Category: Teatime Tattler Page 120 of 154

Seducing the Cursed Bride

On October 25, 2017

What bridegroom would choose to spend his wedding night in a prison? I, Mr. Palmer—lifelong seeker of occult knowledge—shall tell you. For I possess the inestimable ability to eavesdrop on history. To see and hear the echoes of a location, I need only stand in the space, close my eyes, and enter a trance which allows my soul to flee its mortal home and explore the boundless realm of the spiritual plane. I embarked on one such exploration a fortnight ago in Northumberland, in the ruined prison tower of Ravenwood Keep.

Two medieval warriors—brothers, I divined it—stood alone within the prison’s cold embrace.

The younger of the two spoke first. “William, are you going to tell me why you’re here? Or must I wait until we’re old and gray?”

The elder brother stalked to the dormant fireplace, then back again. “You were right, Robert. My bride does believe in the curse. She just told me.”

“Ah. And how did that drive you to spend your wedding night in a prison?”

“The stench of merry-making plagues the rest of the keep, and I need peace.”

“And ’twouldn’t look right if Ravenwood’s new lord were seen roaming about the castle when he should be enjoying the pleasures of his bed.”

William’s frown deepened. “We never made it to the bed.”

“I see. So at present, Lady Ravenwood is scared of pregnancy.”

“Not just scared. She refuses to consummate the marriage.”

Robert’s eyes widened. “Ever?”

“So she says.”

“God’s blood! ’Tis unthinkable!”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m too furious to decide.”

Robert shook his head. “You owe your success in battle to calm logic. Clear tactics. You don’t let emotion dim your judgment. ’Tis why so many fear you.”

William stared at the wall, upon which a flaming torch created a miniature battle of shadows on stone. “I know.”

Robert rubbed his chin. Then he began to pace. His footfalls created a smooth, continuous rhythm on the planked floor.

Abruptly, he stopped. “We know the curse is codswallop.”

“Utterly.”

“Can you convince your wife of this?”

“Not before she survives the birthing bed.”

Robert looked pensive and nodded slowly. “Then you must make her forget until that day arrives.”

William grunted. “One might as soon make a knight forget his sword on the battlefield.”

“Then coax her into choosing you in spite of her fears.”

“You suggest a miracle.”

“No.” Robert arched an eyebrow. “A seduction.”

Readers of The Teatime Tattler, it was then I left the brothers and returned to the present. Yet I cannot help but wonder, what happened next?

Excerpt from Flight of the Raven, by Judith Sterling:

William stood before the cold hearth with his back to the door. His commanding presence diminished the sweeping arch of the vacant fireplace.

“Leave us,” he ordered without turning. “Shut the door behind you.”
The heavy, oak door slammed shut. The stone walls reverberated from the force of it.

Emma studied the sheen of his straight, black hair, the proud set of his shoulders, and the wide, leather belt which cinched his ebony tunic at the waist. An eternity might’ve passed while she waited for him to acknowledge her presence. When at last he turned, his dark eyes blazed.

Her stomach lurched. “Y-you wished to see me?”

He glowered at her in silence. A chill of foreboding ran through her, but she stood her ground.

A full minute later, he still hadn’t spoken. Her patience waned. If he expected her to read his mind, he could think again.

She cleared her throat. “You obviously need time to collect your thoughts, so I’ll leave you to them.”

“You will stay right here,” he ruled in slow, measured words. His scorching gaze belied his smooth tone of voice. “I sent for you to discuss your betrayal.”

She swore under her breath. Someone must’ve divulged her plan to stay celibate. If only she’d told him sooner.

“I can explain,” she said.

“Save your breath. There’s only one explanation.”

“You said ‘discuss.’ A discussion requires two opinions.”

“An opinion laced with lies doesn’t count.”

“But if you—”

“Silence!”

His shout echoed off the prison walls. Her stomach churned, but she clamped her lips shut.

“Now,” he said, lower in pitch, “listen and learn. A traitor can challenge the king’s reach, but only a fool underestimates mine. My men know this. Legions of Saracens—alive and dead—know it. Wulfstan will know it too.”

“What has Wulfstan to do with this?”

William grunted. “You play innocence well.”

“Truly, I know not whereof you speak!”

“I speak of your escape…tonight…with Wulfstan.”

“What?”

“My squire was in the mews while you were plotting your little scheme.”

“Holy Mother!” Frantically, her mind snatched up the pieces of what was said and where. “’Twas Gertrude’s idea.”

“A welcome one, reportedly.”

“I considered it, but—”

“So you confess.”

“No! Your spy heard but part of the conversation. In the end, I chose you.”

He snorted. “Right. And I sell genuine relics of the saints.”

She glared at him. With quick, deliberate steps, she closed the space between them. “Then I’ll fetch my purse, for I speak the truth.”

“I am no fool.”

No, she thought, but you’re a veritable god of arrogance.

A lord of intimidation, too. Why else would he summon her to the prison tower? With dispatch, her desire to explain the curse, and its implications to their wedding night, died.

For an instant so brief she might’ve imagined it, his expression changed. He looked almost…wounded.

“Does the thought of marrying me so disgust you?” he asked.

His dark, infinite eyes became her world. “Not at all.”

Large, warm hands clasped her upper arms. “Is Wulfstan your lover?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Tyrant.”

His mouth claimed hers. She wrenched her head to the side, tried to break away. His grip tightened. His lips demanded more.

Emma thought fast. She couldn’t match his physical strength. But maybe, if she didn’t resist, didn’t react in any way, he’d release her.

She willed herself to relax. Almost at once, his lips slackened. They became softer, gentler. Intrigued, she relaxed further.

His lips brushed hers and left a tingling warmth in their wake. She liked the sensation, but the longer he fed it, the more she wanted the full pressure of his mouth. A low sound of protest vibrated deep in her throat.

William moaned, and his hot tongue nudged her closed lips. A curious action. Not unpleasant, though, so she opened her mouth. His tongue slipped inside and began a slow, thorough exploration. In response, she flicked her tongue against his.

He groaned. The sound was raw, exciting. His hands burned a path from her arms down to her hips. His tongue darted deeper, faster. Her mouth tingled. Heat tantalized her belly. Never had she felt so alive.

About Flight of the Raven

How eager would the bridegroom be if he knew he could never bed the bride?

Lady Emma of Ravenwood Keep is prepared to give Sir William l’Orage land, wealth, and her hand in marriage. But her virginity? Not unless he loves her. The curse that claimed her mother is clear: unless a Ravenwood heir is conceived in love, the mother will die in childbirth. Emma is determined to dodge the curse. Then William arrives, brandishing raw sensuality which dares her to explore her own.

William the Storm isn’t a man to be gainsaid. He’ll give her protection, loyalty, and as much tenderness as he can muster. But malignant memories quell the mere thought of love. To him, the curse is codswallop. He plans a seduction to breach Emma’s fears and raze her objections. What follows is a test of wills and an affirmation of the power of love.

Buy Links:

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Author Bio:

Judith Sterling’s love of history and passion for the paranormal infuse everything she writes. Flight of the Raven and Soul of the Wolf are part of her medieval romance series, The Novels of Ravenwood. The Cauldron Stirred is the first book in her young adult paranormal series, Guardians of Erin. Written under Judith Marshall, her nonfiction books—My Conversations with Angels and Past Lives, Present Stories—have been translated into multiple languages. She has an MA in linguistics and a BA in history, with a minor in British Studies. Born in that sauna called Florida, she craved cooler climes, and once the travel bug bit, she lived in England, Scotland, Sweden, Wisconsin, Virginia, and on the island of Nantucket. She currently lives in Salem, Massachusetts with her husband and their identical twin sons.

Social Media:

Website – https://judithmarshallauthor.com/
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/judithsterlingfiction/
Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16291161.Judith_Sterling
Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B01MT3KB7L
The Wild Rose Press – https://catalog.thewildrosepress.com/2212_judith-sterling

A family feud in London’s ballrooms

By Jude Knight

On October 21, 2017

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

The Earl of M. has returned to England, after fifteen years overseas. This paper understands that he has been touring Europe, the Levant, and even the East since he was abducted from England when he was a mere schoolboy.

Our younger readers may not remember the rancorous battle when his father died; his stepmother and fraternal uncle claiming custody, and his maternal uncle insisting that his rivals wanted the young earl dead.No evidence was ever offered, except for accidents such as any befall any twelve-year-old. But then he disappeared, the only evidence of his continuing existence quarterly letters to his agents and lawyers.

With the Earl back in Society, all eyes are on him and the two from whom he fled: the Dowager Countess of M. and her constant companion, her husband’s younger brother Lord D. P. If these two are disappointed that the younger man survived the many rigours of foreign travel, they hid it well at the Winshire Ball last night.

And if the Earl blames the older couple for the two unusual accidents and the street attack he has suffered since setting foot in London three weeks ago, he gave no sign of it.

Still such brushes with eternity must be giving him pause. He is understood to be looking for a bride. We look to see him apply the lessons in courting that we believe him to have learned in far-off climes.

***

This piece of gossip belongs to a short story I’m writing for my newsletter subscribers. I send out six free stories a year, and I post them on my website in password protected files open to my subscribers. Below is an extract from the beginning of the story; I hope you find it intriguing. Subscribe to my newsletter if you’d like to read the rest of it when I send out my November announcements (which will be about the publication of two more books: another Christmas novella and a collection of all four of my stand-alone Christmas novellas at a discount price for the four).

If you’re into Facebook parties, I’ll be talking about both publications (and others) at Caroline Warfield’s Celebration of Holiday Reading today, and at the Bluestocking Belles’ Never Too Late Release Party on 4 November. Hope to see you there.

***

The Mouse Fights Back

Tiberius thought of his wife as Mouse.

He’d had a mouse once; a little wild creature that he’d rescued from his step-mother’s cat and carried off to the folly that he had been allowed to make his own because his step-mother did not care for wildernesses.

There, he’d nursed its wounds and released it, and for the rest of his long summer holiday, Mouse had eaten the food he left for it, occasionally even venturing from hiding while he was still in the room, though it would scurry away if he approached.

Miss Mouse—Miss Chausse was her real name, but he misheard it when he was introduced—had the same frightened, frozen stance when he first saw her, at the elbow of the fat sleek cat who he later learned to be her aunt, afraid to move lest her torturer stop pretending to ignore her and returned to her vicious games.

He wasn’t here in Society to rescue mice, however, so he moved on to the next lady on his list. With his uncle determined to step into his shoes, Tiberius needed to fill his nursery, and he couldn’t make a start on that without first obtaining a wife.

The search went poorly,not least because Mouse kept intruding. Not by design. She did her best to remain invisible. But Tiberius noticed whenever she was present and looked for her when she wasn’t.

Wondering at himself, he once asked her to dance, but the experiment was not a success. She wouldn’t look at him, stumbled when he spoke, and mumbled when she answered his questions. Still, she was graceful when he gave up conversing, and he fancied she gentled to his touch as they moved through the figures of the dance.

He might have tried again, except that he saw the fear in her face when he returned her to her aunt; saw her shrink into herself when another gentleman took his example and asked for her to partner him. The aunt’s verbal onslaught when she returned from this second set left Mouse white-faced and fighting to hold back tears.

Tiberius could not solve her problems. He had troubles enough of his own, and needed a strong-minded wife who could protect and defend the new earl if one of the murder plots succeeded before Tiberius could prove that his uncle was the mastermind behind them. Him and dear step-Mama who, it transpired, was an intimate friend of Mouse’s aunt. Two cats together.

Still, he stepped in to rescue the poor girl from the claws of some cats-in-training outside the ladies’ retiring room one day, and another time punched a known debaucher in the nose and escorted Mouse out of the garden she had unaccountably entered.

“You should not have been out there alone,” he scolded, keeping his voice as calm and gentle as he could with the anger and outrage still surging in his veins.

“My aunt–” Mouse coloured and stammered. Her aunt would be angry?

“I will not tell her, Miss Chausse.” He meant to reassure, and instead received an indignant glare.

“She took me outside. She left me with… That man.”

His hand convulsed on hers and she trembled, impelling him to gentle his touch. “The nasty old cat!”

His indignation must have given her courage, because she burst into an explanation, admirably succinct. “She is afraid I might marry, and remove my money from her grasp, and so she seeks to have me ruined, though she has not thought about how that might curtail her social life. But aunt is not clever, just cunning.”

The speech was the longest he’d heard from her, and full of intelligence and even a certain bitter humour. “But surely…” Tiberius stopped, uncertain how to say that she must be in her mid-20s, with the spectre of marriage behind her.

“I am twenty-two, but my inheritance is in trust until I am thirty. And no one has shown any interest in me in five years since my come out until you… That is, until this year.”

Ah. Tiberius had put her at risk by dancing with her. How our good deeds come back to haunt us.

“I am sorry,” he offered.

Mouse did not pretend to misunderstand him. “You are not responsible. You did not make aunt a bully or my trustee a thief. Or me too much of a coward to stand up to them.”

They had stopped on the terrace, far enough apart from others for this private conversation, but in full decorous sight of at least a score of people, and there her aunt found them, Tiberius’s step mother and uncle at her elbow.

“Where have you been, you wicked girl?”

One of them has to go home

By Guest author

On October 18, 2017

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Dear Mr. Clemens,

Master Clint is away fighting Yankees and I’m beginning to suspect that my mistress, Miss Julianne, is possessed by haints. Worse yet, Miss Julianne is figuring that out, too. We been together since we was born, so there ain’t much trouble we hadn’t been into. But when she asked me to take her to see Miss Jetta, the old root doctor whose cabin is hidden in the cypress swamp, I told her I thought that was a line we ought not to cross. So off we went anyway. Then Miss Jetta started coming around in the night putting root bags in the nooks and crannies of the house.

Now I found out that Miss Audrey is in Miss Julianne’s body. She says she’s from a place called the future, but she ain’t a haint. She just wants to go home. At first I was mad at her for taking Miss Julianne’s body, but while Miss Audrey and I been trying to figure out how to get her home, we’ve grown to be good friends. A lot of stuff has happened since Miss Audrey’s been here – some good and some so bad it makes my heart hurt to think about it. I don’t want Miss Audrey to leave, but old Miss Jetta say Miss Julianne and Miss Audrey cain’t both stay. And the time is fast approaching when one of them has to go.

Tess Joseph, 1864
Wren Song Plantation slave
Ladies maid to Mistress Julianne Wren

A Splinter in Time

Charleston antiques dealer Audrey Parrish attends an auction preview at Wren Song plantation, hoping to find relics from her past. Instead, she snags her hand on a bedpost splintered by a musket ball and finds herself at the plantation at the exact moment the shot is fired.

Confederate officer Matthew Orrick is staying in the vacant overseer’s cabin while recovering from a battle wound. Audrey is captivated by him, but falling in love is not an option. Altering Matt’s destiny would impact the fate of generations yet to be born.

After Matt discovers Audrey’s true identity, he demands she abandon her attempts to return to her own time. But Audrey’s feelings for him conflict with her concern for the lives that will be erased if she stays.

When an eleventh hour opportunity arises, Audrey has only seconds to weigh her decision – stay with the man she loves, or return to set her own world right?

Excerpt: Matt discovers the deception.

He went to the end of the veranda and looked out into the night. “You are not the Julianne I have known all my life.”

Audrey had been so infatuated with him she hadn’t thought to look at herself through his eyes. Still, she did not believe that he could be speaking literally.

“Tell me,” he demanded, turning back to her.

“There is nothing to tell.”

“You are changed. It began the evening of your fainting spell. The evening before, you were as I’ve always known you. Now, the way you speak, your manner, you are an entirely different person. At first it was entertaining, but now it has grown troubling. Has this to do with your trip to the old root woman? Is that the reason she creeps around here in the deep of night tucking her spell bags into the nooks and crannies of the house?”

“Miss Jetta comes here at night?” Audrey said, stunned.

“Do you expect me to believe you don’t know she comes when all the Negroes know? They think she is the reason you have suddenly regained your health. I should believe so, too, but there’s something deeper going on. Tess knows what it is and she’s protective of it. Tell me,” he demanded, “are you a piece of Miss Jetta’s work?”

She was suddenly afraid—afraid to tell him and afraid not to. “No! I only went to Miss Jetta for help.”

“So, you admit it.”

“No. Well, yes. But…”

They turned at the clatter of a tray being set heavily on the table. Tess stood stone-faced looking at her.

“Tell him.”

Audrey shook her head. “No.”

“Tell him,” Tess said, her voice emotionless.

She looked at Tess with rising panic. “He won’t believe me.”

“He’ll believe me,” Tess said. “Tell him all of it.”

About Linda Shelby.

Linda Shelby lives on a small ranch in central Oklahoma. She loves reading, traveling to historical places and blending historical facts into her stories. Her novel, A Splinter In Time, won the 2017 OWFI award for best book of fiction.

The Peculiar Lighthouse Keeper

By Guest author

On October 11, 2017

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Edward Moran 1876

Mr. Clemens,

I beg your help. Perhaps your readers have information.

I just can’t believe all that has happened in the last few days. My brother drowned in that treacherous storm, and three days of worrying about him and my niece, Abigail. Then such relief when that lighthouse keeper returned her in good health. But now she wants to marry him. A blind girl with no one in the world now but myself and her uncle. What were they doing alone on that island for three days. That strange recluse with the scared face and Irish to boot! Said he fought in the Civil War, our Civil War for the Union and he’s saving money to bring his mother and brother to America. I know the whole town will be talking, rumors from busybodies, and I’ve a funeral to plan for my poor brother. A funeral without a body. I told him he was getting too old to deliver supplies to the lighthouse. If he’d listened to me, he might be alive now.

And that Jeremy, he’s handsome enough from one side, but what do we know about him? Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Abigail’s Frantic Aunt

____________________________

About the Book

An immigrant from Ireland, Jeremy McKetcheon took the place of a wealthy New Englander drafted into the Union Army during the Civil War. Terribly scarred by a shell that set fire to his tent, Jeremy is now a reclusive lighthouse keeper on an island off the coast of Maine. He is haunted by flashbacks of the war, and never expects to find love, understanding, or acceptance.

Beautiful but blind from birth, Abigail Morrison sees the world through the intricate carvings her father brings back from Lighthouse Island when he takes supplies there. She wonders about the artistic carver and why he hides from the world. But when the opportunity arises for her to visit the island, she and her father are tossed overboard in a raging storm. Having seen their distress from the parapet of the lighthouse, Jeremy attempts a rescue in the frigid waters, and all their lives are changed forever.

Excerpt

Abbey could tell the day was dying, the sunlight ebbing. The air had grown chillier. Her fingers, nose, and toes were numb. She rubbed and moved and massaged them. How she dreaded another night among the boulders. Her stomach was so empty that it churned endless and cramped painfully.

She shook snow off her cape and curled up under it again. After a while, she slept.

She awoke to the howling of wolves. This time they were much closer. Her fingers wrapped around the club.

She heard growling and imagined their fierce teeth. She’d heard stories of wolves surrounding a big bull moose and bringing it down, tearing open its neck. The silver timber wolves were large brutes with little fear of humans. Abigail tensed remaining perfectly still as she heard and smelled their approach. A branch snapped. She jumped involuntarily.

I can’t spend another night here.

A low growl erupted outside her cape. The muffled sound of front paws digging in the snow terrified her. She felt a canine body bump against hers with nothing separating her but a thick wool material.

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About the Author

Kim McDermott was born and raised in Charleston, SC where she graduated valedictorian of Middleton High School and cum laudi from the College of Charleston with a B.A. in English. She received a Masters Degree in Counseling from the Citadel and is a Licensed Professional Counselor in S.C. She has nine years of experience in guidance. She is also a Nationally Certified High School English and Language Arts teacher who worked for Charleston Country School District for 28 years as both an English teacher and a guidance counselor. She is retired and currently teaches English and Creative Writing part-time as an Adjunct English Professor at Trident Technical College.

She has free lanced for numerous regional and national publications including: The State, Charleston Magazine, Standard, Blue Ridge Country, Reader’s Digest, Christian Single, Home Life, Straight, Evangel, Smokey Mountain Magazine, and others. She won the Blue Ridge Christian Writer’s award in l987. Her first book, All Work, All Play published by Marco. She has two children’s books, a chapter book aimed at elementary age children entitled The Underwear Tree and a picture book, Les Petits Gardes. With Margie Clary, she co-authored South Carolina Lighthouses published by Arcadia Publishing. Her latest book is a suspense romance entitled Hiding published by The Wild Rose Press.

Contact Information

kmcdermottauthor.wordpress.com
www.katherinemcdermott.blogspot.com
www.Facebook.com/Kaatherinemcdermott.Author
www.thewildrosepress.com

The Inverness Marriage Maker Strikes Again

By Susana Ellis

On October 7, 2017

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

“Lorena, my dear, you’ll never believe what I just read in this morning’s issue of The Teatime Tattler!”

“That old rag? Sister dear, I’ve told you time and time again that Mr. Clemens’s newspaper is nothing but a scandal sheet. I don’t know why it is you waste your pocket money on such rubbish.”

Lavinia Forrester rolled her eyes. “Rubbish it may be, dear sister, but I’m quite certain there is something here you would find of considerable interest.”

Lorena Clapham put down her sewing and gave her sister a glassy stare. “I am equally certain there is nothing there that I care to hear, Lavinia. Do put it down before the servants see you reading it.”

“The Tattler has it on good authority that Miss Cornelia Hardcastle, daughter of Admiral and Mrs. Cornelius Hardcastle was married on Friday last to Mr. Preston Warrington, brother of William, Viscount Warrington, of Cheshire.” She paused in order to witness her sister’s reaction.

She wasn’t disappointed. Lorena’s head jerked back and her sewing clattered to the floor. “Miss Hardcastle, you say? But that can’t be true!”

“After a seaside honeymoon at Brighton, the newlyweds will return to London to take up residence at the Hardcastle home on Leicester Square, which will soon be vacated when the Admiral and his wife sail for Canada where he will take up the post of Governor General of British North America.”

Lorena snatched the newspaper out of her sister’s hands and continued reading, her fury giving her words an angry intensity.

“Our confidential correspondent claims that this is the latest of a long line of successful matches coordinated by Sir Stirling James, popularly styled “The Inverness Marriage Maker” whose own marriage to a duke’s daughter was the result of one of his most challenging schemes. One has to wonder from whence this particular power emanates and how far it can be taken. It is the opinion of this writer that there will soon be an exodus of carriages of desperate parents taking to the Great North Road to avail themselves of Sir Stirling’s skills for their recalcitrant sons and daughters.”

“Miss Hardcastle swore to my son she would never, ever marry. She broke his heart and he’s never been the same since!”

It’s not her fault she didn’t return his affection. And who can blame her? He’s always been such a nitwit.

“Perhaps now he’ll look for another young lady.” Not a chance. A wife would interfere with his drinking, gaming, and whoring.

Lorena dropped the newspaper on the table, a faraway look in her eyes. “A marriage maker, eh? You don’t suppose…”

Lavinia’s eyes widened. “Surely you don’t intend to engage the Inverness Marriage Maker? Why, you don’t even know him—and he’s in Scotland.”

Her sister shrugged. “He must travel to London on occasion. How else did he manage to induce Miss Hardcastle into marriage when she has sworn against it? I daresay he won’t have half so much trouble with my darling Robin. Oh Sister, he will be ever so much more steady with a sensible wife.”

Lavinia groaned. Poor Sir Stirling. After this seemingly innocent piece in The Tattler, she suspected he was going to be inundated with mail from desperate parents all over the British Isles.

The Marriage Maker Goes Undercover

Fall 2017

Lady Elana Gallaway, known as master spy The Raven, has made a career of navigating enemy territory and risking her life in situations and places no gentlewoman should know exist. She possesses all the social graces, and is adept at sweeping into glittering royal courts on the Continent, then vanishing without a trace after she’s ferreted out the treacherous secrets that drew her there in the name of duty. She’s equally accomplished in London and Edinburgh, or wherever the British King requires her service. But never has a mission struck so close to her heart—or proved so daunting—as finding love for four retired spies.

These operatives have helped her many times, once or twice, even saving her from certain death at risk to their own lives.

Now, they live solitary lives, lonely lives while surrounded by throngs. Luckily, Elana hasn’t forgotten them. Her career has introduced her to more than enemies. Among her close friends is Sir Stirling James, the famous Inverness marriage maker. He’s just the man she needs.

The Marriage Obligation by Susana Ellis

Cornelia Hardcastle has been determined never to marry since she was eighteen and discovered an ugly family secret. Now that she’s twenty-four, however, her parents want to see her settled so they can move to Canada for her father’s prestigious new government post. Not a chance!

The second son of a viscount, Preston Warrington is more than happy to leave the viscount business to his brother so he can travel the world in search of adventure. His recent stint as a spy for the British in the War with the French has come to an end, and he’s getting pressured to marry and settle down. Hell no!

How could the notorious Marriage Maker from Inverness all the way in Scotland possibly know that these two marriage-averse individuals are perfect for each other?

Inquiring minds want to know.