Category: Historical Period Page 1 of 16

I write to you today, dear Tattler, to tell of an outrage in my village. What do you say to a lady who sails all the way from London to the south shore of Wales, all to get a husband?

And to take one who has advertised to get you to come hither?

Is that not a ridiculous venture?

Sight unseen to agree to travel hundreds of miles to a sordid little town and devilihs house like the tumbledown Rambles of the barons of Rhouse and Gary? This is a sprawling, ugly monstrosity built by Normans, kept by men who made their living stealing what bounty floated up from the shores.

A wicked house it is too. Filled with wicked men who take women for their money and their land. Hollow men who fill themselves up with the dowries of naive girls and who ravaged them…and any others they wish.

The barons of this house and this lineage are thieves and charlatans. What woman would want such a man as husband?

I didn’t. Yet I had to. My father demanded it of me and where else was I to go, sicne my fiance’s father had already defiled me, eh?

Now this girl comes. Silly thing. She will not have this new baron to wed. I will see to it.

Warn your female readers not to accept a man’s hand if they know him not. It is not wise. It is not safe.

I warn you. Do not answer an advert to become a wife of a Welsh baron. He had only danger and heartache in store for you.

Sincerely,

~ Desperate Lady

*****

When a young widow wishes to marry again, will the man she grows to love ask more than she can give?

Mrs. Tynley Wallingford yearns for a quiet, comforting marriage to a man whom she can respect. She’ll go to any lengths to find the best candidate who can respect her, in turn. Even correspond with one fellow at length before she agrees that Kendryck Hollens is the man whose words awaken her desire for a husband she might grow to love.

Tynley takes a risk and sails to Wales with the best intentions. She finds in Kendryck a man with a noble ambition—and a family filled with age-old conflict and despair.

Kendryck Hollens returns home to Wales after fifteen years abroad, a stranger to his cantankerous family. He assumes his rightful title as baron of the legendary house of Strade and attempts to change the dastardly reputation of his ancestors, and put his siblings on the right path to a purposeful life.

Thrilled that Tynley has come to his home, he notices that her presence creates challenges among those in his family. But he feels assured she can help him obtain what he wants most in this world.

When a tragedy threatens to ruin his ambition and his family, he fears the price of endurance will ruin Tynley’s personal objective too—and drive her from him.

How much can one ask of one whom they love? Are any prices too high?

*****

Kendryck put his two hands to her cheeks. “I told myself I would not take you like a villain.”

“Hmmm,” Tynely said as she considered that with a tip of her head this way and that. Then she pulled at the end of his beautifully tied cravat and said, “You aren’t.”

He took her by the shoulders. “Not against the stables, not in a carriage. We must be in a bed.”

“I do agree.” She sank to lick the skin of his corded neck. “But one must have a few bites of bliss before the main course.” She undid the button of his soft linen shirt and kissed the hollow of his throat. “Otherwise, one’s appetite is not prepared.”

He laughed, he groaned, then he pressed her flush to his chest. “You should have told me you were a tease.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why? Isn’t this more fun?”

He hooted. His grip on her was mighty and seductive. “What should I know, my darling?”

“About…?”

“Making love to you.”

She bent to his mouth and licked his bottom lip. “That I will be as needy as you.”

“Thank God.”

“That I will want all of you as mine.”

“I rejoice at it. And? Anything else?”

“That I am yours completely and you may have me at your will,” she whispered and took one of his fingers and nipped the end, “as long as I may have you at mine.”

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Cerise DeLand is the USA TODAY Bestselling Author who believes love brings rich rewards from a life lived with honesty, valor—and a functioning funnybone.

Known for her poetic elegance and accuracy of detail, she’s won awards for many of the more than 70 novels she’s written.

Her work has been nearly life-long! First published in 1991 by Kensington, then Pocket Books, St. Martin’s Press and independent presses, she is now published by DRAGONBLADE PUBLISHING. Plus her books have been monthly selections of the Doubleday Book Club and the Mystery Guild.

To research, she’s dived into the oldest texts and dustiest library shelves. She travels abroad taking good walking shoes, big notebooks, trusty pens and a camera! She visits chateaux and country homes she loves to people with her own imaginary characters.

And at home every day? She cooks. (Every night.) Never dusts. (That can be a problem.) She goes swimming or pumps iron once a week and tries (desperately) to grow vegetables in her arid backyard in south Texas!

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LAUD’S HEIR RETURNS FROM GRAND TOUR. In search of wife, says reputable source.

By Susana Ellis

On September 30, 2023

In Bluestocking Belles, Regency (19th century Britain), Susana Ellis, Teatime Tattler

15 September 1801

“LAUD’S HEIR RETURNS FROM GRAND TOUR. In search of wife, says reputable source.”

Della’s brother threw down the latest copy of The Teatime Tattler and snickered. “Poor sod’s too young for a leg-shackle. Doubtless Lady Laud’s pressing for grandchildren. Mothers!”

Their father lifted an eyebrow. “If your mother were still alive, you’d be wed by now, Thomas. I suppose I’ve been negligent on that front. You’re what, thirty now? Ought to be settled down.”

Thomas’s fork clattered when it hit his plate. “And who would I marry? Some farm girl like Della here? If I were a banker’s son I could look higher.”

Della winced and her father’s face turned red. “THOMAS! Apologize to your sister this instant!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. But Della could tell he wasn’t sincere, even before he added, “But dammit, she should be wed by now too. But what choices does she have, as a cattle breeder’s daughter? We should all be better off if we sold out and went into banking.”

Thomas Sr. pounded the table hard enough to rattle his plate. “ENOUGH!”

Both of his children stiffened and stared at him incredulously. Their father rarely lost his temper, and never at the breakfast table. But there had been more than a few arguments recently, Della mused.

“This farm has provided you an easy life, Thomas. You’ve been handed everything you need and want, even a chance for a superior education at Cambridge, which you squandered by neglecting your studies in favor of—er—” he swallowed as he glanced at Della “studies of a different sort.”

Della snorted and promptly looked down at her lap when her father gave her a stern look. Well really. She was twenty years old, the same age as Thomas when he returned home from Cambridge in disgrace. Did they really believe she hadn’t heard all the stories about his misdeeds there? Rumors had been rife at the time, and although she might not have understand exactly what they meant at the age of ten, she had since apprehended them more clearly.

“I’m inclined to believe that this self-indulgent lifestyle you’ve embarked on can be attributed to the influence of the useless young lords with whom you caroused first at Eton and then at Cambridge.” He shook his head. “Your mother would be ashamed, Thomas.”

His son had the decency to drop his chin.

And well he should, thought Della. He’d had the good fortune to have had a mother, at least. She’d never had that opportunity, her mother having died at Della’s birth.

Their father pushed back his chair and rose from table. “Thomas, your jaunts to London and York and all points in between are now cancelled. Henceforth, you will spend your time at Humberstone Farm, employed in furthering the interests of our sheep and cattle.”

Folding his arms in front him, he glared at his son. “In case you’ve forgotten all you’ve been taught over the years, I’ll put the lad in charge to refresh your memory.”

With that, he marched out of the room.

Della giggled. The image of Thomas being bear-led around the farm by the much-younger estate manager seemed dubious at best.

He slapped the table. “It’s not funny! I don’t care a jot about sheep and cattle, and you all know it! Besides, I have a shooting party next week. It’s almost the end of the grouse season.”

Della’s hands curled up. “You should care. This farm will be yours someday! It’s in your own best interests to ensure its prosperity.”

Thomas’s lips curled. “It’s been losing money for years. By the time it comes down to me, it’ll be worth a pittance. Best to sell out now and put the capital where it can do some good.”

Tilting his head, he studied her with a gleam in his eye.

“If I’m not mistaken, you are out there with the cattle everyday. And Kit too. Now there’s a match for you—the rustic farm girl and the penniless estate manager.”

Della tossed the remainder of her sausage at him. “You are horrid, Thomas.”

“And you’re a twit,” he threw back as he exited the room.

Della heaved a sigh. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Kit. He’d been one of her best friends forever. But as for marriage, she had something else in mind.

Reaching for the Teatime Tattler, she smoothed her fingers over the headline. Toby was looking for a wife, was he? Well, she intended that he look no further than the neighboring estate.

*******

This story will be part of a 2024 Christmas anthology for the Maumee Valley Romance Authors, Inc. (Susana’s local writers’ group). We’ll keep you posted on our Book Lovers Facebook Page, https://www.facebook.com/groups/251624704125214.

Susana Ellis loves reading, writing, and sewing, but deadlines not so much. Besides being a part-time caregiver for her elderly mother, she enjoys her retirement and her kind and considerate author friends, particularly the Bluestocking Belles and the Maumee Valley Romance Authors!

She is mine and I will take her back! Help me!

By Cerise DeLand

On April 22, 2023

In Bluestocking Belles, Cerise Deland, Character Interview, gossip, Historical Period, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

I write to you today, Tattler, in search of the woman I need to take back to my home. She has escaped me. Having written to that other nefarious newspaper that publishes adverts for those who wish to find spouses, she has gone to London and become the lover of a fellow who is not worthy of her.

I appeal to you to help me find her. He has taken her away, supposedly to marry her.

But I will not care. Married or not. Ruined by him or not, I will have her back. She is mine. Has always been mine. I care not that she resembles my dead wife. She is lovelier than that one and my wife knew it. Knew I craved this one.

If you hear from her, Tattler, you must write to me. I track her now. Papers in London and Brighton papers say the couple has gone to Brighton.

I will take her from him when they least expect me. I will show her that she is meant for me alone. No matter what she thinks.

MATRIMONY! #1. IF I LOVED YOU

Love does not advertise. Love counts no wrongs.

But when a young woman needs to escape, she’ll take an ad to find a man she can adore.

Verity Carr wants a new life in a new town far from her old home—and the vile threat to her body and soul. She comes from a fine family, has a good education and a bold ambition to become a portrait artist. She’s ready to live her life with a man who will value her. A husband she can can respect—and in time, hopefully love. Yet valiant though she is, she questions if she can escape her past and one who will not let her go.

Can a gentleman to whom great wrong was done, build a new life with a true wife and leave the past behind?

Miles St.John Armstrong never should have wed his first wife. He vows to select a new one with logic and careful investigation—via advertisement. The young lady he selects is Verity Carr who is no ordinary woman. She has charm, wit and a beauty that sears his soul. No wonder theirs is a relationship built quickly on admiration and trust. No wonder their marriage becomes one built of mutual mad passion.

But devoted as they are, their past comes to call.

And it asks of them the ultimate question: Can their love withstand the tempest and survive the terror?

AUTHOR Cerise DeLand invites you to read her newest in a dramatically different romantic suspense inspired by the adverts to a spouse in Regency period!

Excerpt, IF I LOVED YOU. Copyright, 2023, Cerise DeLand.

Miles had not known her for more than a few hours, but he’d seen her shock over such a sizable bequest. Certainly he could revel in the good fortune of anyone. But if she had suspicions about who had given her such a large inheritance and did not wish to discuss it with him, he could understand that, too. But her new-found gain, enough to support her at current standards in meager means for her lifetime, could lead her to break their agreement to marry. The possibility of losing her created an ache in his heart. A place he’d never expected to feel anything at all ever again.

As they entered the Grosvenor Gate and passed the park wall, she strode more slowly and breathed more deeply. They took a turn on the path south and one glance at her told him she was more at ease.

“I hate to spoil your enjoyment,” he said, “but I think we should not walk here much longer. The shadows grow deeper.”

“You are right, of course.” She had her hands in her coat pockets as she stopped and spun toward him. “You have been very good to me today.”

He raised a hand, his smile wry. “No more gratitude, please. I am quite thanked.”

She stopped, faced him and tipped her head, suddenly the coquette, though to him, she did not seem to have planned the spontaneity of such an attitude. She was without guile—and he valued that unexpected characteristic more than he could ever have imagined.

“You are a darling man,” she said with an honesty that emphasized her simplicity and lack of artifice.

“You are kind to think so.” He remembered a few instances when the moniker he deserved was the opposite. Savage. Insane. Gullible. All came to mind in a rush of bile.

She put her hands to his and held tightly. “Do you still want to marry a woman you barely know?”

“I’d like to marry you, if you’ll have me.”

She shook her head as if the whole idea were impossible. “Why? Why?”

“I want a wife. A friend. I am lonely. You seem a gentle soul. I think we would do well together.”

“I cannot imagine that you have not met a thousand young ladies you know better than me who would not make you a friend and wife because they do know you better.”

But they knew his past, too. His wife. “I would never find happiness with any I’ve met. They see me as the mill owner, a cit with a new title, an upstart viscount, too rich for his title. They also see me as a widower.” Not knowing I am more aggrieved than grieving.

She stood immobile, only her large eyes searching his for what he would not reveal. “Did you love her?”

“When I married her, yes.”

“And do you miss her?”

“No.”

She nodded. “I see. Then your loneliness comes not from her lack.”

“No. It does not.”

She gulped. “Do you want children?”

He blinked and peered up at the deep blue clouds scudding across a darker moonlit sky. “I have not wished for that in many years. But now,” he said as he met her frank gaze, “I believe I would.”

She smiled as if he’d just given her the keys to the kingdom. “I would, too.”

He stepped closer to her, dropped her hands and cupped her shoulders. Her luscious curves fit into the planes of his suddenly very needy self. “Might we proceed to getting them?”

She arched her neck and let her eyes dance into his. “First we must be wed.”

“Will day after tomorrow do?”

“Quite well,” she said on a delighted laugh. “And then we must become better friends.”

He sent his fingers up into the heavy coil of hair at her nape. Her skin was as soft as charmeuse and her hair smelled of lavender. She’d been in his arms often today and her need had been great. Now, he would test to see if she might come for a new and startling reason. Might she come because she could want him? Want him as a man? As her lover?

She pulled back a little, a question on her plump lips. “Friends kiss.”

“They do,” he said with a smile that grew from a friend’s to a ravenous man’s. “Shall we?”

She studied his mouth and swallowed hard. “Oh, yes. From the moment I heard your voice on the Great North Road, I have wanted to know how you taste.”

“Well, then,” he said as he loomed over her lips, “we must not delay.”

She circled her arms around his shoulders and pushed up on her toes. “Please don’t.”

The temptation to take her with all the ardor he bore her raged through him. He could not devour her like a satyr. He was a man who had foresworn passion and love. A man of reason and temperance. But then…

She put her lips to his, a brush of warm temptation. The sensation of her desire met the one of his quest as if two stars collided in the dark of night. Blinded by it, he groaned and caught her up. Her mouth was lush, and as his tongue invaded, he knew how hot her body was. How sweet. He swept the inside of her mouth and felt her complete surrender. This was what he’d craved. A woman who might love him.

He pulled away, breathless, cupping her cheek. “Darling, we must stop.”

In the shadows of the soft spring evening, she tipped her head and smiled at him. “You’ll kiss me again?”

“As often as you wish.”

There again was that sweet woman who drew him to her with the artless look of enchantment. “Must I tell you each time?”

“No,” he said on a laugh and hugged her close, then set her from him. “Only look at me like that, my darling, and I am yours.”

“As I am forever yours,” she said and put her arm in his to turn and walk home.

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Frogmore’s Mistake?

By Bluestocking Belles

On April 14, 2023

In Jude Knight, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

Followers of Society news will be aware of the sad case of the marriage of Baron Frogmore. The baron, we are told, married in haste and regretted it at his leisure. He picked his bride for her beauty and overlooked the myriad ways in which she was unsuitable as the wife of any gentleman. This—or so the man’s brother and his wife assure us— is the reason that Lord Frogmore would not bring her ladyship to town. She was common, licentious, and stupid, they say. A strumpet plucked from poverty and set in high estate, but a pig in a tiara is still a pig.

Yet there is another story to be found. Some of our matrons remember Lady Frogmore as a young bride—a quiet and shy young woman with impeccable manners. Common born, yes. But born to an extremely wealthy merchant, and married with a rich dowry that the much older Lord Frogmore immediately set about spending. So she was not a strumpet, and not plucked from poverty.

Could it be, then, that the other claims made by Mr and Mrs Frogmore are equally false? Derived from a desire to keep their hands on the little heir, now baron since the death of his father? Some might think this a more likely motive than an honest desire to protect him and his sisters from a careless and unloving mother?

Society may judge for itself, for the powerful Versey family, led by the Duke and Duchess of Dellborough themselves, have taken up the widowed Lady Frogmore’s cause.

A little bird has whispered to this correspondent that the Verseys turned out in force in support of one of their own. Is the delightful Lord Lancelot Versey performing a disinterested charitable act in helping the widow to take her place in Society? Is it true that his involvement owes much to a careless wager with the Black Widow of Whitehall? Or has the consummate bachelor around town finally fallen in love?

The Teatime Tattler will leave you to be the judge.

***

The Talons of a Lyon

A Lyon’s Den Connected World novella

Lance Versey owes Mrs. Dove Lyon a promise. Fulfilling it will cost him the life he enjoys and win him the life he wants.

The death of Lady Frogmore’s neglectful and disloyal husband should have been a relief. But then her nasty brother-in-law seizes her three children and turns her out, telling the whole of Society that she is a crude, vulgar, and loose woman. Without allies or friends, Serafina, Lady Frogmore, turns to Mrs. Dove Lyon, also known as the Black Widow of Whitehall for help, paying her by promising to perform an unspecified favor at a time of the Mrs. Dove Lyon’s choice.

Lord Lancelot Versey has always tried to be a perfect gentleman, and a gentleman honors his debts, even when an unwise wager obliges him to escort a notorious widow into Society. But Lady Frogmore is not what he expects, and helping her becomes a quest worthy of the knight for whom he was named.

Except Mrs. Dove Lyon calls in Seraphina’s promise. The favor she asks might destroy all they have found together.

Published 26 April. Order now: https://amzn.to/3YVLvPt

A Mysterious Disappearance

By Cerise DeLand

On April 12, 2023

In Brunch with the Belles, gossip, Guest author, Historical Period, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

May 10^th, 1818

My Dearest Emily,

I cannot begin to tell you of the accusations and ferment roiling among the district families. I’m at my wit’s end, I truly am. My truest friend in the world, Victoria Covington, has gone missing. No warning nor suspicions were raised beforehand. I visited her on the morning of May 4^th, though her uncle’s many house guests were everywhere. As mistress of Belton Park, she felt the demands keenly. Then, shortly after I bid her goodbye, she simply vanished. Disappeared. Gone.

No one saw her leave or spoke to her after I left. I cannot understand it. If she had a beau or planned to elope, she would have told me. Regardless, that is not possible as all her clothes were undisturbed.

Tory would never have left her beloved Park willingly, she loved it so. She must have been abducted, but who would do such a thing? All the guests were accounted for and because of the large number of guests out enjoying the spring weather, no one could have entered the house and left with her without being seen. And stranger still are the items which went missing with her.

I ask you to write to me of any strange doings you might hear of in Petworth and around the district. Any information may be of help. I have enclosed the newspaper notice with the details. I must go. I hear a search party returning to Belton Park, where I am at the moment attempting to help.

Your loving cousin,

Kitty.

MISSING

Lord Reginald Covington has reported his niece missing to the District Magistrate at Horsham, Sussex. Miss Victoria Covington has not been seen since Monday last. Baron Covington and she were hosting a large house party at his estate, Belton Park, Sussex, near Petworth, with many notables attending. Miss Covington had been well received in London during her first Season last spring. Lord Covington is said to be distraught over her disappearance.

The unusual circumstances surrounding the disappearance are numerous. Miss Covington went missing among a house full of guests, many enjoying the surrounding grounds at the time, but no one witnessed her departure. Guests reported seeing her enter the family music room with a new volume of poetry, which cannot be located. A family friend places her there before noon time. Also missing was a family heirloom, a Queen Anne love seat. However, her personal effects were not disturbed. She is 5 feet, 3 inches tall, with blonde hair. When last seen she was wearing a blue morning dress. The Baron is offering a reward of £200 for any information concerning her whereabouts. Contact Sir Terrance Aperton, District Magistrate, Coarse Lane, Horsham with the particulars.

Except from Touching Time:

Her smile turned to a frown. She used to enjoy the company of men, not avoid it, but since her coming out, the only interest they displayed was for her sizable dowry. Apparently, her oft-heralded beauty only made her more bankable.

“Oh, Kitty, my uncle, as kind as he is, also views me as income. The interest from my dowry is what keeps the Covington finances from a reckoning with the wolves. As he can’t touch my dowry or live without the interest, I have to receive a marriage offer from someone wealthy—very wealthy—if I am to obtain his blessing.” She gave a shrug at Kitty’s shocked expression. “Of course, he will negotiate the marriage settlement to make himself the trustee of any jointure I obtained.”

“I had no idea. It is beyond awful! What can you do?”

“I don’t know.” Neither her uncle nor her many admirers were interested in her, Miss Victoria Ann Covington. “Do you think there exists a man who could appreciate me for myself?”

Kitty sagely nodded at the question, but after a moment’s reflection said, “It is a shame, but I am quite certain men are hardly ever interested in women that way.”

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Victoria Covington is mysteriously propelled two hundred years into the future. She must not only learn to live in the 21st century, but also keep her beloved Belton Park from being sold to a handsome, but ungentlemanly American, who simply wants the estate to further his own business plans.

Start reading Touching Time!

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Shackled and dressed in a neon orange jumpsuit, art thief Cassie Sinatore awaits extradition at Heathrow Airport. An accident with a nearby experimental radar plane throws Cassie back in time, dumping her in a wooded countryside. The rider who discovers her is charismatic, more compelling than any man she has ever met. She chalks up the man’s Regency outfit and odd behavior to the eccentricity of the rich. Or maybe he is just a nutbar, but the man is offering a ride.

Start reading Stealing Time

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