Category: Teatime Tattler Page 2 of 147

Dear Readers,

This report was received just yesterday from one of my faithful correspondents. I know you will find it quite interesting.

Dear Mr. Clemens,

I’m sharing a strange encounter and I’m still unsure whether it was real or a figment of my overactive imagination. I was in a carriage traversing London when I looked out the window and spotted one of the illicit markets that no respectable man or woman would ever attend. Yes, we all love the goods acquired from these illegal events, as they are often tax-free or discounted. I confess I may have an antiquity or a bottle of wine that has passed through such a market.

Still, every respected member of the ton knows to send their servants and not attend themselves, which is why I was shocked to discover the Duke of Sinclair and a brunette woman standing outside one of the events, arguing. At least, I thought it was the Duke of Sinclair. Unfortunately, I only witnessed the interaction briefly.

A carriage passing blocked my line of sight, and by the time it was gone, the man and woman arguing had disappeared. I’ve tried to convince myself it wasn’t him. He is, after all, the most respected duke in London. Yet, the more I ponder it, the more I’m convinced it was him. So, reader, that left me wondering why the Duke of Sinclair would be at such a place and who the woman was with him?

Interestingly, I just read that the Historical Society for Female Curators has partnered with scholar Rose Calvert, an expert in ancient texts. I don’t want to presume too much, but she does have reddish brown hair, and all of London knows how much the duke loves his antiquities. Could it have been them outside arguing, and were they buying stolen relics?

Again, I only caught one glimpse of them, so no one should dare repeat this rumor with any certainty. Yet, if it was them, what could a highly respected duke and eccentric scholar be doing together?

Sincerely,

A Bewildered Lady

A Translation of Desire

The scholarly temptress is everything he shouldn’t want.

Rose Calvert, famed scholar, returns to London to attend a Season. She has no interest, but her father has forced her hand by shipping ancient tablets back to the city that she is desperate to decipher. She begrudgingly agrees to stay and immerse herself in the balls and teas until she has finished working on the artifacts. Her father hopes she will find her perfect match among London society. She has no interest until an encounter with the imposing Duke of Sinclair makes her begin to question all she has ever desired.

Augustus, the Duke of Sinclair, is the most sought-after gentleman in London. He is considered the unobtainable duke. He has a vast estate and a successful import business that provides goods and antiquities to all of London. Yet, at thirty-five, he still hasn’t found a lady to be his bride. He knows it is his duty to find the perfect duchess, and when he encounters Rose Calvert, it is clear she is not that, but there is something about the woman that he can’t seem to resist.
When Rose’s ancient tablets go missing, she and Augustus team up to find them.

As they spend more time together, these two mismatched partners find it hard to resist the hum of attraction that swirls between them.

Tropes you’ll love:

Opposites Attract
Class Difference
Bluestocking Heroine
Stuffy Duke
Slow burn
Romance with suspense
Forbidden Love

About the Author

Since stealing her first historical romance novel from her mother more than twenty years ago, Ramona Elmes has been all in on the genre. Her infatuation with the historical and steamy stirred her to write her own romances.

Ramona loves to write happily ever afters set in the Victorian era. She believes this period makes an exciting backdrop for fast-paced storylines, steamy moments, dramatic endings, and memorable characters.

When not creating ways to entice and torture her characters, she spends her days in Georgia coordinating her family’s crazy life, refereeing pets, hiking, and reading on her front porch.

Reading is hands-down her favorite way to relax, and she is an avid reader of all romance subgenres. Give her a dramatic storyline, a grand declaration, and heart-filled steamy moments, and she is in.

To get updates on Ramona’s books, follow her on Amazon, Facebook, Instagram, or her website.

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/elmes_ramona/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RamonaElmes

Website: https://ramonaelmes.com/

Shocking events in Sussex

By Bluestocking Belles

On October 3, 2025

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

Turner, Joseph Mallord William; Chichester Canal; Tate; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/chichester-canal-202367

When we look for scandal in Sussex, dear reader, few of us feel the need to go beyond the mighty edifice that a certain princely gentleman is erecting on the shores. Visitors to that – can we call it a building? Palace, rather! – a blend of Mughal, Chinese and Gothic such as the world has never seen. Visitors, I say, vary in their descriptions, some praising the oriental-influenced decor and the extravagent excess of the exterior, while some call it laughable. The essayist William Hazlitt is unimpressed:

“The Pavilion at Brighton is like a collection of stone pumpkins and pepper boxes. It seems as if the genius of architecture had at once the dropsy and the megrims. Anything more fantastical, with a greater dearth of invention, was never seen.”

However, our topic today is not the Brighton Pavilion. Indeed, the scandals (for they are plural, dear reader) take place some distance from the popular seaside resort, in and around a certain village that shall remain nameless to protect the guilty and innocent alike. Beneath the surface of this serene and lovely landscape, tensions swirl, treachery lurks, passions burn, and all kind of criminals seek to take advantage of the innocent.

Let this newspaper give you just a taste of what we are talking about! And keep in mind that, as well as smugglers and ghosts, the countryside also harbours at least two highwaymen, some spies, and possibly even a Fennian or two!

Is the young baronet from Yorkshire really contemplate a match with the tallest woman in the district? The poor lady has enough to contend with – a neighbour wants her land and her hand in marriage, and there are smugglers about.

Will the young widow in the Rose cottage be frightened away by the ghost? And is it really a ghost? Or someone playing a trick? And what is such a young widow doing living alone, except for the most peculiar housekeeper we have ever seen?

Another widow – the war has scattered the poor creatures across the countryside – also faces scandal, after a very handsome officer is seen calling upon her. Are wedding bells in the air, or does the man have more nefarious plans?

A wealthy spinster with scandal in her past might be expected to attract the wrong sort of attention, but is the young man who is clearly pursuing her after her kisses? Or something more?

The earl’s brother cannot truly be interested in the curate’s daughter can he? They clearly share secrets. And where does the man go when he rides out in the middle of the night? Does he have a mistress? Or even more unacceptable habits?

It is said that the fine lady who visits the schoolteacher is sister to an earl. What, then, does she want with such a person as a country schoolteacher? One, furthermore, who has already been claimed by the butcher’s daughter.

When Lord C. married Lady C., the whole world predicted disaster. Everyone knows her family was on the brink of ruin until he rescued them. And now the lady is meeting strange men at out-of-the-way country inns!

Has a mysterious wounded soldier won the heart of Lady F.? And is he something other than he seems? Lady F.’s grandfather does not seem to be concerned. Does he know more than the rest of us?

Who is the lady who has been living in obscurity on the earl’s land? Is the French lady staying with the earl and his wife really her mother? Which of her two suitors will she choose?

A year ago, we predicted that the Earl of L. would propose to Lady J. C. But he moved away, and she is now being courted by someone else. Except that Lord L. is back, and appears determined to win her as his bride. Is he too late?

To find out all the juicy details, dear reader, buy Love’s Perilous Road, on preorder now, and published on 31 October.

A Shirtless Gamekeeper–or is he a Gamekeeper?

By Alina K. Field

On October 1, 2025

In Teatime Tattler

Dearest Reader, I recently received this most interesting report. Read on:

Dear Mr. Clemens,

This author would not normally admit to wandering alone in the woods let alone spying on a shirtless gamekeeper preparing logs at Pheasant Lodge. But is he a gamekeeper? That is my question to you? For he looks like one, acts like one, it would certainly be easy to mistake him as one.

However it is said amongst the Littlemead villagers that the ever-eligible bachelor Baron Millbank is hosting none other than the handsome Duke of Farrington in his lodge. He is travelled all the way from his Scottish castle to reside near us. This is why I simply have to report to you, the Duke, the esteemed post, is here, in England, I know it in my heart and you must believe me.

Hardly scandalous you might say, not exactly gossip of the highest order. Hosting a friend in the summer months. Ah, but you are wrong, because this author moves like a whisper in the night, which has the advantage of being all seeing on this occasion and you will be the benefactor of my stealth.

And what did I see? Well, since you beg, I will tell you. None other than Lady Elizabeth Burghley walking down the wooded path (lavishly dressed for a stroll in my humble opinion) and marching straight up to him. It was clear they are not strangers, it is evident there is crackling tension between them. His eyes darkened on her approach, and her gaze lingered on his torso in ways that I would be so bold as to suggest was scandalously improper.

Improper? Scandalous? Lady Elizabeth? She is of fine moral standing and currently awaiting a perfect match. It is said her mother is throwing a ball to end her wait for a husband. But I fear her husband to be (if what I saw in the woods is anything to go by) will find himself with a bride who has been kissed, seduced, possibly ravaged inside that dimly lit, isolated lodge that now holds secrets only mice were witness to and we can only guess at.

I wonder if my guess is as good as yours?

I wonder if Lady Elizabeth even knows it is a duke that thrills her so?

A Scandalous Seduction

By Lily Harlem

For Lady Elizabeth Burghley, the pressure to marry is mounting. It’s irritating and tiresome. Her passion is to succeed as an artist, and if she does have to marry, she wants her husband to be someone she likes.

So when she comes across a shirtless, handsome, sometimes surly, Scottish gamekeeper who has a creative side himself, she can’t help but wish fate had given him a title.

Because, oh, they are so well matched, their attraction sizzles, lust rules, he understands her and she him. His eyes sparkle with desire, and when he reaches for her, deep in the forest when they are all alone, resistance is futile, and she succumbs to his seductive ways.

But resist Lady Elizabeth should have. Because all is not as it seems, and when the truth comes out, she finds herself in new lands, with a new future to decide upon, and potentially a new husband—but does she still like him?

Excerpt from A SCANDALOUS SEDUCTION

Just before noon the next day, Elizabeth slipped out of the side entrance with her paper, paints, and brushes stowed in a leather bag. It was once again a warm day, and she’d opted for a pale-pink gown that brushed the tops of her ankles. But the forest was cool, so she’d thrown a white shawl around her shoulders that matched her bonnet.

Passing the old elm tree she’d climbed as a child with her cousins, she had a distinct sense of anticipation. It coiled in her stomach, fizzed a little, too. Was it the thought of finding the glove, deadly nightshade, or was it seeing the surly gamekeeper again?

There was no denying she’d thought about him since their brief meeting. It was almost as if he were from another world. Hunched at his rough-edged table, scribbling. Dead animals hanging by their feet and necks. A small lodge with only one door and one chimney. It was so far from what she was used to. All her life she’d lived with grandeur, priceless antiques, never a concern as to money or food or rent. What must it be like to have to hunt for your dinner? To have to chop wood to keep warm in the winter? Live alone, no maids, servants, cooks?

Was it all of those things that made him gruff? Because yes, he had been ill-tempered.

But even so, he’d intrigued her.

She kept her eyes on the ground, searching for her lost white glove, and when she reached the woodland, flowers, too.

After an hour of walking and still nothing, she stopped and took her bonnet off, caught the stray hairs, and smoothed them to her head. She was glad of the rest; once more it was a warm summer’s day. But she didn’t linger for long, because it felt like she had purpose, she wasn’t simply wandering.

After passing the lake, and the spot she’d seen the deer the day before, she arrived at the lodge.

Today a dribble of smoke trickled from the chimney, and the windows were closed. Two more rabbits had been added to the wire, and a brown jug sat on the table.

She glanced around, wondering where the gamekeeper was. A jacket was roughly laid on a wooden stool and an axe speared into a splitting log.

A flash of white caught her attention. Her glove. It was stuck atop a long stick as if it were waving at her.

So this was where she’d dropped it. Typical.

She walked over to it. She didn’t have many things that were sentimental, but her grandmother’s gloves were exactly that.

While plucking it from the stick, there was movement at the lodge door.

A figure appeared.

A man.

He was naked from the waist up, and his buckskin breeches hung low on his lean hips—a trail of light-brown hair led from his navel to the waistband.

Oh dear Lord.

Quickly, she averted her eyes and clasped the glove.

“You found it then,” he said.

“I…yes, thank you.” She dared a glance at him.

“Good.” He strolled over to the axe and drew it from the stump it was speared into. “You know your way back to the village now, am I right?”

“I do. But I had to retrace my steps today for I really didn’t want to lose a glove. This glove in particular.”

He kind of huffed and reached for a log to split. The muscles in his back and shoulders rippled, and his biceps bulged as he set it on its end.

Unable to tear her eyes away, Elizabeth watched him raise the axe, his torso stretching, then bring it down with a loud crack. The log split.

He set his attention on her. “Are you waiting for tea and cake? Because if that is the case, I don’t have any.”

“I…no, of course not.” She paused. “You don’t have any tea or you don’t have any cake?”

“Do I look like a cook? A pastry chef?”

“No, not really.”

He reached for another log.

“But I wish to thank you, you could have thrown the glove away but you did not. What is your name?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“It is polite when giving thanks to use a person’s name.”

He stared at her for a moment, then, “Tom.”

“Thank you, Tom. I appreciate your guardianship of my late grandmother’s glove.”

Once again his brow creased. “What’s your name?”

“Elizabeth.”

“You’re welcome, Beth.” He turned, signifying an end to their conversation, so she didn’t bother to correct him. He’d obviously misheard her name. All that splitting logs had likely made him hard of hearing.

The axe was raised, his body tense, then he brought it down with a thunderous crack. The log fell in two pieces to the ground.

He repeated the action, the sheen of sweat between his shoulder blades catching the sunlight.

Elizabeth swallowed, knowing she was staring but unable to help herself. He was beautiful in a masculine, powerful, earthy way. Raw muscle, at one with the land, almost feral.

A strange sensation gripped her belly. Admiration, longing, fascination.

“There’ll be rain soon,” he said gruffly. “Best run along.”

“What? Oh, yes, of course.” He’d made her feel like a silly young girl which irked her. “Good day to you, Tom.” She turned and hurried towards the copse of pine trees.

Her cheeks flushed, and her heart rate picked up. He must have known she’d been watching him. But it was hardly her fault. She’d never seen a man like him, and not just that, a man like him wearing so little. Who could blame her for being affected by the sight of him?

Who could blame her for not wanting to leave.

BUY LINK (Read on Kindle Unlimited, also available as an audiobook)

books2read.com/u/4D62Wd

What is Mr. Bradford thinking?

By Alina K. Field

On September 24, 2025

In Teatime Tattler

Dear Readers,

The attached letter has arrived from one of my faithful correspondents in the country, and is sure to be of interest:

Dear Mr. Clemens,

It has come to my attention (through a very dear friend residing in Ermenborough) that Mr. Lewis Bradford, son of Baron Bradford of our great city of Munro, has called the marriage banns in that same little country town of Ermenborough. And who is the bride? Miss Jillian Kinsey, daughter of the groundskeeper at Trenton Grange!

It is shocking enough that a man from such an excellent family should align himself with someone of low birth. But he also shuns his friends and family to be married in some small, out-of-the-way chapel, denying his parents the opportunity to celebrate (if such a word can be used in these circumstances) with their own quality of acquaintances.

What is worst of all is the hardness of heart shown by Mr. Bradford, going ahead with the arrangements despite the very recent tragedy in his family. One can only wonder at the sort of persuasion wielded by Miss Kinsey to achieve such a hold over his common sense.

I do not like to cast aspersions on a member of the Ton, but some of the blame must be placed squarely on the shoulders of our new viscountess. If not for her close friendship with Miss Kinsey, the latter would never have considered herself worthy of Mr. Bradford’s company, let alone his affection. Still, Mr. Bradford, as an experienced barrister, should know better, even if a groundskeeper’s daughter does not. No doubt he was drawn in by her tresses of blonde hair and her winsome smile, but what is that when coupled with a lack of restraint and an inability to understand the fundamentals of a noble life? She will certainly be no welcome addition to the family, and I pity his poor parents in what has now become a double tragedy for them.

With mere weeks until this poorly considered engagement becomes permanent, one can only pray that Mr. Bradford comes to his senses. Such a mismatch must surely end in disaster. If Miss Kinsey is unable to rise to the position of a true lady, she will find no joy in the society of the Ton. And an unhappy wife will drag her husband down with her.

I appeal to anyone who thinks they can speak wisdom that Mr. Bradford would hear to do so now. Before two families are ruined by the shame of an ill-fated marriage.

Fie on Mr. Bradford for his poor judgement and the pain he puts his parents through!

Very disappointed indeed,

Mrs. Dorothea Sangford

Jillian’s Wild Heart

When worlds collide, can love survive?

Lewis Bradford is the spare to the heir. Every aspect of his life has been a reminder that he is second best. Fortunately, being largely ignored by his baron father has given him a measure of freedom in choosing his wife. And who better to lift him from his bitter sense of neglect than a wild, golden-haired nymph who adores him?

Jillian Kinsey may be only a groundskeeper’s daughter, but she also happens to be best friends since childhood with Munro’s new viscountess. Protected by powerful friends, Jillian is able to always be her vivacious, rule-breaking self without fear of rejection. When Mr. Bradford begins to show an interest in her, she does not question whether or not such a match is realistic. She only knows he wants the same thing she does: a life of self-determination.

Ready to disregard all the pretentions of the ton and throw off the shackles of societal expectations, Lewis and Jillian seem destined to be the heroes of their own fairy tale. Until family tragedy strikes, and everything they have taken for granted is turned on its head.

Will they abandon the dreams they shared or can they weather the storm? Only time will tell.

To be released on 26 September (available now to pre-order for only $0.99)

Buy Link https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FNBVJ31Z

Jillian’s Wild Heart is Book 4 in the 5-book “Ladies of Munro” series.

Ladies of Munro
1) Sophia’s Letter
2) Ellena’s Secret
3) Verity’s Choice
4) Jillian’s Wild Heart
5) Irene’s Fall (Due for release in December)

Note: This series is part of Dragonblade’s Sweet Dreams line, so this is a sweet, wholesome Historical Romance where passion beyond the bedroom door is left to the reader’s imagination.

Tropes you’ll love:

Different Worlds
Fish Out of Water
You’ve Changed
Emotional Scars
Opposites Attract
Unexpected Heir
Lively Heroine
Sensible Hero

Read in Kindle Unlimited!

About the Author

Elizabeth Donne writes award-winning sweet Regency romance, a natural outpouring of a lifelong love affair with English literature.

She has spent most of her life in Cape Town, South Africa. In 2015, Elizabeth moved to Iowa with her husband, their two children, two cats, and their African bush dog.

When she’s not writing, or discovering the secret wonders of the Midwest, she is enthusiastically introducing her visitors to the joys of drinking rooibos tea. With a biscuit, of course.

Social Media Links:

Free newsletter signup: https://www.elizabethdonnebooks.com/#subscribe

Website: https://www.elizabethdonnebooks.com

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/elizabethdonne

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100093280712789

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/35270040.Elizabeth_Donne

News to Set Your Heart Aflutter

By Alina K. Field

On September 17, 2025

In Teatime Tattler

Dear Reader,

The following report comes from a faithful correspondent who you might find familiar:

Lady P, reporting in with startling news! If you recall, the last time I shared the latest on dits with you, I promised to impart further information regarding a certain viscount and those handsome-as-sin Irishmen who guard the Duke of Wyndmere and his family.

Before I continue I need a restorative sip of sherry. That’s better. Where was I, ah yes those strapping guards. I have it on good authority all has been reconciled and S.F. has not resigned his position within the duke’s guard!

My heart is absolutely all aflutter hearing that the auburn-haired giant of a man fiercely held firm demanding his right to protect his wife. So many men within our social strata give little thought to the women who have born their heir, once they’ve produced their spare. It gives one pause to consider that S.F. loves his wife. It simply boggles the mind.

But I digress, back to my tale. I was at Gunter’s Tuesday last and chanced to overhear a conversation. While formal resignations were tendered, apparently S.F.’s and J.G.’s wives sent urgent missives to Her Grace at the same time—and we all know how the duke dotes on his wife. Meetings were arranged and parties involved came to an agreement. S.F. would join a certain earl’s household guard, and J.G. would be assigned to the viscount.

That is not all. I have more to share. R.F., brother to S.F. and who has vowed never to marry, has fallen madly in love! I am amazed and do so love a romantic tale. Apparently R.F. thought he was chasing down a vagrant, when in fact, it was a widow and her young daughter. You will never guess who captured his heart, dear reader, so I shall not keep you in suspense any longer. I have an important engagement to attend. Apparently, his heart was snared not by lovely widow, but her adorable four-year-old daughter! Now that is a man I simply must meet, though I daresay my husband may have something to say about that.

Do you remember when I mentioned the sixteen men were rumored to have been battered and bled for the those they protect? Well I have it on good authority that R.F. suffered a grievous wound to his face. Poor man will be scared for life, though from all reports, his wife finds him even more attractive. Just the thought of R.F.’s handsome features marred, gouged by a lead ball across his cheek has me reaching for my hartshorn.

Did you know that there are two more brothers that are yet unwed? I do not know if my heart can handle two more encounters with these supreme specimens of manhood. But I shall endeavor to press on and will report further on dits regarding the duke’s guard—I know how you rely on my excellent information. Rest assured, I shall share whatever I hear on this subject with the editor of this unimpeachable daily source of information.

The Duke’s Sharpshooter (The Duke’s Guard, Book 14)

Excerpt:

“What do ye mean they’ve gone?”

Scruggs shrugged. “We had a number of coaches arrive at the same time right after I tucked Mrs. Johnson and her daughter in the taproom next to the fire. I passed along your message to the innkeeper’s sister as three carriages pulled in. I offered to let her stay in the barn out of the wet, but she insisted it would startle her daughter to wake surrounded by horses.”

Flaherty had a bad feeling in his gut. “Did she say where she was headed?”

“She mentioned it being too crowded inside, and I can well imagine it with the number of people in the packed coaches. Besides if she and her daughter had finished eating, they would be obliged to give up their seats.”

Flaherty scrubbed a hand over his face. “How long ago did she leave?”

“Half an hour, maybe more.”

Flaherty turned to leave, and Scruggs called out, “She said to thank you for your kindness and headed out of town with Maddy sleeping in her arms.”

Flaherty knew a sleeping—or unconscious—body felt as if it weighed more. The lass looked dead on her feet when he’d had to leave her to finish his rounds in the village. It had taken a bit longer than anticipated. He’d stopped to help one of the tenant farmers’ sons who’d gotten stuck halfway up a tree, unable to climb down.

Gaining his saddle, he prayed, “Lord, I could use Yer help finding them.”

Three quarters of a mile up the road, the heavens opened up. He wiped the rainwater out of his eyes and noticed a copse of fir trees off the side of the road—and deep footsteps—indicating someone was carrying a heavy load. The size of the footsteps were too small to have been made by a tall, heavyset man. It had to be Temperance. Dismounting, he walked his gelding over to the trees. He called her name softly, not wanting to startle the lass. When she didn’t answer, he told his horse to wait for him, brushed the branches aside, and stepped into the small shelter the thick branches provided.

The pair he sought were huddled in a pile of pine needles. Temperance was shivering in her sleep, while her little one slept peacefully snuggled against her. He crossed the distance and knelt beside them. “Wake up, lass, ‘tis Flaherty. I’ve come to take ye home.”

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FMHQZRLG

Author Bio:

If we have not met yet, I’m delighted to meet you. Here’s a little bit about me…

I have been writing romance novels for almost half my life—well, at least for the last thirty years. I’m a die-hard romantic and have to confess the broad shoulders and wicked glint in the brilliant green eyes of a stranger had my breath snagging in my breast, my heart beating madly, and my future flashing before my eyes. At the age of seventeen, I’d met the man I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with.

I write Historical & Contemporary Romance featuring characters that I know so well: hardheaded heroes and feisty heroines! They rarely listen to me and in fact, I think they enjoy messing with my plans for them. Over the years I have learned to listen to them. I have always used family names in my books and love adding bits and pieces of my ancestors and ancestry in them, too! Visit my website to learn more about my books.

C.H.’s Social Media Links:

Website:

https://www.chadmirand.com

Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/stores/C.-H.-Admirand/author/B001JPBUMC

BookBub:

https://www.bookbub.com/authors/c-h-admirand

Facebook Author Page:

https://www.facebook.com/CHAdmirandAuthor

GoodReads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/212657.C_H_Admirand

Dragonblade Publishing: