Category: Teatime Tattler Page 34 of 152

Scandal in the Ballroom?

On January 18, 2023

Dear Mr Clemens, if you were not present yourself at the splendid ball held in the Hanover Square rooms last night, you may have missed one of the juiciest tidbits of gossip that any worthy correspondent could possibly pass along to you this week. Imagine the sight of two earls’ daughters facing off in the middle of Lady Newsham’s grand event! Yes, society’s darling, the beautiful Lady G. M., approached a relative newcomer to the London social scene, Lady H. deR., and unexpectedly and rather scandalously was treated to an earful by that rather intrepid young lady (who some say is merely hoydenish and quite improper).

Some expected their exchange to end with fists flying, but I must report it did not come to that, to the disappointment of many, I am sure. What a shocking spectacle that would have been! And the cause of this incident? A man, of course. But you may be astonished to hear that the fellow in question is a commoner, a baronet’s son, Mr. C.H., the very one Lady G. M. threw over last season on account of his being exposed as a fortune hunter! Apparently there is no limit to what trouble a handsome face may cause. —Yours truly, Lady M. in Portman Square

My Dear Lady M: Lacking said anticipated scandalous spectacle of fisticuffs, I must assure you that a heated conversation between two noble ladies in the middle of a ball does NOT constitute one of the “juiciest tidbits of gossip” I have come across, but as the ton has been unusually devoid of greater scandals this week, I thank you for the report! It is entirely too bad that you were not near enough to actually overhear the exchange between the ladies. Now, THAT might have been juicy. But I have now learned on good authority from someone who was close by that Lady G.M. started it with the best intentions of cautioning Lady H. deR. about said gentleman, and that young lady responded with a vigorous defense on his behalf, audaciously calling Lady G. M.’s own actions and beliefs into question.

Ah, such innocence! It seems both Lady H. deR and the gentleman in question were recently in the wilds of Derbyshire, where they were among the guests attending the nuptials of Lord F. and his bride, Miss T., in the village of Little Macclow. One imagines Lady H. deR. had plenty of opportunity to fall under the spell of said handsome if questionable fellow. We can only wish her well and hope she will not come to regret her actions. —Yours sincerely, Samuel Clemmens, editor, The Teatime Tattler

Her Perfect Gentleman

(Book Three, Tales of Little Macclow Regency Romance Series)

She is the worst thing that could happen to him. He might be the best thing that could happen to her. How will two hearts on such opposite tracks find their way to true love?

The last thing Christopher Haslitt needs or wants is another involvement with a wealthy, high-ranking, unmarried young lady. He is still trying to repair both his heart and his reputation after last season’s disaster left him branded as a fortune hunter. Five days in Little Macclow for his best friend’s wedding should be only a brief delay on his path to redemption. But he hasn’t counted on spending it with five unmarried daughters of earls, one of whom has her sights set firmly on him!

Lady Honoria deRaymond finds Mr. Haslitt more attractive and charming than any other gentleman of her acquaintance. What’s more, his perfect manners include overlooking her tendency to be impulsive and not always quite proper. She knows the rules; she just has trouble sticking to them. Marriage to a high-ranking peer, as her family expects for her, will mean a highly visible life of constant pressure to conform and behave properly. Could Mr. Haslitt, a baronet’s son, be her means to escape such a fate? Can she possibly win his heart in just five days? When she returns to London, her one chance to forge a different future may be gone.

Sweet with a little sizzle, the Tales of Little Macclow are linked by their shared setting in scenic Derbyshire and recurring characters. They follow a shared chronology and, while best read in order, they are complete stand alone romances with happy endings that will warm your heart.

Little Macclow—a village tucked away and maybe touched by magic…at least the magic of love.

Universal link: https://books2read.com/u/bwrPAa

Amazon direct link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BMLQCLSW

https://www.bookbub.com/books/her-perfect-gentleman-regency-romance-tales-of-little-macclow-small-village-sweet-regency-romances-book-3-by-gail-eastwood

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/63623044-her-perfect-gentleman

Excerpt:

She straightened and stepped towards him. “I should check your arms. It will only take a few moments. We can do it here, right now.”

He scowled. “No, absolutely not. It would be highly improper.”

“Because I am a lady?”

“Yes, of course because you are a lady! And an unmarried one, even worse. I would have to partially disrobe. You should not see a man in his shirt sleeves unless he is your husband!”

“I have already seen you in your shirt sleeves—bloodied ones at that! And I have seen arms before. Must I remind you that I do have a brother?”

“Yes, one who would flay me alive if he were to learn I allowed this to happen.”

“If I see how your scratches are healing I will know if you need to continue to use the salve. I am trying to help you. It is for a medical purpose.”

“This is not an emergency. With Jennie on Wednesday, I felt the situation was.”

“This could become one if you do not heal properly.” She crossed her arms, tapping her foot. “Little Macclow is too small to have a doctor, or even an apothecary. We are in the stillroom, a place where medicines are prepared. We are alone here, and no one will see. We can do it very quickly. You needn’t even remove your waistcoat. You are teetering into the brotherhood of the narrow-minded again!”

“No. I am trying to protect your reputation—and mine. If someone should come along and see—especially given what some are already thinking….”

The panic in his eyes hurt her heart. Did he think she was trying to entrap him? “No one will. But if they should, we can simply explain. Everyone here knows you were injured rescuing Jennie. Most know I have been making salve to help you heal.”

If only she had a salve that could heal his heart. “Do not try to pretend that no woman besides your mother has ever seen you in your linen. We both know that isn’t true. Please, take off your coat.”

* * *

Of course women besides his mother had seen him in his linen. Beautiful women, willing women, women whose whole intent had been to see him out of his linen. Not respectable, innocent women like Lady Honoria. Not a woman who tempted him against all good sense.

Truly, she had no idea what she was asking of him. Keeping tight control over his reactions to her was difficult enough under the most ordinary of circumstances. How was he supposed to manage it half-dressed and with her undoubtedly touching and inspecting him?

The noises from the kitchen continued unabated, reminding him of just how nearby other people were. Could her wish possibly be accomplished quickly enough to avoid anyone catching them at it?

She still stood there waiting, chin up, arms crossed and toe tapping impatiently. She looked adorable, magnificent, irresistible. “You are making propriety more important than your health, Mr. Haslitt. You will not convince me that such a priority isn’t absurd. What do you think will happen if we break the rules?”

Loss of control. Emergence of baser instincts. Her discovery that he did not always want to be the perfect gentleman. “Oh, the total disintegration of society, of course.” At this moment everything in him argued in favor of such a result. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. She was far too trusting.

Of course, she laughed. “There you have it. I’m glad you see you are being ridiculous.”

With a sigh, he surrendered. Best just be quick, for every reason.

About the author:

Award-winning author Gail Eastwood started writing stories as soon as she learned to string words together on paper, and blames Beatrix Potter and A.A. Milne for making her a devoted Anglophile at a very early age. After detours into journalism and rare books, she finally found her path writing Signet Regencies acclaimed for their emotional depth and innovative plots. Twice nominated for RomanticTimes Magazine’s Career Achievement award, a Golden Leaf winner and twice a Holt Medallion finalist, Gail had to put writing on hold to deal with family health issues for almost 16 years. But now she’s back doing what she loves best and offering readers a new, heart-warming Regency series set in a small village possibly touched by magic (or it is just the power of Love?), Tales of Little Macclow.

“One of the genre’s most imaginative storytellers, a master at painting pictures of Regency life,”

—Romantic Times Magazine

Website www.gaileastwoodauthor.com
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Accident or Murder

By Rue Allyn

On January 7, 2023

In Teatime Tattler

Mr. Gervase Hastings, Deceased

Readers, The Teatime Tattler has unearthed serious questions about the recent passing of Mr. Gervase Hastings, cousin by marriage to Lady Enid MacShennan, widowed daughter-in-law to His Grace, the Duke of Cowal. The announcement was made two Mondays past, that Mr. Hastings passed away suddenly after an accident at the Duke’s Scottish seat MacShennan Ruith. No details were given in the announcement.

That in and of itself is unsurprising for a well connected yet impecunious gentleman such as Mr. Hastings. However disturbing rumors have arisen that the circumstances of Mr. Hastings’ passing might not be as simple as the lack of detail makes them appear.

First, and most peculiar, Hastings’ funeral service and burial occurred within a day of his death. This short amount of time is only noteworthy, if one accepts that in chilly Scotland a three day lying in repose is the norm. In addition, the interment occurred at night, a privilege usually reserved for noblemen of high degree and wealth (due to the cost of lights to guide the procession and extra fees due to the clergy).

Miss Esmeralda Crobbin

Next, we sent our reporter to the ducal seat, and she discovered not all in residence were content with the story of an accidental death caused, it was presumed, by intoxication. Upon arrival, our reporter learned the laundresses of MacShennan Ruith were occupied in removing bloodstains from a carpet, which formerly occupied space on the floor in the chambers of Miss E. Crobbin, a guest of the Duke. No one would confirm that the blood belonged to Mr. Hastings, or that he died in Miss Crobbin’s chambers. However, several servants related seeing Miss Crobbin in heated discussions with Mr. Hastings. One employee recalled a picnic attended by all the guests at which Miss Crobbin—perhaps unwisely, or perhaps with intent—went apart from the company and was followed within moments by Mr. Hastings. Even more disturbing, the guests and their hosts, save for the duke’s heir, Viscount Cairndow, departed the site before Miss Crobbin and Mr. Hastings returned. Miss Crobbin did eventually return late in the afternoon. The Viscount followed within an hour. Hastings was not seen until the next day and it is not known when he returned.

Last our reported learned that the evening on which Mr. Hasting’s purported accident occurred, the duke held

Viscount Cairndow

an impromptu dance for his guests. Hasting’s is reported to have been drinking copiously, but leaving the event early. Much attention was given at the event to the necklace worn by Miss Crobbin. The jewelry is a collection of emeralds and turquoises in an antique setting. This piece is well known to belong to the Duke of Cowal as his bride, and the bride of his brother, Countess Beresford, each wore the piece when their engagements were announced as well as several later occasions. Further, a disturbance occurred later in the evening, just before Miss Crobbin discovered Hasting’s body. Our reporter has not yet discovered the nature of the disturbance, or why Miss Crobbin might have been with Hastings alone just prior to his death.

Dear readers, given all of these odd incidents, one can only wonder what might truly have caused Mr. Hastings’ untimely passing. You can be certain that The Teatime Tattler will continue to investigate and keep you apprised of any developments.

About The Pirate Duchess: They meet during a brawl!

Esmeralda Crobbin first encounters Brandon Gilroy during a brawl. Once their opponents are vanquished, she admires the man’s skill with his fists, his intelligence, and a number of other attributes until she learns that he is a British Naval Officer. He would be eager to see her hang, if he knew she was the American privateer, Irish Red. Can sworn enemies become lovers? Find out. Get your copy of The Pirate Duchess today. Amazon Other Retailers

About Rue Allyn: Author of historical and contemporary romances, Rue Allyn fell in love with happily ever after the day she heard her first story. (She claims she was a precocious little brat who read at the age of two but could hear much earlier than that.) She studied literature for far too many years before discovering that writing stories was much more fun than writing about them. One of her greatest pleasures as an author is being able to read the story before anyone else. Rue is happily married to her sweetheart of many, many years. Insatiably curious, an avid reader and traveler, she loves to hear from readers about their favorite books and real-life adventures. Crazy Cat stories are especially welcome. You may contact her at Rue@RueAllyn.com. She can’t wait to hear from you.

An unexpected death of a fine man raises eyebrows and questions!

By Cerise DeLand

On January 4, 2023

In Teatime Tattler

It has come to this editor of this newspaper’s attention that the young Mr. Ingleby, a clergyman who promised to be such a patron of all that is good and Christian in Hertfordshire society, has died.

Mr. Ingleby, a young graduate of Oxbridge, who had lately taken orders, came to Hertford to temporarily stand in at the pulpit for Mr. Greene, who was called away to attend the bedside of a sick relative. From all accounts, Mr. Ingleby’s goodwill toward others and charming manners did him good stead with his neighbours, and he proved to be a popular dinner companion amongst the parishioners.

But alas, trouble has befallen the town of Hertford, for at the very day of a local baking competition, Mr. Ingleby had no sooner bit into a baked tart produced by Mrs. Greene, the wife of the former reverend, than did he suffer choking pains and collapsed, never to rise again. Even worse, the money raised by the competition to support the repairs for the church roof, has disappeared.

With a theft, a death, and eight bakers suspected of having done away with the charming Mr. Ingleby, who can say if this was simply a culinary accident or murder? Rumour has it that the young clergyman was kind and generous toward his neighbours, but consistently spoke ill of his hostesses, Mrs. Greene and her niece, Miss Poppy Morton. Could these two women have decided to give the gossiping Mr. Ingleby a taste of his own medicine?

Should any readers have information which may provide useful in this investigation, please write to the editor or speak with Constable Henry Dyngley.

Title of book: The Poisoned Clergyman

Purchase link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0B1NZ97DX?notRedirectToSDP=1&ref_=dbs_mng_calw_1&storeType=ebooks

Book blurb: Poppy adores Constable Dyngley, but he is engaged. When his fiancée hires Poppy to clear her name, can Poppy put her jealousy aside?

Welcome to book two in the exciting new series The Perfect Poison Murders from bestselling author E.L. Johnson!

When Poppy’s uncle is called away, in his place arrives Mr. Ingleby, a pretentious clergyman with a passion for pies, a penchant for puddings, and a distaste for poor and sick parishioners. It’s not long before Poppy wishes he was gone, especially when she learns he has been gossiping to the neighborhood about the humble fare served by her and her aunt.
But when the tart-loving clergyman dies at a local baking competition, it is clear that Mr. Ingleby has been poisoned by one of the bakers present. But who?

Poppy and her favorite constable, Henry Dyngley, must work together to find the poisoner among the bakers. But her romantic hopes for their future are dashed when he introduces her to his fiancee, who begs for Poppy’s help to clear her name as a murder suspect.

Can Poppy and Dyngley find the true poisoner, or will the murderous baker pull off a sweet crime? Can Poppy overlook her jealousy to save Dyngley’s fiancée, at the risk of losing the man she adores? It is a bittersweet feeling to know you may do the right thing, only for someone else to reap the benefit.

Find out in a new historical mystery from bestselling author E.L. Johnson. This is the second in the Perfect Poison series, starring Poppy Morton and Constable Henry Dyngley.

Author bio:
E. L. Johnson writes historical mysteries. A Boston native, she gave up clam chowder and lobster rolls for tea and scones when she moved across the pond to London, where she studied medieval magic at UCL and medieval remedies at Birkbeck College. Now based in Hertfordshire, she is a member of the Hertford Writers’ Circle and the founder of the London Seasonal Book Club.

Oh, those Scots!

By Alina K. Field

On December 31, 2022

In Alina K. Field, Bluestocking Belles, Teatime Tattler

Dear Reader,

The New Year is almost upon us, and how appropriate that I have another story to offer you from the northern climes where this day is known as Hogmanay. (A most wretched name for a holiday, is it not?)

Some time ago I shared last year’s scandalous report of a Duke from the northern climes who married his housekeeper!

Suffice to say that, in the normal course of things, the Lady (for as it turned out, she was always a Lady) has done her duty, and the Duke has assured the succession of the title with a healthy male sprout.

Ah, but there is more, revealed to the Teatime Tattler by a gentleman guest of the Duke and Duchess, a direct witness. (Though, as he was in his cups when the story was revealed, we may not be entirely certain of the veracity of all the details.) However, the principle facts I have verified from a source close to an outstanding member of the London medical community.

As it happened, the Duke insisted his Duchess be attended by a physician, and it seems that only a particular doctor would do, a man of humble origins, a recent graduate of Edinburgh’s medical college, who needs must hurried north from his new practice in our fair capital–for who doesn’t obey a Duke’s command?!

Dear Reader, this promising young man had hoped for fame and fortune, and dare I say, romance in London, but instead was called north only to find…

Here is where the details become a trifle uncertain. I won’t say more, except to tell you that the young doctor’s story includes a trap laid by a wealthy heiress (rumored to be the doctor’s former amour), a loathsome nabob, fortune-hunting noblemen, rowdy peasants, and a surprise bequest.

Will our young hero find his wished-for fame, fortune and romance in the Highlands? Your intrepid reporter will endeavor to find out for you!

The Nabob’s Designing Daughter

Book 4, The Upstart Christmas Brides

Blurb:

A wealthy nabob’s daughter has designs on a handsome young doctor, but not the romantic sort, despite the one kiss he stole from her ages ago. The poor crofters she’s been tending behind her father’s back need more than a rich miss’s potions, they need a real doctor. And fortunately, she has the leverage to provide one.

Ripped from his prestigious London practice to deliver a Highland duke’s heir, a young doctor finds there are more snares awaiting than a risky birth, including a surprise—and worthless—bequest. There’s also his best friend’s cousin, who’s blossomed from mousey to heart-stirringly beautiful, with enough wiles to convince an ambitious man that his heart belongs in the Highlands.

Excerpt

They handed over their outer garments and entered a grand room, the fireplace at one end almost the size of the bedchamber he’d shared with his father’s man-of-all-work. Stag heads lined the walls, along with ancient weapons and tapestries. In the far corner, near the blazing fire, a woman rose from her chair, and hurried toward them, the man with her rising and following.

Attractive and dark-haired, she was heavy with child, but rosy-cheeked and smiling. Other than an awkward gait—to be expected—she moved swiftly and caught Mrs. MacDonal, in an embrace.

Introductions were made. Andrew MacDonal, Duke of Kinmarty was a well-formed man of about thirty, he would guess, his wife not quite that age, yet older than one might expect of a duke’s wife bearing his first child. Most noblemen married young women, anxious for as many years as required to produce a male heir.

“So, you’re the physician.” The duke scanned him from head to toe and back up again. “You might wish to know that my lady—”

“No, Andrew.” The duchess touched her husband’s arm. “Dr. Robillard has only just arrived. There is no urgency. We must let him rest before we get down to business.”

Her calm demeanor put him at ease. Demme, but he was nervous, and that wouldn’t do. “Your grace, if it is your time, I am ready now.”

The duke sent her a smug look. “You see, Fil. We men of action are always ready.”

Minny or Fil. What was the duchess’s Christian name?

The duke nodded to him, as if they were equals, and his confidence rose. “If there’s something you wish to tell me about your condition, your grace,” Errol said, “I’d most assuredly like to hear it.”

“Are you having false labor, Minnie?” Mrs. MacDonal appeared beside him and handed him a glass of whisky. “The Kinmarty brew. Quite good, and it will settle your nerves for the night ahead, if it is indeed Minnie’s time.”

“Enough talk of my upcoming ordeal. Edme, Dr. Robillard, we welcome you to our Yuletide celebration. Andrew and I grew up in England and at least where Christmas is concerned, we’ve brought our English ways.” She smiled. “Come the New Year, we’ll celebrate Hogmanay the Scottish way. Now, you must refresh yourself, Doctor Robillard. Come closer to the fire.” She nudged her cousin aside and led Errol to the hearth, whispering. “My husband is apprehensive.”

“And you, Duchess?”

“No.” She shivered. “Or, yes, in fact. My first, and at the advanced age of eight and twenty.”

Nerves were normal, but it wouldn’t do to encourage them. “You will do well, your grace.”

The great door knocker pounded again, and they both looked toward the hall. “More visitors have arrived.” She smiled up at him, and he saw the strain around her eyes.

“Are you in pain?”

“As my cousin said, it is likely false labor,” she whispered. “It comes and goes.”

“When did it start?”

“A few days ago, I had a spell.”

“And now?”

“Now I have a bit of a backache. Please. Sit. I’ll go greet our next arrivals.”

He set down his untouched glass, reached for her hand and placed it over his arm. “I’ll escort you. And after greeting the new arrivals, perhaps you will retire, and I might examine you?”

She laughed. “Men of action, indeed.”

A large, well-tailored, but otherwise lumpy man with white hair and a ruddy complexion entered. The girl next to him wore an equally stylish blue gown that brought out the peaches and cream of her perfect complexion. Errol’s heart stuttered.

Ann Strachney was here, looking as elegant as some of the ladies he’d seen shopping on Bond Street.

He straightened his spine. Why the devil was his heart racing? He’d had more than his share of women, but his heart only raced in the laboratory, or the clinic, or over a particularly well-researched journal article. Never over a girl, and certainly not over a lass who’d asked him for scientific studies and then never answered his letter. True, he’d been glad for the excuse to dispense with the promise to write, but the snub had still rankled.

Buy Links

Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BPMXYLFJ

Kobo https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-nabob-s-designing-daughter

Barnes & Noble https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-nabobs-designing-daughter-alina-k-field/1142820461?ean=2940185741528

Apple Books https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-nabobs-designing-daughter/id6445051918?ls=1

Universal Link https://books2read.com/u/3yVl6J

About the Author

Award winning and USA Today bestselling author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature, but prefers the much happier world of romance fiction. Though her roots are in the Midwestern U.S., after six very, very, very cold years in Chicago, she moved to Southern California, where she shares a midcentury home with a spunky, blond rescued terrier and a good-natured rescued chihuahua. She is the author of several Regency romances, including the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner, Rosalyn’s Ring. Though hard at work on her next series of romantic adventures, she loves to hear from readers!

Find her at:

Website: https://alinakfield.com/

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Alina-K.-Field/e/B00DZHWOKY

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What kind of match for a noted lady?

By Cerise DeLand

On December 21, 2022

In gossip, Guest author, Teatime Tattler

The Teatime Tattler has just confirmed that Lady Nanette de Chappell, the Comtesse de Moyne has gone on a mission for her grand mere. We all love her grand mere and ache in our hearts that she is infirmed. Who can deny the woman, certainly not her granddaughter. We all would like to see the vibrant and beautiful belle settled with a family of her own, but alas, young women today have these ideas about marriage. Lady Nanette is no different. I have it on good advice that she has taken on the quest to avoid being matched to someone for whom she doesn’t care. She longs for a love match. Really. Don’t we all.

There was a time when this writer thought she had found it in Lord Morgan Fitzhugh before he left to serve the king. We all mourned the loss of his father and older brother, lost at sea on their trading ship. The reluctant lord has his demons to bear that resulted in his declaration of remaining a bachelor.

My news today is about the unsuspecting couple. Lady Nanette and Lord Fitzhugh have been stranded in a snowstorm. No has been able to reach them. As you know, Sommer by the Sea is experiencing the worst snowstorm in years. While many have settled into the safety of their homes, Lady Nanette struck out for her grand mere’s closed castle in the center of Lord Fitzhugh estate to retrieve a prized possession for her grand mere. She wants to hold it once again before she passes.

I have it on good authority that Lord Fitzhugh hasn’t let her go alone. Fighting through an avalanche and tunnel cave in, they must depend on each other to escape. In the process, they both have the potential of finding something they’ve been searching for. If only they will open their eyes.

The Duke’s Lost Love

Lady Nanette de Chappell, the Comtesse de Moyne and Lord Morgan Fitzhugh, the reluctant 5^th Duke of Preswick grew up near each other in Sommer by the Sea, Nanette at her grandparent’s now closed down Dunamara Castle and Fitzhugh at Preswick Hall.

Fitzhugh is with his three closest friends. Each of them suffers a form of feminine defeat. After a night of drinking, they decide to swear off the company of women for three years and instead study chivalrous love.

The following morning, Nanette and her three ladies arrive at Fitzhugh’s doorstep in a broken carriage. She is on her way to Dunamara for two reasons, retrieve an item for her ill grandmother and to avoid a dinner party to meet yet another suitor she will find lacking. She seeks the solitude of Dunamara to determine if her ideal is realistic or a dream no man can fulfill.

Fitzhugh takes her to Dunamara. A freak snowstorm strands them at the castle. Fighting through an avalanche and tunnel cave in, they must depend on each other to escape. In the process, they both have the potential of finding something they’ve been searching for. If only they will open their eyes.

Available at Amazon Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt:

“It’s because of you that I acted.” Her voice was low and composed.

Her statement caught him off-guard. For a moment, he thought he had misunderstood until he peered at her. “Me?” He quickly moved from embarrassment to confusion. He didn’t take his eyes off her.

“I’ve witnessed situations where people willfully rejected taking action. They looked on as if the situation was an entertainment. It’s much the same amongst the ton. Along with too many insulting innuendoes and uncaring, hurtful, and yes, intentional acts of total disregard at the expense of someone.

“But not you. I took notice of you all those years ago. The example you set. You didn’t walk away from others when they needed assistance. I made a pledge to myself I would never be, nor be associated with, that type of person.

“No. I am not brave. I am a thinking, feeling person who doesn’t define acts of kindness as a weakness, but rather as a strength. I have learned your lesson well.”

“Don’t make me out to be something I am not. There are many more like me, better than me.” He closed his saddlebag.

“So you may think. But if you looked, I mean more than a passing glance, you would see the truth. At least that has been my plight. I haven’t met anyone who can meet my standard. ”

He returned to her.

“And I will not accept anyone less.” She added before he said anything.

They were both searching for something. He hoped with all his heart Nanette would find it. She’d grown to be a beauty one any man would be proud to have as a wife. He tilted his head as his gaze travelled over her face and searched her eyes.

His body heated as he caught a glimpse of her, the real Nanette. Aware of her intelligence and independent spirt, now he found her banter warm and enchanting. He admired her fire, her ice. Deep down, he wanted to find out more about her warmth.