Category: Teatime Tattler Page 132 of 154

A Threat From Bolingbrook’s Ghost

On March 22, 2017

Dear Mr. Clemens,

I am writing to respectfully request the opportunity to share the concerns I am having regarding my dearest sister, Laia Grace. She has always been a willful girl, speaking with gentlemen who are not known to me, our father, or indeed anyone in our family. Our father rightfully–despite the obvious pain it has caused all of us–sent her away to contemplate her behavior and now I hear she is conversing with ghosts! Honestly!

Ghost Gossip From what I have learned from our brief correspondence, the ghost is none other than the recently deceased Lord Bolingbrook of Mansfield Park, where my sister is currently residing. Truly, I am concerned for her welfare, both mental and physical. I know not the cause of the unfortunate viscount’s demise, but I hope it was nothing violent that would cause him, in his present form, to lash out against my sister. I am aware of the rumors of his recent journey to America and it is said that he never returned, except in this sorry state. I can only pray that my sister’s strength of will and good sense will keep her safe.

Despite how clearly disturbing this turn of events has become, I feel it incumbent on me to share it with you and your readers in the hopes that they might learn from my dear sister’s sad story.

I thank you most sincerely for your time and consideration,

Mrs. Rose Fotheringay-Phipps

(Character references may be enquired of A Dandy in Disguise or my cousin-by marriage the Marquis of Merrick)

About the Book: My Lord Ghost

She only wanted to save his soul. He needed to save her life.

Laia Grace wasn’t raised in society and besides meeting men was so much fun! But when the naive Regency miss introduces herself to wrong person, her father decides that it’s time she grew up. If only he knew that the house he was sending her to had a ghost in residence.

Marcus is haunting his own home, living in the secret passages and priest holes while he tries to deal with the horrific events that led to his brother’s death. But when an angel shows up and coaxes him into telling her his story, he discovers a reason to live.

Will he be willing to risk both his own life and his heart to save her?

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://amzn.com/B01LORII5G
Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/my-lord-ghost
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/my-lord-ghost-meredith-bond/1124573645?ean=2940153715186
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/663761
Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/my-lord-ghost/id1156415358?ls=1&mt=11

About the Author

Meredith Bond’s books straddle that beautiful line between historical romance and fantasy. An award-winning author, she writes fun traditional Regency romances, medieval Arthurian romances, and Regency romances with a touch of magic. Known for her characters “who slip readily into one’s heart,” Meredith loves to take her readers on a journey they won’t soon forget.

Scandal at the Chipping Niddwick Assembly

By Jude Knight

On March 18, 2017

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

Dear Editor

Let me start by saying that I abhor gossip, and despise scandal-mongers above all things. However, I cannot fail to comment on the recent events at would should have been a decorous event in support of an excellent charity. As a good Christian gentleman, I am well aware that we gentry have a duty to set an example to the lesser sort, and part of that duty is to castigate outrageous behaviour on the part of those who should know better.

I speak, Sir, about the recent Whitsunweek Assembly at Chipping Niddwick. The committee who organised the event did us proud. Imagine the delight of our young ladies when not one by two earls attended the affair, both single gentlemen. A baron and viscount were also in attendance, with their respective wives. Such illustrious company for a small country town.

Or so we thought.

Before the night was out, all of them would show their true colours.

The younger of the two earls was observed in seclusion with the baroness (in circumstances that would have demanded the parson’s noose had the lady not already been married). It should have come as not surprise; both Lord S. and Lady Cgm. are often lampooned in printers windows in London for their outrageous behaviour. We regret that they brought their London ways to our virtuous town.

Meanwhile, Lord Cgm. was on a venture of his own, attempting to set up an assignation with a married lady who, we are told, rebuffed him. Lord Cgm. does not, as a rule, show an interest in married ladies, preferring much younger girls, to the extent that no parent will allow their daughter to take service in his house, and Lady Cgm. has to fetch her maids from the orphan asylums of Bristol and Bath.

The other earl. Lord Chby. returned from Canada claiming to be a widower, though rumour has it that his first wife, if the union was in fact blessed by the church, was a native woman. Fortunately for his esteemed name and title, the woman died several years agoand her brats with her.

We saw no signs of grieving last night, since Lord Chby. brought with him a woman (we do not consider her a lady) who could only be his mistress, given the heat with which he regarded her all evening. Mrs. H. is known in this community, and has until now been trusted despite her mysterious appearance here six years ago. Now questions are being asked about the resemblance between her daughter and Lord Chby.

Finally, a cousin of Lord Chby. caused a stir in an invalid’s chair, and inadvertently uncovered the clay feet of the last of our cast of peers. Major A. R., injured in the line of duty, was not content to merely watch the dancing from the sidelines, but insisted on joining in. When his chair collapsed under the unaccustomed exertion of the dance, its maker proclaimed herself. Imagine our shock when we discovered she was none other that Lady A., viscountess of Lord A.

I have, honoured Sir, ignored rumours that Lord A. has made his money from trade. His father was a much respected rider to hounds, though he did marry down. Apparently, the son takes after his father in his low taste in spouses and his mother in his prediliction for activities unbecoming to a gentleman.

Sir, I am advised that the committee thought long and hard before allowing Assembly tickets to be sold to anyone who could raise the price, fearing to lower the tone of the event by letting in the lower sort. May I suggest that next year they raise the tone of the event by excluding the higher sort.

I remain, Sir, your obedient servant,

Sir A. P-H. Bart.

A Raging Madness, the second book in the Golden Redepennings series, will be released in May

The Assembly at Chipping Niddwick is the highlight of the social calendar in my book Farewell to Kindness. If you want to know what Lord Selby did with the Bad Baroness, Lady Carrington, what Mia Redepenning told Lord Carrington, and whether or not Lord Chirbury succeeded in seducing Anne Haverstock, all the answers are in that book.

Revealed in Mist discloses why Lord Selby is hiding out in the country. (The investigation in Revealed in Mist and the one in Farewell to Kindness dovetail.) The young viscount and his lady who first appeared in my imagination at this assembly, demanded to have their story told in the book that became Candle’s Christmas Chair. And Major Alex Redepenning will reappear as hero of A Raging Madness, where we will finally find out how he got injured.

A new cover, so hot off the press it isn’t in the eretailers yet.

Hidden from the earl who hunts them, Anne and her sisters have been accepted into the heart of a tiny rural village. Until another earl comes visiting.

Rede lives to avenge the deaths of his wife and children. After three long years of searching, he is closing in on the ruthless villains who gave the orders, and he does not hope to survive the final encounter.

Until he meets Anne. As their inconvenient attraction grows, a series of near fatal attacks draws them together and drives them apart. When their desperate enemies combine forces, Anne and Rede must trust one another to survive.

Buy links:

Kobo * iBooks * Barnes & Noble * Smashwords * Amazon Kindle

Kitchen Gossip

By Guest author

On March 15, 2017

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

The following is a rendering of a conversation between Sinjun, butler to the Earl of Claverlock, and the valet of a visitor to The Beeches one month before the events described in the novel If Wishes Were Earls. Sinjun, as per usual, is doing all the talking.

Kitchen gossip Come along to the kitchen where we’ll enjoy some privacy.

There now, sit by the oven, I have it heating for scones. His lordship prefers my scones to the cook’s but don’t tell Mrs. Smith. Did you know that’s not her real name? She never was married, for a start. I can’t tell you her real name because you would recognize it in an instant and then you’d wonder what the daughter of such a grand family is doing working in the kitchen of a manor house in a small village in Cornwall. And well may you ask! My dear, it is a tale fraught with disaster and heartache. But I promised a confidence I shall not break.

Let me pour you a cup of tea. Milk or lemon? Neither? How strange.

You’ll have noticed a few changes since you were last here. We’d all understand if the earl secluded himself in his library for the remainder of his days. The house has fallen below the standards we’re used to.

Who am I kidding? We’re living in a hovel. That third wife hadn’t a housekeeping bone in her body. We all know what she used her body for, don’t we. You will have heard, I don’t doubt, that the child wasn’t his lordship’s issue. Yes, she declared to all and sundry as the life drained from her broken body that she’d taken a lover. Good riddance to bad rubbish. I tried to warn his lordship, before he departed for London. I said he should take the full year of mourning after the death of Lady Suzanne.

Now there was a pleasant woman – thick as a plank but nice about it.

Unfortunately his lordship was tempted by a seductress. He scandalized us all by returning with a new wife. I ask you. Nothing good could come of such a match. But it’s not for me to say. More tea?

A Giveaway

Dear reader, is there more you’d like Sinjun to say on the subject? Leave your question and I’ll attempt to wring the answer from him.

One commenter will receive a hand-knitted (by me) washcloth and a bar of handcrafted soap. (USA and Canada only.)

About the Book

When a mysterious note directs Miss Miranda Large to a tiny village in Cornwall to find her heart’s desire, she has no choice but to go. An enchanted keepsake heightens her curiosity. A snowstorm forces her to accept the hospitality of a sullen, albeit sexy and handsome, earl and Miranda’s wish doesn’t seem so out of reach

Edward Penhallion, the 12^th Earl of Claverlock, is not in the mood to start his search for a new wife. He wants to be left alone with his books and his dreams of revenge. But the arrival of a headstrong, sharp-tongued spinster forces him to play the charming host. Not a difficult task, given her intelligence and beauty. Suddenly, he’s not terribly eager for her to leave.

But as the snow falls and the winds blow, Edward discovers there’s more to Miranda than a lively wit and a lovely face. And Miranda wonders if the trappings of wealth are enough for true happiness.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N0QJSHA/
Nook: http://bit.ly/2ifWvXO
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/if-wishes-were-earls-2
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/if-wishes-were-earls/id1184695145?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4
All other retailers: https://www.draft2digital.com/book/209375

About the Author

Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. As soon as she discovered her grandmother’s stash of romance novels, all plots had to lead to a happily-ever-after. Born and raised in Nova Scotia, Luanna now lives in Maine with her dear husband, two college boys, and two cats. When she’s not torturing her heroes and heroines, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious.

Writing under the pen name Grace Hood, she has two novellas published with The Wild Rose Press.

Website: http://www.luannastewart.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Luanna_Stewart
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Luanna.Stewart.nau
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/luannastewart/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14104212.Luanna_Stewart
Amazon Author Page: amazon.com/author/luanna_stewart

Rumors from Southwark: Is Meg Henshawe Missing?

By Aunt Augusta

On March 11, 2017

In Bluestocking Belles, Jessica Cale, Teatime Tattler

March 11th, 1679

Alice sipped her coffee with a frown. She’d been staring at the sea for so long, it had gone cold and sickly sweet. Even the sugar from St. Croix couldn’t save it now. She poked at the crystalline sediment at the bottom of her mug.

She had only managed half of her porridge, as well. It had been more than a year since she had survived ingesting a truly spectacular amount of arsenic, but her stomach had yet to recover.

Her son ate his porridge happily enough. When she sweetened it with honey, he almost always finished the bowl. He was young for it still, but he was growing faster than she could feed him on her own. Achilles was a beautiful baby, a stout, sturdy little fellow glowing with health. He had her eyes and his father’s hair. She was so in love with him she wished she could show him off to her sisters and her friends back in Southwark, but for now, she and her new family were alone in The Hague.

Alice had nothing to complain about; she had married the boy she’d loved all her life to find he was an even better man than she thought he’d be. Their rented rooms faced the sea on one side and the square on the other, a picturesque space full of shops and, as of this week, tulips of every variety. It was nothing like the street she’d grown up on. For one thing, she could take her son with her to the shops without fear they’d be robbed.

England was so close she could feel it, almost see it across the water. They wouldn’t be able to travel until Achilles was older, but it was just close enough to make her mad. She was far more worried than she let on to Jack; for all Meg complained about the inn, she’d never willingly leave it. What had become of her?

A month before, she and Jack had overheard a traveler in town lamenting the disappearance of Meg Henshawe. Alice’s eldest sister was a tart so infamous that men embarked on pilgrimages to see her for themselves, but this traveler had returned disappointed. He’d made it to her family’s inn, The Rose and Crown in Southwark, to find it half burned down and Meg Henshawe gone.

Alice wrung her skirt in her hands like fear twisted her guts. Meg burning down the inn would surprise no one–least of all Alice–but where had she gone? Where were Bess, Bel, and Judith in all of this?

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and searched her memory for clues. She knew maddeningly little. According to the traveler, a local tea merchant she had seen about, her sisters were gone and the inn had been taken over by a Jewish prizefighter and his wife.

Alice had never enjoyed watching the fights–certainly not as much as Meg did–but she knew the boxer in question by reputation alone. Every time he knocked out an opponent, it was all anyone could talk about.

It was all Meg could talk about, at least.

Meg had had so many lovers over the years, she must have thought Alice wouldn’t notice her fascination with Jake Cohen. It wasn’t hard to miss. Of all the men Meg had known, he was the only one she talked about. Her comments always seemed to come out in semi-incoherent thoughts muttered to herself or divulged to Bess or Bel after one too many glasses of wine. Their last conversation echoed in her mind.

Meg and Bel had returned late from Bear Gardens the night Jake Cohen had knocked out Tom Callaghan, the father of Meg’s youngest boy.

“Did you see that, Bel? God’s teeth, there’s no finer man alive.”

Bel snorted. “Not so fine now. Jake the Jew gave him a bloody good thrashing.”

Meg smacked her arm affectionately. “I wasn’t referring to Tom.”

“You think Tom will take kindly to you fancying his rival?”

Meg topped up their wine. “Bugger Tom. If I thought I had a chance with Jake…”

The idea that Meg couldn’t have anyone she wanted had struck Alice as absurd, and the notion hadn’t become more believable with time. Meg Henshawe a legendary beauty capable of turning grown men into babbling fools with a glance. Surely a boxer–

Alice gasped as another possibility sprung to mind.

Once Achilles had finished his porridge, she bundled him into his little coat and his boots with the reinforced heels. She had a question only a tea merchant could answer.

Alice’s story, The Long Way Home, is out now. Watch for Meg’s story, Broken Things, coming out May 1st, 2017. Here’s a preview…

Broken Things
The Southwark Saga, Book 4

Rival. Sister. Barmaid. Whore.

Meg Henshawe has been a lot of things in her life, and few of them good. As proprietress of The Rose and Crown in Restoration Southwark, she has squandered her life catering to the comfort of workmen and thieves. Famous for her beauty as much as her reputation for rage, Meg has been coveted, abused, and discarded more than once. She is resigned to fighting alone until a passing boxer offers a helping hand.

Jake Cohen needs a job. When an injury forces him out of the ring for good, all he’s left with is a pair of smashed hands and a bad leg. Keeping the peace at The Rose is easy, especially with a boss as beautiful—and wickedly funny—as Meg Henshawe. In her way, she’s as much of an outcast as Jake, and she offers him three things he thought he’d never see again: a home, family, and love.

After Meg’s estranged cousin turns up and seizes the inn, Meg and Jake must work together to protect their jobs and keep The Rose running. The future is uncertain at best, and their pasts won’t stay buried. Faced with one setback after another, they must decide if what they have is worth the fight to keep it. Can broken things ever really be fixed?

Buy links coming soon! For updates, sign up for Jessica Cale’s newsletter here.

Is any jewelry box safe from the thief that stalks London’s best houses?

By Guest author

On March 8, 2017

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

London, March 23, 1938

Lord Stansom’s newly established Metropolitan Police is facing increasing pressure to catch the thief plaguing London’s finest houses. As of yet, no culprit has been found. Is any beautiful piece of jewellery safe in this city? It appears not.

The latest victim is the venerable Lord and Lady Chemsford. A ruby encrusted bracelet all the way from the foreign lands of Egypt, and is now lost to the vile fingers of our slippery thief. And as of yet, no sign of the police being able to catch the culprit.

Detective Rowan Cox has been assigned to the case, described as the force’s most effective man, despite being a hang on from the notoriously Bow Street Runners, the organisation extinguished for its questionable tactics. It is said Mr. Cox is known for always getting his man, and is well familiar with every seedy back alley in London.

Sources have revealed that Mr. Cox has been shadowing the arriving guests at some of the best parties in Mayfair. What can we make of that? It is not some hungry waif, or some hardened criminal that stalks the bedchambers of London, but a member of the ton itself?

Lord Stansom absolutely disputes this, but it seems his man, Mr. Cox, has other ideas, having turned his investigation to the very members being victimised. By his actions, it would seem he believes that the targets for this housebreaker, the valuable pieces of jewellery that go missing in the middle of the night, are being selected at society’s most illustrious events. No vagabond would ever gain entrance to such lofty parlors.

Lord Stansom still denies the culprit could be a member of the higher orders. How can we trust this new Metropolitan Police force if they cannot catch a simple thief? And what of this Mr. Cox, who is determinedly turning his attention to the esteemed members of society? Does this internal misunderstanding signify a bumbling and misguided organisation? We should hope not. Unless this thief is caught soon, the more lowly segments of society will get ideas that the Metropolitan Police are thoroughly incompetent. And then where would be all be?

For now, we are left to wonder who will be the next victim of this relentless thief. The royal household perhaps?

Excerpt:

Book The Thief Taker by Camille Oster There was a queue for alighting at the house’s entrance and they sat in the darkened carriage waiting their turn. The house was brightly lit, with golden lights shining through the windows. The ball was already in full swing and they could see dashing gentlemen in black and women in colorful gowns.

“Do you think Captain Heresworth is there already?” Millie asked.

“I expect so,” Serephina responded.

“Do you think he likes me?”

Mrs. Rushmore chuckled. “I think he’d be there with bells on if it brought your attention.”

Millie turned her gaze back to the bright windows and their carriage slowly moved up the line. Serephina wondered if Millie was actually quite attached to the young Captain. She would never admit it so blatantly.

Turning her gaze out the other way, Serephina saw a man leaning on the wrought iron gate on the other side of the street, wearing a brown bowler hat and a green jacket. He was watching the scene intently, eating what looked like pistachios out of a small brown paper bag. By his dress, it was clear he was not a gentleman. His sharp eyes seemed to survey the coming and going carriages.

Serephina’s breath froze. She knew who he was. This could be the Cox that Turner had warned her about. She didn’t know how, but she just knew. Ruthless was the word that reverberated through her mind and she could see how it applied to the man. Suddenly, she wanted to flee, but she calmed herself, realizing he couldn’t see her in the darkness of the carriage.

Putting her hand up to her mouth, she studied him. He was large and muscular, his form showing through his clothes. His jawline was strong, with high cheekbones and full lips. This was not a man who’d lived an idle life. Her eyes took in the lean muscles along his arms and thighs, and a trim waist. Not a man to be trifled with.

He was looking for her—hunting for her, she realized, and Turner’s warning crashed back into her mind. Serephina felt a tremor work its way up her spine.

Before she knew it, it was their turn to alight.

“I’m so excited for this evening,” Millie said. “This will be a grand ball, I think.”

Serephina only nodded, refusing to raise her eyes from the pavement as their carriage moved away.

“In we go, then,” Mrs. Rushmore said and Serephina raised the skirts of her pale green gown. Unable to help herself, she threw a look back at the man as she reached the top of the stairs. His gaze absently met hers and her heart froze, but his eyes traveled on, releasing her from the hold they had on her. Clenching her fist, she walked into the house, guided by liveried footmen.

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About the Author

Camille Oster author Camille Oster is fascinated by tumultuous periods of history, such as Victorian times and the English Civil War. Of late, her interest is turning more toward 20^th century time periods, about to start work on a new series set in the late 1930s. She has written twelve historical novels and a further thirteen other, mostly contemporary, novels.

Although Swedish originally, she’s lived in Auckland, New Zealand for two decades.

Her books are available exclusively at Amazon.

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