Author: Guest author Page 18 of 35

OVERHEARD AT THE COURTESANS’ BALL

On March 14, 2018

Michael, Viscount Laidley, Brent’s best friend and distant cousin, fretted that Brent would never agree to reenter society. Hence his determination to push his cousin into attending this ball, where Brent was now hiding behind a life-size statue of a well-endowed male. Michael pointed at the marble man’s appendage and laughed. ‘Hoping the ladies will compare your equipment favorably to his if you stand beside him?’ Brent snorted.

Michael could always tease Brent into seeing the humorous side of situations, but tonight he was also going to push Brent back into society, even if it involved a couple of white lies and some scandalous women. He pointed down the dance floor. ‘That’s Lady Templeton in the orange mask and feathers and…I say, a very transparent gown. You know what that means? Melissa will have already wheedled out the names of any men or ladies with titles who are on the guest list from her weak-willed lover.’

‘Weren’t you her lover once?’

‘Briefly. Never again. She eats green men for lunch.’ He pointed at Melissa again. ‘Watch. She’ll try to match people to names. And I know from personal experience that she’s not above blackmail when she’s short of funds.’

‘She tried to extort money from you? Why didn’t you tell me?’

Michael shrugged. ‘I was young and green and humiliated by my own ignorance. And she’ll target any man who has refused her, which means you Brent. and your friends.”

Brent groaned. ‘Hell. I need to find Lillian.’

When his cousin rushed onto the crowded dance floor, Michael smirked and silently toasted himself on a job well done.

PLEASURE HOUSE BALL

By Suzi Love

Love revealed at a courtesan’s ball.

Brenton, Lord Mallory, attends his first courtesan’s ball in ten years to appease his concerned friends, though he’d rather stay home and read to his motherless daughters.

Though mortified that Brenton unmasks her at a scandalous ball, Lady Lillian Armstrong doesn’t regret their night together.

But will the object of her girlish adoration still treat her as his best friend’s little sister, or will he now see her as a mature and willing woman?

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EXCERPT:-

Lillian was his best friend, plus a beautiful woman with a seductive feminine form and, right at this moment and in his direct line of sight, a pair of familiar bountiful breasts spilled over the top of a too-small red bodice. He blinked, and looked again. Heaven help him, it was Lillian. His friend who’d been targeted by unscrupulous women who, wanting to pull her down a peg or two, had blamed her for her husband’s impetuous nature. A titled lady who, according to convention, should be secluded from society while she mourned her husband. Lillian, his Lillian, stood before him drawing the eye of every discerning gentleman at a courtesan’s ball. Shock robbed him of breath and froze him in place. His head spun as he tried to imagine why she’d come here, and with whom.

As a duke’s daughter, she’d been taught the rules for mourning and for the behavior of widows all her life. A minimum of six months wearing black and withdrawing from society, followed by another six months wearing mauve and lavender and socializing only with family and close friends. Brent could think of no reason why she’d be here, flaunting herself in that red slip of a gown. What had possessed her to attend a ball, any ball, so soon after her husband’s demise?

More importantly, Brent’s mind was so numb that he couldn’t formulate a plan to smuggle her away from the dance floor before masks were removed and she was recognized. Or before one of the lecherous men present realized that those were Lillian’s breasts squeezing past them.

First step was to uncover the identity of her companion, a woman insensitive enough to introduce an innocent to this sort of event. Couples were finding quiet corners and getting to know each other better, much better. Some of the ladies, and he used that term loosely, had already shed layers of clothing and their remaining garments were so thin that they revealed rather than concealed their shapes. Personally, he preferred to unwrap his presents, piece by piece, and he liked to do it in private rather than in an overcrowded room full of peers he didn’t particularly like and took great pains to avoid.

Looking towards Lillian’s position, Brent cursed his inattentiveness. The lady in red and her companion had disappeared. He pushed between companionable couples, past clutches of leering youths, and dodged ladies of the night who were advertising their wares so blatantly that the slightest movement would topple their breasts out of their bodices and into full view. Hell, if that green buck on his right peered any further down the neckline of that redhead’s gown, they’d need to haul him out by his boots.

There, a laugh that sounded almost right for Lillian apart from a strange high-pitched trill at the end of every sentence, as if the speaker was deliberately leaving a question mark at the end of each speech. Nervousness? If it was Lillian, she had good reason to be nervous. And when Brent caught up with the two women, they’d have good reason to be nervous because he was furious with Lillian’s unknown companion, and her.

Yes, he’d wanted his best friend to find happiness, but he’d envisaged her slowly renewing friendships next year in London, chaperoning her sister, and perhaps sometime in the future accepting a marriage proposal. The idea of any man making advances to her when her emotions were still raw after her husband’s demise and the pain of the appalling rumors that said she’d urged her husband to his death, made his blood boil. Though he couldn’t put his finger on why he was so incensed.

Lillian was his friend, nothing more, and she knew his feelings about marrying again any time soon. She was also one of the few people who knew of his first wife’s numerous affairs and what he’d done afterwards. As he wove a path through the crowd, he listened for Lillian’s voice and tried to smell her particular scent, though the air in the ballroom was thick with heavy scents from both females and males. The smell of desire, and arousal, swamped him as he squeezed around several couples in the final stages of negotiating the terms of their associations, with the women listing what they’d like their protectors to provide. The air reeked of sexual awareness, not something he’d been surrounded by for quite a long time and a smell he’d have gladly avoided for many more years.

The push and shove, and the manipulation and capitulation made him inwardly shudder. Though he’d visited his share of brothels and indulged himself at wild house parties in his younger years, he’d never employed a mistress. More recently, he’d simply felt jaded after one unhappy marriage and he couldn’t dredge up excitement over two hundred primped and primed gentlemen and the equivalent number of ladies of the night playing games of intrigue and seduction.

There were many parts of married life he missed, desperately. Lust, desire, and passion he understood and, to be perfectly honest, yearned to experience again. The shared intimacy of conversations in bed after a bout of rigorous sex. Waking to a woman’s soft body wrapped around him and taking his time rousing her from sleep and then making sweet slow love to her. That he missed. Fake relationships, the sort formed here, left him cold, yet he yearned for the connection and sense of belonging that came with having a lover, or being in love.

There! That voice. That was the voice he knew as well as his own, and the scent that had often tempted him to rethink his views on marriage. Maneuvering around the dozen men and six women surrounding her, Brent eased into the lady’s intimate circle and stood at her shoulder. He sniffed. Oh, yes!

His senses hadn’t led him astray, nor had his sanity deteriorated and tumbled into madness, where his imaginings spiraled out of control and his fantasies sprang to life. Lady Armstrong, Lillian, was truly here in the midst of this decadence and debauchery. He shifted so they stood shoulder to shoulder, their arms touching.

Leaning in, Brent whispered in Lillian’s ear. ‘Well, well, well. I certainly didn’t expect to find you in attendance.’

Meet Suzi Love:-

I am Suzi Love, an Australian author of historical romances set mainly in the late Regency and early Victorian eras, and ranging from sexy to erotic. With a bit of Australia thrown in.

I now live in a sunny part of Australia after spending many years in developing countries in the South Pacific. My greatest loves are traveling, anywhere and everywhere, meeting crazy characters, and visiting the Australian outback. I adore history, especially the many-layered society of the late Regency to early Victorian eras.

My titled heroes and heroines live a privileged life in and around London, but my stories also dig deeper into the grittier and seamier levels of British life. I love heroes and heroines who challenge traditional manners, morals, and occupations, either through necessity or desire.

I hope my romances bring history alive for you and that you have fun alongside my roguish heroes and feisty heroines.

WEB PLACES

Web – http://www.suzilove.com

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Suzi Love’s Face Book Author Page https://www.facebook.com/SuziLoveAuthor.

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GOSSIP-DU-JOUR

By Guest author

On March 7, 2018

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Correspondence by messenger between Lieutenant George Wickham, —shire Militia and Mr. Samuel Clemens, Editor and Proprietor, The Teatime Tattler

Dear Mr. Clemens:

Whilst I am certain of the inestimable quality of your sources of news regarding the most esteemed members of society, I am privileged to be in possession of some information of which you might not yet be aware.

You were knowledgeable, I presume, of the grand engagement ball thrown only last evening by Lady Malton for her nephew, Professor F. Darcy of Derbyshire. I have heard, however, from the barmaid at The Mottled Turnip, who had it from her beau at the Duke of S’s stables, who had it from his sister, the upstairs maid who assists with Lady Malton’s wardrobe, that the affair did not conclude as well as it began. For a modest recompense, I would be pleased to convey the essence of the outcome of the evening’s entertainment.

Yours, &, &,

Wickham,

I shall not ask why you are at The Mottled Turnip in London rather than with your regiment in Hertfordshire, where I know you ought to be. I shall, however, in exchange for the information you claim to possess, condescend not to inform your commanding officer, Colonel Forster, whom I happen to know rather well. I expect this will be suitable recompense for your efforts. The post goes at three. I expect your response before that hour.

Sincerely,

Dear Mr. Clemens,

I concede your point and appreciate your discretion. My information about the grand ball is thus: After an exhaustive evening of dance, music and dining, during which time Prof. Darcy’s betrothed charmed the most esteemed members and most severe critics of Society with her elegant manner, beautiful appearance and great wit, a fracas occurred, overheard by the previously-mentioned maid. A great row broke out between the engaged pair, after which the lovely bride-to-be was seen leaving the room in the arms of a man not her future-husband. My source could not be convinced to divulge the name of this second gentleman, but I surmise he is a resident of the house belonging to the Earl and Lady Malton. At last report, the bride had left the house and was ensconced with unknown relations, whist FD himself was rumoured to have absconded from London entirely!

As a final note, I heard that you printed recently that that FD was engaged to a certain Miss EB of Hertfordshire, but I wish to correct you in this assumption. His future bride’s initial is not E, but is, instead, C. Fear not, sir. These mistakes happen.

Yrs,

Lt. GW

Excerpt:

George Wickham sat back in his chair at his favourite tavern and laughed. What news had he just heard from Sanderson’s lips, but that Darcy had left town! There had been, he learned, a grand ball to celebrate the engagement and introduce the man’s intended bride to society, and afterwards she and Darcy had fought, and both had abandoned London! Some of the details had seemed a tad off, perhaps—surely the bride’s name was Miss Caroline and not Miss Elizabeth—but everyone knew how the specifics never survived subsequent retellings intact. It could only be a slip of memory, both being common and rather interchangeable names, and these little inconsistencies bothered him not at all. What was important was that Darcy must have learned of his beloved’s betrayal! He had learned of Caroline’s faithlessness and he had scuttled out of town like a kitchen pest upon the lighting of a lamp!

Yes, the great Fitzwilliam Darcy had been cast down! Wickham played and replayed various scenarios over in his mind of what must have transpired after the ball, and each one concluded with Caroline informing him that she had been taken and loved by another.

“How could you? How could you choose Wickham over me?” Darcy would say, and Caroline would just laugh and laugh before informing him coolly, “I needed a real man.”

And what of Darcy’s retreat? Wickham relished the thought of the great master of Pemberley, returning home a broken shadow of a man, tail between his legs. Was his heart broken? Was he destroyed? Was he humiliated, cast down in shame? It mattered not which; it only mattered that the plan was working and Wickham was finally gaining the upper hand. This was the first taste of victory! This was what Wickham had been working towards for so long, and now his schemes were playing out at last. Ah, how he would savour this moment.

He summoned the serving girl over and asked for another pint of the good strong ale, then sat back with a self-satisfied grin on his face to plan the next stage of his assault.

Teaching Eliza, by Riana Everly

A tale of love, manners, and the quest for perfect vowels.

From a new voice in historical romance comes this sparkling Regency tale, wherein the elegance of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and the wit of George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion collide. The results are clever, funny, and often quite unexpected….

Professor Fitzwilliam Darcy, expert in phonetics and linguistics, wishes for nothing more than to spend some time in peace at his friend’s country estate, far from the parade of young ladies wishing for his hand, and further still from his aunt’s schemes to have him marry his cousin. How annoying it is when a young lady from the neighbourhood, with her atrocious Hertfordshire accent and country manners, comes seeking his help to learn how to behave and speak as do the finest ladies of high society.

Elizabeth Bennet has disliked the professor since overhearing his flippant comments about her provincial accent, but recognizes in him her one opportunity to survive a prospective season in London. Despite her ill feelings for the man, she asks him to take her on as a student, but is unprepared for the price he demands in exchange.

https://books2read.com/teachingeliza

Meet Riana Everly

Riana Everly was born in South Africa, but has called Canada home since she was eight years old. She has a Master’s degree in Medieval Studies and is trained as a classical musician, specialising in Baroque and early Classical music. She first encountered Jane Austen when her father handed her a copy of Emma at age 11, and has never looked back.

Riana now lives in Toronto with her family. When she is not writing, she can often be found playing string quartets with friends, biking around the beautiful province of Ontario with her husband, trying to improve her photography, thinking about what to make for dinner, and, of course, reading!

Website: https://rianaeverly.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RianaEverly/

GIRL KISSED BY PIRATE?

By Guest author

On February 28, 2018

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Miss Agatha Nighting sat nodding in her most comfortable chair over a scandalous penny papers from the city. Brighton was tame compared to this, she thought. Alerted to a board creaking on the stairs, she relaxed. Lady Jane was home again finally.

“She thinks I am ignorant of her night time forays,” she whispered to the kitchen cat who sat curled at her feet. “As if I am unaware of every move my girls make,” she snickered. She stood and peeked out the window.

“That was only the first one, I think. Probably Marianne. Lady Jane is still out there somewhere. I pray she is safe. That is all I can do. She will roam in the night, but who could blame her, kitty? She has been here at my finishing school for five years without a single day’s vacation. That father of hers.” She succumbed to sleep after saying a brief prayer for her favorite student’s safety.

Excerpt from Lady Jane’s Tryst:

“Do you promise not to scream?” he asked still whispering. “I think I mistook you for a house maid in that outfit. I am fairly certain the fragrance I detect is from a particular brand of French soap. Did your mistress share with you? No, I think not. You are in disguise, are you not?” Jane nodded her head up and down vigorously and heard him chuckle into her hair. His hand slid slowly away from her mouth, but caressed her cheek as it pulled away. He rested it on the back of her neck with his arm still firmly around her waist.

“A delectable armful, young Miss Mysterious. What are you doing out here in the dark all alone? Looking for trouble, no doubt.” Jane released a pent up breath and gasped a deep inhale. She pulled with both her hands against his grip on her middle section. He released her suddenly, turned her around, and placed a strong hold on both her shoulders.

“Let me have a look at you, Masquerade Molly. Oh, ho, a beauty. Let’s have a taste of that delicious mouth of yours.” He reached behind her head and pulled her close. His lips covered hers firmly at first and then softly moved around as if he, indeed, would taste her. His arm slid down until he cupped her bottom pulling her solidly against him.

Jane felt as if a fire had been lit in her stomach, as the stranger continued to hold her and torture her lips with his kisses. She could not decide if she hated or loved what he was doing, but thought in a small recess of her mind that she should not enjoy this at all. Surely this is a sin. As she pushed against his chest, he obediently pulled away, gazed into her eyes, and murmured, “What’s your name, young nubile sprite? Tell me.”

“Jane,” she whispered back. “You should free me, sir.” She feebly pulled to free her shoulders wondering when her strength had disappeared. He released her abruptly and she almost fell backwards. As he caught and steadied her, she heard that low pitched chuckle once more. She raised her eyes and stared directly at her kidnapper.

Dressed roughly, his accent had revealed to her a man in a class above his appearance. He was inches taller with a scarf tied around his head, black hair flowing to his shoulders. His grin was wide with white teeth flashing in the semi-darkness. Tales of pirates terrorizing the king’s ships at sea flashed through her mind. Was this one of them come to murder them all in their beds? Her heart beat was loud in her ears. What would happen next?

“Forgive my crude manners, Jane. I deeply apologize for upsetting you. However I cannot in good conscience take back the kisses. Remember this the next time you think to disguise yourself as a kitchen maid.” He flashed his wide grin once more and turned away. “I promise I will visit you in a year or two. Farewell, sweet Janie,” he murmured as he disappeared into the gloom after the direction of the three dark shadows.

All thoughts of continuing her adventure had fled with the encounter. Jane stood rigidly with her back leaning against the stone pillar for a moment or two attempting to steady her breathing. She turned away from her original destination and, cautiously through the semi-darkness, found her way to the street that followed the cliffs. With her shawl draped over her head, she passed the lending library, the hotel known as The Old Ship and eventually followed the Marine Parade until she passed out of the town proper.

The walls of her school soon loomed in the darkness, and she quickly scaled them on the secret loose board. A few minutes later she was tucked in bed with Marianne snoring nearby. Her rapid pulse denied instant sleep. She rested her head on her pillow reliving a handsome pirate with his lips roving commandingly over hers. Had she responded? Of course not! Surely not. How embarrassing to think she might have. What did that make her? One of the muslin company? A trollop?

As far as she knew, there had been no report of insanity in her family. That branch from near the Scottish border had always been a bit odd, but she hadn’t heard the word exactly as insane. Her father was certainly eccentric, but she didn’t think insane. Perhaps simply acutely unpleasant would best describe him.

With the back of her hand, she rubbed her lips slowly back and forth. Who would have thought a kiss would feel like that? How odd he opened his mouth over mine and I could feel his tongue. Really! He did, indeed, taste me. She gave a quiet laugh which turned into a hiccup. I should be grateful he didn’t take a bite out of me.

The oddest thing of all was that the whole episode, even though frightening, was pleasurable as well. It was obvious now why chaperones were so strict. If all kisses were like that one, no female was safe. Sleep slowly came to her and dreams of wild pirates with long silky hair haunted her until the morning light.

Lady Jane’s Tryst

Buy Link: Amazon

Ripe for adventure, Lady Jane welcomes the charming pirate who offers her the excitement she craves.

Five years at Miss Agatha’s Finishing School for Young Ladies in Brighton, without a single day away, leaves Lady Jane longing for any respite to liven her deadened senses. An accidental meeting with a handsome stranger initiates a journey of danger, excitement, affection, and eventually love, even as Lady Jane wonders if a person could be considered an orphan while still possessing a parent.

Meet Emma Lane

Enjoying cold winters and velvet summers, Ms. Lane resides in Western NY. As Emma Lane, she writes Regency historicals. Under the pen name Janis Lane, she enjoys plotting Cozy Mysteries. Every once in awhile, she leaves the greenhouse where she plays with flowers to send out another novel or two.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000338539637

http://emmajlane.com

DUKE’S SISTER THREATENED BY MADMAN

By Guest author

On February 14, 2018

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Just in from our anonymous correspondent in the village of Little Tilling, Berkshire, we have news of a shocking event, which has recently taken place at Tillingford Castle.

It would seem that Lady Alyse Barrington, younger sister of Hunter Barrington, Duke of Melton, (both of whom are currently guests at Tillingford Castle) has been involved in an incident where her safety, nay even her life, it would appear, has been threatened. The staff at the Castle were quick to let their family and friends in the village know of the events of yesterday, although the reports are not entirely clear.

What is known is that Lady Alyse disappeared for some time, and returned looking shaken, escorted by Lord Tillingford himself. A conversation (overheard by the footman who happened to be posted near the parlour door) between the Baron, the Duke, his Duchess and Lady Alyse, immediately afterwards, gave clear indication that a madman of some sort was involved, a man who believed that he was acting for justifiable revenge. Some, including the Innkeeper at the Rose and Wren, say that the man in question arrived with the gypsies who camped on Little Tilling Green some months ago, others report that he was actually employed in the Castle. Whatever the truth of that, our correspondent has not yet been able to determine. We are left with the question – what could any of the noble residents have done, to draw the retribution of a madman?

It seems, also, that Lady Alyse was rescued, in a heroic fashion. The identity of the rescuer was not clear, as the footman was disturbed when that was mentioned, but he believes it to have been Baron Tillingford himself! Later that day, the magistrate was seen to visit Tillingford Castle, and a heavily guarded man was escorted away. The magistrate has, so far, refused to confirm or deny anything.

Our correspondent is seeking further information, and attempting to verify the details of these startling events, even as we go to print. What is our nation coming to, when ladies are not safe, even in the ancestral homes of the nobility?

Loving the Bitter Baron

A Baron left embittered by war, a Lady who sees the man he once was, a madman bent on revenge, a daring rescue, a love stronger than fear.

Gerald Otford, Baron Tillingford, returned from war a bitter man, forever changed by the things he had done, out of necessity. Things that he can never discuss, and which no woman could ever know of without turning away in horror. Certain that he would always be alone, he turned his attention to his estates.

Lady Alyse Barrington, sister to Lord Tillingford’s closest friend, has always been drawn to him, no matter the darkness that seems to tarnish his brightness, no matter the way that he remains aloof. The more men she meets, the more certain she becomes that there is only one man for her. All she has to do is break through his self-imposed isolation…

When the needs of his estate bring Lady Alyse and her brothers to his home, a madman sees the chance to enact his long-planned revenge. Can Lord Tillingford overcome his bitterness and withdrawal in time to save the woman he has come to love, despite himself? Can Lady Alyse accept him for the man that he is, or will his worst fears be realised?

Loving the Bitter Baron: His Majesty’s Hounds Book 11

Clean Regency Romance

Amazon link – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079MC7N1R

All books in this series can be read as standalone, but you will have the best reading experience if you read them in order (get caught up in the lives of your favourite characters!) Each features a separate couple, but you will also see characters from previous books make an appearance.

Meet Arietta

Arietta Richmond has been a compulsive reader and writer all her life. Whilst her reading has covered an enormous range of topics, history has always fascinated her, and historical novels have been amongst her favourite reading.

She has written a wide range of work, from business articles and other non-fiction works (published under a pen name) but fiction has always been a major part of her life. Now, her Regency Historical Romance books are finally being released. The Derbyshire Set is comprised of 10 novels (7 released so far). The ‘His Majesty’s Hounds’ series is comprised of 14 novels, with the eleventh having just been released.

She also has a standalone longer novel shortly to be released, and two other series of novels in development.

She lives in Australia, and when not reading or writing, likes to travel, and to see in person the places where history happened.

Be the first to know about it when Arietta’s next book is released!

http://www.ariettarichmond.com

When you do, you will receive two free subscriber exclusive books – ‘A Gift of Love’, which is a prequel to the Derbyshire Set series, and ends on the day that ‘The Earl’s Unexpected Bride’ begins, and ‘Madame’s Christmas Marquis’ which is an additional story in the His Majesty’s Hounds series

These stories are not for sale anywhere – they are absolutely exclusive to newsletter subscribers!

Mrs. Bingham Tries Again

By Guest author

On February 7, 2018

In Bluestocking Belles, Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Bingham Half-Moon Street, London, 27^th August, 1813

My dear Celeste,

I trust your esteemed mama improves in health so that you may soon be free to return to Town, for you are missing the Event of the year. You must know that even we married ladies are all aflutter since the arrival of a certain French gentleman in our midst. Monsieur de Montailhac is the brother-in-law of Sir Richard Hartford, and the son of a French marquis and his wife – a Turkish princess, no less. These details I have from Cecilia Hartford, who is only too ready to boast of her handsome guest.

Indeed, Celeste, I have now been present at two events where the gentleman also figured. I feel such pangs of jealousy against Cecilia, who can feast her eyes on this marvel of masculine beauty every day. He casts even Lord Byron into the shade. His hair is raven black, like his eyes. Oh, such fascinating almond eyes, with a constant roguish twinkle. And his smile makes one forget who and where one is! To the advantages of a trim figure, he adds impeccable style and a delicious French accent that charms us all.

Of course, that odious cousin of Cecilia’s, Mrs Bingham, swoops on the poor man, pushing her poor plain little Lydia at him. [The only man who ever notices Lydia is Jack Barrowman and Mrs B considers him a rustic. She would do well to accept the match for her daughter. It is already Lydia’s third season, is it not?]

And by chance, a little later that day I was in Charters Square in Soho to make a purchase at the showroom of the fine silversmith there, when I espied Monsieur de Montailhac [his name is Arnaut, is it not delightful?] coming out of that very shop, in company with a pretty young lady. They stood and spoke for a time, while I pretended to inspect the goods in the display window. Then he kissed her hand and the smile they exchanged was so intimate, I felt ashamed to be spying on them.

It seems Mrs B is doomed to yet another disappointment over her daughter. But if you wish to see our handsome Frenchman, you should in truth come back soon.

Yr affectionate friend,
Araminta

About the Book

Arnaut de Montailhac’s reputation as a charming rake is well established. Secretly, he longs for a role where he could shine on merit. Perhaps the political events of the summer of 1813 will give him that opportunity. But when his first official task is to seduce a beautiful young spy, Arnaut suspects he is considered to be nothing more than a charming fribble. However, events quickly turn nasty and he sets off on a quest, determined to prove his true worth. Louise Fauriel, hardworking member of a family of Huguenot silversmiths, is the complete opposite of Arnaut. Linked by the need to smuggle letters from the Bourbon king in exile at Hartwell House to Arnaut’s father, the unlikely pair travel between France and England, with Napoleon’s vengeful agents never more than one step behind. In the desperate race to succeed in this mission, even a rake has no time for love.

Excerpt: A rake in peril from the ladies

Behind his fixed smile, Arnaut was fuming. He and Richard had taken refuge in the drawing room to settle their plans for the afternoon when Cecilia swept in with a group of ladies. It was evident she was determined to show off her French visitor. Everywhere he looked, he saw ladies nodding and smiling at him. He felt like one of the horses he had seen exhibited at Tattersalls the other day. Servants appeared with tea and cakes. Arnaut was horrified. How could he escape? Yet in less than thirty minutes it would be three o’clock, time for his meeting with Pierre D’Escury in Soho.

He found himself sandwiched between a formidable matron and her shockingly plain daughter. Not for the first time, he regretted his ability to attract ladies. The girl was gazing at him with a sort of dazed intensity, as if he was a rare item in a museum. Arnaut cast an urgent look at Richard, seated in the window alcove beside an elderly lady wearing a monstrous bonnet. Richard met his eye and gave a faint, apologetic smile. No help from him, then.

Now Cecilia came to stand in front of them. ‘How delightful to see you such good friends already with our guest, Cousin Chastity,’ she trilled. ‘I am sure Monsieur de Montailhac is telling you all about the latest Paris fashions.’

In spite of his growing frustration, Arnaut had to swallow a laugh. Nobody could help the name their parents gave them but ‘Chastity’ did not sit well on this large and opulently endowed lady. She turned towards him and beamed. ‘He is making acquaintance with my dear Lydia here. So charming.’

Lydia nodded and wriggled without taking her eyes from his face. Did the girl have any conversation, he wondered, or was she simply her mother’s puppet? He was hemmed in by these three females. He would have felt less threatened among a hostile crowd at a prize fight. Thankfully, someone else addressed Cecilia and she was obliged to move away.

The clock on the mantelpiece struck the hour. Arnaut gave a silent groan. Think, dammit! he told himself. You have to escape without giving offence. He gave an exaggerated start and stood up, pretending to check the time.

‘More tea, Monsieur de Montailhac?’ Cecilia hastened back, blocking his way. This began to seem like a conspiracy. But he was going to escape. He smiled his most charming smile and handed her his cup, still untouched.

‘Thank you, no. I regret, but I am obliged to take my leave,’ he insisted over her shocked protests. ‘In such charming company I had almost forgotten that I’m engaged to spend this afternoon with an elderly friend of my father’s. He is housebound and so you appreciate I cannot disappoint him.’ It was not so far from the truth. He turned and bowed in the grand style his father had taught him. ‘Ladies, I am desolated but I cannot stay.’

He was aware of the sudden silence and the heads turning to follow him. Straight backed, he marched out of the room, letting out a deep breath once the door had closed behind him.

You can buy the book here https://tinyurl.com/yaf6frr3

The Rake and His Honour, Arnaut’s story, is the second book in the Montailhac Family series. The first brother’s story is told in Scandalous Lady. https://tinyurl.com/y978tol5

About the Author

Beth Elliott – My Welsh side has given me a vivid imagination which tends to overwhelm my practical Lancashire side. From a very young age I made up adventure stories and persuaded my childhood friends to act them out with me. When I had to join the real world I was a Languages teacher in several countries before giving in to the urge to write stories. A lifelong love of Mr Darcy Jane Austen inspired me to set my Regency Tales in the age of Napoleon. As I enjoy travelling around the Mediterranean, my characters tend to do the same. But they also go to London, Bath and Brighton, where adventures befall them, even when they try to live a normal Regency era life.

There are notes and pictures – and more information about the slightly exotic Montailhac family – at www.bethelliott.webs.com