Because history is fun and love is worth working for

Author: Alina Field

Another Dispatch from Reabridge

Dear Mr. Clemens,

As I reported some days ago (and was gratified to see included in your publication) chaos continues to reign here and it would behoove you, I say most respectfully, to send a reporter to investigate.

There are just far too many French women muddling about with our menfolk. And as if we didn’t have enough of our own boys returning from the army, we have others just visiting and bringing with them foreign ways. Why, one of them is an officer said to have learned some fancy way of opening foreign bottles from Napoleon himself. Not to mention that he’s said to have smuggled in some sort of fancy wine under the noses of the Customs Officers.

That one is residing, of all things, at the home of our local Justice of the Peace. A family friend, they say, but he’s been seen taking up with a French woman, a gel who appeared out of nowhere with an older woman in tow, an old relic who claims to be English and a Lady. Hah. I doubt it. She is said to have set her cap for our Justice of the Peace while her little French friend cavorts with the officer and chases about town seeking her own fortune.

Do send a reporter! I am far too busy with baking for the Harvest Festival to investigate and send regular dispatches. There is much to report, even among the Quality of our town!

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

Includes Under the Champagne Moon, by Alina K. Field

Orphaned as a child by the French Revolution, Fleur Hardouin’s road has not been easy. Homeless again, she seeks an advantageous marriage as a matter of security. But when she crosses paths with a handsome young captain who, years ago, came to her rescue, she must choose between her heart’s desire and practicality.

Saved from French troops by a French vintner, Gareth Ardleigh promised to find his rescuer’s granddaughter, Fleur, for a marriage that will unite two branches of the family business. But when he finds her, he must choose between honoring a promise or pursuing the woman he loves.

Release Day October 10, 2023

Eyewitness to a Scandalous Reunion

Dear Readers,
The Teatime Tattler received a most interesting post from a reliable informant, a lady who is a true friend to this publication. You will not see this news anywhere else!
So, without further ado…

 

My Dear Mr. Clemens,

Last night, I had the honor of attending a most prestigious entertainment at the home of Lady P. It was cheek by jowl as the best of these events are. One could look left and then right and find something of value to your readers.

Nevertheless, I have resolved to report on the most diverting episode of the evening, the reunion of a Scotsman and his former wife. I am told that their divorce some two decades ago—yes, Mr. Clemens, decades!—was fraught with allegations of infidelity on the part of the lady. (As such matters are—and dare I say how unfair it is to the ladies with wandering husbands?)

But I digress. The Scotsman—I shall call him Lord C, for indeed he bears a title besides a military rank from his twenty years in service to the Crown. His former wife, Mrs. D, as she calls herself (though she never remarried), arrived on the arm of a much younger Lord M who claimed to be a cousin. In fact, he declared within hearing of all nearby that the lady was not his mistress!

I suppose the young lord did not wish to be called out by Lord C, for indeed, though Lord C wore no regimentals, he has the appearance of a fierce warrior; and though he staggered about, it was whispered to me that he was not drunk, but merely recovering from wounds.

May I venture to say that it was not old wounds that had him wobbling—but much-deserved guilt and regret. For Mrs. D is a dignified and quite beautiful lady, despite not being in the first bloom of youth. There was much whispering behind hands. I suspect that once published, this news will be one for the betting books.

Will he and the lady reunite, or not?

Fated Hearts, A Love After All Retelling of the Scottish Play

Plagued by hellish memories and rattling visions of battle to come, a Scottish Baron returning from two decades at war meets the daughter he denied was his, and the wife he divorced, and learns that everything he’d believed to be true was a lie. What he can’t deny is that she’s the only woman he’s ever loved. They’re not the young lovers they once were, but when passion flares, it burns more hotly than ever it did in their youth.

They soon discover, it wasn’t fate that drove them apart, but a jealous enemy, who played on his youthful arrogance and her vulnerability. Now that old enemy has resurfaced, more treacherous than ever. When his lady falls into a trap, can he reach her in time to rescue this love that never died?

Excerpt

A crush was what they called these suffocating occasions, and the term was apt.

Major Finnley Macbeth, Scottish baron and late of his majesty’s Highland Brigade, shifted his weight from the leg that still ached like the devil, and scanned the room for his quarry, an undersecretary in the Home Office who he’d met at the army’s winter quarters in Frenada.

From his spot near a damask covered wall, he measured each breath, trying to calm his rising unease. The heavy scent of perfume mixed with fine beeswax and hothouse florals unsettled more than his stomach. The shimmering silks and waving plumes threatened to stir the disquieting visions plaguing him lately.

Fire, explosions, rain, the screams of men and horse.

He squeezed his hands into fists. These were not the hellish memories of the recent past, dammit, but rattling visions of some battle yet to come.

Or not. Foretelling the future was for Travellers and crones, wasn’t it? Not battle-hardened men like himself.

He inhaled slowly, holding the breath for a count, and then eased the air out. Best keep his purpose in mind—he was here to track down Sir Thomas Abernathy, lately arrived in London, and rumored to be attending this rout.

His gaze swept the room, seeking the distinctive bald pate. In spite of his own forty-three years, his eyesight was still keen enough to make out a sniper or spot the dust of a fleeing stag. Keen enough as well to relish the deep décolletages and clinging, delicate, almost transparent skirts on display this night, a vision far more cheering than the one the Sight was showing him.

A more modestly clad woman stood alone halfway across the ballroom, her back turned to him, surveying the room as he was doing.

A memory stabbed him, laced with an old shame. He’d once known a lass with hair like this, so abundant, so near to black. The lady tonight had crowned all the loveliness with dark feathers, like a glorious cormorant. His hand itched to pull out those feathers and rake his hands through the tumble of hair, as he’d once done…

He caught a steadying breath. It couldn’t be her. He’d simply been without a woman too long.

And these visions plaguing him of he knew not what? That foolishness grew from naught but fatigue, the wages of war, and the steady company of too much death. Napoleon had been defeated. He must put the memories of battle and that more distant passion aside. The lovely lady with feathers atop her head was only a stranger wondering where her man had got to.

Yet he couldn’t turn away. As he watched, she pivoted one way, and then the other, allowing a glimpse of dangling earbobs and a firm chin.

Drawn to her, he stepped out on his bad leg just as she turned.

Pain shot through his hip. The room threatened to fall away but he held onto the pain, let it shore him up whilst he swore a silent curse.

It was her.

Fated Hearts is only 99 cents through June 30, 2023

Buy link: https://books2read.com/u/bQdyPP

About the Author

Alina K. FieldAward winning and USA Today bestselling author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature, but prefers the much happier world of romance fiction. Though her roots are in the Midwestern U.S., after six very, very, very cold years in Chicago, she moved to Southern California, where she shares a midcentury home with her a spunky, blond rescued terrier and a sociable chihuahua. She is the author of several Regency romances, including the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner, Rosalyn’s Ring. Though hard at work on her next series of romantic adventures, she loves to hear from readers!

Website: https://alinakfield.com/

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Alina-K.-Field/e/B00DZHWOKY

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A Matchmaker? Or a Matchbreaker?

Dear Readers,

Spring is in the air, and the ladies of the ton have set about managing the affairs of what is so crassly referred to as the Marriage Mart: “Lord X could do with an infusion of, ahem, cash for his hunting box—an heiress would do. Lady Y is looking for nothing less than a marquess.”

Ah, and then we have Miss M. While the leading ladies of the ton whisper about dowries, incomes, and whether a man’s questionable peculiarities render him completely unsuitable, the Tattler has received news of this particular miss making her come-out.

Her dowry is rumored to be staggeringly large and has drawn the interest of no less than an earl, Lord H, a man with an unfortunate, but to some parties, not unqualifying reputation. Miss M’s father, a man of the mercantile class, has accepted his suit. The bride-to-be, we are told, is the compliant sort and will do as she’s told.

Interestingly, the lady bringing Miss M out, a spinster of good enough ton but small fortune is rumored to oppose the match. In fact, she is rumored to have gone daggers with one of the primary instigators of this arrangement, Lord H’s uncle.

Ah, but perhaps I’ve said too much. As to whether Miss M will soon be Lady H, we must wait to see if a bridal announcement is forthcoming.

Liliana’s Letter

The Matchmaker

A promise to his long-dead sister forces Lord Grigsby back into society to broker the marriage of his disreputable nephew to the heiress whose money can save the earldom.

The Matchbreaker

Liliana Ashford has been hired to help an heiress pass muster with the ton and snare a titled husband. Though, if she had a magic wand, she’d turn her charge’s fiancé back into the toad he truly was.

Scandal and a New Match

But she never plotted murder! As the young Earl’s sordid death evokes the scandal of the season, a shadow from Liliana’s own past appears, threatening her carefully crafted world. Grigsby sets about finding his nephew’s killer…and Liliana’s secrets. Meanwhile she scrambles to make a new match for the girl, because finding a husband of her own is out of the question—or is it?

Excerpt

The woman at Grigsby’s side was like a lightning rod expecting a bolt to strike, or like a Fury about to deliver one. This close, scent wafted from her, roses and lemon, he’d guess. Tall, straight, and stiff, underneath her self-possession was a temper ready to unleash. He would bet on it.

Intriguing. He dared to poke her ire. “You clearly don’t approve of the match. Do you intend to openly oppose it?”

Her head whipped around, and she glared. “It’s not for me to approve or disapprove. Katie—Miss Mercer—will decide.”

Passion flashed in her eyes, sending an answering spark through him. She was magnificent—though so very mistaken. “Really? Then her father is more liberal than I expected.”

She looked him over more closely. “What do you know of this matter?”

I might ask you the same question. Her tone had been stiff, like the crystallized dome covering bubbling lava. He fixed her with his sternest glare, not entirely surprised at her cheek.

His glower didn’t impress her. She lifted her shoulders higher. Stood a little taller, proud, lovely, and filled with indignation.

Quite righteous indignation. He gave into an unmanly sigh, truly weary of his responsibility for Thomas. “I know a good deal, Miss Ashford. I have been negotiating for these nuptials. The arrangement is my doing as much as Mr. Mercer’s. Much more than it is my nephew’s. He is probably the least culpable, except for his abominable behavior.”

She clenched her hands tightly. “I see.”

“Thomas’s mother was my older sister. I made a promise to her that I would look after him.” Her gaze softened, and she bit her lip in a way that made him want to taste the part that she was nipping.

And where had that thought come from?

“And your nephew needs money and an heir.”

He nodded. As a woman of the ton, of course she would understand how marriage worked. Marriage wasn’t about love, or the bride’s approval, or a plump lower lip that begged to be kissed.

“He needs money most of all. He has a younger brother in the army who would make a far more dutiful earl.”

He covered his mouth with his hand. The words had rolled out, shocking him. He rarely spoke this frankly with any woman.

Very well, he never spoke this frankly with any woman.

She released a soft breath. “And there is the matter of the ore.”

His mouth gaped and he quickly closed it. Mr. Mercer had shared that information? Well. “That part of the county is rich with newly discovered veins of iron.”

That information brought her up straighter. She looked away, gazing intently at a thick, dark spot of foliage, making him want to pry into that sharp mind.

“I see,” she said. “I believe we should go back in now.”

Not yet. He tucked her hand over his arm but did not move. “I had hoped we were not finished talking. I’ve learned your Christian name is Liliana, but I don’t know anything else about you. I don’t know where you’re from or anything about your family.”

He sensed her bristling, and waited for some reaction, perhaps a slap, verbal, or, with a woman of her passion, even a physical one. Strictly speaking, he was importuning her, and damn if he wasn’t enjoying the nerves rippling through her.

99 cents for a limited time

Buy links

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1VBXAld

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/liliana-s-letter

iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/lilianas-letter/id1046400564?mt=11

Google:   https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Alina_K_Field_Liliana_s_Letter?id=eC4iDAAAQBAJ

Nook: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lilianas-letter-alina-k-field/1122799716?ean=2940151188487

About the Author

Alina K. FieldUSA Today Bestselling and award-winning author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature but prefers the much happier world of romance fiction. Though her roots are in the Midwestern U.S., after six very, very, very cold years in Chicago, she moved to Southern California and hasn’t looked back. She shares a midcentury home with two spunky rescues, a blonde terrier and a people-loving chihuahua.

She is the author of several Regency romances, including the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner, Rosalyn’s Ring. She is hard at work on her next series of Regency romances but loves to hear from readers!

Visit her at:

https://alinakfield.com/

https://www.facebook.com/alinakfield

https://twitter.com/AlinaKField

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7173518.Alina_K_Field

https://www.pinterest.com/alinakf/

https://www.instagram.com/alinak.field/

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/alina-k-field

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Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Alina-K.-Field/e/B00DZHWOKY

 

 

 

Oh, those Scots!

Dear Reader,

The New Year is almost upon us, and how appropriate that I have another story to offer you from the northern climes where this day is known as Hogmanay. (A most wretched name for a holiday, is it not?)

Some time ago I shared last year’s scandalous report of a Duke from the northern climes who married his housekeeper!

Suffice to say that, in the normal course of things, the Lady (for as it turned out, she was always a Lady) has done her duty, and the Duke has assured the succession of the title with a healthy male sprout.

Ah, but there is more, revealed to the Teatime Tattler by a gentleman guest of the Duke and Duchess, a direct witness. (Though, as he was in his cups when the story was revealed, we may not be entirely certain of the veracity of all the details.) However, the principle facts I have verified from a source close to an outstanding member of the London medical community.

As it happened, the Duke insisted his Duchess be attended by a physician, and it seems that only a particular doctor would do, a man of humble origins, a recent graduate of Edinburgh’s medical college, who needs must hurried north from his new practice in our fair capital–for who doesn’t obey a Duke’s command?!

Dear Reader, this promising young man had hoped for fame and fortune, and dare I say, romance in London, but instead was called north only to find…

Here is where the details become a trifle uncertain. I won’t say more, except to tell you that the young doctor’s story includes a trap laid by a wealthy heiress (rumored to be the doctor’s former amour), a loathsome nabob, fortune-hunting noblemen, rowdy peasants, and a surprise bequest.

Will our young hero find his wished-for fame, fortune and romance in the Highlands? Your intrepid reporter will endeavor to find out for you!

The Nabob’s Designing Daughter

Book 4, The Upstart Christmas Brides

Blurb:

A wealthy nabob’s daughter has designs on a handsome young doctor, but not the romantic sort, despite the one kiss he stole from her ages ago. The poor crofters she’s been tending behind her father’s back need more than a rich miss’s potions, they need a real doctor. And fortunately, she has the leverage to provide one.

Ripped from his prestigious London practice to deliver a Highland duke’s heir, a young doctor finds there are more snares awaiting than a risky birth, including a surprise—and worthless—bequest. There’s also his best friend’s cousin, who’s blossomed from mousey to heart-stirringly beautiful, with enough wiles to convince an ambitious man that his heart belongs in the Highlands.

Excerpt

They handed over their outer garments and entered a grand room, the fireplace at one end almost the size of the bedchamber he’d shared with his father’s man-of-all-work. Stag heads lined the walls, along with ancient weapons and tapestries. In the far corner, near the blazing fire, a woman rose from her chair, and hurried toward them, the man with her rising and following.

Attractive and dark-haired, she was heavy with child, but rosy-cheeked and smiling. Other than an awkward gait—to be expected—she moved swiftly and caught Mrs. MacDonal, in an embrace.

Introductions were made. Andrew MacDonal, Duke of Kinmarty was a well-formed man of about thirty, he would guess, his wife not quite that age, yet older than one might expect of a duke’s wife bearing his first child. Most noblemen married young women, anxious for as many years as required to produce a male heir.

“So, you’re the physician.” The duke scanned him from head to toe and back up again. “You might wish to know that my lady—”

“No, Andrew.” The duchess touched her husband’s arm. “Dr. Robillard has only just arrived. There is no urgency. We must let him rest before we get down to business.”

Her calm demeanor put him at ease. Demme, but he was nervous, and that wouldn’t do. “Your grace, if it is your time, I am ready now.”

The duke sent her a smug look. “You see, Fil. We men of action are always ready.”

Minny or Fil. What was the duchess’s Christian name?

The duke nodded to him, as if they were equals, and his confidence rose. “If there’s something you wish to tell me about your condition, your grace,” Errol said, “I’d most assuredly like to hear it.”

“Are you having false labor, Minnie?” Mrs. MacDonal appeared beside him and handed him a glass of whisky. “The Kinmarty brew. Quite good, and it will settle your nerves for the night ahead, if it is indeed Minnie’s time.”

“Enough talk of my upcoming ordeal. Edme, Dr. Robillard, we welcome you to our Yuletide celebration. Andrew and I grew up in England and at least where Christmas is concerned, we’ve brought our English ways.” She smiled. “Come the New Year, we’ll celebrate Hogmanay the Scottish way. Now, you must refresh yourself, Doctor Robillard. Come closer to the fire.” She nudged her cousin aside and led Errol to the hearth, whispering. “My husband is apprehensive.”

“And you, Duchess?”

“No.” She shivered. “Or, yes, in fact. My first, and at the advanced age of eight and twenty.”

Nerves were normal, but it wouldn’t do to encourage them. “You will do well, your grace.”

The great door knocker pounded again, and they both looked toward the hall. “More visitors have arrived.” She smiled up at him, and he saw the strain around her eyes.

“Are you in pain?”

“As my cousin said, it is likely false labor,” she whispered. “It comes and goes.”

“When did it start?”

“A few days ago, I had a spell.”

“And now?”

“Now I have a bit of a backache. Please. Sit. I’ll go greet our next arrivals.”

He set down his untouched glass, reached for her hand and placed it over his arm. “I’ll escort you. And after greeting the new arrivals, perhaps you will retire, and I might examine you?”

She laughed. “Men of action, indeed.”

A large, well-tailored, but otherwise lumpy man with white hair and a ruddy complexion entered. The girl next to him wore an equally stylish blue gown that brought out the peaches and cream of her perfect complexion. Errol’s heart stuttered.

Ann Strachney was here, looking as elegant as some of the ladies he’d seen shopping on Bond Street.

He straightened his spine. Why the devil was his heart racing? He’d had more than his share of women, but his heart only raced in the laboratory, or the clinic, or over a particularly well-researched journal article. Never over a girl, and certainly not over a lass who’d asked him for scientific studies and then never answered his letter. True, he’d been glad for the excuse to dispense with the promise to write, but the snub had still rankled.

Buy Links

Amazon   https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BPMXYLFJ

Kobo  https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-nabob-s-designing-daughter

Barnes & Noble    https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-nabobs-designing-daughter-alina-k-field/1142820461?ean=2940185741528

Apple Books  https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-nabobs-designing-daughter/id6445051918?ls=1

Universal Link https://books2read.com/u/3yVl6J

Alina K. FieldAbout the Author

Award winning and USA Today bestselling author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature, but prefers the much happier world of romance fiction. Though her roots are in the Midwestern U.S., after six very, very, very cold years in Chicago, she moved to Southern California, where she shares a midcentury home with a spunky, blond rescued terrier and a good-natured rescued chihuahua. She is the author of several Regency romances, including the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner, Rosalyn’s Ring. Though hard at work on her next series of romantic adventures, she loves to hear from readers!

Find her at: 

Website: https://alinakfield.com/

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Alina-K.-Field/e/B00DZHWOKY

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

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AlinaKField

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/alina-k-field

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alinak.field/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7173518.Alina_K_Field

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/alinakf/

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