.
“You were thrown from your horse.”
He nodded and then bent over and hobbled along, miming a walking stick clearly enough that she immediately guessed, “You broke your leg.”
That was wrong, she discovered, but it took a while to get to “old woman.” Indeed, Roxanne came and knocked on her door to fetch her for the painting session she was meant to be attending in the ladies’ parlor before she fully understood what he was trying to tell her.
“Begin without me, Roxanne,” she said. “I need to finish something.”
It was another half hour before she finally guessed the whole.
Dear Readers,
Your correspondent has been assured that there is absolutely nothing remarkable about the amount of time Lady Eliza Thornhaven has lately spent in the company of Mr. Thomas Grey, estate manager at Hartleigh Hall.
Nothing whatsoever.
Mr. Grey manages the estate.
Lady Eliza has considerable experience managing one herself.
They therefore have any number of perfectly sensible reasons to walk the grounds together, consult over drainage, discuss tenants, examine accounts, and occasionally disappear down a country lane where one’s boots may suffer considerably.
We are relieved to have settled the matter.
Society, unfortunately, has not.
Those familiar with Lady Eliza will know that she has never required a gentleman to explain an estate ledger to her. Since the death of her husband, the late Marquess of Thornhaven, she has managed Thornhaven with a competence that has disappointed several gentlemen who might otherwise have enjoyed advising her.
Mr. Grey, for his part, appears entirely untroubled by this.
A curious quality in a man.
He listens when Lady Eliza speaks.
He answers when she asks a question.
And, most alarming of all, he appears to believe that when she has made a decision, the matter may actually be decided.
One hardly knows what society is coming to.
Of course, those eager to make something of the friendship will be disappointed to learn that Lady Eliza and Mr. Grey have known one another for years. Mr. Grey grew up at Hartleigh alongside her late husband and Nathaniel Draycott, now acting Duke of Hartleigh.
They were young together.
They are not young now.
Time has an inconvenient habit of altering one’s perspective.
So, apparently, do rolled sleeves.
Your correspondent would never suggest that Lady Eliza has taken particular notice of Mr. Grey while he attends to the more physical requirements of estate management.
We report only that drainage near the lower pasture has recently received an extraordinary amount of attention.
Readers may draw their own conclusions.
There are, however, more serious matters occupying Hartleigh Hall.
The question of the Hartleigh inheritance, which has already provided this column with more entertainment than any respectable family ought to supply, remains unsettled. New claims have emerged. Old stories have acquired inconvenient details. A signet has attracted considerable interest, and persons previously unknown to society have found themselves suddenly very much discussed by it.
One would think a disputed inheritance sufficient trouble for a single household.
Hartleigh, as longtime readers will know, has never been a house inclined toward sufficiency.
Yet amid questions of bloodlines, legitimacy, family records, and who may, or may not, possess a rightful claim to the Hartleigh name, another question has begun circulating through certain drawing rooms.
What, precisely, is Lady Eliza Thornhaven doing with an estate manager?
We confess ourselves puzzled by the question.
Walking with him, apparently.
Talking with him.
Working beside him.
Trusting his judgment.
Occasionally disagreeing with him.
And, if reports are accurate, defending him when others mistake the absence of a title for the absence of worth.
Perhaps society’s confusion arises because it understands titles rather better than it understands people.
A marchioness is expected to know where she stands.
An estate manager is expected to do the same.
It becomes terribly inconvenient when two people from different worlds meet and discover that neither considers the other beneath consideration.
Still, your correspondent advises caution.
There is, after all, no evidence of scandal.
No secret assignation has been reported.
No compromising embrace has been witnessed.
No kiss has been observed.
Yet.
We include that final word only in the interest of grammatical completeness.
Until then, dear readers, should you find yourself near Hartleigh Hall, we recommend keeping your observations discreet, your boots out of the mud, and your attention firmly upon the estate’s continuing inheritance difficulties.
Under no circumstances should you watch Lady Eliza Thornhaven and Mr. Thomas Grey.
Everyone else is already doing so.
— The Teatime Tattler
❧ ❦ ❧
The Hartleigh Inheritance
When a priceless jewel vanishes during the grand Masked Ball at Ravenshade, it triggers a series of events that unearth scandal, betrayal, and secrets long buried within the walls of Hartleigh Hall. Known for its ghost stories and fractured legacy, the estate becomes the backdrop for six emotionally charged romances. Each couple must navigate the estate’s tangled history to find justice, healing, and lasting love. Gothic in atmosphere and deeply romantic, The Hartleigh Inheritance explores love in the face of legacy, loss, and the power of reclaiming one’s name.
~~~~~
The newspaper remained open beside Eleanor’s teacup.
Eliza stood at the window, reading the same paragraph for the second time.
“This is absurd.”
“Entirely,” Eleanor agreed.
Eliza turned. Her mother-in-law appeared deeply interested in buttering a piece of toast.
“I have walked the estate with Thomas hundreds of times.”
“I am certain you have.”
“We discuss estate business.”
“Of course.”
“And the drainage genuinely required attention.”
At that, Eleanor looked up.
Eliza narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You are smiling.”
“I am eating toast.”
“You can do both.”
“One of the privileges of age.”
Eliza folded the newspaper with rather more precision than necessary. “And that business about his sleeves is ridiculous.”
Eleanor’s attention returned to her toast.
A moment passed.
Then another.
“Eliza?”
“Yes?”
“Were they?”
Eliza stared at her.
Eleanor took a perfectly composed sip of tea.
“Were what?”
“The sleeves.”
There was a dangerous silence.
From somewhere near the sideboard came a sound suspiciously like a cough.
Eliza turned.
“Mr. Greaves.”
The butler’s expression was immaculate. “Your Ladyship?”
“Have you been standing there this entire time?”
“I could not say, my lady.”
“You could not say.”
“No, my lady.”
Eliza looked from Greaves to Eleanor.
Eleanor lifted her teacup.
“I believe,” the Dowager Duchess said, “the Tattler has done rather well with this one.”
Mr. Greaves inclined his head. “Remarkably perceptive, Your Grace.”
Eliza closed her eyes.
Hartleigh Hall, regrettably, offered nowhere to hide from either of them.
❧══════════ ❦ ══════════❧
Books 1 and 2 of The Hartleigh Inheritance are available at Amazon
London, 1841
Late one night, a day or so before the Eve of All Hallows, Lady Dorothy Scholfield crept into the nursery of her London townhouse. Moonlight poured down from the north window on an odd shaped object. Coverlets, she suspected had been hung over chairs to create a shelter of some sort. Soft whispers came from the tent, and the faint glow from inside gave it an eerie light. She prayed it wasn’t a candle. She crept closer on silent feet until she hovered over it. “Moonlight Madness” she wailed softly in a spooky voice eliciting shrieks from under the coverlets exactly as she intended.
A head bobbed up on the other side of the tent. Thomas, at ten her oldest grandson, glared at her. “Gran! You scared us.”
“What are you doing up?”
“Esther was frightened by the wind,” the boy explained. “We decided to keep her company. We’re being quiet so we don’t wake the babies.”
And the nursemaids, Dora thought. They slept at the far end of the nursery floor near the infants.
“They are telling scary stories,” a soft voice complained from inside the tent. Esther, Thomas’s sister was only five. Dora suspected the girl was enjoying hereself–mostly.
Dora walked around the tent. “Mind the lantern, Finn,” she said as she scooted in and the children repositioned themselves. She pulled Esther into her lap.
“So what are these stories?” the grandmother asked.
Harry, Finn, and Eddie rattled off descriptions of some predictably gory stories. “Your ghost stories are better, Gran,” Thomas said.
Probably because they are real, she thought.
She told them about the time her friend Heather Radcliffe saw a ghost begging for help, how she searched until she found a man who was badly injured but not truly a ghost. His spirit had wandered until he found help.
“That is dumb,” Eddie said. “Everyone knows ghosts are dead people. They prey on the living.” Finn giggled at that.
“They aren’t always,” Thomas said. “What about the ghost who sent messages to his son to keep him from making mistakes.”
“UGH,” Harry said. “That one always sounds like a love story.”
So much for romance, Dora thought. The Marchioness of Tyneham would be amused to have her hair-raising tale dismissed so lightly. Of course, the woman claimed she could actually SEE ghosts.
Esther, who had been cuddling up with her head on Dora’s shoulder, sat up. “Tell us about the night you met GrandDa,” she begged. Harry rolled his eyes, but the others agreed.
“The storm was fierce that night,” Dora began. She described the lightning, the eerie trees, the dark house, the slamming shutters. Over the years the ghostly elements–missing food broken windows, strange footsteps and other unexplained happenings took center stage in her story. She left out some of the more prosaic elements. The ghosts in this version always disappeared with the coming of sunshine and the arrival of the children’s great-uncle Ben.
“And then GrandDa asked you to marry him because you were so brave,” Esther said.
“Something like that,” Dora said.
Eddie heaved a deep sigh. “I wish we could tell stories every night until All Hallows Eve.”
“I wish to go to bed,” Esther retorted.
Just like that the lantern went out.
Thank you, Harry, Dora thought, fingering the little stone mouse in her pocket. “Best get to bed the lot of you. There are two more nights to tell stories,” she said.
About the Book: Moonlight Madness
When the year grows colder and the veil between worlds grows thin—or so they say—comes the time for stories to make you shiver. The Bluestocking Belles bring ghosts, and ghoulies, and spirits of all kinds, each leading to love, the greatest madness of all.
Jude Knight – Moonlight Becomes You in which a lady sees, but cannot hear a ghost who attempts to warn her about a man who will die if she doesn’t find him soon.
Alina K. Field – The Duke, the Diamond, and the Ghastly Ghoul in which a house party at a haunted abbey brings together a duke, a ghost-hunting lady, and two ghosts determined to right old wrongs.
Aileen Fish – Mad about the Marquess in which a lady known to communing with the dead is forced to bring unwanted messages to the marquess next door from his dead father.
Rue Allyn – True Love’s Kiss in which a hunter seeking his kidnapped son in the forest stumbles upon a fairy with a similar mission. Together they may succeed if they stop squabbling.
Caroline Warfield – Not Again, Harry in which a lady takes shelter in a creepy old house only to find haunting, prowlers, strange artifacts, and a man from her past. A wish-granting mouse complicates it all
Sherry Ewing – Finding My Way To You in which a ghost meets a determined lady who leaps at a chance to change his past in spite of his efforts to convince her to leave the past where it belongs.
Barbara Monajem – The Haunted Hoyden in which two friendly ghosts help a lady to rescue a handsome, wounded man—who proves to be just what she needs to escape a dastardly plot.
Elizabeth Donne – Always With You in which a man pressed-ganged into service in the Royal Navy promises his wife he will come back to her. Whether it’s in this life or the next remains to be seen.
This collection will go live October 15, 2026. Preorder now! https://books2read.com/u/4Dwnjr
Dear Mr. Clemens,
Since you have seen fit to publish such unkind gossip about my mistress, I would like to take the opportunity to set the record straight. I thank Mr. Toby of the post office for helping me with my letters and finding the right words to speak my mind.
It is no secret that when Miss Jillian Kinsey became the wife of Mr. Lewis Bradford, her background did not match his. He is a baron’s son and she a groundskeeper’s daughter. She is, however, the closest friend of our own Viscountess Munro, a loyal companion since childhood. And if the viscountess considers her worthy company, why should others say different?
And yet, she has been denounced and slandered from the very beginning. Baroness Bradford tried to stop the wedding and made life so uncomfortable for my mistress during their season in London that my poor lady went back to Ermenborough to visit her family—good, honest folk who would make her feel welcome once more.
There the viscountess’s father wrote a wicked correspondence accusing her of faithlessness, just because she renewed her friendship with the neighbor’s land steward. And Baron Bradford relayed these evil words to his son, her husband.
These uppity folk who speak ill of my mistress are not so lily-white themselves. Have we forgotten what sort of debauched places the Bradfords’ elder son used to visit? And does anyone recall how the viscountess’s father all but sold her off to her husband? These people do not see the good in my mistress because there is little good in them. But I shall remind the world of her kind heart and the deep love she carries for my master.
Proud to know her,
A loyal maid
Jillian’s Wild Heart
When worlds collide, can love survive?
Lewis Bradford is the spare to the heir. Every aspect of his life has been a reminder that he is second best. Fortunately, being largely ignored by his baron father has given him a measure of freedom in choosing his wife. And who better to lift him from his bitter sense of neglect than a wild, golden-haired nymph who adores him?
Jillian Kinsey may be only a groundskeeper’s daughter, but she also happens to be best friends since childhood with Munro’s new viscountess. Protected by powerful friends, Jillian is able to always be her vivacious, rule-breaking self without fear of rejection. When Mr. Bradford begins to show an interest in her, she does not question whether or not such a match is realistic. She only knows he wants the same thing she does: a life of self-determination.
Ready to disregard all the pretentions of the ton and throw off the shackles of societal expectations, Lewis and Jillian seem destined to be the heroes of their own fairy tale. Until family tragedy strikes, and everything they have taken for granted is turned on its head.
Will they abandon the dreams they shared or can they weather the storm? Only time will tell.
Buy Link https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FNBVJ31Z
Jillian’s Wild Heart is Book 4 in the 5-book “Ladies of Munro” series of connected standalones.
Ladies of Munro
1) Sophia’s Letter
2) Ellena’s Secret
3) Verity’s Choice
4) Jillian’s Wild Heart
5) Irene’s Fall
Note: This series is part of Dragonblade’s Sweet Dreams line, so this is a sweet, wholesome Historical Romance where passion beyond the bedroom door is left to the reader’s imagination.
Tropes you’ll love:
- Different Worlds
- Fish Out of Water
- You’ve Changed
- Emotional Scars
- Opposites Attract
- Unexpected Heir
- Lively Heroine
- Sensible Hero
Read in Kindle Unlimited!
About the Author
Elizabeth Donne writes award-winning sweet Regency romance, a natural outpouring of a lifelong love affair with English literature.
She has spent most of her life in Cape Town, South Africa. In 2015, Elizabeth moved to Iowa with her husband, their two children, two cats, and their African bush dog.
When she’s not writing, or discovering the secret wonders of the Midwest, she is enthusiastically introducing her visitors to the joys of drinking rooibos tea. With a biscuit, of course.
Social Media Links:
Free newsletter signup: https://www.elizabethdonnebooks.com/#subscribe
Website: https://www.elizabethdonnebooks.com
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/elizabethdonne
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100093280712789
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/35270040.Elizabeth_Donne