Category: Bluestocking Belles Page 1 of 51

After the interview, the visitors left. Sam Clemens, editor of the Teatime Tattler, sank back into his chair with a sigh of relief, and dug for a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“Well, that was intense,” said one of his reporter. “What are you going to do, Sam?”

“Publish the interview, obviously,” Sam said. “What else?”

“But the public wants blood, Sam,” said the journalist. “These rumors that are flying around the town are newspaper gold. People want to know all the prurient details. And it is not as if we would be lying. There must be some substance to them. No smoke without fire, and all that.”

Sam didn’t act on his spurt of irritation. Marcus was wrong, but he was also young. Time enough to get angry with him if he proved to be unteachable.

He held up a finger. “Point one,” he said. “A determined gossip only needs to embroider a few facts to make the billowing smoke look like a whole bonfire. If you are going to be a serious writer, my lad, don’t resort to cliches.”

A second finger joined the first. “Point two. I’ve looked into the sources of the scandal, the people who started circulating the stories. The gossip all goes back to people who have something to gain. The Brethertons. They thought they had the colonel locked up as a groom for their girl. The marriage would have saved them, and then his wife came back from the dead, and now they face bankruptcy. They believe they’ll get a cash settlement from Redepenning if they make enough fuss. They’re idiots. He and his family will crush them.”

“But they’re not the only ones,” Marcus protested.

He would have said more, but Sam didn’t wait. “True. Lady Carrington, who has been trying to hurt the Redepennings since the younger sons refused to play her wicked games and gave her the cut direct. That was before your time, Marcus, a decade ago. She lies as easily as she breathes, that woman, and I wouldn’t take her word for it if she said the sky was blue. In fact, lad, that’s a good principal for a reporter. Don’t take anyone’s word for anything. Check your facts. As for that cur Major Weston, I have it on good authority that he is jealous of the colonel, and is motivated by spite.”

“What about the Frenchie, Sam?” Marcus asked, sounding interested rather than combatative.

“Him, I don’t know. Perhaps he is just being used by Lady Carrington, but from what people overheard at the ball, he appears to think he is revenging his brother. That doesn’t mean, though, that there’s truth to the rumours she worked with the man spying for the French. Indeed, logically, if her actions led to the brother’s death, it seems unlikely that she was working with the man or was his lover.”

He could do with a drink. He poured them both a brandy, and sat down again. “As for the lady’s children, the eldest is obviously Colonel Redepenning’s. The other two, he says, are war orphans that she adopted. Since she came here with a whole pack of war widows and their children, it is not unlikely.”

Where had he got to? Ah yes. “Third point, the story Redepenning tells is even more compelling. Two people, both warriors, both the best of their kind, praised by Wellington. They meet in the midst of war, and fall in love. Then tragedy happens. Her band of Spanish freedom fighters is ambushed and slaughtered, and he believes her to be dead. The country is in confusion, with the tides of war ebbing and flowing, land changing hands from the French to the allies and back again hour by hour.”

Marcus was nodding, hanging on every word. Good. He had the right instincts. He was hearing the drama, the pathos. Sam continued. “The lady escapes the ambush because she is giving birth. When the baby is old enough to leave, she sets out to seek her husband, and is captured by the French. Eventually she manages to escape, but she is injured, ill. By the time she is well enough to resume the search, our armies have chased the French into France. The British Army has other priorities than helping one couple to reunite. And so our heroine works and waits, saving money for an epic journey, across oceans, seeking the man she loves. She must know what has become of him.”

He downed the rest of his brandy and stood. “Write it, Marcus. You were here. You heard the interview. Write the story and bring it to me. You have two hours. End with the reunion. Husband and wife, joyfully together after all the blood, all the violence, all the tears. Make the readers feel it. Have them cheering the Redepennings on. Wipe the floor with those dirty rags who forget that people love a happy ending.”

There was another point he wanted to make. Oh yes. “Before you start, fourth point. The Redepennings are one of the most powerful families in this land. They are allied with the Haverfords, who are even more powerful. In fact, Brigadier General Redepenning, the colonel’s father, is friends with the Deerhavens and the Dellboroughs, too. No newspaper that wants to survive can afford to annoy three dukes, Marcus, and don’t you forget it.”

An Unpitied Sacrifice

“When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall, one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle.” Edmund Burke

Brought together by war, Valeria Izquierdos and Harry Redepenning had only a few short months as a couple before the war parted them again.

That war is long over when she brings a group of war brides and children to England. Her friends seek their soldier husbands. Valeria wants to find Harry or, if Harry’s long silence means he is dead, his father. Her eldest child deserves to know his English family.

Harry has never forgotten, or ceased to mourn, the warrior wife he married in the midst of war, and lost to a French ambush years ago. His courtship of a suitable wife is a practical matter, not involving the heart that has been numb since Valeria’s death.

The Redepenning family greet Valeria with suspicion, but when Harry joyously confirms her identity, they welcome her and her children with open arms—not just Kiko, whose Redepenning eyes mark him as Harry’s son, but also the daughter she adopted and the younger son who origins she has disclosed only to Harry.

But as Valeria, Harry, and the children begin living as a family, another, private, war looms before them. The lady who had been smugly awaiting Harry’s proposal is less than pleased with the couple’s reunion. She and her parents set out to destroy Valeria’s reputation, and find willing accomplices.

An old foe of the Redepennings has combined forces with a man who blames Valeria for his brother’s death, and who wants Valeria’s youngest child. A rival of Harry’s from the army would be glad to hurt Harry however he can. These enemies will stop at nothing to destroy not only Harry and Valeria, but also their family.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0GNNV18BP

https://books2read.com/u/479JAA

For more about Jude and her books, see here:

Jude Knight

Jude Knight’s books

Jude Knight’s website

Were the Rumors Incorrect?

By Aileen Fish

On March 14, 2026

In Aileen Fish, gossip, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

Dear Reader,

The most fascinating on dits has reached our ears regarding the youngest sister of the Duchess of N. Lady L-A. is reportedly in London, having returned from her visit with the duke and duchess in Virginia. I have it on good authority she will be announcing an engagement with a certain constable who rescued her sister, Lady P. last year.

But wait! Reader, I’m shocked to inform you she is not anticipating a proposal after all! The stories I’ve heard regarding a certain Mr. P. of Virginia are most intriguing where they mention Lady L-A. I do believe the on dits have been far from accurate and I will tell you more as soon as I’m certain.

Falling for the American (The Bridgethorpe Brides Book 11)

The best thing about Lady Lucy-Anne Lumley’s visit to her sister’s American farm is the next-door neighbor, Kit Pennington. Too bad he’s as stubborn as her brothers when it comes to believing women can train good racehorses. How can she convince him he’s not complete without the love of the woman he thinks is the bane of his existence?

Thanks to the mother who abandoned him and his siblings, Kit knows enough about the gently bred women of English aristocracy, and he’s sworn to steer clear of them. Besides, he’s too busy for love, with the management of the family farm, establishing himself as a successful racehorse owner, and caring for his younger siblings. Yet everywhere he turns, Lady Lucy-Anne is underfoot, determined to tell him how to properly train his racehorses. And she appears to be weakening the defenses around his heart.

Can Kit remain strong enough against Lucy-Anne’s wiles until she tires of the rough farm life and returns to her life of ballrooms and titled bachelors in England, or will he suffer the same fate as his father and have to choose between his lifestyle and hers?

The final book in the popular Bridgethorpe Brides Series is now available!

Excerpt

Falling for the American

Chapter One

August 1819

Williamsburg, Virginia

Drawing in a deep breath of the brisk morning air, Lucy-Anne leaned her chin on her hands where they rested on the paddock fence rail on her brother-in-law’s farm near Williamsburg, Virginia. Perry, the Duke of Noblegreen, affectionately known as Nobby by his wife and duchess Madeleine, who was Lucy-Anne’s older sister, had inherited the property and its racing horses. He imported racing stock from his English stables and exported colonial stock back to England. Noblegreen Farm was already well-known locally for its quality runners, much as the Lumley name was lauded in England for their winning horses.

Inside the paddock was the colt that had traveled with Lucy-Anne on the ship from England. Watching him dart about stirred a longing that awoke from time to time. As the youngest of eight children of the late Earl of Bridgethorpe, Lucy-Anne felt she’d learned everything one could possibly know about the proper training of racehorses—how to inspect a potential broodmare before purchasing, the three most important traits to look for in a colt as it grew, and to watch for traces of their father’s foundation stud, Zephyr. Her brothers, Adam, the current earl, and David, were most guilty for spouting sermons on these matters as she grew up. Nobby had only recently married Madeleine, thus hadn’t had the time to send Lucy-Anne skulking into another room when his own opinions on horseflesh came up for discussion. Or perhaps he didn’t feel the need to ensure Lucy-Anne could spot a winning stud as easily as she could recognize the most desirable unmarried nobleman on the dance floor at Almack’s Assembly Rooms on any given springtime evening.

Her sisters and sisters-in-law had seen to that area of her education. By the time Lucy-Anne was sixteen years old, Mama had preferred to remain on their country estate, Bridgethorpe Manor, to nurse Lucy-Anne’s father, who eventually died last year when Lucy-Anne was eighteen. Hannah, the eldest of the Lumley girls and eight years Lucy-Anne’s senior, happily took Lucy-Anne under her wing when she’d made her curtsy to the Queen two years ago. Now married to Viscount Oakhurst, Hannah had introduced her to nearly every eligible gentleman in London that Season, avoiding only those rakehell friends of Oakhurst’s, plus those frowned on by their brothers. Surprisingly enough, there had been enough handsome men remaining after the fraternal culling that Lucy-Anne’s dance card had always been full.

Her dance cards were full, her days filled with activities, and the silver salver in the entry hall had overflowed with invitations to balls and musicales, but at the end of her first Season, and the next, Lucy-Anne’s heart was as safe as it had been before her first visit to a London modiste. But then she’d met Mr. Harrison.

The horrible manner in which their meeting came about had somehow not diminished her attraction, and he returned her feelings, she was certain of it. Just before she boarded the ship to sail with her maid, Tilly, the still-unnamed colt of Nobby’s, and the horse’s groom, Tim, Mr. Harrison had promised to call on her when she returned. She’d dreamed of him every night as she sailed west. When she’d seen the buildings on the coast of Norfolk, and a horizon of trees further up and down the coast, her thoughts of Mr. Harrison faded, and her excitement to see Madeleine overflowed.

Here on Noblegreen Farm, with the exception of all the live oak and filbert trees, she could feel like she was at home in Bridgethorpe Manor. And without Mr. Harrison in front of her to remind her of the life she’d likely live as a constable’s wife in London, she could pretend she had a horse of her own to raise, to train, and to race, as she’d wanted to do for most of her nineteen years.

Nobby walked out of the stables and stood beside her, also watching the colt. He was a tall man, not towering, but even with his arms braced on the fence he had the air of a duke about him. “What’s your opinion of Cain?”

She snorted. “That’s what you’re calling him? That’s a horrid name for such a sweet young horse.”

He chuckled. “Madeleine said you didn’t inherit the family passion for horses.”

“I’ve tried to keep my passion to myself. I have never understood the need for evil names like Agitator or Outlaw. I prefer kinder names like Zephyr and Pride.”

He eyed her askance, obviously biting back a grin. “If you start calling my horse by some silly name, I’ll have your bags packed and put you on a ship back to England.”

Now she grinned wickedly. “Fluffy? No, he’s not fluffy. Beau? Swain? Truelove?”

“Methinks you require a husband, not a horse, Lucy-Anne.” His brown eyes twinkled.

“Between all my brothers and you, I have perhaps a hundred horses at my service, so I always have one available. And husbands, well, my sisters all have very good ones. When I find one as excellent as you lot, I might consider marrying. But I’m not pining.” She’d mentioned Mr. Harrison to Mad but wasn’t going to discuss him with Nobby.

“I wasn’t ‘pining’ either when Madeleine captured my heart. You take care. Some man will become necessary to you when you least expect it.”

Lucy-Anne couldn’t imagine any man being necessary to her happiness, but she had to admit her sisters all spoke as if it were so for them. Did she feel that strongly about Mr. Harrison? Maybe she was too logical for such extreme emotions. She’d be perfectly happy to become Mrs. Harrison, but her happiness was of her own making, not dependent on his love. “We shall see, but don’t bother making a wager on it. Put your money to better use.”

***

That afternoon while Mad napped, Lucy-Anne decided to take a walk. She stayed on the road, knowing better than to wander when she didn’t know the area. The ruts were well-defined, telling her there must be a few farms in the area, but she hadn’t seen any houses from the carriage when she first arrived the day before. Mad had said the neighbors were all pleasant, and that one young lady of similar age lived on the farm next door. Lucy-Anne would wait to meet anyone until Mad was up to making calls, which could be several weeks, from what she’d seen with their sisters’ pregnancies.

Such exciting news, the prospect of another niece or nephew. Could it be twins, since Madeleine was one? Lucy-Anne had planned to return to England before winter, but that would leave Mad to have her baby with no one from the family there. Mama would have received the letter bearing the announcement by now, and perhaps she would come. All their sisters were married, and all but Patience had young children, so it wasn’t likely any of them would want to make the trip. There was plenty of time to worry about that later, though.

Lucy-Anne had been walking about fifteen minutes when she heard the bawling of a calf. Following the sound of the cries, she forged a path through the brush and trees until she saw a very young calf standing alone. “Well, hello. Where’s your mama?”

Lucy-Anne approached cautiously, not wanting to frighten the animal. When she was a few steps away, she held out her hand and continued closer. “Hello, sweet thing. I wish I were strong and could carry you home. Or had a rope to lead you.”

Having no idea where “home” was didn’t help the matter. Nobby’s cows were kept on the other side of his property, and it wasn’t likely this little one had wandered that far. He probably belonged to the neighbors.

The calf shied away at first but then sniffed her hand as if looking for milk. “Sorry, I come empty-handed. Can we still be friends?” Now she was able to scratch the top of its head.

She turned a half-step toward the road. “Will you come with me? Come on.” She rubbed her fingers together in front of its face as if that would encourage it. She hadn’t played with calves since she was six, that she could recall, so she hadn’t a clue how to do so.

Surprisingly, the calf came closer. Lucy-Anne took another half-step to the side. “I have no idea who you belong to, but we can’t leave you here alone. Come on.”

When she reached the road with the calf at her side, she had to make a decision. Clearly, the calf hadn’t walked a mile or more from its mama, but it wasn’t wise to try to retrace its steps through the woods. The best option seemed to be to take it to Noblegreen and ask one of the farmhands to find its home in a wagon.

That plan seemed excellent until five minutes later when a horse approached from around the bend behind her. A deep voice called out, “Where are you going with my calf?” He sounded accusatory as if she was calf-napping.

She turned to face the rider. “Is it yours? I’m glad you found us, then. I wasn’t certain where he’d come from.”

He dismounted his horse, a giant of a man, and loomed over her. Her brother-in-law, Lord Oakhurst, was also quite tall and muscular, and he was such a sweetheart, so she didn’t shy away from this man.

“You must be Her Grace’s sister. From England.” He nearly spat out England. How charming he was, she thought sarcastically. His accent was odd to her ears.

“I am Lady Lucy-Anne Lumley, yes.”

“Well, you knew it wasn’t their calf, so why were you taking it to Noblegreen?” His manner hadn’t grown any kinder upon learning her identity. His features were somewhat fierce, narrowed eyes, a long nose, and down-turned lips with deep furrows beside them. His hat threw shadows across his face.

“I don’t know where any other farm is,” she answered, stretching up to her tallest self, which brought her eyes roughly to the top button of his waistcoat. “I thought it ill-advised to wander through the woods and have both of us become lost.”

He said nothing to that. Instead, he marched over to the calf, lifted it with ease, slung it across the horse’s back, and mounted again.

She was in awe of his strength and grace. And perturbed that he hadn’t thanked her for not leaving his calf to the wolves. “Well then, I shall be on my way,” she said, and continued to walk toward her sister’s home.

Lucy-Anne fully expected him to turn and ride off in the other direction, but he rode his horse beside her. She felt like a thief being marched to Newgate prison. Why couldn’t this man leave her alone? It dawned on her he hadn’t introduced himself, which wasn’t surprising given his obvious desire not to be polite or conversational in any way. “Is your farm beyond Noblegreen?”

“If it was, why would I accuse you of stealing my calf? You could have been bringing it to me.”

“Stealing?” Her voice almost squeaked in outrage. “Do many ladies in Williamsburg steal cattle?”

The corners of his lips twitched. “You’d have to ask my sister. I don’t read the gossip rags.”

She gave up trying to make conversation, although the choice of silence was just as awkward to her. She couldn’t recall being in someone’s company and not talking—if not speaking herself, she was listening to the others.

Eventually, he said, “I can’t let you walk home alone. Noblegreen would never forgive me if something happened to you.” His tone was softer, deep, rich, and pleasant.

She threw a glance up at him to attempt to read his expression. Oh, she shouldn’t have done so. When he wasn’t scowling, he was possibly the most handsome man she’d met. His coloring was the complete opposite of Mr. Harrison’s. His straight black hair was cut a bit longer than was the fashion in London, the ends flaring out a bit under the brim of his hat. His eyes were dark, cheekbones high, and his jaw had strong lines. Yes, the most handsome man she could recall. If only he weren’t so surly, he might be nice to know better. “My brothers would either thank you or laugh at you for assuming I’m fragile. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

“Perhaps, but your sister would never forgive me. Where’s your maid? Or a groom? You shouldn’t walk alone on the road.”

She turned her head away so she could roll her eyes unnoticed. If all the local men were like this, Mr. Harrison’s worries of her losing her heart to one were safe. Lucy-Anne could never fall in love with such a man.

Buy the book https://aileenfish.com/books/falling-for-the-american/

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author Aileen Fish is an avid quilter and auto racing fan who finds there aren’t enough hours in a day/week/lifetime to stay up with her “to-do” list. There is always another quilt or story begging to steal away attention from the others. When she has a spare moment, she enjoys spending time with her two daughters and their families.

She also writes steamy romance under the pen name Ari Thatcher.

Social Media Links

Website: http://aileenfish.com

Amazon Author page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Aileen-Fish/author/B005EEER4M

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

X: https://x.com/AileenFish

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

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/aileenf17/

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/aileen-fish

How Not to Avoid a Curse

By Barbara Monajem

On February 21, 2026

In Barbara Monajem, Bluestocking Belles, gossip, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

Dear Readers!

You, we are certain, are guided by reason and common sense.

Sadly, this is untrue of one of our noble peers. We refer, alas, to Lord N, who is labeled by the caricaturists as the Carpentry Earl.

Lord N‘s marquetry and inlay work is superb. No one denies that. But why did he enter into partnership with a man of low estate and indulge in (shudder) trade? This was deplorable enough when he was a mere second son, but after succeeding unexpectedly to the title, Lord N continues to eschew the ton in favor of laboring in his London shop.

We at the Tattler wonder if perhaps his diligence has something to do with avoiding marriage—or, to put it more plainly, the inevitability of an unfaithful wife. Why, you ask, would his wife be unfaithful? Lord N is a good-looking man, and physical labor renders him quite delightfully brawny.

But brawniness is no proof against the supposed Infidelity Curse laid upon his noble line by the Lady N of two centuries ago. Ever since, every Lady N has been unfaithful to her lord. No wonder his lordship would rather avoid marriage.

But if so, why did he commit the folly of entangling himself with the excessively beautiful Lady T, who (it is whispered) betrayed her elderly husband and then poisoned him? Does she have her clutches firmly into Lord N? If so, which fate will assail him first: poison or the dreaded curse? https://books2read.com/infidelity-curse

Here’s an excerpt from The Infidelity Curse:

Setup: At the reading of Sir Matthew Tifton’s will, all is going well except for the unpleasant presence of Sir Matthew’s nephew, Mr. Welton, who has already disrupted the proceedings twice. And then…

“There remains the question of guardianship, which is somewhat unusual,” Mr. Briggs, the solicitor, said.

Oh, God. Lucretia hadn’t thought of that.

“Sir Matthew appointed the Earl of Netherbroke as guardian of his child.” He paused. “Also as trustee, jointly with myself.”

“What the devil? I am meant to be the guardian!” Mr. Welton sprang up. “And the sole trustee, damn you!”

“Mr. Welton, if you cannot restrain yourself,” Mr. Briggs said, “Lady Tifton will be obliged to ask her footman to remove you.”

“Pah! She wouldn’t dare,” Welton said, “not with what I know about her.” He jabbed an accusing finger at Lucretia.

She shrank away. What could he possibly know? She’d never done anything wrong, except . . .

“Who is the Earl of Netherbroke?” demanded Lucretia’s niece, Noelle.

“He is an elderly peer who lives in Gloucestershire,” Lucretia said. “Sir Matthew and the Earl of Netherbroke were enthusiastic medal collectors. They met once at an auction and corresponded for a short while well over a year ago. Sir Matthew’s passion for marquetry was due to the Earl’s influence. I suppose my husband decided, judging by a brief acquaintance and some expensive furniture from the shop the Earl recommended, that the Earl would make a suitable guardian.” Fury swelled within her, but she strove to keep it from her voice. Surely a doddering earl was better than horrid Mr. Welton.

Mr. Briggs nodded. “Most likely due to his position in society.”

“Society be damned. My uncle feared for his life and the safety of his child.” Welton’s spittle flew. “He knew his precious wife had cuckolded him over and over, and then she tried to poison him with her noxious brews. What sort of mother would she be?”

Aghast, Lucretia clapped a hand to her breast. “No, no! I made him tisanes of healing herbs.” Her voice trembled. “He was ill. I tried to cure him!”

“Hah! You would claim that, wouldn’t you—but you don’t deny that you cuckolded him.”

Before Lucretia could gain control of her voice, he turned to Jellicoe, the valet. “You know all about this, don’t you? Sir Matthew valued you. He confided in you, didn’t he?”

“Yes, sir, he did,” Jellicoe said. “He believed Lady Tifton was trying to kill him. He feared the consequences to the child’s immortal soul if it was left to its mother’s care.”

Welton shook his fist at Lucretia. “You killed him because he was going to change his will. No. More likely he had already changed it, using the services of a more competent solicitor than this fellow. And then you burned it so no one would ever know.”

Lucretia quailed, shaking her head. “No, that’s not true.”

“You’re a whore and a murderess,” he shouted. “You may try to cozen the Earl of Whatshisname, but you won’t succeed. I’ll do whatever it takes to see that he takes the child away from you. You’ll be lucky if you don’t hang!”

A dark cloud swept over Lucretia. She opened her mouth to protest, but no words came, and she fainted dead away.

The Infidelity Curse is only 99 cents at Amazon until the end of February! https://books2read.com/infidelity-curse

Dramatic Announcement in Burlington Arcade has London in a Tizzy

By Bluestocking Belles

On February 13, 2026

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

The whole of fashionable London is talking tonight about what happened at Burlington Arcade yesterday afternoon. Whispers that a particularly juicy piece of gossip would be revealed that afternoon had been circulating since the evening before, though no-one admitted to knowing what was to transpire.

Certainly, no one expected the drama to involve eight of the ten sons of the M. of T., who is well known for controlling every breath that his sons take, and every bite they eat. To see even one of the brothers out in public was surprise enough. But what happened next was almost beyond belief.

The arcade was full when the first act of the drama started, in the person of one of the brother, Lord C., whose wife was understood to be long dead. Some said suicide. Some said (but not where he could hear) murdered by her Papa-in-law. But there she was, on Lord C.’s arm, holding the hand of a little boy who looked so much like Lord C. that he had to be the man’s son.

Then three more of Lord C.’s brothers, all with ladies on their arms, arrived and Lord C. called “Well met, brothers and sisters.” And when the newcomers stopped to join Lord C.’s group, word quickly spread that what we saw was three newly-wed couples, and to brides that Lord T. had certainly never approved.

Then came Act two, with three more brothers, each escorting a lady. Two of them were known to be betrothed, and not to the ladies on their arms. The crowd held its collective breath as the ladies to whom they were betrothed stepped out of the glovers, only to be introduced by Lord B. and Lord E. to the ladies in question–their new wives.

Both brothers repudiated the betrothal as being forced, and Lord E. made a gracious apology to Miss F-S.

The third mother spied the Earl of K., the eldest brother, and demanded to know if he, too, was married, but replied that he was being forced into marriage by threats against his youngest brother, who was now on his way overseas. Since the threat was removed, he repudiated the betrothal.

The final act involved a speech from Lord K., who stood on a box to explain the situation to anyone who had not been close enough to hear.

The sons of the M. of T. have broken free of the parent’s tyrranous yoke, though it seems that seven of the ten have instead willing donned the yoke of matrimony in its stead.

What will Lord T. do? He is unlikely to acquiesce quietly to such a rebellion, but they are adult men, and this is a country under the rule of law. What can he do? This is, indeed, the question, gentle reader, and we shall watch with interest to find out!

The Night Dancers

Certain that the Marquess of Teign is behind her cousin’s disappearance, investigator Melody Blackmore enters his mansion disguised as a man. Tasked with discovering how Teign’s sons are leaving their tower prison or having food and other items brought in, she soon realizes that the sons are also the marquess’s victims. As her interest in the eldest of the brothers grows, she joins them all in a campaign to bring Teign down.

Allan Sheppard, the Earl of Kemble, is the eldest of Teign’s ten sons. He is weighed down by his frequent failures to protect his brothers from Teign’s beatings and abuse, but determined to keep them as safe as he can until his youngest brother is no longer under Teign’s guardianship.

All they must to do is fool the most recent investigator sent to find out their secrets. But Mel Black is not like the others, and Allan finds that an alliance with her gives the brothers the chance to not only survive, but to thrive.

However, Teign will stop at nothing to punish his sons for escaping him. Only Allan’s and Melody’s growing commitment to one another keeps them steadfast as they uncover evidence of evil beyond imagining.

Buy on Amazon or read in KU.

An excerpt from The Night Dancers

The third mother had been looking around, and had caught sight of Kemble. “Lord Kemble,” she trumpeted, and surged toward him, drawing her daughter in her wake. “Lord Kemble, I suppose you are going to tell me that you, too, have married.”

She looked Mel up and down with eyes that spat contempt. Had she the power, Mel felt, she would have burnt Mel to ashes where she stood.

“Mrs. Blackmore has not yet done me the honor of accepting a proposal from me, Lady Spurfold. That, however, is not the reason I am refusing to wed your daughter. I was being forced into marriage by threats to my youngest brother. He is now on his way overseas, and will no longer be under our father’s malignant guardianship by the time he returns to England.”

He inclined in a shallow bow. “Be grateful. Coercion is grounds for annulment, which would have been far more embarrassing for your daughter than having me repudiate the agreement you made with Teign.”

“Come along, Felicia,” said Lady Farringford-Smyth. “We shall see about this. Lord Baldwin, we and our husbands shall be calling on Lord Teign.”

The six of them, mothers and daughters, hurried off along the arcade, brushing off questions and comments from the bystanders.

“A flock of silly geese,” said Kemble, with no sympathy at all. “They thought Teign would be their golden egg, but they should not have treated us as if we were of no account. Time for Act Three of our little drama.”

The rest of the brothers and their wives approached. A beadle hurried up with a wooden box that Kemble had organized earlier. He stepped out from the bookshop doorway, and climbed up on the box.

The brothers gathered around him, their wives on their arms. The audience stilled, waiting to find out what was about to happen.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kemble said loudly. “The Sheppard brothers are no longer subject to Teign’s tyranny, and he will no longer be deciding our social calendar, nor threatening our younger brothers to gain our compliance. Should you care to send invitations to any of us—my brothers, myself, our ladies—my sisters-in-law Lady Baldwin and Lady Donald have agreed to receive our mail. Thank you all for your attention.”

He stepped down, and offered his arm to Mel. “Finis,” he said.

It was not, in fact, quite the end. Continuing Kemble’s play analogy, Mel supposed she could compare the walk to a series of encores, as people claimed an acquaintance with one of the brothers, or one of their wives, and presumed on it to ask questions or offer an invitation to call.

They kept walking however, claiming another pressing engagement, which was true enough, for they all wanted to be somewhere else by the time Teign learned what had happened here this afternoon.

The people that Clara had hired—bodyguards from a firm called Moriarty Protection—closed around them as they left the arcade, and saw them to their carriages. The agency had assigned a team to each couple. One team followed Mel and Kemble when Winifred’s carriage dropped them at the mouth of the alley that contained the gate to the tunnel.

“We shall be safe from here,” Mel told them. “But I should like to reassign you, with Lord Kemble’s permission, to guard my daughter, sister, and nephew.”

“We could put another team on them, Mrs. Blackmore,” said the senior of the two bodyguards.

“I need a team on my daughter and brother-in-law,” said Kemble. “If Teign finds them, he will use them against me. But I agree that Mrs. Blackmore’s family are also at risk. Talk to your employer and arranged for both addresses to be covered. As for Mrs. Blackmore and me, we are heading for our beds. We won’t need guards until at least noon tomorrow, and can meet them here. I’ll cover any extra costs.”

The bodyguard peered at him with narrowed eyes and then nodded. “If I can have those addresses then, my lord, ma’am.”

Mel felt in her reticule for a notebook and pencil. “I shall write a note for my sister, and put the address on it,” she said.

“A good idea,” Kemble approved. “If you would be so good as to spare me a sheet of your paper, I shall do likewise.”

It took only a couple of minutes. Soon, the bodyguards had gone and Mel and Kemble were locked inside the gate and on their way down the tunnel and up the stairs.

Strange Doings Back Home

By Bluestocking Belles

On February 7, 2026

In Caroline Warfield, Teatime Tattler

December 1816

Wheatton Village, Wiltshire

My dearest Maudie,

I’m writing to tell you our papa has overcome the Fever he suffered. You don’t need to travel home, the roads being unpleasant this time of year, and you so far up north. My Edward continues to managing the drapery with the old man ill. While I shudder to be blunt, the business prospers under his care, no matter what you might have heard from Papa who, as I’ve written is becoming queer in his old age.

You ask for such village news as it is, and I’m happy to send it. Mrs. Mckinny and old Eunice Martin quarreled over church flowers as always, especially this time of year. That solicitor who moved here after you left is stepping out with Eunice Martin’s daughter. The Martin’s are preening even though that boy of theirs got sent down from the fancy school they sent him too.

Squire Archer’s nephew, a decent enough lad, has been hired as the steward up at the big house—yes, Murnane House—and him barely past twenty. I heard it was the Wheatly woman that recommended him, she that was the vicar’s daughter’s by-blow that Lord Arthur took in. A less feminine creature I never met. Imagine the earl listening to a woman like that about something as important as hiring a steward.

Oh. About the earl. The duchess’s brother the Earl of Chadbourn has been seeing to the Murnane estate now the Duke is dead, the duchess being a flutter brain. He’s the boy’s guardian. Making Johnny Archer a steward isn’t the oddest thing he’s done. Here’s the most interesting news. The Wheatlys over at Songbird Cottage have been visiting at the big house. Do you remember that ever happening before? I don’t. The old duke and the most recent one never allowed it. After all, when the vicar’s daughter disappeared and came back with a child, the old man had conniptions. Forbade his sons to have anything to do with her. Disgrace he called it and all of Wheatton knew it What did Lord Arthur do but up and marry the woman. Th’old duke called it a disgrace. Now they’re up at Murnane House for dinner as bold as you please. No good can come of that!

Papa says to tell you he’s dying. I send you his words and suggest you ignore him. No point you trekking all the way here from Yorkshire and bunking in with Ed and I. We have little enough room with Papa underfoot.

Will write again when there is news

Your sister,

Esther

About the Book

Family Honor, Book One Honor at Heart

Two passions rule Will Landrum’s life: family and a devotion to the land and those who depend on it. The only benefit of being Earl of Chadbourn that matters to him is the right to care for those things. Carrying family burdens can be lonely, however, without a life partner.

Catherine Wheatly’s mother married her beloved Papa when Cath was ten. Her dubious background has kept her single. No one ever had to explain to Cath that base-born daughters have few marriage prospects. She knew. She contented herself being the best land steward in the county, helping Papa with his research, and raising her two brothers.

Trapped by his brother-in-law’s death into responsibility for his traumatized nephew, grieving sister, and an estate gone to ruin, loneliness overwhelms Will. The first rate husbandry of a neighboring farm and Catherine, who runs it, draw him like a moth to a flame. Her background means nothing to him, especially when he learns what his family has done. With Christmas coming, can he repair the damaged estate and far more damaged family? Dare he hope for love in the bargain?

This new edition of A Dangerous Nativity, fully edited and updated, with a new epilogue launches March 24, 2026. It is available for pre-order now.

Preorder from Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Family-Honor-at-Heart-ebook/dp/B0GKHVMTJY

OR various other retailers: https://books2read.com/u/3JdJwQ

About the Author

Caroline Warfield – Authorr

Award winning author, Caroline Warfield, grew up in a peripatetic army family, and the need to travel never left her. After a varied career (largely around libraries and technology) she retired to the urban wilds of eastern Pennsylvania to be closer to family and to write. She remains a traveler and adventurer, enamored of owls, books, history, and beautiful gardens (but not the act of gardening). She writes family centered, emotionally rich, sensual stories set in the Regency and Victorian periods.

Find Caroline on the Web:
Website http://www.carolinewarfield.com/
Amazon Author http://www.amazon.com/Caroline-Warfield/e/B00N9PZZZS/
Good Reads http://bit.ly/1C5blTm
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/groups/WarfieldFellowTravelers
BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/authors/caroline-warfield
You Tube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCycyfKdNnZlueqo8MlgWyWQ
Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/gma-roddy.bsky.social

Because history is fun and love is worth working for