Category: Teatime Tattler Page 150 of 153

Dearest Teatime Tattler Readers,

You may recall that I recently shared a letter detailing the plight of a Highland lass, a certain Miss Jessie Munroe, in the April 9^th edition of the Tattler. Well, I am sure you will be most excited to hear that another never-before-published piece—the pages of a secret captain’s log relating to the exact same noble family—the Grants of Strathburn—has reached my desk. Although, no names are mentioned within Captain Drummond’s log book, it is evident (to this reader at least) that Mr. Robert Burnley must be in fact, Robert Grant, the long lost Master of Strathburn… Do read on. I believe you will concur…

S. Clemens

_____________________________

3rd August, 1756

Kingston, Jamaica

Moderate breezes an NW and N and fair weather as we set sail from Kingston at 7am this morning on our voyage to Scotland. All going well, we will make port in Glasgow in eight weeks time and then it will be onto Edinburgh (not our usual route, but there you have it). Nevertheless, The Phoenix carries her regular cargo of sugar, tea, timber and rum. MacLaren, the First Mate, reports the manifest is all in order and we have on board sufficient stores and Provisions until we anchor.

Robert Burnley travels with our crew—an unusual circumstance to be sure, but an unexpected pleasure indeed to have the owner of the vessel making the voyage as well. Robert—it is hard to fathom we have been firm friends for near on seven years now—has not set foot in his homeland for over a decade. It would not be prudent of me to spell out the exact reason why, but needless to say, after witnessing a very interesting conversation between Robert and a fairly inebriated Lady Ogilvy at Governor Haldane’s residence two nights ago (said Lady was much enamored of my friend, him being such a handsome devil an’ all), I can fully understand why Robert has decided it is high time he returned home.

What I did observe, alarmed Robert no end, although at the time he hid it well—the man is a master of control—and not even our host, Governor George Haldane (a former officer in King George’s army who was present at that most tragic and bloody of battles, Culloden) noticed anything was amiss. You see, not only did Lady Ogilvy note a strong family resemblance between my friend and a particular Scot’s earl with a long-lost Jacobite son (she seems to have a canny memory for fine blue eyes) she also mentioned a well-bandied about rumor fresh from Edinburgh—apparently, the earl’s Highland estate is in dire financial straits because his second-born son is far too fond of wine, women, and gaming and is rapidly squandering the family fortune. The scoundrel is also audaciously claiming he is now the rightful heir and should be declared The Master of S____n!

I concurred with Robert’s assessment that it was indeed time for him to return to the land of his birth, despite the risks. Alas, The Act of Indemnity did not apply to the aforementioned earl’s first-born son. If a Pardon is to be had, the breach between the earl and said heir will need to be mended first. Only time will tell if such a thing can be a achieved…

The remainder of the daily transactions—only common Occurrences so far—are dutifully recorded in the Log Book.

Capt. Drummond

__________________________

The Master of Strathburn by Amy Rose Bennett releases on May 15 with Harlequin’s Escape Publishing.

A sweeping, sexy Highland romance about a wanted Jacobite with a wounded soul, and a spirited Scottish lass on the run.

Robert Grant has returned home to Lochrose Castle in the Highlands to reconcile with his long-estranged father, the Earl of Strathburn. But there is a price on Robert’s head, and his avaricious younger half-brother, Simon, doesn’t want him reclaiming his birthright. And it’s not only Simon and the redcoats that threaten to destroy Robert’s plans after a flame-haired complication of the feminine kind enters the scene…

Jessie Munroe is forced to flee Lochrose Castle after the dissolute Simon Grant tries to coerce her into becoming his mistress. After a fateful encounter with a mysterious and handsome hunter, Robert, in a remote Highland glen, she throws her lot in with the stranger—even though she suspects he is a fugitive. She soon realizes that this man is dangerous in an entirely different way to Simon…

Despite their searing attraction, Robert and Jessie struggle to trust each other as they both seek a place to call home. The stakes are high and only one thing is certain: Simon Grant is in pursuit of them both…

_____________________________

Buy Links:

____________________________

Amy Rose Bennett is one of the Bluestocking Belles. You can find out more about Amy’s books here and connect with her on social media here.

Scandal at the Masquerade Ball

By Aunt Augusta

On April 23, 2016

In Bluestocking Belles, Nicole Zoltack, Teatime Tattler

Gentle readers, I do hope you will not be in too great of an uproar when I tell you this, but I am most certain that there was a great deal of scandalous behavior that occurred at the most recent masquerade ball.

Now, when one wears a mask, the propensity to engage in shocking and outrageous behavior might be tempting, but that does not mean one should give in, and give in I feel certain did happen. Why, I saw several ladies, including one in particular, who spent the entire night talking to a man. Talking and laughing and looking positively too comfortable. This lady had no chaperone with her that I could tell. If her mother only realized the kind of behavior her daughter was engaging in…

But there was another lady too, who, honestly, did not quite seem to fit in. She kept to herself, likewise without a chaperone, but then I spied her dancing with a strapping tall man. They seemed to have eyes for no other, and at one point, I even saw her lift her mask to reveal her face to him!

Now I know just about everyone who is anyone, and I can assuredly tell you, my dear readers, that I did not recognize this lady. My mind continually only goes in one direction—that the lady was no lady at all. But who could she have been?

The man she spent time with seemed beside himself after the lady-who-might-not-be-a-lady left and shortly thereafter departed from the masquerade ball himself. Whether the two will ever cross paths again, I do not know, but I must confess to being disappointed he did not lift his mask as well. I would very much be interested to know who he was, as well as the first lady and her gentleman… friend.

I will be certain to keep an eye open to see if I cannot spy the lady somewhere. I do think it is possible to find love at such a ball—I, myself, in my youth had done the same—but love is not always enough nowadays, it is sad to say.

When, not if, I learn more, I will be sure to share it with you, good readers, do not fret.

Your humble servant,

A concerned masquerade attendee

The masked man and the lady who reveals her face are the main characters in Masked Love.

MASKED LOVE

Isabelle will do anything for her lady, even accompany her to a masquerade ball. Lady Theodosia needs extra support for tomorrow she will meet the man her par-ents have pledged her to.

Meeting an enchanting young man during the course of the evening makes Isabelle wish for a life she can never have. Imagine her shock when he shows up the next morning, announcing his claim on Lady Thedosia.

Torn between duty and desire, Isabelle hopes for something more this Christmas.

Heat: PG

Regency Christmas novella

Series: Beyond Boundaries #1

Price: 0.99

Amazon ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Kobo ~ iBooks

Nicole is one of the Belles. You can learn more about her here.

Out of Place & Time

By Sherry Ewing

On April 16, 2016

In Bluestocking Belles, Sherry Ewing, Teatime Tattler

background

Riorden de Deveraux slammed to the floor with the wind knocked out of him. He growled in outrage, threw his cape out of his way and put forth his sword ready to encounter the fool who dared to take him unawares.

Kitty Packe by Sir William Beechey 1753-1839 A startled gasp rang out and a young woman, oddly attired in a type of gown he was unfamiliar with, all but ran from behind a counter in his direction. She appeared frantic and Riorden once more looked about him for the danger that surely plagued him and the woman who rushed to his side.

Seeing nothing imminent that he should fear, lest ’twas a bookshelf that would topple over upon him, he sheathed his sword and took in his surroundings. By God’s Wounds! Where was he and how did he get in a place filled with books of all places? Last he remembered he was in the middle of a siege at Berwyck Castle near the Scottish boarder.

“My Lord de Deveraux.” The woman spoke his name as if they had met afore but he had no recollection of her, nor of this place.

“I am but a knight, my lady, and have not assumed my father’s title,” Riorden declared, not wishing to think of his father and Marguerite together.

The woman nodded and took his arm. He must be losing his edge if this slight little miss did not fear him. “Yes, yes…of course. I really must insist that you come with me, sir knight.” She looked over to a room full of people. “We would not want you to encounter your other self now would we? It could mess with the whole time continuum.”

Riorden’s brow rose. The woman’s mind was surely addled. “Have we met?” he asked warily.

She gave a pleasant enough smile. “We will one day…with the exception of meeting now I suppose. I know this seems a little confusing but I have someone who can straighten this all out for you. I am Lady Constance Whittles, by the way. I work for Mrs. Marlowe, the owner of this establishment.”

“My lady,” he murmured with a hasty bow, still unsure of this woman who seemed desperate to usher him to a remote area of the bookshop. He had no time to dally with a woman this day. He must needs return to Berwyck to guard the Devil’s Dragon of Blackmore, not that Dristan could not do so himself.

Lady Constance came to a door that she opened and waved at him to enter. “She is just inside, Lord de Deveraux.”

He frowned, both over the title and his puzzlement over the situation he found himself in. “Who is?”

“You shall see.” With the slightest push, Riorden found the door closing, almost slamming shut on his sorry arse.

He stared, opened mouthed, at the woman sitting behind a desk. She set her quill down, crossed her legs covered in curious blue hose, and clapped her hands in glee. “Riorden! How good to see you again. Oh! Would you look at that, you’re younger than the last time we met.”

“We have not met afore, madam. I am sure I would remember you had we done so,” he declared through pursed lips. A giggle escaped her; the woman must be as daft as the Lady Constance.

“Have a seat.”

“I think not,” he answered, folding his arms across his chest.

“So stubborn. Why I created such a trait in you is beyond me,” she mumbled more to herself than for him to overhear he supposed.

“Who are you?” Riorden demanded. “Why have you summoned me here, witch? You must needs return me to Berwyck posthaste.

She began playing with the feather on the quill. “What part of your question should I answer first?” She smiled and sat there as patiently as could be as though she had all of Time to await his answer.

Riorden fumed. “Who are you?” he asked again.

“I’m your author, of course.”

“What?” he shouted.

“Gosh you’re gorgeous when you get all riled up. Temper flaring, blue eyes blazing. Dang I did a good job with you. No wonder Katherine is going to fall in love with you.”

“Just who the bloody hell is Katherine?”

Attachment-1 “You’ve been dreaming of her,” the lady declared calmly. “A woman, not of your time, comes to you when you sleep. Short, blue-green eyes, tawny colored hair. She’s been doing the same with you since she was a small child.”

“H-how did you come by such information,” he sputtered. He had not told anyone of the dreams he had been having of late. They had disturbed him for the woman was much like a ghost haunting his every waking hour.

“I told you, I’m your author. Of course, I know everything about the both of you. I’m sorry I had to put you through so much with Marguerite but she was never meant for you. Your life will be tied to another.”

“You know nothing of my feelings for Marguerite.”

“Yes, I do, but that doesn’t matter now. I just wanted to meet with you briefly to let you know that all will be right in your world soon. I’d also appreciate it if you’d get out of my head in the middle of the night and stop grumbling about how to write what’s going on at this very moment. It’s very irritating when we could have had this conversation during normal working hours.”

“You are a witch,” Riorden said crossing himself and unsure what this woman would spout about next. “You are jesting with me and I do not like it. Return me from whence I came.

“Funny thing about a quill,” she continued examining the writing instrument as if she didn’t hear him. “I always plan on my stories to go one way but you characters always pull me in other directions. You told me we were connected recently, that you could feel my need. Well, that’s why I’m here to end your hurt and disappointment over Marguerite. You will be given your heart’s desire, Riorden. You just have to be a little patient.”

She stood and came over to him. Afore he knew what she was about, she pulled upon his armor, rose on the tips of her feet and kissed both his cheeks. She then held his face between her hands staring up into his eyes.

“I will live on through you, Riorden, long after I have left this mortal world. The words I’ve written about your life, and the others who will follow you, will be found forevermore between the pages of my books. Thank you for being a part of that. Be happy, Riorden, that you will one day find a love to cherish for all time. Not everyone can be so blessed.”

One moment he was in a far off distant land with that strange woman, and the next he was dodging a mace aimed straight at his head. Thrust back into the heat of battle, he would credit his hallucination to the cut that slashed across his forehead and not the ridiculous notion that he had just somehow traveled through time. Mayhap, he had even dreamt the whole damn thing…

Hearts Across Time -72dpi-1500x2000 Riorden de Deveraux can be found in Sherry Ewing’s special edition box set, Hearts Across Time (The Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time Novel (Books 1 & 2) available for just $0.99. He is also a secondary character in Sherry’s debut novel If My Heart Could See You that is the beginning of her Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time series. Lady Constance Whittles is a secondary character in Under the Mistletoe that is also available as of May 8, 2016.

_DSF0006 Sherry picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical & time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. Always wanting to write a novel but busy raising her children, she finally took the plunge in 2008 and wrote her first Regency. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Beau Monde & the Bluestocking Belles. Sherry is currently working on her next novel and when not writing, she can be found in the San Francisco area at her day job as an Information Technology Specialist. You can learn more about Sherry’s work here on her page with the Bluestocking Belles or on the following social media outlets:

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A Highland Scandal

By Guest author

On April 9, 2016

In Teatime Tattler

Dearest Teatime Tattler Readers,

Whilst I know you are all fond of the latest on-dits, I have recently come across an intriguing letter detailing the most scandalous conduct of several members of the well-known Scottish noble family, the Grants of Strathburn. Of course, the Jacobite Rebellion—the ’45 was long ago—but this absorbing missive penned by one of the domestic staff of the Earl of Strathburn’s household will have you enthralled, Dear Readers. Such shocking goings-on—treasonous conduct, filial betrayal and the attempted corruption of a good young woman. Be sure to have your smelling salts (if not a sherry) at hand!

S. Clemens

___________________________

Strathburn House, The Canongate, Edinburgh

20^th October, 1756

My dearest Margaret,

Oh, what a to do! I hope this letter reaches you in time, my sweet sister. I have a favor to ask of you on behalf of the bonniest lass, a Miss Jessie Munroe. Through no fault of her own, has been thrust into the most dreadful set of circumstances…

You, perhaps even better than I, will know what a devil the son of the house, Mr. Simon Grant can be—I’m sure he pesters the young female servants at Strathburn House just as much as he does here at Lochrose. Miss Munroe—she is the daughter of Lord Strathburn’s newest factor—has only been here a few short weeks and already the poor lassie has been plagued by Simon’s unwanted advances. She came to me in such a state this morning—shaking and crying—and told me such a horrid tale, I felt duty bound to help her. You see, Simon has threatened to have her father dismissed if she does not become his mistress. She is a beauty to be sure but I cannot stand by and see such a sweet girl be ruined by such a depraved lecher.

The Grassmarket, Edinburgh

With no one else here to look out for Miss Munroe, I decided to intervene. And yes, I can see you now, Margaret, shaking your head at me for risking my position as Lochrose’s cook, but I could not live with myself if something dreadful were to happen. As I pen this missive, Miss Munroe is on her way to a place of hiding—somewhere Simon will not think to look—until she can catch the public coach to Edinburgh; it passes through Grantown-on-Spey two days hence. Once she reaches Edinburgh—and God willing she will do so safely—she plans to stay with her cousin, one Maggie Henderson. She and her husband have rooms (above Henderson’s Tea Emporium, the Bow Well, in the Grassmarket). So, my dear sister, I was very much hoping you would seek out Miss Munroe next time you visit the Grassmarket—I will not rest until I hear that she arrived in the capital unscathed.

Miss Jessie Munroe

Now, I know you must have been wondering whilst you read all of this, why Miss Munroe’s father has not taken action himself. He is a good man (and a canny manager from what I’ve seen) but unfortunately, he is away on estate business for his lordship and will not return for several weeks. Of course, Lady Strathburn does nothing but turn a blind eye to her wicked son’s misdeeds—his whoring, his gambling, his general profligacy. I’m sure you see much more of it then I considering he is often in Edinburgh. If it wasn’t for the new factor, I’m sure the estate would soon have gone into debt.

And as for Lord Strathburn, you ken as well as I that he has not been the same since Robert, the young Master, disappeared after Culloden. It is hard to believe that it has been over a decade since that fine young man rode out for the Clan against his father’s wishes. You and I have both heard the rumors of how Simon had his older brother arrested after Culloden, but somehow, the canny wee devil managed to escape. I’ve always wondered if the earl himself had a hand in the business… As Lord Strathburn has not disinherited Robert (which he is entitled to do given Robert committed treason against King George) nor sought to declare him deceased, I quietly hope that one day Robert will return. The Master will need to seek a pardon of course… And then there is the problem of Simon and Lady Strathburn—I’m sure the pair would go to any lengths to prevent Robert reclaiming his birthright.

Och well, I can hear you saying now, Margaret, it is not for the likes of me to speculate or make comment. I trust you are well and as soon as you hear any news about Miss Munroe, you will convey it to me forthwith.

Your devoted sister,

Florence Macmillan

Lochrose Castle, Grantown-on-Spey

_____________________________

The Master of Strathburn by Amy Rose Bennett releases on May 15 with Harlequin’s Escape Publishing.

A sweeping, sexy Highland romance about a wanted Jacobite with a wounded soul, and a spirited Scottish lass on the run.

Buy Links:

_____________________________

You can find out more about Amy Rose Bennett’s books here and connect with her on social media here.

The Housekeeper’s Fears

By Guest author

On March 23, 2016

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

From the diary of Beatrice Mellor, housekeeper at Blackheath Manor:

I worry about him, my boy.

He’s changed and I’m afraid I know the reason why.

lady Thomas James Worsley is the son of my late employer. So he’s not really my son — my husband and I were never so blessed, but nonetheless I nursed him.

I nursed him when he was as helpless as a babe returned to Blackheath after the war with Napoleon.

He was near death; the pneumonia had a strong hold on him. Each breath rattled through his lungs and I feared it would be his last.

I nursed him. I fed him when he was too weak to feed himself. I stayed with him night after night even when the doctor all but pronounced him dead.

I encouraged him when it seemed there was no hope. But I knew him. He was a fighter. Even when he got into scraps with his brothers, he would always been the last to yield. That fighting spirit helped him to live to another Christmas and then another.

I hadn’t realised he was blind at first, not when he was so ill and he spend more time in fever than not. And his leg! So many breaks in those bones and so many scars that he cannot straighten it for any length of time without pain…

My dear boy…

The way his brother treated him was shameful, but it’s not my place to question the Earl’s decision, mine is to do my duty and care for the people under my charge. And that is what brings me to this dilemma.

There’s a new addition to the household, a governess for the little misses.

Her name is Ella Montgomery and she knows.

She has seen Thomas and he seemed enraptured by her. I haven’t seen him this happy since the spring of 1815 – six years ago.

This can only end badly. I fear for him. His body has been broken, but what of his heart?

About the Book

In her first posting as governess, Ella Montgomery discovers beautiful Blackheath Manor hides family secrets and suppressed passions. Mysterious piano music in the darkness of night draws Ella to the talented Thomas Worsley, the brother of her employer, the Earl of Renthorpe. Grievously wounded in the Napoleonic Wars, Thomas is held prisoner at Blackheath by more than his blindness and scars. Driven by bitter jealousy, the Earl has ensured Thomas is only a memory, his name etched on a marble memorial in the Bedfordshire village graveyard. Drawn together by their love of music, Ella and Thomas begin a clandestine affair, but how far will the Earl go to keep his family’s secret?

~Excerpt~

Ella crossed to the small window and looked out over the dales where she caught a glimpse of the village through the grove of trees and farmlands beyond, all wearing a blanket of snow.

Turning back to the room, Ella unpacked her precious few belongings. Before hanging them in the wardrobe, she laid her dresses on the bed to smooth them out – a winter Sunday dress of felt, the color of ripe raspberries, a forest green walking dress, and a Sunday dress for summer in soft buttery yellow linen, along with her slate grey day dress. The first three were all gifts from the Bishop’s wife. They were hand-me-downs, but still of the finest quality and not too out of fashion.

As she hung the dresses up, she reflected that Mrs. Stanton’s generosity had more than doubled her wardrobe. Before that she had owned only the grey day dress in addition to the black one she wore now.

Ella placed her most valued possession on the bed – her father’s Bible. She stroked the black leather cover, rubbed soft with age, and opened it. Inside were her father’s commentaries. Seeing his handwriting made her feel as though he were alive once more. Ella closed her eyes. The sharpness of his loss had barely lessened over the year.

She had never felt more miserable in her life.

The chimes from the grandfather clock echoed up the stairwell, registering the fourth hour of the afternoon. No one had yet brought the promised meal to her room – not that she was hungry, anyway.

She straightened her back, suddenly struck with the resolve to at least do something.

Although Mrs. Mellor had set a timetable, Ella was the girls’ governess, and therefore they were her responsibility. She would see them now and introduce herself before they were to be presented to their parents at bedtime.

Ella took a tentative step or two toward the staircase and looked up to the top floor. She could hear no sounds there. If she listened hard, she could hear maids downstairs preparing the dining table. Then she looked to the left and the right. If the school room was on this floor, perhaps the nursery was as well.

She knocked on several closed doors and received no response. The house was a jumble of passages and Ella soon found herself at the last door before a narrow stone spiral staircase. The sounds of kitchen activity below confirmed her belief these were the servants’ stairs.

She heard movement from behind the door – the scrape of a chair and a softly grunted curse. A moment’s indecision, then her hand was raised to knock on the door when Mrs. Mellor startled her for the second time today.

“Are you looking for something, Miss Montgomery?” she asked sharply.

Ella turned and found the woman’s expression as cold as the day outside.

“I’m seeking the nursery, Mrs. Mellor.”

“You won’t find it here.”

“Then if you would kindly direct me–”

“On the second floor. It is the room above yours. Use the main staircase, not the servants’. You do not want to give the wrong impression when you are new here.”

Mrs. Mellor extended her arms, drawing attention to a tray of food which Ella, so focused on Mrs. Mellor’s stern expression, had not noticed. The tray bore an elaborate silver savory dish warmed underneath by two small votive candles. Beside it was a platter of fresh fruit, a wedge of cheese and a sweetmeat dish filled with nuts.

“Oh,” said Ella, “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble on my account.”

The woman frowned a moment, then saw Ella’s gaze upon the tray and her look became glacial.

“This is not for you. I have more important duties than to be scullery maid to a governess. Get out of my way.”

Mrs. Mellor set the tray on a side table opposite the door on which Ella had been about to knock. With cheeks flushed red, Ella turned and hurried back down the passageway. Behind her as she fled, she heard a male voice answer Mrs. Mellor’s authoritative knock on the door.

Ella found the main stairs and started climbing, mentally berating herself. She had been here a scant two hours and gotten off on the wrong foot with one of the most important people in the house.

Her first post had not started well – and she had a horrible feeling it was not going to get any better.

Available from Amazon and iBooks

Nocturne is a novella from Elizabeth Ellen Carter whose full-length titles include Warrior’s Surrender, Moonstone Obsession, and Moonstone Conspiracy.

Because history is fun and love is worth working for

Category: Teatime Tattler Page 150 of 153

The Secret Log of Kenneth Drummond, Good Captain of the Merchant Vessel, The Phoenix…

Scandal at the Masquerade Ball

Out of Place & Time

A Highland Scandal

The Housekeeper’s Fears