Dear Subscribers,
We at the Teatime Tattler are indebted to you for your faithful readership. We are closing out the year with this most interesting report. We wish all of you a most auspicious New Year!
Dear Reader,
Oh my, I just heard the most titillating on dits that I have to share with you! But first, I must reassure those of you who were more than a bit concerned about the situation between His Grace, the Duke of Wyndmere, and his stoic, strapping personal guard—I need a moment. Do excuse me while I have a sip of tea.
The situation within the duke’s protective guard has resolved itself. Those too-handsome-for-their-own-good Irishmen are formidable when their backs are against the wall, but if just a hint of danger is in the air surrounding the duke or his family, the true Celtic ferocity of these men roars to the surface. Be still my heart.
At to my last report, R.F. is happily married and enamored of his lovely wife and her darling four-year-old daughter. Now about D.F., two nights ago, at Lady Andrews’ musicale, I happened to hear that the third brother, D.F., stopped to lend aid to a carriage with a broken wheel near the baron’s estate. Of course he offered his strong back, to see what could be done to repair the damage, but alas, a new wheel was needed.
Apparently the youthful coachman was unnerved by D.F.—who wouldn’t be—and brandished a blunderbuss, though D.F. was only offering his aid and had no weapon in his hands. Can you credit it?
D.F., believing his offer should be accepted without question, stepped forward. Apparently this so startled the coachman, that he retreated, faltered and landed on his bottom… But, dear reader, there is more! The coachman’s finger was on the trigger and the weapon went off!
Though D.F., apparently nimble as well as strong, dove to the side but was hit with scatter shot. Incensed, as one could well imagine, he got to his feet and grabbed hold of the young man’s arm. The coachman’s slouch hat fell off to reveal a tumble of angel-blonde hair! Can you imagine the look on D.F.’s face? Time will tell if anything further comes of their meeting. Trust that I will deliver the latest—and hopefully delectable on dits that I suspect may follow.
Before I forget, R.F. has recovered with a manly scar across his cheek and rumors abound that his wife is expecting. I hope to hear something similar about D.F. which leaves F.F. the only man in the duke’s guard unwed. Rest assured, I shall do my utmost to relay any and all that I happen to hear about him.
There is hope, dear reader, that I shall soon be sharing details regarding these handsome-as-sin specimens of manhood. Fear not, for I shall press on and will report further on dits regarding the duke’s guard—I know how you rely on my excellent information. Rest assured, I shall share whatever I hear on this subject with the editor of this unimpeachable daily source of information.
The Duke’s Cavalier (The Duke’s Guard, Book 15)
Passion wrapped in determination, forged in the fire of her convictions… That is what Miss Phillipa Stanhope is made of.
This latest installment in C.H.’s fan-favorite series, The Duke’s Guard, has all of your favorite tropes, including Frenemies! Things are not always as they seem in this Regency Historical, and two women on the run with an infant are not necessarily guilty of kidnapping.
Flaherty stares down the muzzle of a blunderbuss. The coachman who won’t look him in the eye, and the wail of a newborn babe only complicates matters…
Nonplussed by the weapon pointed at his chest, Flaherty advances. Panicked, the young coachman steps backward, trips, and the gun goes off! Flaherty dives to the side, but catches some scattershot. Flaherty hauls the coachman to his feet, shakes him, and his hat falls off. A cascade of angel-blonde hair slips free, tangling around Flaherty’s wrist. The nick to Flaherty’s pride is equal to the wound in his side—he’s been bested by a woman!
Friends before they can walk and talk, Phillipa Stanhope would do anything to protect her widowed friend Millicent and her newborn son…
Millicent’s brother-in-law threatens to take her babe the moment it’s born! Though the risk of traveling right after giving birth is great to Millie and her infant son—Pippa knows they have no choice but to flee.
Though wounded, Flaherty takes charge and escorts the trio to Summerfield Chase for their safety. He keeps his distance from Pippa. When his temper cools down, and he hears the whole story, Flaherty has a change of heart and offers marriage to protect Pippa.
Pippa cannot leave her friend unprotected, and she bargains with Flaherty. If he agrees to let Millie and her babe live with them, she’ll accept his proposal. Before the special license arrives, an attempted kidnapping leaves Pippa injured, forcing them to realize the true depth of their feelings for one another. Three of Pippa’s older brothers arrive along with a surprise that complicates matters. On the heels of their arrival, a band of brigands arrive as a distraction, while Millie’s brother-in-law lures Pippa outside.
Danger stalks in the night, but it will have to get past The Duke’s Cavalier before he will let harm come to those he has sworn to protect with his strength, his honor, and his heart.
Excerpt:
The Duke’s Cavalier (The Duke’s Guard, Book 15)
©C.H. Admirand Nov. 2025
From Chapter One
Flaherty studied him. From the cut of the lad’s threadbare brown coat, he wasn’t starving. It was the younger man’s pointed chin that seemed to be at odds with the fullness of the frame tucked inside of his coat. Either the lad was spending every bit of coin he had to eat, or he was wearing some kind of padding to make himself appear larger as a deterrent to ward off unsavory types. If so, why the disguise?
The breeze stilled, and yet the lad made no move. Flaherty studied what he could see of the boy’s face for a reaction that would tip him off to what he intended to do. He had a slightly pointed chin—smooth cheeks, no whiskers. His gaze dipped lower to a surprisingly full set of lips. Lower still to a slender neck with no visible…
Bloody hell!
“Show me your hands.” The young man’s voice cracked. “Palms facing me!”
The lad could not be more than five and ten summers, which could explain the lack of whiskers. But if the slender chin and the mouth of a temptress meant what Flaherty feared, the lad and whoever was inside the carriage were going to be trouble! As his mind put the odd pieces of the puzzle together, his gut screamed not to trust what he saw—but to trust in what he felt. He swallowed the string of curses and held his tongue.
Before he unmasked the lad’s charade, the wail of an infant stopped him. But it was the accompanying feminine-sounding gasp coming from inside the carriage that decided Flaherty’s course of action. “I’ll keep me hands at me sides if it’s all the same to ye.” He took a step forward and froze when the blunderbuss wobbled. “Did yer da not teach ye if ye pick up a weapon, ye’d best be prepared to use it?”
The silence irritated Flaherty, but it was the morning chill and wail of the infant that spurred him to act. He advanced. The lad took a step backward, promptly fell on his arse, and the gun went off!
Flaherty dove to the side and swore a blue streak. His side burned, and his temper shot straight to boiling as he sprang to his feet. The indignity of misjudging the lad, and getting shot for his trouble by someone half his age, pushed him over the edge. The dark side of his temper took hold of him. He grabbed the blunderbuss, tugged the lad to his feet, and shook him until his hat fell off.
Flaherty growled, “Bloody hell!”
Buy Link: https://www.chadmirand.com/books/historical-romances/the-dukes-guard-series/the-dukes-cavalier/
About the Author:
If we have not met yet, I’m delighted to meet you! Here’s a little bit about me…
I’m a Dragonblade Publishing Bestselling Author. I believe in Love at First Sight, Happily Ever After, and that DJ is waiting for me in Heaven.
I have been writing romance novels for almost half my life, well at least for the last 32 years. I’m a diehard romantic and have to confess the broad shoulders and wicked glint in the brilliant green eyes of a stranger had my breath snagging in my breast, my heart beating madly, and my future flashing before my eyes. At the age of seventeen, I’d met the man I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with.
I write Historical & Contemporary Romance featuring characters that I know so well: hardheaded heroes and feisty heroines! They rarely listen to me and in fact, I think they enjoy messing with my plans for them. Over the years I have learned to listen to them! I have always used family names in my books and love adding bits and pieces of my ancestors and ancestry in them, too!
C.H.’s Social Media Links:
Website:
Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/stores/C.-H.-Admirand/author/B001JPBUMC
BookBub:
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/c-h-admirand
Facebook Author Page:
https://www.facebook.com/CHAdmirandAuthor
Facebook Private Group: C.H.’s Awesome Book Friends
https://www.facebook.com/groups/998106461972540
GoodReads:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/212657.C_H_Admirand
Dragonblade Publishing:
https://www.dragonbladepublishing.com/team/c-h-admirand/
Instagram:
https://www.instagram.com/c.h.admirand/
YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRSXBeqEY52VV3mHdtg5fXw
It has long been the opinion of the Ton that the Sangford family’s claim to a royal connection is a sham meant only to promote their daughters’ status on the marriage mart. Not that it has worked, mind you. After all, five failed seasons should be sufficient to indicate that Miss Irene Sanford is not a suitable match for any peer she hopes to snag. And Mr. Sangford has made it clear it must be a man of title who marries either of his daughters.
Irene’s Fall
Hearts in Bloom: A Regency Anthology
It has come to the attention of this author that the London season, already awash with its usual trifles and dalliances, has a new and most peculiar drama unfolding within its very heart. One might even say it has bite. The whispers begin not in the gilded ballrooms of Mayfair, but in the hallowed halls of Harley Street—a place one typically associates with ailments of the body, not affairs of the soul.
A Taste of Gold