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Interview with Charlotte Clark from Cherishing Charlotte

Cherishing Charlotte is Book 3

of The Hertfordshire Hoydens

by Susana Ellis

Charlotte Clark is the oldest child of John (Jack) and Marianne Clark, who operate a charity school for boys in Oxford. Her maternal grandfather, a wealthy landowner who disinherited his daughter for running off with the tutor, appears to have relented somewhat, having invited his granddaughter to visit his estate, Heatherwyck. But does he have an ulterior motive?

Charlotte agreed to have tea with me at Miss Clemens’s Oxford Street Book Palace and Tea Rooms on Mount Street in London.

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Charlotte Clark from Cherishing Charlotte

Susana: Thank you so much for meeting me today, Miss Clark. I know it is a bit of a journey for you from Oxford.

Charlotte: Indeed. It is only the second time I have been to London in all of my nineteen years. If not for Mama needing my help with Papa, I would have remained home with the boys. My twin brothers Robert and Thomas. They are ten. They are looking after the pig and chickens in our absence. [grinning] And the neighbors are looking after them.

Susana: Is your father in poor health, then? Is that why you have come to London?

Charlotte [taking a deep breath]: Yes. Unfortunately, he is afflicted with consumption. The local doctor doesn’t give much hope, but Mama wanted to consult a London physician. We didn’t have the money, but one of Papa’s former pupils graciously offered to provide the fee and lodgings at his home. Papa wanted to refuse, but Mama would not hear of it.

Susana: Your father must have made quite an impression on his students, then.

Charlotte [nodding enthusiastically]: Oh yes! He is a first-rate teacher. Many of his students who have been to Oxford or Cambridge have said that Papa is superior to most of the dons. I’m sure he would have been one himself had he not married Mama instead.

Susana: So dons cannot be married, then?

Charlotte: That is correct. But after he met Mama, nothing else mattered. He’s such a romantic, you see.

Susana: And your mother?

Charlotte [smiling]: Oh, she loves him madly too, of course. But she’s the practical one. Which is really quite fortunate for us, because it was she who managed to keep us fed all these years. Papa is more of a dreamer, and as she is fond of saying, dreams don’t keep food on the table.

Susana: And yet, she agreed to elope with her tutor. More romantic than practical, wouldn’t you agree?

Charlotte [shaking her head]: She was young and silly and at loggerheads with her father. Her mother had just died, and I don’t think she really believed he would cut her off, since there was just the two of them. But hurt pride can be pernicious. Mama has it in full measure. I’m sure she is determined to show him she could make a success of things. [sighing] Although she couldn’t have known how difficult it would turn out to be.

Susana: Do you think she regrets the decision she made, then?

Charlotte:  No. Yes. Well, in a way I believe she resents having to struggle so hard to survive when her father has Heatherwyck all to himself.

Susana: Heatherwyck?

Charlotte: Yes. Heatherwyck is my grandfather’s family estate. The Chapmans have owned it for five generations. Mama says it is one of the largest estates in Hertfordshire.  [biting her lip] Only recently I discovered she has hopes of reclaiming it. My grandfather invited me to spend the summer with him, you see.

Susana: Just you? Not the rest of the family?

Charlotte [stiffening]: : Yes. Just me. And his nephew, Wyatt.

Susana: Ah. So you suspect matchmaking.

Charlotte [teacup rattling vehemently as she sets it down on the saucer]: I know it!

Susana [delicately]: I don’t suppose there’s any harm in going, at least. It’s not like you can be forced into marriage, after all.

Charlotte [nostrils flaring]: That’s just what Mama says! Perhaps I shall like him. Or Grandfather will take a fancy to me and effect a reconciliation regardless. And it would be so good for the boys, you see, if he would sponsor them to Eton.

Susana: Why Eton? It sounds as though they are getting an equally good education at your father’s school.

Charlotte: True, but Mama has high hopes for them. So many political and social connections are made there. And they really are bright boys. [closing her eyes briefly] I shall feel obligated to fall in line with Grandfather’s plans for them. And for Papa. And Mama. What shall we do when Papa can no longer teach? [swallowing and holding back tears]. Mama might be a good manager, but when-if Papa is gone, there won’t be anything to manage.

Susana: It is quite a dilemma. I understand that you feel it is on you to become the sacrificial lamb for your family. That is a very great burden to put on such a young girl.

Charlotte [chin quivering]: Perhaps I should be more grateful to have the opportunity to make a difference in the future of my parents and brothers, but in all honesty, I have no wish to be a martyr. I am no Maid of Orléans, Miss Ellis. Burning at the stake does not appeal to me, any more than a marriage of convenience does. Do you not think me a wretched person?

Susana [reaching forward to stroke her forearm]: Wretched? No. Human? Yes. And a bit dramatic, perhaps. [takes out a handkerchief] Now, stop crying and and take another biscuit. I always think things look better after I’ve consumed a good dose of sugar. I wonder if we can order some fruit scones here, with strawberry jam and clotted cream?

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Cherishing Charlotte, Book 3 in The Hertfordshire Hoydens, is due for release in March 2017. Book 1, Treasuring Theresa, is available on Amazon. Book 2, Valuing Vanessa, is part of the Belles’ 2016 collection, Holly and Hopeful Hearts.

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Vagabond or Dropped From Grace?

(Overheard within the confines of a fashionable and oft-crowded tea room, in the month of April)

Our state of Pennsylvania in this April of 18— can either be fairylike or devilish in temperament. As of late, the mud and damp have forced the ladyfolk of our area to the embracing arms of parlors and tearooms. The tempestuous weather—and, it seems, one specific bit of gossip—have congregated the women into swarms.

tea“I overheard it at the jeweler’s,” the anonymous reporter overheard one women say between pouring the Early Gray and reaching for a buttered scone. “That dear Mr. Godfrey was resetting a stone in my necklace, and Miss Emmeline was talking about that boy, Lou, I believe his name was? Laurence? Larson?

“Louis,” a second woman (wearing quite an outrageously plumed hat) chimed in.  “But I believe he pronounces it like the French king did. Very much putting on airs, if you ask me. He and his mother live in a shack, I believe!”

A daintier girl in the gathering raised her eyes from her cup and saucer. Her quaint, narrow face pinched a little at the mouth. “What did you overhear, Mama?”

“Oh, you know—Miss Emmeline, what a gorgeous girl, even though she has that unfortunate Irish coloring. Freckled all over like a brown egg, but anyhow—the young miss was, quite boldly, if you ask me—demanding of Mr. Godfrey if he’d received any letters from Louis. Quite odd!”

The tea circle hmm’d and yes-quite’d.

“He’s gone away to London, you know,” the dainty girl in blue murmured. Her gloved hand reached for a slice of pound cake so prized at the tea house.

“Truly, Bridgette?” squawked her mother. “I heard that as well, I must admit—but is there any truth to it? Did the young man really propose to Miss Emmeline? He’s basically a vagabond—from what I heard tell of him,” she hastily added, reaching for her cup which shook indignantly between her fingers. “I never knew of him before now, and now he’s vanished like a ghost.”

Bridgette propped her chin primly in her hand. “I heard from Laura Ashford, down at Theresa’s knitting circle last Wednesday, that he proposed to Emmeline with a ring fit for a regent.” Her eyes sparkled. “Only, no one’s seen it.”

“How do you mean?” a severe-seeming gentlewoman piped up from behind the sandwich tier. “How do you know there was a ring if no one has seen?”

Her tone bit the air, young Bridgette fluttered her lashes as if threatened. “I only repeat what I heard. The family is all very hush-hush about it. Perhaps he stole the ring, Heaven knows! I heard he went to London to seek his fortune or some such. Has family in France.”

A round-cheeked maid who’d previously remained silent now broke into a smile. “Perhaps he’s a noble dropped from grace!” She turned to the severe woman. “Does France still have nobles, Aunt Clara?”

Her aunt’s brow furrowed. “I haven’t the faintest, girl.”

The girl’s mouth puckered. “It all sounds terribly romantic. A bit.”

final-200-by-300-rachael-kosinskiAbout the Book: The Christmas Lights

“Where do Christmas lights come from?”
Those tiny bulbs of color that burn on a Christmas tree,
Or outside a house to shine in the night.
Does anyone really know where they originate?
What if someone told you
They weren’t intended for Christmas at all,
But really for a miracle?
That they were for love, a desperate idea, to light a boy’s way home?
In that case, you must have some questions. What boy? What love?

Have a seat. Allow me to tell you a story.

~Excerpt~
“Because your father requires…a dowry, of sorts. A guarantee you’ll be well taken care of.”

Emmy’s hand turned sweaty. “Oh, Louis. What does that mean?”

I swallowed the sour taste at the back of my mouth, nerves trembling in my fingers. “Our engagement lasts until December twenty-fifth. If by that time I’ve not returned—”

“Returned?” Emmy’s gaze burned me. “Louis, where are you going? Won’t my father give you a job?”

I didn’t move and barely opened my mouth to let the words escape. “He’s got me a job.”

“What?”

I loosened my shoulders and shrugged. “Marks Brothers pays their floor workers very well.”

“Who?”

“I’d stack inventory outside, in the clean air, and I’d work with a few fellows who’d watch out for me…” “Louis!”

“…I hear factories in London are much safer than here.”

“London! Louis, Louis, what are you talking about?” Emmy grabbed my face.

I squinted at two sparkling brown orbs. Was she crying?

“No.” Emmy covered her mouth with a hand. “No, you aren’t going to London. How could you? No one loves you there. No one knows you there…”

Your father seems to think it is my home country.

“Emmy. Emmy Emmy Emmy.” I held her close, stroking her hair. “I don’t plan to work there.”

She sat back. “What?”

“I’ve heard Mr. Godfrey talk about them. A London factory is the last place I should work. Your father means well, but I can’t do that. They wouldn’t take a blind boy.”

“Wh-where will you go, then? How on earth will you make money?”

“I have family in Paris. Mother says they have wine vineyards. I’ll work for them.”

“That…” Emmy’s fingers traced the veins on the back of my hand. “That’s much safer.” She was silent for the longest time. “You’ll be safe? And come home quickly?”

I pulled her hands away and stood, playing with the ring on her finger. “I will. I love you.”

“Louis…”

“Emmy. I don’t have a choice. You want to marry me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. But, Louis…”

“Yes, love?”

“How long will you be gone?” How long? How long to board a ship, to find a place I’d only heard about, to earn and save an impossible amount of money? How long, indeed.

I set my expression. “I’ll be home by Christmas.”

Buy Links

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OMFS0S8
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Christmas-Lights-Rachael-Kosinski-ebook/dp/B00OMFS0S8/
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-christmas-lights-rachael-kosinski/1120609560
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https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore/index.php/museitup/romance/historical-romance/the-christmas-lights-detail

About the Authorimg_3468

When she was little, Rachael Kosinski wanted to be a paleontologist, an astronaut, a nature photographer, a writer for National Geographic, an Egyptologist, and the next Jane Goodall. Instead of being a new link between man and chimp, or discovering a planet suitable for sustained human life, or maybe even winning renowned fame by stumbling across an undiscovered dinosaur, Rachael finally decided that, if she never became a writer, she would simply die. Nine years later, she now possesses a quirky knowledge of world mythology, an addiction to coffee, and a penchant for making over-expressive faces at her laptop.

Lonely Widow Looking for Love

Ask Aunt Augusta

Dear Aunt Augusta,

I am in a most unusual quandary. Recently I fell into a handsome stranger’s arms while attending a masquerade ball at Vauxhall Gardens. To say that I had a sudden attraction to this man is an understatement. But, alas, when I did the unthinkable to steal a few moments in the garden with him, he thought the worst of me and actually assumed I would be amicable to spending the night with him. I, of course, refused, and yet I cannot help but constantly think of what might have been if only I had said yes. What am I to do?

Signed,

A lonely widow

From the heroine in A Kiss for Charity in Holly and Hopeful Hearts by Sherry Ewing

Dearest Lonely Widow,

My dear, I know all there is to know about being a lonely widow. I must say, meeting a man by falling into his arms is a rather thrilling introduction! That he swept you off your feet like so is no small wonder. Alas, men do tend to see hidden meanings and motives in our every action, and I am not shocked to hear that he thought you wanted more than you were actually willing to give. Also, men do tend to think they can take more liberties at a masquerade ball than on other occasions, as I am sure you are aware.

Perhaps if the two of you are to cross paths again, you might give him a chance to return to your good graces, given that you cannot help but think of him. He obviously made an impression on you, and not wholly in the negative either.

Men can make mistakes, yes, that is well known, but if you can find it in yourself to give him a chance to do better, perhaps you will be well pleased with his effort. I do hope that is to be the case.

I wish you the very best,

Aunt Augusta

A Kiss for Charity in Holly and Hopeful Hearts by Sherry Ewing

Young widow Grace, Lady de Courtenay, has no idea how a close encounter with a rake at a masquerade would make her yearn for love again. Can she learn to forgive Lord Nicholas Lacey and set aside their differences to let love into her heart?

http://www.sherryewing.com

~~~

Dear authors, if ever you should find that one of your characters has found him or herself in a rather trying position, whether in matters of the heart or matters of fashion or any matter at all, do be a kind soul and write to me. I will endeavor to answer your questions, if you but pen them for me.

The Teatime Tattler recommends the virtues of Prudence

rolinda-sharples-clifton-assembly-room1The Season is off to an excellent, if early, start. Lady S., daughter-in-law of the Duke of W. must be delighted with the attendance at her soirée, though perhaps less than pleased with the behaviour of some.

While this year’s crop of debutantes has not yet been served up to the marriage mart, those remaining from previous seasons were in eager attendance, every mother hoping to steal a march on all the others in attracting the attention of wealthy or titled bachelors or widowers with a mind to wed, while avoiding fortune hunters and those with more sinister intentions.

In corners of the main reception rooms, the powerful decided the disposition of whatever pawns they controlled: brokering treaties between nations, political parties, trading enterprises, families, or potential marriage partners, depending on the interests of the negotiating parties.

brummellBut the affairs of the great are far from the only business conducted at such an event, and last night was no exception.

In rooms set up for the purpose, gentlemen and ladies with a yen for such things offered up the evening to fate represented by the turn of a card.

In the ballroom, fashionable gentlemen eyed one another in the endless struggle for elevation in the eyes of those they are pleased to call friends, while those more given to energetic pursuits danced or stood in small groups discussing horses or hunting or pugilistic exploits.

Ladies spoke sweet flatteries to one another’s faces and shredded appearances and reputations behind one another’s backs. Maidens sought husbands, wives sought lovers, poor widows sought protectors, and wealthy widows amusement. Everywhere, couples—as they have since the beginning of time—bargained for affection: temporary or bound by vows before a cleric; some under the eyes of stern chaperones and others in less well-lit corners on the dance floor or the chilly terrace.

In small darkened rooms throughout the mansion, those desiring a tryst found a few moments of privacy. Among them, we are assured, was Lord S. himself and also his son, Lord E., who was seen to absent himself from public places on two separate occasions, each time with a different companion.

Our informants also observed Lady G., the duke’s spinster daughter, meeting with a much younger man who is believed to have been Mr. W., widely rumoured to be the unclaimed and unwanted base-born son of the Duke of H.

One can hardly imagine that a lady of such pristine reputation would be indulging in an amorous encounter, but that leaves only the possibility that she is employing Mr. W. in his capacity of thief-taker. Has her ladyship lost a valuable item, perhaps? Is she acting on behalf of Lady S. to investigate the activities of her brother or nephew? Or both? We will watch developments and keep you informed.

As if that were not enough, Mr. W. and an unidentified woman, possibly one of the army of companions in attendance on various matrons, were involved in the most shocking event of the evening. They combined to effect a rescue of a foolish damsel who allowed herself to be enviegled into one of the aforementioned private rooms.

maidenOne would expect a maiden in her second season to show more sense than to respond to a note from a man, and certainly the girl’s protectors to display more awareness of their charge’s whereabouts. Was the title ‘Earl’ a lure that caused her and her chaperone to cast discretion and rational thought to the wind?

We could have advised the young lady that this particular earl has been known to ruin and abandon foolish young women who go apart in his company. His recent ascent to the title on his father’s death has clearly not changed his character.

Fortunately for the damsel, the man (we hesitate to call him a gentleman) was interrupted in his evil pursuit, and she was delivered intact, having had a salutary scare, to Lady G., a well-known defender of the innocent. And her own family name and fortune mean that any sanctions against her from the arbiters of social standing will be mild.

As for the Earl in question, we are assured that he has been banned from ever entering the household again. And where Lady S. leads can other hostesses be slow to follow?

Yes, the Season is off to an exciting start indeed!

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The Sutton soirée is the scene of the first chapter in Jude’s new historical mystery, Revealed in Mist, currently available on pre-order and to be released early in December. Mr. W. and the unnamed companion appeared in The Prisoners of Wyvern Castle, a novella in Hand-Turned Tales, as the rescuers of the blind earl and his countess who were the hero and heroine of that novella. You may also have met them (as David Wakefield and his mysterious woman partner) investigating a crime for the hero of Farewell to Kindness.

Their pasts could bring them together or separate them forever

revealed-in-mist-smallPrue’s job is to uncover secrets, but she hides a few of her own. When she is framed for murder and cast into Newgate, her one-time lover comes to her rescue. Will revealing what she knows help in their hunt for blackmailers, traitors, and murderers? Or threaten all she holds dear?

Enquiry agent David solves problems for the ton, but will never be one of them. When his latest case includes his legitimate half-brothers as well as the woman who left him months ago, he finds the past and the circumstances of his birth difficult to ignore. Danger to Prue makes it impossible.

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Revealed in Mist is on pre-order at most eretailers. Sadly, not on Amazon, since Jude is in Amazon jail for getting the final version of Gingerbread Bride to them two days late, only eight days before release. Circumstances beyond Jude’s control doesn’t cut it with the Amazon guards, so no pre-order. But if you want the book in Kindle format, pre-order from Smashwords, iBooks, or Barnes and Noble, or follow Jude on Amazon for an email the day the book goes live.

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About Jude Knight

Jude Knight’s writing goal is to transport readers to another time, another place, where they can enjoy adventure and romance, thrill to trials and challenges, uncover secrets and solve mysteries, delight in a happy ending, and return from their virtual holiday refreshed and ready for anything.

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Hoodwinked! Blackmail!

Dear Mr. Clemens,

I am no one important, truly, but I do have a place in Society as the companion of the Marchioness of H—. Her sight is not up to snuff, as most know, and so I act as her eyes and report on the wardrobes, manners and activities of the guests at the events we attend.

henriettebrowneIt is in this capacity that I have noticed something odd, sir, and I think that you and the readers of the Teatime Tattler deserve to know—that I believe the members of the ton are being hoodwinked!

I say this because I witnessed a strange occurrence at the theatre some weeks ago. The well-known debutante Miss P— was in attendance and arrived in the carriage just before ours. I saw a street urchin approach the young lady. An unusually long exchange occurred, one that did not sound at all convivial—and at the end Miss P— gave the audacious waif one of her earrings. Since Miss P—a is not known to be of a charitable bent, my employer and I speculate that the young lady had been blackmailed!

All well enough, although the young miss’s mother later denied it. But then I happened to catch a glimpse of . . . let me just say, someone who looks very like that street urchin—at Lady Dayle’s soiree! Well! And the plot thickened further when the urchin was introduced as a certain infamous earl’s betrothed—and it began to be noticed that Miss P— has been spending an inordinate amount of time around said earl—at a time when her own betrothed has been called to the country.

Such goings on! All very suspicious to both myself and my employer. You may rest assured that I will watch very closely this evening at Lady Feltham’s ball—and will report again if I notice anything untoward.

Ever Watchful

A concerned wallflower

Readers can sample that blackmail scene at my website: http://www.debmarlowe.com/the-earls-hired-bride.html

tehbAbout The Earl’s Hired Bride

Because an unmarried Earl must be in want of a bride . . .

Every debutante in the ton wants to be the Countess of Hartford—and mistress of Hartsworth Castle. Never mind that Hart has no interest in marrying just yet, the young ladies hunt him as ruthlessly as a pack of hounds after the elusive fox. What he needs is a hired bride—one who is guaranteed to call it off at the end of the Season.

Because a girl with no prospects will do what she must to help her family . . .

Miss Emily Spencer must do something. Her mother’s health is failing and the notorious Duke of Danby is growing dangerously close. Why not hide in plain sight and pretend to be the Earl of Hartford’s betrothed? And getting paid for her troubles? It’s just what she needs to make her family comfortable again.

Because love comes when you least expect it . . .

Sparks fly when the two put their plan in motion—and deeper emotions grow. But how can they be together when the path they’ve forged only leads to their inevitable separation?

iBooks – http://apple.co/2dfSzDc
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Kobo – http://bit.ly/2dKTQDn
Google Play – http://bit.ly/2dIBmnP

About the Authorjerricaheadshotsmall

USA Today Bestselling Author Deb Marlowe loves History, England and Men in Boots.  Clearly she was meant to write Regency Historical Romance!

Deb grew up in Pennsylvania with her nose in a book. Luckily, she’d read enough romances to recognize the true modern hero she met at a college Halloween party—even though he wore a tuxedo t-shirt instead of breeches and tall boots. They married, settled in North Carolina and produced two handsome, intelligent and genuinely amusing boys. Though she spends much of her time with her nose in her laptop, for the sake of her family she does occasionally abandon her inner world for the domestic adventure of laundry, dinner and carpool. Despite her sacrifice, not one of the men in her family is yet willing to don breeches or tall boots. She’s working on it. Deb loves to hear from readers! You can contact her:

on FB at https://www.facebook.com/pages/DebMarlowe/70397149702
and
https://www.facebook.com/d.m.marlowe
on Twitter at https://twitter.com/DMMarlowewrites
and as @DebMarlowe
on her website at www.DebMarlowe.com
and
http://www.dmmarlowe.com
on Pinterest at https://www.pinterest.com/DebMarloweWrite/

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