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Be Wary of What You Read in the Paper

The Teatime Tattler September 1813

Letters to The Teatime Tattler October 10, 1813

To the editor,

I write to alert you to a misleading advert that has appeared in this paper frequently this autumn, to wit the one entitled “Governess Wanted.” I am one of the foolish women who responded. I therefore can knowledgeably warn any gently-bred lady who considers the position to run the other way.

While the county in question may appear pleasant in the brief summer, its bleak landscape grows drearier with every mile north and every month,closer to a dark, cold winter. The “gracious manor” saw better days under one of the earlier Georges perhaps. Grim and neglected, it is woefully understaffed forcing a governess to activities not expected of one in her position. The mentioned accommodations might be considered comfortable but were hardly attractive. Shabby describes much of the manor.

Description of his lordship’s wards as “bright” fails to mention that they lack manners. The little demons are as civilized as savages. As to the viscount himself, a more grim and taciturn oaf I have yet to meet. That is, he is taciturn until his intemperate anger gets out of control. I would shudder to report the words he said when we parted ways.

Tilly Wilkins, unemployed governess

PS Return fare was provided as promised

About the Story

Duncan Laidlaw, newly and expectantly raised to Viscount Mildrum, is in trouble. He’s been saddled with a neglected estate, an equally neglected and shabby household, and three wild and undisciplined children, his cousin’s step-children. They may not be his blood, but they are his to care for.

After several failed attempts he has concluded that what he needs first isn’t a governess, it is a wife, someone who can help him bring order to his home. He turns to his friend, vicar Micah Turner, to send one.

What an outrageous request! Yet, Micah happens to know just the woman. She’d be perfect for Duncan, if he can convince her. The only way to find out is to plunge her into the middle of the chaos.

“Duncan’s Twelfth Night Miracle” by Caroline Warfield appears in the next Bluestocking Belles’ holiday collection, a bundle of sweet and saucy romances for your holiday leisure, Boxing Day and beyond. Each is a short tale perfect for an evening’s quiet read over hot cocoa and candlelight. Watch for it later this month.

 

Reabridge seethes with scandal and romance

Well, Sam, the town of Reabridge has closed ranks against me since my last missive. Not just me, either, but any curious stranger. They have guessed that someone is sending news of their goings on to you for publication, and they are not best pleased.

Not that I’ve allowed that to stop me, but gone are days I can just walk into a tavern or one of the two inns, strike up a conversation over a beer, and walk away with several stories.

However, a little kindness to a bar maid at the tavern, and I have my handful of leads, for no more price than walking the poor lass home and showing an interest in her life. The kiss was a bonus for me and the handful of coins for her. She has promised to keep her ears open for me.

Here, in no particular order, is what I’ve discovered. There’s another bar maid heading for a fall, apparently. This one is a daughter of the family who owns one of the town’s two inns. The story goes that she had a brief summer fling years ago with a duke’s son. Did he leave her still innocent? Opinions vary. The thing is, he’s back, and it can’t end any better this time, surely.

Not much of interest in the town doctor being a lush. Good doctor, apparently, but can’t stay off the sauce. He was courting the cousin of the local earl before he went off to Waterloo, but she won’t have him now, I imagine.

The earl is courting too—a lady who is French by birth, but a respectable widow of an English gentleman. He was not meant to earl, but his two older brothers died. I’ll dig a bit more, but the only thing we might make something of is the lady’s interest in an abandoned orphan that is currently living with the vicar. She’s not the only lady who wants the little sprog, but we’ll see whether the earl is willing to take on a wife and a child. One who is probably common and possibly base born.

Two other French ladies are scooping up bachelors from the town. One is the son of that same vicar and the French girl is looking after the abandoned orphan. Is it actually hers after all? No one is quite sure, but apparently the aunt has her hooks into the vicar!  

The other lady is of respectable birth and also arrived with an aunt in tow looking, so my bar girl tells me, for a husband. I can’t see an angle for us in that one.

The other possibility involves Lady L. Yes, I thought you’d sit up at that. She has been seen around town escorted by the son of the owners of the other inn! Not in her class at all, though, to be fair, the family has come up in the world in recent centuries, and hire people to run the inn. Not high enough to aspire to an earl’s daughter, though.

Then we’ve got a nobody who is being pursued by a Scottish heiress. Yes. You read that right. He likes her, right enough, but can see as well as you and I can that he’s not the right man for her.

I have nothing to say about the farmer who found a sick woman in his milking shed and now looks at her like the moon rises in her eyes. For a bit, I thought she might be connected to the orphan, but that was a false lead.

Nor do I suppose you will be interested in the farrier and her armless suitor. I thought we could do something with that when I found out he’s been an officer. But apparently it was a battlefield commission, and our readers don’t care when the lower sorts find love.

Anyway, Sam, I’ll find you at least one story. Please send me a bank draft for ten pound. My bar girl is going to cost, and also, I need to stay on for at least another week.

Yours in the brotherhood of journalism.

Frank.

***

Read the inside gossip that Frank will never know. Preorder your copy of Under the Harvest Moon today.

As the village of Reabridge in Cheshire prepares for the first Harvest Festival following Waterloo, families are overjoyed to welcome back their loved ones from the war.

But excitement quickly turns to mystery when mere weeks before the festival, an orphaned child turns up in the town—a toddler born near Toulouse to an English mother who left clues that tie her to Reabridge.

With two prominent families feuding for generations and the central event of the Harvest Moon festival looming, tensions rise, and secrets begin to surface.

Nine award winning and bestselling authors have combined their talents to create this engaging and enchanting collection of interrelated tales. Under the Harvest Moon promises an unforgettable read for fans of Regency romance.

Preorder now: https://books2read.com/UnderHarvestMoon

Or find out more about the individual stories.

 

Who Owns the Recipe?

Mr. Clemens,

You probably know we’re used to toffs and nobs at The Willow and the Rose, the best inn on the Nottingham Road. Mr. Benson, the one that runs the place, always teaches his folk to treat every customer like he were a duke. That way I figure we won’t accidently insult one who comes all disguised or what not. Last week we had a real one. He came in plain sort of clothes, but he were a duke all right. I know because I remember him from before, but I won’t say his name. I call him His Nibs, but trust me, he’s the real thing.

Inn

The Willow and the Rose

His Nibs came looking for his stepmother, foolish man. She were in Lunnon as always. He must have forgot. The earl were gone too, what with Pariament going on. Things were quiet in Ashmead. So His Nibs sits for two days in the snug in the corner by hisself drinking Mr. Benson’s ale.

Mr. B, he watches him close. Asked if it would help to talk. His Nibs sez no, there’s nothing to can be done about his problems. Sez his brother is alive and that’s that. I don’t know what that made him look like his favorite dog died, but it did.

After a couple of days Annie Morris, our cook, sez we should try something different “Before the poor lad drowns himself in all that ale.” She sends me out with strong coffee and some of her special buns. He looks at me and frowns, but he takes them anyway.

Here’s the thing. Ten minutes later the lord is on his feet and bursting right into the kitchen. “Who made these?” he wants to know. He sez they’re the best buns he’s had since Lunnon. “Where did you learn to make these?” he asks while wolfing down another one.

Well, I’m thinking that brought him back to life. Annie’s buns are good but I dint think they were that good. But then he asks her again about where she got her recipe, and our Annie turns bright red. She looks down at her dough and sez her aunt taught her. When she tries to shoo him away, he asks for a plate, and she gives him one piled high.

Now the Willow and the Rose is famous for two things: its ale and Annie’s buns. She looks determined not to tell His Nibs her secrets, lest he try to steal them. “Who is this aunt of yours?” I ask. “I thought you grew up in Ashmead.”

“Spent time with my aunt, didn’t I?” she snaps at me.

“In Lunnon?” I ask.

She orders me off and mutters something under her breath. I am sure I heard “Chelsea.” I don’t know for sure, Mr. Clemens, but I think our Annie stole her recipe from the Chelsea Bun House. Wouldn’t your readers want to know?

Sincerely,

Miss Gertie Potts, server at The Willow and the Rose

The Recipe

A favorite of characters in Caroline Warfield’s Ashmead Heirs Series, the buns were indeed a famous treat from the Chelsea Bun House. Chelsea, once a town, was being absorbed into London at about that time. The Bun House made a current bun very similar to modern Cinnamon buns, but smaller, tighter, and seasoned with nutmeg. You can find Caroline’s modern attempt at regency style current buns in Dragonblade’s Historical Recipe Cookbook, full of recipes from some of your favorite Historical Romance Authors.

The pre-order price is 99 cents. https://www.amazon.com/Dragonblades-Historical-Recipe-Cookbook-favorite-ebook/dp/B0C7DT5HHM

The Duke

When the Duke of Glenmoor finds his long-lost older brother alive he is over joyed. When he discovers that brother may be legitimate and not a bastard after all, he is confused. Does that leave him a Duke in Name Only?

Knowing his title was bestowed on him fraudulently, he embarks on a journey to the wilds of North America in an effort to succeed on his own. It doesn’t go well. He has no idea what a fish out of water he will be, but he is determined to make something of himself. He’s a man of worth—but he needs to learn that for himself, and misfortune is the best teacher. Misfortune, and Nan Archer who grew up in that world and knows better than most how to stand on her own two feet.

Available for Free with Kindle Unlimited or to purchase:

Chaos When the Moon is Full

Dear Mr. Clemens,

It would serve you well to send one of them writers of yours to Reabridge here in Cheshire. Since Waterloo we have odd folks of all sorts traveling through and also those soldiers that the Crown cut loose. Our own boys are straggling back home too.

One couple wandered by and left a baby at the vicarage. A baby! They claim it has a connection to Reabridge and now we have two families feuding over it. Of course, the Buckleys and the Pownalls have been feuding for decades so that is nothing new. Now we have others sticking their spoon in to see if they have a claim.

There would be plenty to keep that reporter busy this fall. Even the Vicar has some women staying at the vicarage and even he seems to be up to some sort of shenanigans.

Gwen Hughes has taken up the blacksmithing now her brother is gone. We think she’s hiding something too, and now some stranger—one of those footloose soldiers—has taken up residence.

We have a drunken doctor, a marriage minded Scotswoman, and two hoity toity French women—if rumors are to be believed, another one has been invited up to Barlow Hall.  The vicar’s son doesn’t know what to do with himself, and even Martin Bromelton, who has always been a steady sort of fellow, is acting jumpy. He and his sister took in some woman wandering the roads up at the farm.

You can see, Mr. Clemens, there is plenty to dig up here in Reabridge. Send someone soon, before the Harvest Festival. This will get even more loony then.

Yours Sincerely,

Eunice Fillmore, spinster.

About the Book: Under the Harvest Moon

As the village of Reabridge in Cheshire prepares for the first Harvest Festival following Waterloo, families are overjoyed to welcome back their loved ones from the war.

But excitement quickly turns to mystery when mere weeks before the festival, an orphaned child turns up in the town—a toddler born near Toulouse to an English mother who left clues that tie her to Reabridge.

With two prominent families feuding for generations and the central event of the Harvest Moon festival looming, tensions rise, and secrets begin to surface.

Nine award winning and bestselling authors have combined their talents to create this engaging and enchanting collection of interrelated tales. Under the Harvest Moon promises an unforgettable read for fans of Regency romance.

Story blurbs here: https://bluestockingbelles.net/belles-joint-projects/under-the-harvest-moon/

Preorder now: https://books2read.com/UnderHarvestMoon

Widow In Gentleman’s Apartment Scandal

The headline grabbed attention if Sam did say so himself. The editor of The Teatime Tattler held up the proof copy to the light, and grinned as he thought of all those papers sold. A respectable widow caught in a gentleman’s rooming house, in bed with a gentleman who was not even the room’s renter. Yes. An excellent story, and with credible witnesses!

He ignored a knock on the door. At this time of night, the newspaper office was shut. Indeed, he’d be off home to bed as soon as he gave the nod to the roll the presses and print tomorrow’s scandalbroth, so that it would be on people’s breakfast tables when they woke.

As he stood to go through to the printery to give the order, a couple of solid thuds made him pause. Then it flew open, and two men marched in. Sam blanched. He had already had a run-in with the Earl of Stanford last year, simply because the presses had printed a couple of caricatures the man objected to. Sam knew the man who snatched the newspaper from his hand, too. Lord Arthur Versey, world traveller, writer, and an even more dangerous man than Stanford.

Versey handed the newspaper to Stanford, who quickly scanned it. “It’s a pack of lies, Rex,” he said to Versey. “It says Regina was at Peach Tree Lane for an assignation with Deffew, and that Ashby tied the scoundrel up and abducted Regina.”

“You are going to have to rewrite that, Clemens,” Versey told Sam.

“I have witnesses to everything that’s in there,” Sam insisted. “And I have witnesses!”

“Any Deffews or Snowdens amongst your witnesses?” Standford demanded. “For they are trying to compromise a lady.”

Sam must have shown the truth in his expression, for Versey growled. “It was them.”

“Not just them,” Sam protested.

“And their friends,” Rex added.

Stanford obviously decided a gentler approach would be more useful. “Look, Clemens, you’re an honest man. Your newspaper told the truth about the persecution against my wife. Here’s your chance to be on the side of the angels again. Rex, tell him what really happened.”

***

One Perfect Dance

Regina Paddimore puts her dreams of love away with other girlish things when she weds her father’s friend to escape a vile suitor who tries to force a marriage. Sixteen years later, and two years a widow, she seeks a husband who might help her fulfil another dream—to have her own child.

Elijah Ashby escapes his abusive step-family as soon as he comes of age, off to see the world. Letters from his childhood friend Regina are all that connects him to England. Sixteen years later, now a famous travel writer, the news she is a widow brings him home.

Sparks fly between them when they meet again. Regina begins to hope for love as well as babies. Elijah will be happy just to have her at his side. However, Elijah’s stepbrothers are determined to do everything they can—lie, cheat, kidnap, even murder—so that one of them can marry Regina and take her wealth for themselves.

Love and friendship must conquer hatred and spite before Elijah and Regina can be together.

Buy now: https://books2read.com/1PerfectDance

***

Excerpt from One Perfect Dance

She unlocked the door, and Lady Kingsley swept inside. Wilson stammered apologies, but Regina waved him off. Her mother was a force of nature.

“Go back to your post,” she told him, and closed the door. If her mother was going to make a fuss, she didn’t want her servants and her son to hear.

She turned to ask her mother to explain her presence, but Lady Kingsley spoke first, to Elijah. “Do I need to ask your intentions towards my daughter, Mr. Ashby?”

“No, Mama,” Regina said. “I am a grown woman, and my actions are my own business.”

Lady Kingsley turned a chair around from the desk to face the bed. “You are right, Regina. I withdraw the question.”

Regina’s indignant response to the lecture she expected died on her tongue, and for a moment, she had nothing to replace it.

“My apologies for not rising, Lady Kingsley,” Elijah said, lifting himself off the pillows enough to bow his head, and then collapsing back with a grimace.

Regina’s mother frowned. “Are you unwell, Mr. Ashby?”

“Elijah was injured last night, fighting off some attackers,” Regina explained. She resumed her seat in the chair next to Elijah’s bed, so they were facing her mother together.

“Last night?” Mother asked. “Then you were with Regina, Mr. Ashby?” She turned a concerned gaze on Regina. “There is gossip about your activities yesterday evening, daughter. I want to know how I can help counter what is being said.”

“What is being said?” Elijah asked.

“That Regina had an assignation with Mr. David Deffew in an apartment in Peach Tree Lane. That you broke in, Mr. Ashby, tied Mr. Deffew up, and threatened to shoot Mr. Deffew if he followed. Mr. Deffew claims that Regina has promised to marry him and is threatening to have you arrested for abducting her.”

That perverted version of the evening’s events had Regina’s eyebrows twitching upward. Elijah, however, laughed. “Does Dilly truly think people will believe that?” he scoffed.

“I do not,” Mother insisted. “I know Regina despises the man, and I believe her to be right in his assessment of his character. But several of Richard Deffew’s friends claim to have seen her coming out of the building with you, Mr. Ashby. Richard Deffew is Mr. Deffew’s nephew.”

“Did those friends mention that Elijah’s servant was with us, and that he and Elijah were half-carrying Geoffrey? I was there because a messenger came to tell me that Geoffrey had been injured in an accident and needed me.”

“Ah!” Lady Kingsley commented. “Another abduction attempt.”

“It was,” Regina agreed. “An unsuccessful one, since Elijah saw me leaving here in a hackney with one of the young men that Geoffrey has been seeing. He came after me. We rescued Geoffrey, who had been drugged, and then Elijah and Fullaby fought off a group of the young men, who attacked us when we left the building.”

“Rex was there too,” Elijah disclosed.

Mother gave a single decisive nod. “Excellent. The pair of you have a witness that Society will accept as credible.”

As opposed to Fullaby and Geoffrey, though to be fair, Geoffrey was not in a condition to be much of a witness.

“Do you happen to know whether Deffew has an apartment in that building?” Elijah asked.

Mother shook her head. “Not to my knowledge. He and his nephew live with Matthew Deffew.”

Ash grinned, the flame of mischief in his eye. “Then Society might put its busy mind to wondering why he was in that building at all, let alone in the condition I saw him.”

Mother raised her eyebrows and inclined her head. “The condition in which you saw him?” she repeated, making a question of it.

Elijah’s grin broadened. “I should tell you that the room to which we were directed, the room in which Geoffrey was being held, was towards the far end of the passage from the stairwell. To reach it, one had to pass a door that had been damaged and loosely propped in the frame, so anyone who looked in that direction would see a man spreadeagled on the bed. He was unclothed and tied by his wrists and ankles to the bed posts.”

Impressive! His statement was entirely true but left out any mention of their altercation with Deffew.

“Unclothed!” Mother repeated. “I take it you recognized this man, Mr. Ashby.”

“I did,” Elijah told her gravely. “It was David Deffew. One wonders how he found himself in that state, in what is, after all, a building full of bachelor apartments. A foolish jape? An assignation gone wrong? Perhaps he was waiting for the owner of the apartment?”

“One prefers not to speculate,” Mother replied, dryly, “but it would be unkind not to permit other people to relish such an interesting insight into the character of the man who has been attempting to coerce my daughter into an unwanted marriage.”

“I thought you might see it that way,” Elijah said, and he and Mama exchanged a smile full of accord.

 

 

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