Category: Teatime Tattler Page 146 of 157

The Diary of a Duchess

On September 30, 2016

October 15^th, 1816

My Dearest Diary,

Dudley House, Hanover Square, London

Jonathon and I have not been back at Dudley House for more than a few days and already Helena has arranged a ball to welcome me back to Society! I cannot believe it! She is my darling friend and I know she means well but I cannot help thinking she and Jonathon are determined to match-make now that I have officially emerged from mourning. They think I am lonely, I know it. And perhaps I am, but I do not want a paramour—even though it is de rigueur for many widows—let alone another husband.

Ah, Teddy, I miss him so. Indeed, he would have laughed at me had he seen my face when I opened Helena’s invitation this morning. The sheer horror that gripped me! I dare not even think how I am to brave any event without Teddy by my side, my dearest friend. My protector…

Georgiana Dudley, The Duchess of Darby

Nine wonderful years we had together—it was a marriage of convenience to be sure—but the arrangement suited us both well as you know, Dearest Diary. And Jonathon. But I dare not speak of such secrets, even to you…

But I digress. My real fear is now that Teddy has gone, all manner of rogues and rakehells shall come to hound me—a wealthy widowed duchess of only eight-and-twenty years—they’ll no doubt think I’m desperate for a man. A woman ripe for the plucking as it were. Ha, but they shall only find a gooseberry and thorns should they come to close, not a tasty, sweet morsel at all.

I suspect I shall have to resort to my usual defence during such affairs—The Ice screen-shot-2016-09-29-at-11-52-15-am Duchess shall play piquet—and hopefully win! I won’t dance, or worse still, engage in mindless small talk and facile flirting with members of the opposite sex no matter how much Helena wants me to. She should know by now that I won’t play along. If she weren’t so dear to me, I would cry off but I am loath to hurt her feelings.

And so Dearest Diary, I shall soldier on, armed with nothing but sang-froid and a handful of cards to ward off any potential suitors. I must remind Constance to press my azure blue silk gown for the ball. That should do well enough.

Now, I must bid you adieu, my dear confidante. Constance is here with my chamomile and valerian tea. I trust it shall help me to sleep well tonight; I’ve had far too many fretful nights of tossing and turning. But then again, perhaps the dark circles beneath my eyes will scare the rakes away! I can but hope!

Georgie

___________________________

Georgiana, the Duchess of Darby, is the heroine of Amy Rose Bennett‘s latest release, The Ice Duchess. The hero is Rafe, Lord Markham, a spy for the Crown who is also friends with Lord Rothsburgh, the hero of Lady Beauchamp’s Proposal.

Following is an excerpt of the first-meet of Georgie and Rafe at the ball arranged by Helena, Lady Maxwell…

Georgie took her seat at one of the piquet tables in the card room and removed her gloves, hoping that Phillip, Lord Maxwell, wouldn’t notice her slightly trembling fingers when he joined her. It seemed absurd to be so nervous. Where was her famous sang-froid?

It probably didn’t help that a hush had descended over the card room as Jonathon had escorted her in, and at this very moment, she could feel at least a dozen pairs of eyes, if not more upon her. The unvanquished Ice Duchess—the woman who barely ever lost a game—was about to play cards again. Of course people were going to notice.

Curse her brother and Helena. She would have attracted much less notice if she had simply decided to dance after all. Lemonade in the ladies’ retiring room seemed more appealing by the second. And where in heaven’s name was Phillip? She glanced about the room but could not spy Helena’s husband anywhere.

Not only that, she could see Jonathon disappearing out of the card room, no doubt chasing the dapper young buck he’d been making calf’s eyes at earlier.

If Phillip didn’t appear within the next thirty seconds, she would cut and run.

“May I join you, Your Grace?” A soft baritone drew Georgie’s attention away from the ornately arched doorway of the card room and back to the table.

She glanced up. And it was all she could do not to gasp.

A dark-haired, lean-jawed rake was smiling down at her. Her dastardly brother and friends had set her up after all.

Blast them all to hell.

Drawing in a steadying breath she summoned a slight smile. Her well-practiced, cool duchess’s smile—a smile that had sustained her for almost a decade in the face of such obvious raw masculinity. Thank God she still had it.

“And you are?” she asked smoothly, arching an eyebrow. “I believe we’ve never been introduced.” She thought she knew most rakes of the ton and she had only been away from London for a year. But this tall, handsome man with smoke-gray eyes and a dark velvet voice, she didn’t know at all.

The corner of his wide, well-shaped mouth lifted into a smile. “Forgive my boldness, Your Grace. I am Rafe Landsbury, Lord Markham. Lord Maxwell has been… detained and offers his apologies. He asked me to stand in, in his stead.” His eyes held hers—a question or perhaps it was a spark of challenge flared in their gray depths. “If you don’t mind of course.”

As if she could refuse with everyone watching. She’d gleefully strangle Phillip, Helena and Jonathon later for putting Lord Markham up to this. They probably thought she’d build up a rapport with the man over cards. Then he’d suggest they dance or perhaps peruse the supper table together. His large hand would touch her elbow, the small of her back. His fingers would brush against hers as he passed her a glass of champagne… She knew all the ploys he would use to try and get her hot and bothered. But she wouldn’t fall for any of them. Never again. Just because she was a widow, it didn’t mean she was fair game.

Lord Markham was still watching her expectantly so she affected a small tinkling laugh and shrugged a shoulder. “Of course I don’t mind. Please, take a seat.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Georgie tried not to stare as the nobleman folded his long, lean frame onto the damask covered Adams chair opposite her. Markham, Markham. No, not a memory of him stirred at all. Where had such a man been hiding for the last decade? He exuded such a quiet self-assurance as he watched her reach for the deck of cards, a completely unexpected and most disconcerting wave of heat swept over her face.

She hadn’t blushed in years. What is wrong with me?

_________________________

theiceduchess_med-copy Georgiana Dudley, the ‘Ice Duchess’, has just emerged from mourning after a nine-year marriage of convenience to the Duke of Darby, her twin brother’s lover. Deeply hurt by a scoundrel a decade ago, Georgie swore she would never turn her head for any man, let alone another rakehell. But then she encounters the wickedly handsome and all too charming Rafe Landsbury, the Earl of Markham and against her better judgment, her interest is reluctantly aroused. An affair may be impossible to resist but dare she trust Lord Markham with her most intimate secrets… and her heart?

Society believes Rafe to be a diplomat but for many years he has been working on the Continent as a spy for the Crown. Leaving the shadowy world of espionage behind, he returns to London with the intention of finding a wife. When he is paired with the frosty yet fascinating Duchess of Darby at the piquet table during a ton ball, he is intrigued. Do-or-die man that he is, he’s certainly not going to let her cool demeanor dissuade him from pursuing her.

When Rafe’s dark past returns to endanger Georgie, he is determined to protect her at all costs, even if that means hiding who he once was. With the stakes so high, both Georgie and Rafe must decide if love is a risk worth taking…

Heat Level: Steamy to hot. This story is a Regency romance with open-door love-making scenes and frank language is used.

Additional information: This novel is releasing on the 30th September, 2016. It is Book 2 in the loosely linked series, Scandalous Regency Widows Series, but can be read as a stand-alone title.

Amazon Buy Link

Amy Rose Bennett is one of the Bluestocking Belles. You can find out more about her writing here.

The Importance of Being Norman

By Guest author

On September 28, 2016

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

It seemed very real. Must have been the gin, or maybe the brandy, but I could swear I went home the long way round last night.

Via another century.

san-carlo-cicchetti-by-aldo-zilli-italian-restaurant-piccadilly-london You might laugh, but it was 1822 when I left the workroom, and it wasn’t 1822 any more when I turned onto Gillinghall Street.

That isn’t the point. What I remember most is the argument I overheard in Tazzi’s restaurant. You’ve never heard of it? It won’t open for nigh two hundred years, I tell you. I ducked in there to get away from the horseless carriages—great metal boxes that hurtled along with a great blast of noise.

It was a pleasant enough place. Service wasn’t that good mind you, and the décor was a rather peculiar mix of industrial and elegant. But my lucky silver crown got me anything on the menu, yes and a glass of that brandy I mentioned.

They serve Venetian tapas. Now I know what you’re going to say. You’ve heard of Spanish tapas, but never Italian. Neither had I until I went there.

Anyway, this couple, probably in their late twenties—or maybe he was a bit older—sat at the next table. He was out of breath when he arrived, as if he’d walked a fair distance. She’d been fidgeting before he got there, studying the menu as if she was going to be quizzed on it! She eventually ordered the asparagus salad with quail eggs and black truffles, and he had some sort of mini-pizza.

I don’t think they knew each other well. Both nervous. Maybe a first date. Attractive though, especially him with his thick, black hair. Spiffy-looking in a grey summer blazer and white slacks. No cravat; just a thin striped strip of fabric down the front of his crisp linen shirt. It should have looked absurd, but he carried off the combination of casual and formal. He was easily the most handsome man in the busy restaurant. I wasn’t the only woman who noticed him, I can tell you.

Funny thing. He was the spit and image of the Earl of Warenton. Marcus De Wolfe, one of those aristocratic types who can trace his line back to the Dark Ages! Not dressed the part, of course, but certainly as handsome as the earl. We used to dress his wife—what they can spend on a gown, the aristocracy!

How the other half lives, eh?

Come to think of it, this man and the young woman seemed to be discussing family trees. I got the feeling he’d hired her to do some research, and the pleasant conversation turned heated when he obviously didn’t agree with something she’d said.

It was too bad because they looked well suited to me, but she got up, threw down her napkin and left in a huff. He paid the bill and went after her, but she had a good head start, and she was mad!

Me? I finished my brandy, and then it was morning and I was here. It must have been the brandy. My lucky silver crown is gone, though.

Hungry Like De Wolfe

markland-cover Blaise de Wolfe risks losing De Wolfe Hall unless he can prove his pure Norman ancestry and be eligible for a substantial renovation grant from the “Sons of the Conquest”, an exclusive club. He turns to family tree researcher Anne Smith, unaware of her Norman roots and consequent disdain for the male-only policies of the club. Sparks fly between them when she digs up some unexpected information about Blaise’s medieval ancestor, Gaetan de Wolfe.

Anne harbors other resentments. Widowed when her husband volunteers for a second tour with the British Army in Iraq, she is reluctant to embark on another relationship, though she is drawn to Blaise. He too is afraid to risk his heart after his fiancée dumps him upon learning his ancestral home is draining his bank account.

Two great medieval dynasties come together in this novella set in London in 2006— Le Veque’s De Wolfe Pack and Markland’s Montbryce~FitzRam family. The world will never be the same.

EXCERPT:

Blaise gritted his teeth, cursing himself for a fool when Anne glared back angrily and thrust her fork into the remaining quail’s egg like Saint George slaying the proverbial dragon.

A man in his profession never blurted out a judgmental statement of that sort. His emotions had got the better of him. The last thing he wanted to do was alienate the first woman he’d been attracted to in years. Plus, he was financially dependent on her goodwill. “I apologise,” he muttered lamely.

She put down her knife and fork and stared at him. “Not that I have to justify my credentials to you, Mr. de Wolfe, but it happens that the Norman Conquest is my area of expertise. I too am a descendant of a knight who fought at Hastings, the first Earl of Ellesmere, and what’s more I can prove it.”

Once again his better judgement failed him. “With a name like Smith?” he scoffed.

She crumpled her napkin and threw it onto the table. “I’ve changed my mind about the tiramisu,” she said, pushing back her wheeled chair. “I trust you’ll get this?”

She was gone before he could retract his accusation.

Meet Anna Markland

Passion conquers whatever obstacles a hostile medieval world can throw in its path. My page-turning adventures have earned me a place on Amazon’s All-Star list.

Besides writing, I have two addictions-crosswords and genealogy, probably the reason I love research. I am a fool for cats. My husband is an entrepreneur who is fond of boasting he’s never had a job.

I live on Canada’s scenic west coast now, but I was born and raised in the UK and I love breathing life into the history of my homeland.

Escape with me to where romance began.

You can find me at my website and my Facebook page, Anna Markland Novels.

Tweet me @annamarkland, join me on Pinterest, or sign up for my newsletter.

Hungry Like De Wolfe is a Kindle Worlds novella based on Kathryn Le Veque’s Warwolfe (coming soon). It represents my first foray into contemporary romance, though as you have probably gathered it has heavy medieval overtones. I hope you enjoy meeting Anne and Blaise.

LINK: Amazon

A Wary Widow Seeks Advice

By Aunt Augusta

On September 26, 2016

In Ask Aunt Augusta, Teatime Tattler

Ask Aunt Augusta

Dear Aunt Augusta,

I am alone in a foreign country where I speak not a word of the language. I recently hired an Englishman fluent in Italian to interpret for me. He claims to be a military man but I see no evidence of it. He wears a shabby coat, is in want of a hair cut, and, I am embarrassed to say, smells of drink. He does his job, but frequently oversteps and appears to think he is my bodyguard. I fear I like him too much. Can he be trusted?

Signed,

A wary widow, the heroine of DANGEROUS SECRETS by Caroline Warfield

Dearest Wary Widow,

I commend you for being alone in a foreign country and endeavoring your best to not only survive there but to thrive. Hiring an Englishman to interpret for you is smart, and it is smart, too, I feel, for you to be wary. If a man claims to be military but you see no evidence of it, that does raise suspicions.

Then again, you mention that he appears to think he is your bodyguard. He obviously cares about you, and your safety, as do I, and I am grateful that he is there for you. It cannot be easy to be alone in a foreign country and you a widow!

You fear you like him too much. I always advise to follow one’s heart, and if you feel safe with him, your interpreter and bodyguard, maybe you can trust him.

I would suggest that you talk to him. Ask him for more details. And maybe, just maybe, you can interpret each other’s hearts.

I wish you the very best,

Aunt Augusta

DANGEROUS SECRETS by Caroline Warfield

Will love—and the truth—bind them both together?

http://www.carolinewarfield.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.

Only Foolish Servants Gossip

By Caroline Warfield

On September 23, 2016

In Bluestocking Belles, Caroline Warfield, Teatime Tattler

HonoredReaders,

Mrs. Mulligan of Pudding Lane came to our offices this very morning with a most intriguing document. Knowing our readers’ avid interest in the activities of the Grenford family, we agreed to her rather ambitious price to obtain the missive. We hereby print the document in its entirety (with some discrete corrections to spelling and grammar, which were greatly needed) and sincerely hope Miss Maud Mulligan, upstairs maid for the Duchess of Haverford at Hollystone Hall, doesn’t find her career as a servant cut short by her willingness to report on the doings her betters, at least until another such missive may come into our possession.

S. Clemens

Maud Mulligan

Dearest Mother,
You said as how you wanted to know how I got on in this big house and what the toffs and their ladies get up to for three weeks running. It would take more time than that the Stanley woman might give me and more paper than I can afford to tell you all I’ve seen and heard. Most of my stories will have to wait until I see you, if I’m ever free to visit.

Right off I was assigned as maid to Miss Dinah Baumann, a spinster lady of some years. I worried, me not knowing anything about hair and clothes and such, but turns out the lady mostly kept to her bed and had me fetching and carrying for her and the little grey kitten that wiggled its way into her bed one afternoon.

Besides getting up early, starting the fire, fetching the lady’s chocolate, and general cleaning, I go up and down the servants’ stairs once or twice an hour, between Miss Baumann’s demands, the cat making disagreeable messes, and Mrs. Stanley sending me off on one errand and another every time she claps eyes on me, there being so many guests and so few maids. The house fairly buzzes with stories, I can tell you.

Esther Baumann

Miss Baumann—Miss Esther, the young one, not the old lady—is ever so kind. She brought her own maid and told Reba—that’s the maid—to look after me a bit so I don’t get behind. I wouldn’t say an unkind word about the Misses Baumann for all some in this house, ignorant all, think a Jewish Banker’s daughter ought not to be here. A perfect lady is Miss Esther Baumann, dressed as smart as they come and refined as need be. I won’t hear a word against her and so I said over servants’ tea to the ruffian who tends the spit. Young is no excuse for stupid. That’s what Mr. Fournier, (he be the French cook) said. No excuse for stupid. I know better. Remember Mr. Cohn the baker? Most honest baker in the city and his cakes are heavenly.

I was ever so surprised though when that gentleman of Miss Esther arrived with no invitation and still dirty from the road on Christmas morning. Some said as how it showed disrespect, but the duchess didn’t mind. I heard she welcomed him like a long lost friend. When I helped fetch hot water up to the room he shared with Lord Elfingham—beggars not being choosers—he seemed gentleman enough to me. He put me in mind of Mr. Cohn’s son Havel.

Adam Halevy

I should say I believe Mr. Halevy is Miss Esther’s gentlemen, but I’m not sure. She certainly follows him with her eyes when he’s around, or, so a footman told me, but she told her aunt that she never wanted to talk to him. Ever.

But that isn’t the end of it. This is why I took pen to paper tonight. The servant’s hall went all abuzz when the duchess asked Miss Esther and Mr. Halevy to say their Sabbath blessings with the company. I know I shouldn’t have, but I slipped upstairs and into the room where they had set up the table. No one saw me back by the draperies, but I watched it all. I heard that crab, Lady Stanton whisper some horrid things, but most of them looked so interested I think they prayed along. The look on Mr. Halevy’s face when he said the last blessing and she said “Amen,” would have melted any woman’s heart. Maybe the rumor I heard later about Miss Esther going out to the barn with Lord Jonathon Grenford wasn’t true.

Oh my! I’ve gone on too long. The house is in an uproar about the costume ball, and I should be working. Maybe costumes and candlelight and such will make magic for Miss Esther and her gent. I hope so.

Your daughter,
Maud

PS When you go for bread, tell Havel Cohn I asked after him.

__________________________________________________

An Open Heart, by Caroline Warfield

Esther Baumann longs for a loving husband who will help her create a home where they will teach their children to value the traditions of their people, but she wants a man who is also open to new ideas and happy to make friends outside their narrow circle. Is it so unreasonable to ask for toe curling passion as well?

Adam Halevy prospered under the tutelage of his distant cousin, powerful banker Nathaniel Baumann. He’s ready to find a suitable wife, someone who understands a woman’s role, and will make a traditional home. Why is Baumann’s outspoken, independent daughter the one woman who haunts his nights?

You’ll find it in Holly and Hopeful Hearts, the 2106 Bluestocking Belles’ holiday anthology, available now for pre-order. 25% of all proceeds will go to the Malala Fund. The education of women and girls is the favorite charity of the Duchess of Haverford and the Bluestocking Belles. Scroll to the bottom for links.

An excerpt:

Her restless gaze found Adam standing with the Belvoir ladies and their brother. He smiled down at Felicity Belvoir, who looked utterly rapt.

Esther knew she should move. All afternoon she had avoided him, but at that moment, she could not make her feet move. What has Felicity so fascinated? Is he telling her about Spain? Did he actually meet Wellington? What of his perilous journey? Longing to know kept her fixed in place even as her stubbornness urged her to move away before someone noticed she stared. Too late! Hythe glanced up, saw her, and smiled.

Hythe bowed over her hand and said, “Your friend has had quite an epic adventure.”

“Is that what he’s telling Felicity?” she asked with a haughty shake of her head.

Hythe’s lips twitched, and she felt her cheeks heat. When he offered his arm, panic set in. Does he mean to walk me back to his sisters? Adam is there, the wretch!

Hythe followed the direction of her eyes. “Shall we take a turn about the room, Miss Baumann?” he asked. When she laid a shaking hand on his and nodded, he patted her it with his gloved one, changed the topic of conversation to riding mishaps at the hunt, and soon had her laughing.

An hour later, Esther, relieved to have passed the afternoon without being cornered, she felt composed and less shaken. If Mr. Halevy wishes to speak with me, I’ll permit it. It is foolish to allow him to discomfort me. I’ll be all that is cool and in control.

When she spied him across the room speaking with one of the Duke of Ashbury’s daughters, he looked at her across the expanse of room and smiled with such sweetness that her heart skipped two beats.

hhh-meme

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A Widow Up To Her Old Tricks

By Caroline Warfield

On September 21, 2016

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

We wish to alert our readers that Lady Claudia Akford has stormed back into London after years in seclusion following her grand scandal. As Teatime Tattler readers know, she departed society some years ago after being compromised by Lord Luvington. As the scandal broke, Lady Claudia married Lord Akford in a hasty ceremony and retreated to the country side. Most of London’s elite suspected they had seen the last of her. That the lady would remain hidden from society for the rest of her years as she rightly should after being so thoroughly compromised. Alas, she returned to society setting every tongue in ton wagging.

edmund_blair_leighton_-_the_request Now after less than a fortnight back in society it seems the scandalous lady is proving nothing has changed. The ton’s matrons had hoped Lady Claudia would redeem herself. A few brave ladies even took a chance by allowing her into their drawing rooms. The ton’s hopes where quickly dashed when Lord Shillington was spotted at Lady Claudia’s door, without a chaperon. Can you imagine?

The dowager Countess Bradford happened down St James Square late last evening. She received more than a quiet carriage ride home when much to her shock, she witnessed Lord Shillington entering Lady Claudia’s newly purchased home. Lady Bradford reported seeing Lord Shillington quickly enter the home at a late hour. No one else was with him and we have it on good authority that no societal event was taking place. Lady Claudia is a widow and lives alone.

There is no need to spell out the inappropriate nature of Lord Shillington’s late night visit or the scandalous nature of Lady Claudia’s having admitted him to her home. It would seem Lady Claudia has set her sights on ruining one of London’s most respected lords. Or, mayhap, Lord Shillington has simply fooled the ton into believing him honorable.

Will the pair set things to right? Can London expect another hasty wedding from the tarnished lady? Only time will tell, but you can be assured we will keep you abreast of the situation.

About the Book

She never wanted him…
Ruined by scandal, Claudia Akford survived years of marriage to a cruel brute. Widowed, she is determined to regain her standing in society, but Lord Shillington personifies temptation. Kind and gentle, yet masculine and sinfully handsome, he would make the perfect lover, but he wants more than she is willing to give.

He needed her…
While Henry Shillington knows a little of the beautiful but notorious Lady Claudia Akford, he is struck by her kindhearted, accomplished, and witty demeanor. The more time he spends in her company, the more he dreams of a future with her. But the lady resists his honorable overtures, and a mistress will never do for him.

Can two wary people overcome past hurts, an old scandal, and social strictures to embrace true love?

Buy it here.

About the Author

Bestselling, Amazon All Star author Amanda Mariel dreams of days gone by when life moved at a slower pace. She enjoys taking pen to paper and exploring historical time periods through her imagination and the written word. When she is not writing she can be found reading, crocheting, traveling, practicing her photography skills, or spending time with her family.

Author links:

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/#!/AuthorAmandaMarie1
Twitter www.twitter.com/AmandaMarieAuth
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10209362.Amanda_Marie
Website: www.amandamariel.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bQgkbr

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