My Dear Mr. Clemons;
You would not know my name but suffice it to say that it is of little concern, as I wish to keep my family’s name protected. I shall therefore be writing under the assumed name of Miss Avamund and will henceforth be providing you with information, such as to be considered scandalous, from the city of Eastbourne where many of our prominent London citizens take in sea bathing. With that in mind, I present to you the following.
On or about 1 August of this year, a “Miss J”, a respected spinster of St. Aubyn’s Road, was seen with a certain man in her garden. That is not a scandal within itself but the man, a very big and strange-looking man, has lately been seen in her garden daily with “Miss J”. She always seems disturbed when he is near. Because my family lives within proximity of Miss J’s” home, I have seen this occurrence daily and, being curious, waited one day for “Miss J” to do her marketing before slipping into her garden and confronting the man. The story he tells is shocking, as I shall relay forth. After identifying myself politely, I asked of him the following:
Miss Avamund: Good sir, are you a relative of “Miss J”?
Man (identified himself only as ‘de Russe’): I am not, my lady.
MA: If you are not a relative, then why are you here? You do understand that the neighbors are whispering about your ‘visitations’ with “Miss J”. You threatened to ruin her reputation, sir.
DR: It is not my intention, my lady. Be it known that “Lady J” has been most helpful to me under… confusing circumstances.
MA: Confusing? May I inquire as to the nature of these circumstances, sir?
DR: It should not concern you.
MA: Please, sir, as I vow I shall not repeat what you tell me. My concern is for “Miss J”. She is a friend.
DR: Then I shall tell you the truth, since you are her friend. I still do not know how it happened, but the circumstances are this – Henry is my king. I was in battle at Ludgershall Castle in the midst of a driving rain storm when, in the course of battling an opponent, I fell backwards into the well. The blow to my head rendered me unconscious and when I managed to emerge, it was out of the well in “Lady J’s” garden. I do not know how I got here, by what devilry or dark magic, but all I want to do is return to my wife and time from whence I came. I do not belong here.
MA: You… you climbed out of “Miss J’s” well?
DR: I did, my lady.
MA: And you said that your king is Henry? But our ruler is young George!
DR: Henry of Bolingbroke is mine.
My Dearest Mr. Clemons, I did not believe him. I am sure he was quite mad.
Although I will admit that de Russe did not look like any man I have known, as he was quite large and his hands were terribly ruined, I will say most emphatically that I believe him to be “Miss J’s” lover. I told him so and shamed him and ran to tell my mother, who did not believe me until she, too, saw him in “Miss J’s” garden the next day. He was by the well and “Miss J” was with him. I fear that “Miss J” was weeping.
This is where the story becomes frightening – when my mother went to “Miss J’s” home to confront both her and her lover, “Miss J” informed my mother that de Russe had returned home to his wife. She said that he returned the way he came and would say no more. We, my mother and I, believe that not only did “Miss J” have a scandalous love affair with a married man, but that she killed her lover and disposed of the body! She is a murderess as well as an adulteress, but fear keeps us silent. That is why I have written to your paper, sir, to tell you of the terrible things that are happening in Eastbourne today.
Proper citizens beware!
With kindest regards,
Miss Avamund
The Iron Knight
Read Lucien de Russe’s story in THE IRON KNIGHT, due to be released August 23, 2016 on Amazon. Time-travel to Regency England notwithstanding (or included), it’s a beautiful English Medieval Romance of an older knight and a widowed woman who both have a second chance at life. We will assume Lucien’s brief transportation 400 years into the future happens AFTER his story takes place – and it would make for a wonderful novella!
Meet the author
K
ATHRYN LE VEQUE is a USA TODAY Bestselling author, an Amazon All-Star author, and a #1 bestselling, award-winning, multi-published author in Medieval Historical Romance and Historical Fiction. She has been featured in the NEW YORK TIMES and on USA TODAY’s HEA blog. In March 2015, Kathryn was the featured cover story for the March issue of InD’Tale Magazine, the premier Indie author magazine. She is also quintuple nominee (a record!) for the prestigious RONE awards for 2016.
On Amazon: https://goo.gl/zXhv5s
Facebook: https://goo.gl/bHir6s or @kathrynlevequenovels
Twitter @kathrynleveque
Website: www.kathrynleveque.com
The Long Way Home
Jessica Cale
The unlikely newlyweds removed themselves promptly from town to honeymoon at the Wincanton estate- Ardleigh Manor. Obviously, spurred on by my desire to provide you, dear rear, with all of the pertinent facts, I followed. Fortunately, the groom himself granted me this short interview which I print here for your titillation and amusement.
I see- if you do not mind me saying, that is a very impressive, purple bump you are sporting on your forehead. I overheard the servants saying you received it when your devoted, love-struck wife threw a projectile at you. Would you care to comment?
About the Book
If truth be told, the young man (I believe he is only twenty-two, a year younger than me) has had this singular affect on me for some weeks—ever since I commenced work here at Aldergrove House. The nursemaid, Miss Mary Fletcher, told me that Mr. Blake had once been a corporal and had served under Wellington at Waterloo. And that does not surprise me in the least. It would certainly explain his confident bearing, the breadth of his shoulders, his firm body; yes, I will confess that I brazenly slid my hands beneath his form-fitting coat as he kissed me. His livery does nothing to disguise how well-made he is—everywhere; oh my, how my face heats as I write this.
remember. An avid reader with a particular love for historical romance, it seemed only natural to write stories in her favorite genre. She has a passion for creating emotion-packed—and sometimes a little racy—stories set in the Georgian and Regency periods. Of course, her strong-willed heroines and rakish heroes always find their happily ever after.
The Teatime Tattler has learned of a report of a most grievous nature via The Warwickshire Warbler. It seems that Huntington McLaughlin, the Marquess of Malvern, went missing from his mother’s annual summer fête for more than a week, and no one knows what stratagems he practiced during his absence in order to prevent the duke from forcing a marriage upon the marquess. Other guests at the Duchess of Devilfoard’s entertainment speak of the oddity of the situation.
Despite the impropriety of doing so, Hunt poured himself a shot of brandy from a decanter beside the duke’s—correction, beside his father’s—desk. He was not certain whether his doing so was customary or not, but he required liquid courage to face his future. However, before he finished the drink, he heard the quick steps of soft slippers upon the marbled floors he noted outside the room’s open door.
Website