Category: Regency (19th century Britain) Page 14 of 15

b5d29f087f038a11e7949613308a1f1a Sage gathered some biscuit and tea for the guests. Using her shoulder, she nudged the door open. She smiled at her lady, the strange but kind Katia who did not seem to quite belong to this day and time.

Trying not to be overly intrusive, she couldn’t help but listen to the conversation her lady and her friends were having.

Lady Theodosia pointed to the page. “As always, Aunt Augusta has wonderful advice. Love can be hard sometimes, but if it is meant to be, it will find a way.”

Lady Anna smiled. “And have you found love?”

Lady Theodosia brought her cup to her mouth, but Sage spied her now-pink cheeks.

“Does anyone have a guess as to who Aunt Augusta is?” Katia asked. She murmured her appreciation to Sage for the tea.

Sage was curious herself. Katia had been teaching her how to read, and Sage enjoyed reading the column herself. As to who was the one dispensing the advice, Sage had no idea.

Neither, as it turned out, did any of the ladies gathered.

“She has to be old,” Miss Eliza put forth. “She seems rather knowledge.”

“Yes. And someone who must have experienced a great love,” Lady Vanessa said with a faraway look in her eyes.

“Why else would she be such a proponent for love? I do agree.” Lady Theodosia nodded and helped herself to a biscuit.

“Married then,” Katia said.

“Or else a widow,” Sage commented without thinking.

“True,” Katia mused, as always seemingly unmindful of today’s customs. Sage knew she shouldn’t have spoken; Katia never cared. “Although that is a tragic thought, so hopefully she is still with her love.”

For a time, the ladies conversed and even ventured names, but not one of them could figure out the mystery. Perhaps one day it would be resolved, but until then…

Sage brought forth some parchment and quills and had to smile when she saw each lady surreptitiously fetch one. I wager that Aunt Augusta will be getting a letter from each soon enough.

Will I ever have cause to send one myself?

~~~

Sage and Katia are from The Test of Time, Lady Theodosia from Masked Love, Lady Vanessa from Love Before Honor, and Miss Eliza from Joy to the World. Lady Anna will have her story told in Christmas Kisses, which will be included in this year’s Bluestocking Belles’ boxed set.

Thetestoftimesmall Katia jumps at the chance to go to England with her best friend after Rose ditches her deadbeat boyfriend. While walking through the market, she spies a large mansion and recognizes the guy out front as her high school friend Tony. Just as they start to reconnect, Katia passes through times and lands in the arms of Lord Landon, who looks like Tony but certainly doesn’t act like him.

Soon, Katia learns that this 1815 is different from the one in history books. Trapped in a parallel world, Katia struggles to not fall for Landon but his charm proves too much for her. Just when she is about to confess her love for him, Katia travels through time yet again.

The course of love never did run smooth and if Katia can’t figure out and master the test of time, she’ll never see her friends again, or worse, never be reunited with Landon.

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Nicole is one of the Belles. You can learn more about her here.

Vanessa’s Dilemma

By Susana Ellis

On June 24, 2016

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

April 1810, Piccadilly Street, London

“Vanessa! So this is where you’ve got to! Mama is beyond vexed with you for slipping away during my fitting!”

Hatchard’s Bookshop, Piccadilly Street

Vanessa’s head jerked back as she slammed the book shut with a definitive smack and gaped at her younger sister, whose pixie-like appearance was contradicted by the sharp tone of her voice.

“I’m so sorry. I only meant to find a new book. What time is it? Surely I haven’t been here more than ten minutes or so.”

Eugenia rolled her emerald green eyes, her arms crossed over her chest. “We’ve been searching for you more than half an hour. Mama had to reschedule your fitting since Madame LaFleur had another appointment.”

She dropped her arms and reached into her reticule for a handkerchief. “Really, Vanessa, I know it must be difficult for you to look forward to my wedding in view of the fact that you are my older sister, but can you not at least make the effort to avoid antagonizing our mother? You know how she gets when things don’t go her way. The entire house will be in an uproar and there will be no peace for anyone.”

She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief, and Vanessa, overcome with contrition for her behavior and compassion for her sister, rose to embrace her, the book carefully laid on the bench.

“I am so sorry, Genie. I don’t mean to be so ungenerous. Of course I am delighted at the news of your betrothal. You and Reese are perfect for each other, and you deserve a magnificent wedding. Please forgive me for being so thoughtless! It’s just that—you and Mama were busy with the modiste and I thought I could just slip out for a moment to see if Hatchard’s had any new novels.” She swallowed. “The time got away from me.”

Eugenia stroked her hair gently. “I know this can’t be easy for you, my dear. Not after what happened in the past. I almost feel guilty for finding my own happiness so quickly and unexpectedly when you have had to endure so much.” She stepped back and grasped Vanessa’s shoulders, looking at her directly. “Wedding aside, it’s time for you to move ahead with your life. Find some worthwhile occupation… a charity, perhaps. Something to get you out of the house before Mother’s constant carping makes you fit for Bedlam.”

Vanessa wanted to argue that she was doing well enough without her sister’s advice, but the lie just wouldn’t fall off her tongue. Slinking off to her bedchamber at every opportune moment to bury herself in books and write bad poetry was not really much of a life. Especially not with having to endure her mother’s constant nagging about her appearance, her unmarried state, and her bluestocking tendencies. Eugenia and their mother’s obsessive devotion to her had made life at Sedgely House bearable; once Eugenia was whisked off to Hertfordshire with her gentleman-farmer husband, Mrs. Sedgely’s attention would be focused entirely on remaking her disappointing older daughter.

She leaned in and kissed her sister on the cheek. “You constantly amaze me, little sister. Just seventeen and not only are you about to become a bride, but you have the maturity and wisdom to offer your spinster sister some excellent advice. If I involve myself in some worthwhile charity, perhaps Mama will give up pestering me to find a husband.”

Eugenia threw back her head and laughed. “I assure you she will never give up that particular pleasure. But at least you will have the opportunity to escape the house and her badgering, and at the same time do some good for the unfortunate.” She chuckled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “No doubt you will meet a great deal of interesting ladies—and gentlemen—and who knows what will happen from there?”

Vanessa grinned, aiming a playful swat at Eugenia’s upper arm. “You mustn’t hold your breath. No doubt any gentlemen involved in such schemes are stout, white-haired solicitors old enough to be my father.”

“But they may have eligible sons,” her sister suggested with a smile. “In any case, you will make the acquaintance of many worthy individuals that you might never have encountered in the ballrooms of the ton. People who value more in life than simply wealth and titles.”

“Mother will hate that. You know she has always aspired to have lofty connections.”

“My Reese is a squire’s son, a gentleman farmer. No title. No more than moderately well-to-do. Besides, she can’t but recall the mess that occurred with your betrothal to a baron’s son.” Seeing Vanessa’s face whiten, she grasped a hand and squeezed it. “Now don’t keep berating yourself over it, Vanessa. It was years ago, and it wasn’t your fault he ran off to Scotland with a milkmaid. You didn’t love each other. You agreed to the betrothal only to please Mama.”

Vanessa drew a deep, calming breath and smiled shakily. “True. I’m so glad that you were able to find and fight for your true love, Genie. Your Reese is a fortunate man to have won so wise a wife.”

Eugenia flushed. “Just between you and me, I haven’t the faintest idea how to be a wife. I shouldn’t want Reese to become disappointed with me.”

Vanessa shook her head. “That man loves you, Genie. I’m sure he worships every part of you, right down to your toenails.”

“My toenails?” Eugenia’s giggles reverberated through the shop, and the slender gentleman behind the counter sent them a stern look.

“Along with the other parts of you he hasn’t seen yet,” Vanessa continued. “He hasn’t, has he?”

Eugenia tilted her head as she reflected on it. “No, I don’t think so. Not my toenails, at any rate.” She bit her lip. “But seriously, Vanessa, I do have some concerns. Not about Reese, but about a childhood friend of his, the earl’s daughter from a neighboring estate. When we went to call upon her the other day, I could see that the news of our engagement was a devastating blow to her.”

“Ah yes, Lady Theresa Granville. She had her presentation the year before mine. I heard about her, but she’s been absent from the social scene since.”

“That’s because she’s completely fixated on farming, maybe even more so than Reese is. They’re constantly together talking about agricultural nonsense, and the truth is, I’ve done nothing more than arrange cut flowers from the garden. I could study farming every day and never have as much knowledge as she has in her little finger.”

“Ah, but Reese chose you. He’s had years to propose to her and chose not to do so. I’m quite sure he doesn’t expect you to turn into Lady Theresa.”

Eugenia smiled shakily. “I hope you’re right. I know he loves me. I just hope I can persuade Lady Theresa to accept me as Reese’s wife. Her friendship is important to him—to both of them, really—and I should really dislike to be the reason it came to an end.”

Vanessa squeezed her sister’s hand. “She’ll learn to love you, my dear. Everyone does, when they get to know you.”

The shop door opened noisily, and a scowling gentleman peered in.

“Excuse me, ladies, but is that your carriage holding up traffic in the street? The lady inside has been waving her umbrella out the window for quite some time.”

“Mama!”

Both girls stared at each other in horror before they raced to the door of the bookshop and shakily boarded the carriage, mumbling apologies that went unheard as Mrs. Sedgely railed at them relentlessly.

Vanessa leaned her head against the squabs and closed her eyes.

Genie is right. I need to take charge of my life. Now… how shall I go on from here?

About Treasuring Theresa

Theresa Cover Front 200x310 WEB Lady Theresa despises London society. What’s worse is that she has to attend the betrothal ball of the young man she expected to marry. To deflect all the pitiful glances from the other guests, she makes a play for the most striking gentleman there—who happens to be her Cousin Damian, who is everything she despises.

Damian, Lord Clinton sees a desperate young lady with no social graces, and it solidifies his opinion that country folk are beneath him. But it so happens that he is the heir to that young lady’s father’s title and estate, and the time comes when he finds himself obliged to spend some time there.

Thrown together, both Damian and Theresa discover each other’s hidden depths. But are their differences too much to overcome to make a successful match?

Treasuring Theresa is Book 1 of The Hertfordshire Hoydens series. Originally published in the Blush Cotillion line at Ellora’s Cave, Treasuring Theresa has been re-released with a brand new cover by the fabulous Mari Christie. Book 2, Cherishing Charlotte, will be coming in the autumn, and Book 3, Valuing Vanessa, will appear in the Bluestocking Belles’ next holiday anthology.

Treasuring Theresa was a finalist in the 2013 EPIC Awards.

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About the Author

Susana has always had stories in her head waiting to come out, especially when she learned to read and her imagination began to soar. Voracious reading led to a passion for writing, and her fascination with romance and people of the past landed her firmly in the field of historical romance.

A teacher in her former life, Susana lives in Toledo, Ohio in the summer and central Florida in the winter. She is a member of the Central Florida Romance Writers and the Beau Monde chapters of RWA and Maumee Valley Romance Inc.

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Marnie Gets Her Revenge

By Susana Ellis

On March 12, 2016

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

11 June 1790, Gracechurch Street, London

It was late when I reached London and the temporary haven of my foster mum’s home. I hadn’t slept in days, partly out of fear of discovery by his lordship’s men and partly because the babe fussed so much. The brat was always hungry and I had no idea how to feed her. I was tempted to leave her with the family who took us in the first night—the farmer’s wife who found a way to feed her cow’s milk seemed that taken with her—but then his lordship would get her back and how would that serve my purpose? But oh, if I had known how much trouble it would be to sneak off with a puling infant while trying to keep out of the way of a powerful earl, I might have considered some other form of revenge.

Gypsy girl “Open up, mum, it’s me, Marnie!”

Finally, the door opened enough for Mum Herne to peer at me in the darkness.

“Marnie? It is you! For goodness sake, I thought you were in Derbyshire… Come in, I’m so glad to see you… it’s been ages since you took that position with the Cranbournes. Oh!”

She had just shut the door behind us when she saw the babe in my arms. “You have… a child?”

I held the babe out to her, pleased for the respite. I never realized how much it could hurt to hold a babe—even a tiny one—for hours at a time. “A girl child.”

Mum Herne cuddled her in her arms. “Such pretty blue eyes. A blonde,” she commented as she looked over my dark gypsy coloring with questioning eyes. “Must look like her father?”

“The spittin’ image,” I assured her. “The earl was a towhead when he was a babe, although his hair has darkened a bit since then.”

Mum’s head jerked back. “The earl is her father? The Earl of Cranbourne?”

I nodded as I looked hopefully in the direction of the kitchen. “I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a bite of bread and cheese? I haven’t had anything to eat since this morning.” When I’d managed to lift a meat pie off a pie maker’s cart without him noticing. But she didn’t need to know that. The mention of food had the intended effect of distracting her—at least temporarily—from the lecture about my morals I knew would be coming.

“Yes, of course. In the larder.” She looked down at the babe in her arms. “And the child? When did you feed her last? Looks downright poorly, she does.”

I shook my head and collapsed into the nearest chair. “So sorry, mum. It’s just that—I’m famished. We’ve been one step ahead of his lordship all the way, and the worry of it all just took my milk away. I was hoping you might have some cow’s milk for the poor mite… it’s only by the grace of God that I’ve found a few kindly folk along the way to keep her from starving.”

Mum’s eyes widened. “You’re running away from… the earl? Why on earth…? Never mind, you can tell me the whole later. Right now this child needs tending.”

An hour later, the babe asleep in a makeshift bed in mum’s bedchamber, she and I sat at the kitchen table and I told her my story. She already knew I’d been a maid in the household of the Cranbournes and that I’d agreed to travel all the way to Derbyshire because I’d hoped to catch the eye of the comely earl. She’d warned me against it, telling me it was foolish to set my cap at such a high falultin’ gent and that it would all come to no good—and while I hated having to admit she was right—she seemed to accept my story at face value. Some of it was even true. Maybe.

The story I told her was that the earl seduced me without any intention of marriage, all the while he was courting another woman. The affair continued after his marriage, and when I found myself with child, I was turned out without a character by her ladyship. I had no place else to go but the workhouse, but when the babe was born so pretty and so much like her father, I thought he might be willing to part with a few quid a month for food and lodgings. Little did I know that he would be so desperate to keep the babe’s existence from his wife that he would threaten to take her away from me and kill her! Which is what sent me flying from Derbyshire.

I’ve always been good at acting—my birth mother always said I should tread the boards at Covent Garden—and Mum Herne knew this, but I think the presence of the poor babe set off her maternal instincts and all she could think of was how to protect poor little Annie from the evil earl who threatened her life.

That was when we heard the sound of horses charging down the street.

“It’s his lordship!” I cried. “He’s found us! Quick, find us a place to hide!”

I ran to the bedchamber to pick up Annie.

“The earl?” But how…?”

I reminded her of the reference she had sent with me when I applied for the position. No doubt they would have gone back to ascertain the direction. She bit her lip and then shook her head.

“There’s no place here he won’t find you. A rich and powerful earl? I can’t imagine how you managed to get so far!”

Then a strange look came over face. “Although perhaps there is a way. We’ll have to bind the babe securely, though…”

By the time the loud banging at the door began, she had already bound the babe tightly around me with a red wool scarf and pressed a small black stone into my hand.

“I’m sending you into the future,” she whispered, urging me toward the back of the house. “Only for a short time. I’ll send you a signal when the coast is clear. But you mustn’t lose this stone.”

“The future?” I knew mum had a gift—’the sight’—which quite a few of our clan claimed to have—but traveling through time? I’d never heard of anyone who could do this, and I wasn’t sure I believed she could either.

That was when we heard the door give way and the sound of loud voices and footsteps.

Mum gave me a push and I felt myself floating through darkness before I felt myself collide with something big and heavy. My last thought before my soul abandoned my body was that at least I had my revenge. The Cranbournes would never find their baby now.

About A Home for Helena

A HOME FOR HELENA 150x220 Believing that she has been misplaced in time, Helena Lloyd travels back two hundred years in an attempt to find out where she belongs.

Widowed father James Walker has no intention of remarrying until he makes the acquaintance of his daughter’s lovely new governess.

Lady Pendleton, a time-traveling Regency lady herself, suspects that these two belong together. First, however, she must help Helena discover her true origins—and hopefully, a home where she belongs.

A Home for Helena is Book 2 of The Lady P Chronicles.

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About the Author

Susana Ellis has always had stories in her head waiting to come out, especially when she learned to read and her imagination began to soar. A former teacher, Susana lives in Toledo, Ohio in the summer and Florida in the winter. She is a member of the Central Florida Romance Writers and the Beau Monde chapters of RWA and Maumee Valley Romance Inc.

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Lady Whingingley Tells All

By Guest author

On February 17, 2016

In Guest author, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

Félix_Emile-Jean_Vallotton_-_Woman_Writing_in_an_Interior_-_Google_Art_Project Dear Mr. Clemens,

I wish to make your readers aware of the unsavory details surrounding the recently formed engagement between Miss Helena K and the Earl of W. It is incumbent upon the ladies of the ton to maintain the standards of behavior and propriety, which are so critical to the functioning of Polite Society. I shudder to contemplate the many ways that these individuals, in spite of their birth and breeding, have flouted of the standards governing polite behavior.

I am sure that no one who reads this excellent journal is unaware of the fact that Miss K was found kissing Lord Denby in a secluded anteroom at Montagu House during her Season four years since. Not only was she engaged in this abandoned behavior, but when the gentleman quite properly offered her his hand and the protection of his name, this hurly burly hoyden refused him! Naturally, this brassy minx was no longer welcomed at the best houses, and I know that at least one Patroness of Almack’s gave her the cut direct when they encountered each other in the Park during the hour of the promenade. Mercifully to all, she returned to the countryside of Kent before the end of the Season, her reputation in tatters!

And, if Miss K’s history does not bear close examination, why that of the Earl of W is even less savory! This rascal fled England for the Continent some 15 years ago, under suspicion of murdering another gentleman over the Pearl of Sirsi. While it is true that he was not guilty of the murder, no real gentleman exposes himself to even the possibility of being accused of such a thing! As a young man he was ever to be found at mills and in gaming hells, and would wager on anything. All that however, is nothing compared to what one hears about his time on the Continent, and how he operated a fencing school, a gaming hell, and even taught at the Riding School in Vienna! Who knows, he may have been a caper merchant to boot. Furthermore, he is said to have had any number of mistresses during his absence. Is this the kind of low adventurer we countenance in today’s Society?

Admittedly, his sister and brother-in law, the Earl and Countess of Brayleigh are arbiters of taste. However, even Brayleigh’s dealings with the fair sex do not bear close examination to be sure, as any number of barques of frailty enjoyed a connection with him prior to his marriage to Lady Rowena Arlingby, the sister of the disgraced Earl!

So, even though some may call me high in the instep dear readers, I urge the discerning among you to think carefully before lending countenance to either the Earl of W or his affianced bride lest responsibility for the creeping lowering of standards be placed at your doorstep!

Lady Whingingley

About the Book

Malcolm Arlingby, Rowena’s headstrong brother from Alicia Quigley’s A Collector’s Item, settles into his new life as the Earl of Wroxton. Content to while away his time in the decadence he missed during his exile from England, Malcolm hasn’t been paying attention to the duties that come with the title. A letter from the mistress of a neighboring estate warns of smugglers using Malcolm’s lands for their dastardly deeds and he must finally put aside his entertainments to handle the business of being an Earl.

Helena, the one who sent the letter, is not the sour spinster Malcolm was expecting, however. She is a beautiful, vibrant and equally headstrong woman who is more than ready to take Malcolm to task for ignoring his duties. As the pair becomes embroiled in solving the problem of the smugglers, a strong attraction develops. The smugglers aren’t going without a fight, though.

Will a chance encounter with his new neighbor bring Malcolm all the things he never knew he wanted? Or, will the smugglers destroy it all? Find out in The Contraband Courtship.

~excerpt~
“Well, it is not only about Ms. Lacey,” said Rowena, looking a bit embarrassed. “But, certainly, I have my concerns about her. She is married, Malcolm, and unlikely to be free to wed you any time soon.”

“Wed me?” Malcolm gave a hoot of laughter. “I should say not!”

“You see?” said Rowena. “I know that you wish to enjoy yourself, and I would never say you did not deserve to, but surely you are aware of the duty you owe your family.”

“Rowena, I have years ahead of me to sire a pack of children, if that’s what I decide needs to be done,” said Malcolm. “But for now, I have no interest in leg shackling myself to one woman. I’ve spent twelve years on the Continent living by my wits, and damn, I want to enjoy myself now. One of Estella’s principal charms—outside of the most obvious ones—is that she cannot importune me to marry her!”

“You are being very vexing,” said Rowena. “It is not that I wish to deny you your pleasures, Malcolm—”

“I should say not! And, sister dear, should you even know about Estella?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Rowena crossly. “All the world knows about the two of you. I’m hardly an innocent. The gossips are only too happy to inform me that half the ladies in London have either succumbed to you since your return or to Alaric prior to our marriage.”

“Only half? Well, you might have taken Brayleigh out of circulation, Rowena, but you can’t force me into such a staid existence.” Malcolm gave his sister a shrewd glance. “There’s more here than you’re telling me. You might as well come out with it.”

Rowena exchanged a glance with Alaric. “Well, if you must know, I have received a letter from Helena Keighley.”

“Who?” asked Malcolm.

“Helena Keighley. The daughter of Sir Douglas.” At Malcolm’s blank look, Rowena sighed. “Really, Malcolm, this is why you must go to Wroxton. Sir Douglas Keighley’s estate marches with Wroxton to the west. You must have met him, and Helena, dozens of times when you were a child.”

“Oh yes, Keighley, I remember the name,” said Malcolm. “Sir Douglas, you say? As I recall, Father said he was a bruising rider to hounds.”

“Yes, Malcolm, I’m sure he was,” said Rowena impatiently. “But this has nothing to do with fox hunting. “

“A pity, I might almost be tempted to leave London for that,” said Malcolm. “What does this Miss Keighley want?”

“I received a letter from Helena a few days ago,” she said, producing a folded piece of paper and waving it at Malcolm. “She would have written to you, but had no idea where to find you, and we are acquainted. She is a year or two older than I am, but we did spend some time together as children, and of course I have met her at assemblies and house parties. Surely you remember her.”

“I can’t be bothered to remember your childhood friends, Rowena,” said Malcolm. “I had other things to attend to. What does this mysterious letter say?” asked Malcolm.

Rowena unfolded the letter and perused it quickly. “Here it is,” she said. “It seems that French brandy is being smuggled in through Kent, and the lack of interest of the Earl of Wroxton in his estate has been taken as a sign that his lands are free to be used for this purpose. While Felix Arlingby was not a strong-minded gentleman, he cared enough to prevent such nonsense, but now landings occur almost nightly. I have no doubt that some of the servants have been bribed to allow this. The whole affair is unsettling; I have no desire to see Keighley lands overrun by ruffians because Wroxton is poorly managed. It is imperative that your brother cease his wastrel ways and take up the responsibilities that come with his birthright. He was ever an irresponsible young man, but surely the circumstances of the past years must have brought him some wisdom, no matter how slight. Please inform him that he is needed immediately at Wroxton.”

“What a termagant!” said Malcolm. “She doesn’t even know me, and she’s calling me a wastrel!”

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About the Author

Alicia Quigley is a lifelong lover of romance novels, who fell in love with Jane Austen in grade school, and Georgette Heyer in junior high. She made up games with playing cards using the face cards for Heyer characters, and sewed regency gowns (walking dresses, riding habits and bonnets that even Lydia Bennett wouldn’t have touched) for her Barbie. In spite of her terrible science and engineering addiction, she remains a devotee of the romance, and enjoys turning her hand to their production as well as their consumption.

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Lady Theresa’s Letdown

By Susana Ellis

On February 12, 2016

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

Reese engaged to be married? It couldn’t be true. Could it?

Theresa stared in astonishment at the couple seated on the threadbare divan across from her, hands clasped together and beaming with happiness.

She’d been certain that she and Reese would formalize their understanding before the year was out. She was twenty-four and he twenty-eight, and he’d confided recently that after several seasons in London, his father was urging him to marry and set up his nursery. Why, she’d thought—assumed—that he was signaling his intention to make her an offer of marriage. Particularly when she’d received his note indicating that he had something of importance to tell her when he came to call later that morning.

She’d dressed with especial care for the occasion, assuming, as her father had when she’d shown him the message, that their good friend and neighbor would be requesting Theresa’s hand in marriage. Even Molly, the one remaining housemaid, had a silly smile on her face as she struggled with the comb and hot iron to produce a more elegant coiffure than the simple chignon Theresa normally sported.

And she hadn’t done a bad job at all, Theresa decided, considering her lack of experience. It wasn’t all housemaids who could double as a lady’s maid when the household staff was reduced.

In the end, it didn’t really matter. Because Reese, when he’d arrived, wasn’t alone. He’d brought with him his new fiancée, one Eugenia Sedgely, a pretty redhead who couldn’t be more than seventeen years old.

Theresa struggled to maintain her composure. If there was anything worse than having ones hopes for the future dashed to pieces, it had to be allowing the originators of her pain to see it.

“Uh—congratulations,” she said, swallowing hard. “When is the… uh… happy event?”

“June,” broke in the blushing bride-to-be. “Mama likes a June wedding, and well—“ she broke off and her face turned scarlet.

“We see no reason to delay,” finished Reese. Good heavens, was he blushing as well? Theresa couldn’t recall ever seeing his face so red, not even after a hard day’s work in the summer sun.

“The betrothal ball is to be held in three weeks,” volunteered Reese’s fiancée (Fiancée? How could this be happening?) “Mama is off her feet day and night with the preparations. It’s to be quite a splash.”

“The Sedgelys have a ballroom at their London home,” explained Reese. “Father is over the top delighted, of course.”

Of course, thought Theresa vacantly. Were Reese and his father, Squire Bromfield, the only ones in Hertfordshire who hadn’t expected the two of them to make a match of it? Inseparable since childhood, she and Reese had done everything together, had so much in common—farming, estate management, fishing, the gamut. Not to mention the countless assemblies and parties they’d attended arm-in-arm. How was it possible that Reese, at the very least, had not comprehended Theresa’s expectations? She could not fathom it.

“It is our fondest hope that you and your father will attend,” he added. “And perhaps… Lord Clinton would consider honoring us with his presence also?”

Lord Clinton? Oh, Damian Ashby, her father’s distant cousin and heir to his estate. It took her fuzzy brain a moment to recall the title he’d assumed at his father’s death several years ago. So he was a viscount now. No doubt he’d become even more puffed-up with his own worth than ever before.

His fiancée’s face lit up. “Oh, do you think he might?” she asked excitedly. “Mama will be in alt if London’s foremost Corinthian were to attend her ball.”

Reese gazed at her fondly. “To be sure, he should do, my sweet, since one day he will be our closest neighbor.” Then he flushed as he realized the implications of his statement. “That is, many years from now when he becomes the next earl.”

The petite Eugenia looked as though she might swoon at the thought of the lofty Lord Clinton residing on the next estate over from theirs.

“Indeed,” said Theresa drily. “Father will write to urge him to make an appearance. And we will both be honored to attend, of course.”

She glanced up at the Gainsborough over the mantel and sighed. It would have to go the way of the other household treasures to the art dealer in Hitchin. Surely it would bring enough to finance a trip to London and perhaps a new suit for her father. She still had the marine blue gown that hadn’t seen much wear in the past year.

But as for how she would manage to endure the agony of dancing at the betrothal ball of the man she always thought would be her husband… she could think of no strategem for dealing with that particular problem.

About Treasuring Theresa

Thrown together, both Damian and Theresa discover each other’s hidden depths. But are their differences too much to overcome to make a successful match?

Treasuring Theresa was a finalist in the 2013 EPIC Awards.

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Category: Regency (19th century Britain) Page 14 of 15

Biscuits and Tea with a Side of Questions

Vanessa’s Dilemma

Marnie Gets Her Revenge

Lady Whingingley Tells All

Lady Theresa’s Letdown