Because history is fun and love is worth working for

Author: Cerise DeLand Page 9 of 12

Is that Viscount really a Duke in disguise? A deceit in our midst!

Gentle Reader,

Dowager Duchess M is throwing a house party with a motley assortment of guests. I dare swear most are little better than treasure seekers. 

Worse, she has loudly and publicly welcomed the Duke of E to her home as Viscount R! Now everyone is calling him Viscount R and the man can’t get a word of correction into the conversation.

The absent Viscount R is a suitor for AH, the Duchess’s granddaughter, but this author suspects AH finds the Duke a more compatible companion. If she doesn’t, she should!

Given the Duchess’s reputation as a prankster, the next couple days should prove entertaining. 

Purchase Link: https://www.amazon.com/Artful-Deceit-Art-Love-Book-ebook/dp/B09XRCHTP7

Blurb for An Artful Deceit:

What happens when a Duke is mistaken for a Viscount—on purpose?

Add that to two Michelangelo sketches, hidden passages, vanishing and reappearing art, threatening messages, conniving art collectors, arrogant academicians, a Bow Street agent, a lovelorn couple, and an elderly prankster.

It’s enough to give a Duke a headache.

Miles Wingate, the Duke of Ellinbourne, was not supposed to be at the Dowager Duchess of Malmsby’s house party. He was supposed to be in London preparing for the spring opening of the Royal Academy of Art, yet here he was, a stand-in guest for his injured cousin, Viscount Redinger.

This was taking family loyalty too far. The only rational person at the house party was Miss Ann Hallowell, the Duchess’s granddaughter, and as his luck would have it, his cousin’s intended!

Thrown together when he’s mistaken for his cousin, Miles and Ann join to unravel the house party mysteries. But every time they pull one mystery thread free, another appears, for seemingly everyone has a hidden agenda—including the Duchess!

Excerpt from An Artful Deceit:

“Yoo-hoo! Viscount Redinger!” called out Lady Oakley. She stood on the terrace and waved at him. Even at the distance across the grounds Miles could tell she was smiling. She fairly bounced as she waved to them.

Ann dropped his arm as they turned to face Lady Oakley

Ann huffed; her mouth set in a straight line. She crossed her arms over her chest. “She knows you are not Redinger,” she said crossly.

He nodded. “I’ll warrant your grandmother does as well.” He slid a sideways glance at Ann. “I think your grandmother and Lady Oakley are up to some mischief,” he murmured.

“Why do you say that?”

“When the maid showed me to my rooms—the suite reserved for royalty, I might add—she called me Your Grace.”

“You’re in the purple passion suite!” Ann exclaimed. “That is what my cousins and I called that suite.”

A laugh burbled up inside her, then she finally broke into uncontrollable laughter.

“What? What is it?” he asked.

“You are probably right as to mischief,” Ann said as she struggled to get her laughter under control. “I should have realized she has been good for too long!”

“I don’t understand,” Miles said.

“My grandmother loves pranks. Not nasty ones, but fun ones. She was always thinking up pranks to pull on her grandchildren when we were growing up,” Ann explained as Miles smiled and waved back at Lady Oakley. 

“We should probably be heading back to the main house anyway. The wind is picking up and there is the beginning of a chill in the air,” he said as he put on his jacket. 

It impressed Ann that he could shrug into his coat without the assistance of his valet.

“The maid, I believe her name is Donna,” he continued, “addressed me as ‘Your Grace’. I did not tumble to the import of that action until an hour later. If the staff knows I am not Redinger, then I believe your grandmother does as well. So, I’ve decided to play along,” he said as they walked back to the house and Lady Oakley.

Lady Oakley tried to wave them to her at a faster pace; however, Miles chose to ignore that bit of body language and take his time with Miss Hallowell. He enjoyed her company.

 “What do you mean?”

“I shall answer to Redinger.”

“But you’re a Duke! That’s so disrespectful!”

“Perhaps it would be if I had been raised to the expectation, but I wasn’t. I am a clergyman’s son.”

“You have said that before. Do you hold that as some trump card?”

“I suppose in a way I do. It is my way of honoring my father and not allowing myself to become caught up in the title and lose my sense of perspective with those around me.” He laughed. “Too many others do that for me!”

The twilight breeze quickened. Treetops swayed and garden flowers bent before it. The chilling breeze snatched Ann’s untied bonnet from her head.

“Oh!” Ann whirled around to try to catch a ribbon, but the wind sent the bonnet twenty feet away before dumping it to the ground and rolling it over and over.

Miles thrust his sketchbook into Ann’s hands and ran to rescue the bonnet. When first he stooped to pick up a ribbon, the wind playfully skittered it out of his reach. He quickly moved again to the capture the errant headgear and planted his boot on the end of the ribbon to lay claim before the wind could play again.

When he turned back to look at Ann, he found his breath caught in his chest. While the wind had played with Ann’s bonnet, it had played with Ann’s hair as well. Strands whipped free of their confining pins and framed her face in a riot of dark blond curls and waves. This would be a portrait worth painting, he decided, not some staid formal sitting. She was beautiful. Not in the London marriage mart diamond-of-the-first-water sense. She was too real. Her eyes glittered brightly, her cheeks showed a delicate blush that owed nothing to artifice. His cousin was getting a prize, and Miles felt disconcerted by that thought.

About Holly Newman:

Holly lives near the Florida Gulf Coast with her husband and six cats. An Artful Deceit is her 11th novel. When she is not writing she likes to read, garden (more like perpetually pulling weeds) and take walks.

Website: https://hollynewman.com/

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

Pinterest: Reading, Writing, Not ‘Rithmatic

Vital Correspondence Revealed!

Letter received by Lucy, Lady Cleeve, July 1817

Plas Coed, Capel Bodfan

My dear Lucy

I write again so soon after my last to ask for information. Today I received a letter from my brother, informing me (not asking, you understand) that my niece Isolde will be arriving shortly and staying “until she comes to her senses.” This is Izzy’s third season, I think, and she is as yet unwed—I suspect that my brother is being as dictatorial as ever and  Izzy has rebelled. It would be helpful to know more, if there is any talk in Town that you have overheard.

From Frederick’s reference to providing funds to ‘supplement my meagre income’ while Izzy is with me, I gather that he has still not found out about my change in circumstances since I arrived here. You will understand why I did not tell him beforehand, but it was not well done of me to keep the news from him in the years since.

Yours, as ever

Genie

Letter received by Lucy, Lady Cleeve, August 1817

My dear Lucy

Well the cat is out of the bag and no mistake! Your letter informing me of Izzy’s refusal to marry Lord O arrived only a day or two before my brother! The impoverished distant relative tasked to escort Izzy here must have let drop my current circumstances, and Frederick came to take Izzy home again. Such a bad example as I must be setting her! Oh, the horror!

But I have another favour to ask, if I may. Pray see if you can assist Izzy in some way. I believe she formed an attachment in the few weeks she was with me. Frederick would definitely not approve, and is likely to have her kept under close supervision. However I think the two young people would deal very well together if left to get on with their lives without my brother’s interference.

Yours, as ever

Genie

About the Book

 

An Embroidered Spoon

Can love bridge a class divide?

Wales 1817

After refusing every offer of marriage that comes her way, Isolde Farrington is packed off to a spinster aunt in Wales until she comes to her senses.

Rhys Williams, there on business, is turning over his uncle’s choice of bride for him, and the last thing he needs is to fall for an impertinent miss like Izzy – who takes Rhys for a yokel. But while a man may choose his wife, he cannot choose who he falls in love with.

Izzy’s new surroundings make her look at life, and Rhys, afresh. As she realises her early impressions were mistaken, her feelings about him begins to change.

But when her father, Lord Bedley, discovers the situation in Wales is not what he thought, and that Rhys is in trade, Izzy is hurriedly returned to London. Will a difference in class keep them apart?

Sale price: 0.99p/0.99c 21st – 26th June 2022 (UK and US only)

Amazon link: mybook.to/Spoon

Excerpt:

Finally, Rhys reached the outskirts of Capel Bodfan and turned down Bridge Street. A smart chaise stood outside the inn, its sides liberally plastered in mud. A man Rhys remembered as one of Morgan’s grooms stood behind it, unfastening a trunk.

A young lady stepped out of the post-chaise, clad in a pelisse of deep blue frogged with gold. A much older woman descended to the cobbles beside her and looked around, an air of faint puzzlement on her face.

Rhys cast another glance at the travellers as he dismounted by the inn door. The young woman turned her head, and Rhys gave a silent whistle of appreciation. Eyes as blue as a Spanish sky, hair the rich colour of chestnuts, and lips like red wine, all set in an oval face. She spoke to the man with the trunk, who just shook his head and walked into the inn. Rhys slung his saddle bag over his shoulder and took hold of the reins.

“Excuse me?”

Her voice carried well. Rhys wondered who she was talking to as he started to lead Seren through the low arch to the stables.

“You with the horse!”

Rhys looked around. The animals from the post-chaise had already been stabled; he was the only person nearby with a horse. He turned to face her.

That expression would curdle milk.

“I’m looking for Miss Farrington, at…” The woman broke off to consult a piece of paper in her hand. “Stryd y Bont,” she added, mangling the pronunciation as most English people did. “Do you know where that is?”

Farrington? The only Englishwoman he knew around here was Mrs Lloyd.

His brow creased as a sense of familiarity nudged at his brain; he’d heard the name Farrington before.

Izzy tapped her foot as the yokel puzzled over her words. His mount was a magnificent beast, a black gelding with a white star on its forehead, but the man’s serviceable garments indicated he was from the lower orders.

Had he misunderstood her? Or perhaps he had not understood her at all—this place was deep in the heart of Wales.

“Do… you… speak… English?” She made her voice loud and clear to give him the best chance of understanding.

The man nodded, one side of his mouth curling up.

“Where is Stryd y Bont?” Was that the name of a house or a street? Had she even said the words correctly?

He took off his hat, revealing brown hair that curled loosely where it wasn’t soaked. His eyes narrowed as he scratched his head.

Was he a farmer? His skin was tanned, as if he spent a lot of time out of doors, and the mud on his steed and on his boots suggested he’d ridden some distance.

“Well?” she prompted.

“By yur, isn’t it.” He spoke in the sing-song tones of all the natives she had encountered on the journey.

“What…? What does ‘by yur’ mean?”

He pressed his lips together; the creases at their corners and beside his grey eyes gave the impression of suppressed laughter.

At me?

“This road, Miss. Bridge Street, isn’t it.”

“I asked you about Stryd…” Izzy shut her mouth with a snap, heat rising to her face as she realised that Stryd y Bont must be the Welsh for Bridge Street.

“Diwrnod da, Miss.” He knuckled his forehead and led the horse away.

Izzy’s eyes narrowed—were his shoulders shaking? He was laughing at her!

pastedGraphic.png

About the Author

Jayne Davis was hooked on Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer as a teenager, and longed to write similar novels herself. Real life intervened, and she had several careers, including as a non-fiction author under another name. That wasn’t quite the writing career she had in mind…

Finally, she got around to polishing up stories written for her own amusement in long winter evenings, and became the kind of author she’d dreamed of in her teens. She currently has 10 titles published, and is working on several more.

Links

Website: www.jaynedavisromance.co.uk

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

Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Jayne-Davis/e/B078WTF3DP

Overheard, a Conversation between Ladies arrived for the Season in York!

(This is a conversation between Lucinda, Lady Bittle who lives next door to the house Lord and Lady Beaumont rented for the York Season and her bosom friend Mrs. Almeria Thompson.)

Lady Bittle: “Almeria, I am so glad you could join me for tea. I have such news!”

Mrs. Thompson: “Please tell me it is about your new neighbors.”

Lady Bittle: “Yes, indeed. They are Lord and Lady Beaumont. You his main estate is north of York, but they usually spend the Season in London, and here they are for the first time!”

Mrs. Thompson: “How curious. Do you know the reason?”

Lady Bittle: They brought with them a gentleman by the name of Lord Sextus. An unusual name to be sure. However, the younger ladies, and some of the older ones I am sure, will swoon over his broad shoulders and blond hair.”

Mrs. Thompson titters: “He must be a younger son of at least a marquis, perhaps even a duke! Tell me, is he looking for a wife. He must be. And here in York!”

Lady Bittle: “Perhaps none of the young ladies in London were to his taste. In any event, that new young lady, Miss Staunton is apparently a friend of Lady Beaumont, and he has been introduced to her.”

Mrs. Thompson: I can only suppose that her ladyship is matchmaking between Miss Staunton and Lord Sextus.” She drinks a sip of tea. “Miss Staunton is quite lovely. Have you noticed that she resembles some of the Bigglesworth ladies?”

Lady Bittle: “Do you think they could be related? Perhaps that is the reason she chose York. To be near her relatives. One of her maids told my downstairs maid that she is from London.”

Mrs. Thompson: “Hmm. That is a fascinating thought, but none of the Bigglesworth ladies seemed to know who she was. At the al fresco party, at least one of them was introduced to Miss Staunton, but none of them appeared to have known her before, and she did not say she was related to them.”

Lady Bittle: “How disappointing. It would have been a great deal of fun to have discovered how they were related.” She picks up a ginger biscuit. “I wonder if Lord Sextus met Miss Staunton in London and that is the reason he is here.”

Mrs. Thompson clutched her hands to her breast. “How very romantic that would be. To think he convinced Lord and Lady Beaumont to hire a house so that he could follow her here! Come to think of it, he escorted her to the al fresco party. Yes, that must be it!”

Lady Bittle: “And Miss Staunton has been at the house next door a great deal, and every time the Beaumonts and Lord Sextus go out, she is with them.”

Mrs. Thompson: “Where will they wed I wonder.”

Lady Bittle goes to the window. “Not here. There is a wagon in front of the house. It looks as if they are preparing to depart.”

Mrs. Thompson sighs. “We will have to read about it in the London newssheets. How disappointing.”

From the new box set, Desperate Daughters, “I’ll Always Be Yours” by Ella Quinn

Desperate DaughtersAll her life Miss Harriett Staunton believed she was the natural daughter of an earl. In the merchant society in which she was raised, that only garnered improper proposals. Knowing she would never wed, she moved to York, far away from her London family.

Lord Sextus Trevor needs to wed. Unbeknownst to him his father has arranged a marriage. But before he is even told about the betrothal, he’s whisked off to York, where he meets Harriett Staunton and must find a way to defy his father.

The Earl of Seahaven desperately wanted a son and heir but died leaving nine daughters and a fifth wife. Cruelly turned out by the new earl, they live hand-to-mouth in a small cottage.

The young dowager Countess’s one regret is that she cannot give Seahaven’s dear girls a chance at happiness.

When a cousin offers the use of her townhouse in York during the season, the Countess rallies her stepdaughters. They will pool their resources so that the youngest marriageable daughters might make successful matches, thereby saving them all.

So start their adventures in York, amid a whirl of balls, lectures, and al fresco picnics. Is it possible each of them might find love by the time the York horse races bring the season to a close?

Excerpt, I’ll Always Be Yours

April, London docks.

“What the deuce?” Lord Sextus Trevor had no sooner left the ship upon which he’d arrived than he was bundled into a large traveling coach with a young matron he thought he remembered and a gentleman he didn’t know at all. The lady looked a great deal like his mother, Catherine, Duchess of Somerset, but she had the most unusual turquoise eyes.

Convinced he wasn’t being abducted he settled onto the comfortably padded bench. “I take it we are related?”

Her eyes began to twinkle as a wide smile graced her face. “I am your sister Thalia. This”—she motioned with her hand to the gentleman—“is my husband Giles.”

“Ah, yes. I received letters about your marriage.” Sextus looked at the baby sleeping on her lap. It couldn’t be more than a few months if that. “But where are Hawksworth and Meg?” Sextus’s eldest brother and his wife the Marquis and Marchioness of Hawksworth. “I understood I would be staying with them.”

Giles, the Duke of Kendal placed a protective arm around Thalia. “You were until Meg received a letter informing her that the duke had arranged a marriage for you. We are ensuring that you never receive the letter he sent to you informing you of your pending betrothal.”

Thalia closed her eyes and shuddered. “Be thankful you are of age, and he must have your agreement to any marriage.”

Considering the truly horrifying marriages the duke, their father, had arranged for two of his sisters, one to a peer who had killed three of his wives, and the other to a pox ridden duke in Scotland, merely so that he could have property he wanted, Sextus had to agree. “I am indeed fortunate. But if I am not to remain in Town, where are we going?”

His sister smiled again. “You will be attending the Season in York. Giles and I are taking you to Marcella and Octavius. Friends of Meg’s, Viscount and Viscountess Beaumont, who live just north of York, have leased a town house large enough to accommodate all of you. Lady Beaumont is very familiar with the local gentry and peers in the area. Granted, anyone who has a daughter to launch or who can afford it will be in Town, but she is convinced you will be able to find someone suitable.”

Sextus regarded Kendal’s amused mien. “Do you not have an estate somewhere in the area?”

“We do.” Kendal stretched out his legs. “But having a duke and duchess attending the York Season is bound to cause more comment than an earl and countess who are known to live in the area. Neither Marcella nor Octavius have gone about much. It will be their introduction to York’s Polite Society as well as yours. I have met Beaumont and his lady. Meg was right in asking them to sponsor all of you. I will add this required them to leave Town and return north.”

That seemed to be above and beyond what one should be able to expect even of friends. Sextus quickly sifted through all that had been said and unsaid. “I take it that the lady the duke selected is not suitable. And not only does he not read the York newssheets, but unless there was something interesting that would be picked up by the London papers, he will likely not discover I am there.”

Kendal inclined his head. “Correct. From what we were able to discover, the lady is the eldest child of a country squire and is content to remain with her father. The property is not entailed, and she stands to inherit.”

“In addition to that,” Talia said, “she is not particularly well educated beyond the basics.” She raised a brow. “No foreign languages.”

What the devil had the old man been thinking? “What does he expect me to do with a wife like that?”

“I’m not sure he cares,” Kendal drawled. “I am positive there is property that he wants involved.”

Author Biography of Ella Quinn

   USA Today bestselling author Ella Quinn’s studies and other jobs have always been on the serious side. Reading historical romances, especially Regencies, were her escape. Eventually her love of historical novels led her to start writing them.

     She is married to her wonderful husband of almost forty years. They have a son and two beautiful granddaughters, a Great Dane and a cat. After living in the South Pacific, Central America, North Africa, England and Europe, she and her husband decided to make their dreams come true and are now living on a sailboat. They cruised the Caribbean and North America and completed a transatlantic crossing from St. Martin to Southern Europe They will be sailing the Med for the foreseeable future.

Website  ~ Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Blog

One Diamond who seeks an Apothecary? Heavens, no!

Dear Readers, the Earl of Seahaven’s daughters seem determined to raise eyebrows wherever they go, especially the beautiful, but too independent, Lady Josefina Bigglesworth. She may be one of the Seahaven diamonds and certain to turn heads during her season in York, but is this not all the more reason she ought to be careful about running off on her own? Even an innocent daytime excursion to a local apothecary shop in The Shambles may be viewed as too forward.

She has also been seen lately having tea with none other than the Duke of Bourne, York’s most eligible bachelor, and it is said he could not take his eyes off her. Although the Dowager Countess of Seahaven is keeping quiet about it, several reliable sources present at the Castlegate Tea Room assure this Tattler the duke proposed to the lovely Josefina and she has accepted his offer of marriage.

The duke, that handsome devil, is taking Lady Josefina to his seaside estate outside of Whitby to meet his beloved sister. It is rumored she is ill and the doctors seem unable to cure her. Lady Josefina is known as quite the expert in curative plant medicines. Do her plant lore talents have anything to do with his desire to marry her? And will he marry her if she is unable to cure his sister? It would be a shocking scandal if he begged out, ruining the girl and her family. 

Desperate Daughters, Box Set, Bluestocking Belles and Friends

Desperate DaughtersBlurb:

Lady Josefina would much rather spend her time studying plants and their healing properties, but her father, the Earl of Seahaven, has died and left the family impoverished. Marriage seems her only alternative until she meets the handsome Duke of Bourne in an apothecary in York’s ancient Shambles. He offers her an intriguing proposition, a fake betrothal and a king’s ransom as reward if she returns with him to his estate and finds a cure for his sister’s illness. But will the true reward be his heart?

The Earl of Seahaven desperately wanted a son and heir but died leaving nine daughters and a fifth wife. Cruelly turned out by the new earl, they live hand-to-mouth in a small cottage.

The young dowager Countess’s one regret is that she cannot give Seahaven’s dear girls a chance at happiness.

When a cousin offers the use of her townhouse in York during the season, the Countess rallies her stepdaughters. They will pool their resources so that the youngest marriageable daughters might make successful matches, thereby saving them all.

So start their adventures in York, amid a whirl of balls, lectures, and al fresco picnics. Is it possible each of them might find love by the time the York horse races bring the season to a close?

About the Author, Meara Platt:

Meara Platt is an award winning, USA TODAY bestselling author and an Amazon UK All-Star. Her favorite place in all the world is England’s Lake District, which may not come as a surprise since many of her stories are set in that idyllic landscape, including her paranormal romance Dark Gardens series. Learn more about the Dark Gardens and Meara’s lighthearted and humorous Regency romances in her Farthingale series and Book of Love series, or her warmhearted Regency romances in her Braydens series by visiting her website at www.mearaplatt.com 

On the Shelf or On the Stage?

Music room at Chateau de Cheverny. Photo by Cerise Deland.

Dear readers, such excitement at York! Here, as you know, the daughters of the late Earl of Seahaven are taking the Season by storm. They are of course very properly chaperoned by the Dowager Countess, who just happens to be delightfully young and beautiful – younger, even than at least two of her stepdaughters!

And it is to one of those elder stepdaughters we turn our attention today. Lady Barbara, the late earl’s second comely if no longer youthful daughter, has let it be known she attends the events of the Season only as an additional chaperone for her lovely and lively younger sisters. She never dances and she is certainly of an age – all of seven-and-twenty, we hear – to be considered mostly On the Shelf. One would never dream of scandal coming from this quarter…

However, this very daughter, Lady Barbara Bigglesworth, has been seen by this reporter, promenading alone with respected composer and musician, Mr. John Sutton. Rumor says that Lady Barbara is also of a musical turn of mind and is, in fact, most accomplished on the pianoforte. Indeed, a little bird has whispered to me that she has been teaching proficiency on the instrument to her social inferiors – which might be judged by the high sticklers among you to be a scandal in itself.

Considering all of this, and the apparent intensity of the lady’s talk with Mr. Sutton, is it possible that instead of marriage, the stage is Lady Barbara’s goal? In concert, we might say, with Mr. Sutton?

The late earl would turn in his grave at such outrageous behaviour in his family, though one might argue in that case that he should have left his daughters better provided for. But whether Shelf or Stage is to be Lady Barbara’s final destination, we must wish her well – and we shall, of course, be watching closely.

Desperate Daughters, Box Set

Desperate DaughtersThe Earl of Seahaven desperately wanted a son and heir but died leaving nine daughters and a fifth wife. Cruelly turned out by the new earl, they live hand-to-mouth in a small cottage.

The young dowager Countess’s one regret is that she cannot give Seahaven’s dear girls a chance at happiness.

When a cousin offers the use of her townhouse in York during the season, the Countess rallies her stepdaughters.

They will pool their resources so that the youngest marriageable daughters might make successful matches, thereby saving them all.

So start their adventures in York, amid a whirl of balls, lectures, and al fresco picnics. Is it possible each of them might find love by the time the York horse races bring the season to a close?

 

About the author, Mary Lancaster

Mary Lancaster lives in Scotland with her husband, three mostly grown-up kids and a small, crazy dog.

Her first literary love was historical fiction, a genre which she relishes mixing up with romance and adventure in her own writing. Several of her novels feature actual historical characters as diverse as Hungarian revolutionaries, medieval English outlaws, and a family of eternally rebellious royal Scots. To say nothing of Vlad the Impaler.

Her most recent books are light fun Regency romances written for Dragonblade Publishing: The Imperial Season series set at the Congress of Vienna; and the popular Blackhaven Brides series, which is set in a fashionable English spa town frequented by the great and the bad of Regency society.

 

Page 9 of 12

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén