Category: Teatime Tattler Page 40 of 152

The Duke of Glenmoor is Dead

On July 23, 2022

Numerous witnesses have come forward to the Teatime Tattler with the following rather lurid story making the rounds of London salons and drawing rooms.

First a bit of background. Betting has raged the better part of summer and into autumn about the fate of the Duke of Glenmoor who went missing quite suddenly. Dukes do not, as numerous well-connected people have pointed out, “go missing,” yet this one has. This has led to rampant speculation about his heath, his sanity, and even about his survival.

Tasteless as it is to report, many of these unfortunate bets have come down on the side of the duke’s death by violence, accident, or even, sadly, his own hand. His obvious despondence just before his disappearance, lends credence to the latter. It has been said, however, that dukes do not kill themselves. It isn’t done.

What brings this unpleasantness to our attention today is a new claim. The Honorable Eustace Selwyn came forward at White’s last night with a new assertion. Several witnesses attest that he signed the betting book with the claim that the duke is dead and further that he was killed by his brother. Since said brother, rumored to be deformed and not of sound mind, has long been thought to be dead, this allegation met with disdain and incredulity.

The Honorable Eustace is known to be what one wag called, “a dunderheaded drunken rattle,” and his claims could be easily dismissed but for one fact. Eustace Selwyn had just returned from his home in Dorset, a home that is known to be the neighbor of Mountglen, the duke’s primary seat. He claimed that, while there, he actually observed the brother or a man claiming to be he. Selwyn believes him and asserts that the brother, now calling himself Gideon Kendrick, is not only alive, but much brighter than reported. The Honorable Eustace proposed “cunning,” as the better descriptor. London is not certain what to make of it, but men are lining up on both sides of the bet nonetheless, as young men are prone to do.

***

The not so Honorable Eustace Selwyn appears in Caroline Warfield’s, Duke in All But Name, currently in process. In that story the Duke of Glenmoor has indeed gone missing. He and his brother, Gideon Kendrick, first appeared in The Defiant Daughter, as step sons of the heroine. In that story moral and legal complications regarding the circumstances of their birth came to light.

About The Defiant Daughter

Madelyn assumed marriage as an old man’s ornament would be better than life with her abusive parents. She was wrong.

Now the widowed Duchess of Glenmoor, she wrestles with ugly memories and cultivates a simple life. She is content. At least, she was until her half-brother returned to Ashmead bringing a friend with knowing eyes and coal black hair to capture her thoughts.

Colonel Brynn Morgan’s days as an engineer in his father’s coal mines in Wales are long behind him. With peace come at last and Napoleon gone, he makes a life for himself analyzing the reports about military and naval facilities worldwide for a shadowy government department. What income he has is committed elsewhere. He has nothing to offer a wife, much less a dowager duchess.

More lies between the duchess and the man she wants than money and class. They have personal demons to slay.

Available for purchase or read for free with Kindle Unlimited. https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09GL6PT1J/

About the Author

Award winning author Caroline Warfield has been many things: traveler, librarian, poet, raiser of children, bird watcher, Internet and Web services manager, conference speaker, indexer, tech writer, genealogist—even a nun. She reckons she is on at least her third act, happily working in an office surrounded by windows where she lets her characters lead her to adventures in England and the far-flung corners of the British Empire. She nudges them to explore the riskiest territory of all, the human heart.

Website: http://www.carolinewarfield.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/WarfieldFellowTravelers

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Caroline-Warfield/e/B00N9PZZZS/

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Twitter: https://twitter.com/CaroWarfield

Outrageous! A young lady with two beaux?

By Cerise DeLand

On July 20, 2022

In Guest author, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

Gentle Reader,

Society is agog and young debutants a slight shade of green as one of our newest members, the niece of Lady B—seems to have found herself not one beau, but two! The young lady, a very pretty miss who is by turns charming with a smile for all she meets or more sober and intellectually minded, is one who society is having difficulty comprehending. We are certainly not averse to beautiful bluestockings nor young ladies who are well rounded in their enjoyments, but the young lady in question have all wondering which Miss K– they are going to encounter when give a cheery wave. To this end, the young lady has attracted the notice to two very different sorts of gentlemen to her side. Lord C–, recently returned from Italy, can quite often be seen attending to her. When he isn’t there, it is Lord St. V—who is engaging her in deep, meaningful conversations.

The other young ladies of society respectfully wish for Miss K to make up her mind in order to leave the playing field open for those who have a mind to join the game.

Lady P— was overheard just the other day saying to her daughter that it was “simply too bad of her to hold onto the attention of two gentlemen. It’s not like she can marry them both.”

A Trick of Mirrors by Meredith Bond

Can the Ladies of the Wagering Whist Society help sort out a love quadrangle?

It’s not that the practical Beatrice Kendrick doesn’t trust her mirror twin, the vivacious and flirtatious Isabel. It’s just that the rebellious Bel has proven herself all too capable of welcoming the attentions of the wrong sort of man. So to keep her sister from getting into trouble, Bee secretly accompanies her when she goes to make her debut. Can Bee shield her own heart while trying to protect her sister? And can Bel ensure that her quiet sister gets a taste of the joys of London society – and a chance at romance?

When the broodingly romantic Edward Conway, nursing a broken heart, meets musically inclined Bel Kendrick, she stirs a passion in him he wasn’t sure he could ever feel again after the death of his Italian lover. The strappingly handsome Paul St. Vincent, too, meets the thoughtful and clever woman he thinks is Bel, and she seems to be just the sort of intellectually-minded woman he’s looking for. Only sometimes Edward senses that Bel doesn’t always remember what they’d discussed the last time they met. And at times she is entirely too giggly for Paul’s taste.

Both men, however, have decided that Miss Kendrick is the right woman for him. What they don’t realize is that they’re both right. But it will take a little sleight of hand by the ladies of the Wagering Whist Society to untangle this trick of mirrors.

Purchase Link at Books2Read: books2read.com/u/4AzO5d

Excerpt:

“Ah, Miss Kendrick, good evening,” said a very tall, blond-haired man standing with Lady Blakemore.

“Good evening,” Bee said. Her mind went absolutely blank for a moment as she took in this incredibly handsome man. He was wonderfully tall, and while Lord Conway filled out his coat extremely well, this gentleman made her feel almost overwhelmed by the strength of him. She suddenly realized she was staring at him like a fool, so she quickly added, “It’s lovely to see you again.” And then prayed that “she” had met him before.

“And you,” he said. His voice was deep and sent tingles down to her toes. “Have you started any more fascinating books since yesterday?”

Bee widened her eyes at him. Bel had spoken to him about books? But she hated reading—well, she hated reading anything that wasn’t a novel. Every once in a while, she would pick up a book on travel and look through the pictures, but that was the extent of her reading habits.

“Oh! I promise, I haven’t told a soul,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

“Thank goodness,” Bee said with a giggle, wondering what her sister might have said to this man.

“So, what are you reading just now?”

“A History of Greece by William Mitford,” she answered without thinking.

“A history? But you told me you hated histories,” he said with surprise.

“I…I did?”

“Most emphatically. You told me you disliked history and especially the history of Lincolnshire, in no uncertain terms.” He frowned as he seemed to think back to what she’d said—which was good since Bel hadn’t told Bee a word about this. “But you did say that you enjoyed reading about foreign lands, so I suppose Greece counts in that way.”

“Er…yes. Greece is definitely foreign. And, er, my uncle’s library here isn’t very extensive. I had very little to choose from.” Well, that was honest. What was also honest was the fact that Bee was going to have a serious word with her sister on alienating handsome men!

“Ah, I understand. One must make do, I suppose,” he said, his smile returning to his face.

“Yes,” she said, giving a little giggle. Bee wasn’t sure, but she thought all this giggling was giving her a headache.

“Well, I promised you no more discussion of the history of Lincolnshire, and I’m determined to keep to my promise.”

“The history of Lincolnshire? Oh, but it has such a wonderful, rich history,” she blurted before her tongue could catch up to her brain. But truly, the history of the area where she lived interested her beyond anything. She’d read every book she could find on the subject and had been to visit a great number of ruins, dragging poor Bel with her every time.

He frowned. “Yes, indeed, it does. But you made it more than clear to me yesterday that you had no interest in it.”

“Oh.” For a moment Bee wanted to curse her sister. How could she tell this fascinating man that she wasn’t interested in history? How could she tell him that she wasn’t interested in anything he wanted to discuss? He could talk about horse manure, and she would find it fascinating. “While that’s true, there are a great many fascinating ruins not far from where we live, not to mention Lincolnshire Cathedral itself, which is just beautiful.”

“I think I mentioned that to you myself,” he said, raising one eyebrow.

“Oh, did you? I… I didn’t recall.” Ugh, now he was going to think her an idiot.

About the author:

Meredith Bond’s books straddle that beautiful line between historical romance and fantasy. An award-winning author, she writes fun traditional Regency romances, medieval Arthurian romances, and Regency romances with a touch of magic. Known for her characters “who slip readily into one’s heart,” Meredith loves to take her readers on a journey they won’t soon forget.

Merry loves connecting with readers. Be sure to find her:

Website: https://meredithbond.com

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Newsletter: http://meredithbond.com/subscribe/

Interview With Lieutenant Gilroy of the Royal Navy & an Apology

By Rue Allyn

On July 16, 2022

In Teatime Tattler

Dateline Late 1813

Dear Readers,

It has been six long months since we promised to bring you a companion piece to our Interview with a Pirate by interviewing a hero of the Royal Navy for contrastive purposes. However, His Majesty’s Navy insisted that the only officer they would permit us to interview is Lieutenant Brandon Gilroy recently returned from duty in the Caribbean. An unidentified source at the office of the First Lord of the Admiralty implied that the Lieutenant may receive a promotion for his bravery in a battle with the Pirate Irish Red (whom you may recall from the aforementioned Interview with a Pirate). While no doubt exists that Lt. Gilroy’s rewards for bravery are well deserved, it should come as no surprise given the close relationship between Viscount Melville—First Lord of the Admiralty for those of you who perhaps do not keep track of political appointees—and the Duke of Cowal. Melville and Cowal, it is well known, met as young men at the University of Edinburgh. Lt. Gilroy has been at sea until very recently, thus the delay in this promised interview.

With Kind Regards

Samuel Clemens, Editor in Chief

INSERT BRANDON HEADSHOT: Tattler: Lieutenant Gilroy it is an honor and a pleasure to meet you.

Lt. Gilroy: I have little time for pleasantries, Sir. Let us proceed with this nonsense. I must be on my way to Portsmouth within the hour.

Tattler: My apologies Lieutenant for any delay, but all England is eager to read of your exploits—especially your encounter with the infamous Irish Red.

Lt. Gilroy: What specifically would you like to know?

Tattler: Let us begin by setting the scene for our readers. The battle between The Erie Mist (captained by Irish Red) and His Majesty’s Ship Hermoine (captained by the late Captain Lionel Guthrie) occurred somewhere off the coast of the Southern United States in August of this year. Is that correct?

Lt. Gilroy: Yes.

Tattler: What can you tell us of the Erie Mist

Lt. Gilroy sighing heavily: The Erie Mist is a four masted Baltimore Clipper, built by Thomas Kemp. She carries a schooner rig and is one of the most nimble ships afloat. The mist is easily recognized by her distinctive colors. Her gunn’es are painted a very bright red. Her shamrock decorated figurehead bears and even brighter coat of green paint. Until the Hermione’s encounter with the Mist, we could only guess at her armament, which was rumored to include more than 16 12 pounder cannon and a variety of carronades. I can personally attest that the rumor is true.

Tattler, readers have patience with the technical details. We include them because we wish to report this interview in its entirety: Is the armament the reason the Erie Mist was able to overcome the Hermione?”

Lt. Gilroy: It helped, but that coward Irish Red struck from hiding. She so surprised us that Hermione received three full broadsides before it even had a chance to return fire. By then we were taking on so much water that Hermione could not be maneuvered and we ran aground on a sandbar. To the credit of our gunners, they did their best to strike a blow at the Erie Mist. However, by the time our guns were able to fire, the Mist had put on all sail and was bearing down on us so quickly that all Hermione’s shots missed. We were boarded before a second round could be completely loaded.

Tattler: From what you tell me, Irish Red is an impressive strategist and highly skilled sailor. Did you know she is a woman?

Lt. Gilroy: Not until after her crew boarded Hermione and defeated our crew in hand-to-hand fighting.

Tattler: We’ll return to the subject of Irish Red in a moment. You say her crew defeated yours in a close quarter battle. Everyone knows how well-trained British seamen are. How was it possible your crew was defeated?

Lt. Gilroy: Hermoine’s crew fought valiantly, but we were outnumbered by at least 2 to 1. In addition, I was too occupied in defending myself against two attackers when Captain Guthrie fell. Without the captain’s direction even the best crew will fail in such a fight. As soon as possible, I attempted to restore order and provide direction in the captain’s place. However, I could not gain the quarter deck, where I could be seen.

Tattler: Readers, the lieutenant is actually blushing. “Why were you unable to reach the quarter deck?”

Lt. Gilroy: Irish Red herself, gained the high ground on that deck before I could get there. We fought on the ladder. I had nearly obtained the deck when my sword stroke, ah, tore open her shirt. She could have skewered me, I was so surprised to learn her gender. She should have skewered me. But she lost her temper. I could see the fury in those sea green eyes of hers. She drew her pistol and fired, missing my head by a hair’s breadth. That infuriated her further and she threw the pistol at me, striking me in the head. Unbalanced, I fell to the main deck where I lost consciousness. The crew surrendered, before I regained my senses.

Tattler: You must have been upset to be defeated and by a woman as well?

Lt. Gilroy: That, sir, is an understatement of the grandest proportions.

Tattler: It is unusual for ship’s captain to be a woman.

Lt. Gilroy: Unusual yes but not unheard of. However, history records more than nine women who distinguished themselves as ship’s Captains. Anne Bonny and Mary Read are prominent figures in that group.

Tattler: Interesting. That is almost word for word what Irish Red said when asked the same question almost six months ago.

Lt. Gilroy: You have spoken with that jade? Why did you not report her and have her arrested?

Tattler: We are a newspaper, sir, not representatives of Bow Street.

Lt. Gilroy: Balderdash. You have demonstrated the highest irresponsibility and disregard for the security of your nation and your fellow British citizens. You should be drawn and quartered for what amounts to treason.

Tattler: We have done nothing illegal and have conducted ourselves responsibly to our readership. (Readers, he is almost sneering.)

Lt. Gilroy: Do you know how many British sailors have lost their lives to Irish Red and her ilk? I should have you arrested for failing to take action to protect Britain. Nearly half the Hermione’s crew fell during the battle with the Erie Mist. Our Captain and several good officers are dead. All because your sensationalist rag could not do the right thing. I refuse to continue this interview and will suggest that the Admiralty never grant you another interview.

Readers, despite my protests, Lieutenant Gilroy left without saying another word. We deeply regret causing him any offense, but he offered no opportunity for us to apologize. We do so now in print. The Teatime Tattler sincerely regrets any offense offered to Lieutenant Gilroy, the Admiralty, and Britain. We will remind all that we have no control over the movements and actions of Irish Red and her crew. Indeed, had we attempted to have her arrested, it is likely that Britain would have less information on which to base strategic decisions than it has since our interview with a pirate. While the Tattler regrets the loss of any life, we cannot be held responsible for actions of previous interviewees after the date of their interview. Despite Lieutenant Gilroy’s threats, we hope our relationship with the Admiralty continues under fair winds and following seas.

About The Pirate Duchess: They met during a brawl.

Esmeralda Crobbin first encounters Brandon Gilroy during a street fight. Afterward, Esme 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.

The Pirate Duchess will launch in early 2023, and is now available at a discounted price for Pre-Order at Amazon only.

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 can contact her at Rue@RueAllyn.com. She can’t wait to hear from you.

Find Rue Online:

Website~~https://RueAllyn.com

Facebook~~ https://www.facebook.com/groups/RueAllynCrew

Twitter~~https://twitter.com/RueAllyn

Amazon~~https://www.amazon.com/Rue-Allyn/e/B00AUBF3NI/

Goodreads~~https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5031290.Rue_Allyn

Pinterest~~https://www.pinterest.com/RueAllyn/

News and Appeal for Aid from a Rival Publisher!

By Cerise DeLand

On July 13, 2022

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

My dear Mr. Clemens,

Though in the usual course of things we are rival publishers, I come to you today on bended knee. My printing press has broken down and I am unable to issue the latest edition of Hither and Yon, Tales of the Beau Monde. On any other day I would simply set aside the articles meant to go to print today. However, Mr. Clemens, this is no ordinary day and the news I have to impart cannot—nay, should not—be held back. It regards a certain raven-haired duke. Would you, kind sir, be amenable to printing this article of mine? I am open to negotiating the financials.

I await your reply,

A. Ripley, proprietor—Ripley and Sons Printing

Dear Mr. Ripley,

Send the article to me with all due haste. I will share the profits of today’s edition at a 70/30 split.

S. Clemens

Sir,

I appreciate your efficiency and sense of business, however I do think 60/40 would be more appropriate. The article should read as follows:

It appears that a certain bachelor duke, of the house of T—, has at last decided to cast his eye upon the marriage mart. He not only attended a ball at Northfield House, he spoke with a number of eligible young ladies. The shock of the evening came with His Grace’s first dance. Did he escort a marquess’s daughter or an earl’s sister to the dance floor? No, dear reader, he most assuredly did not. He offered his arm to a young lady so undistinguished this author does not even know her name. The only remarkable thing about her was the monstrously hideous gown she wore. His Grace, ever the gentleman, seemed to take no notice. He did laugh, though, an achievement the young lady should take to heart forevermore, especially since she has no chance to land the illustrious duke. Oh indeed, this should be an interesting Season!

Ever grateful,

A. Ripley

Mr. Ripley,

Considering the content of your article, my final offer is 65/35.

S. Clemens

Book title: His Duchess, first in the His & Hers series

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WPRFTL4

Other retailers: https://books2read.com/u/49lEd0

Blurb:

Victoria Foster needs a husband. Orphaned, nearly penniless, saddled with an indifferent guardian plus a cousin intent on sabotaging her matrimonial hopes, she cannot afford to be a wallflower. Unfortunately for her, the only man in her path is a stuffy, well-above-her-touch duke. But with every fateful encounter, she glimpses more and more of the lonely, kindred soul behind the duke’s decorous demeanor.

Charles Danforth, Duke of Taviston, is seeking a wife. Nothing if not methodical, he determines a set of qualities his future bride must possess—neither love nor passion makes the list. Above all, she must be free of scandal so as not to tarnish the family legacy. Soon enough though, Taviston’s well-ordered life, impeccable social standing, and not-so-impenetrable heart are in jeopardy.

What’s an exceedingly proper duke to do when he finds himself embroiled in a scandal of his own making?

Excerpt:

“Miss Foster, would you favor me with this dance?” He stepped forward and offered his hand. Her blue eyes fixated on it as if he had six fingers.

“She would be delighted,” Louisa replied brightly as she shoved her cousin in the small of the back, propelling the lady straight into Taviston.

He pressed his lips into a thin line to keep from bringing the uncouth woman down a peg. When Miss Foster placed her small hand in his, he steered the two of them away from their intimate assembly with more haste than was proper.

Taviston was none too fond of dancing, especially these lengthy contra dances, but right now he would have gladly participated in three or four just to escape Louisa Browne. He glanced down at Miss Foster, who had not spoken so much as a word since their departure from the group. An odd despondency shrouded her face as they lined up for the dance.

For heaven’s sakes, he had never seen a young lady so reluctant to dance with him. As the music whistled around their heads and the other couples gracefully glided down the floor, he watched a rigid paralysis overtake his partner’s body, from head to toe. What was the matter with her?

When the couple beside them finally proceeded past, Taviston reached out and lightly grasped her hand. After a brief second, he instinctively tightened his grip, not wishing to ever let her go. She must not have felt the same for she bowed her head as if concentrating on her feet. He began moving to the rhythm of the music; Miss Foster moved as well, although unfortunately nothing remotely resembling rhythm was involved on her part.

By the time they were halfway down the line she had already stepped on his toes three times. Not that this was painful, as her feet were as small and dainty as the rest of her. But in the next instant those tiny feet became tangled amongst themselves, and Miss Foster fell into a headlong trip. Taviston snaked his arm out to prevent her fall and caught her around the waist. Soft breasts on his forearm and aromatic waves of lavender caused a certain unruly part of his body to tense. He was damn lucky he didn’t drop her from the shock of it all. Instead, he effortlessly swung her back into an upright position and settled her on her feet once again. Mercifully, they reached their position in the line within a few more steps.

Taviston stared across at Miss Foster, who eyed her feet as if she wished to chop them off. Two reddening ovals outlined her cheekbones.

“Miss Foster.”

She ever so slowly lifted her head, misery, but thankfully no tears, filling her eyes. “I am so sorry.”

He shook off her apology. “Try something simpler, like a skip.”

Her eyebrows marched upward, as if to say how is that simpler? But she nodded affirmatively anyway. They promenaded around the other couples and then the dancers began moving through the line again.

Awkwardly, they made it through with only one small stumble on her part, which alas only required that he lift her hand up to help her regain her balance. He would have gladly caught her again and again, if only to touch her and experience the heady pleasure enveloping his body when he did so.

As they took their places again, he attempted to lighten her mood with conversation. “That’s an interesting gown.”

She glanced down and then back up. “I’m not sure ‘interesting’ is the word I would have chosen. I have lived in fear all evening that the staff would mistake me for a fowl to be served up at the midnight supper.”

Taviston couldn’t help it, he laughed. Exactly what he had envisioned, some rustic bird. For a brief moment she looked startled by his laughter, but then flashed him the most brilliant smile. Something tightened in his chest. Her smile gave her face beauty and passion that hadn’t been there before.

They were required to make one more pass down the line of dancers. This they did without Miss Foster tripping even once, though she did bump her hip into Taviston’s thigh three different times. He didn’t mind in the least.

Bio:

Charlotte Russell didn’t always know she wanted to be a writer. At one point she had grand plans to be an architect, until she realized she couldn’t draw anything more complicated than a stick figure. So, she enrolled at Notre Dame and studied her first love—history. Now she writes historical and contemporary romances. When not pounding on the keyboard or tending to her family, she serves the people of her community at the local public library. She’s resided in numerous locales, including Indiana, Mexico City, Phoenix, and Seattle but currently lives in the middle of the US.

Find Charlotte:

Look what I found!

By Sherry Ewing

On July 9, 2022

In Sherry Ewing, Teatime Tattler

Zoe hurried to her apartment door. The person on the other side must have some kind of an emergency, given the frantic pounding on her door. She undid the multiple locks and swung open the door to find her friend Meagan. She waved a bunch of papers in front of Zoe’s face before handing her the documents.

“You’ll never believe what I found searching the library,” Meagan exclaimed barging into the apartment and plopping down on the couch.

“Sure… come on in,” Zoe said shutting the door and taking a seat next to her friend.

“Sorry. But I was just so excited I had to show you the proof that she made it,” Meagan said with a wide grin. “Go on. Read it. I made a copy so we could have it.”

Zoe sighed. “Have what?”

Meagan laughed. “Proof!”

“Can you catch me up here, dear?”

Meagan reached over to take the paperwork from Zoe. She flipped through several pages until she found what she was looking for. “It’s all right here. You can read it for yourself. But this is proof that Bridgette traveled back in time. We don’t need to keep looking for her because we won’t find her here.”

Zoe’s brow rose and she attempted to hide her own smile of satisfaction. Her ability of seeing future events were a gift from her grandmother, several generations removed, but a gift all the same. She peered down at the paperwork and began to read:

Gentle Readers:

It is with great amusement that I give you this latest bit of tiddle tattle coming from the twelfth century. Yes, you read that right. The twelfth century! I do so love a good story with magical developments that will ask yourself this… do you believe in time travel? One of our ever-efficient reporters just learned that the current owners at Dunster Castle found an old metal chest when a portion of a wall from the old keep fell. Inside the box was a letter on old parchment. The writer of this letter was none other than a lady named Bridgette, the Countess of Somerset who eluded that she came from another place in time. Whoever her friends Zoe and Meagan are, they can rest knowing she was safe. There were other treasures inside that were a puzzle to the reporter: a pen made of an odd material along with a slim rectangular box with an apple on it. No one seemed to know what the purpose of second item was, but it must have been important to the countess to conceal it inside the wall. So, I ask again, dearest readers… do you believe that time travel is possible?

S Clemons
Editor in Chief of the Teatime Tattler

Zoe looked up from the documents and handed them back to Meagan. “Very interesting,” she murmured.

“You knew!” Meagan all but shouted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Zoe stood, went into the kitchen, and returned with a bottle of champagne and two fluted glasses. She popped the cork and proceeded to pour them a glass of the bubbly nectar. “It’s that whole messing with the fabric of time issue. I needed to let it play out and let you learn Bridgette’s fate for yourself.”

“Do you suppose she was happy?” Meagan asked holding out her hand for the glass.

“She was,” Zoe said with a laugh. “To Ulrick and Bridgette! May we one day all be reunited again.”

Meagan gave her a quizzical look before she raised her glass in a toast. As the two friends began tot chat about what was going on in their boring daily lives, Zoe could only wonder when they, too, would slip through time to find the other half of themselves that had been missing. She hoped the wait wouldn’t be too long.

This is an original piece by Belle Sherry Ewing who is celebrating the latest release of her medieval time travel Promises Made at Midnight: The Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time (Book 6). Although this novel is part of a series, it can be read as a standalone. Read on to learn more about Sherry’s latest book!

Excerpt:

Ulrick escorted the Lady Bridgette back toward the festivities. He tried not to stare but ’twas difficult when the woman next to him was one of the most beautiful women he had ever encountered. High cheekbones with a straight nose framed a face with clear skin and a neck as graceful as a swan. Her dark green eyes rivaled the brilliance of the leaves of a forest after the rain and her face was so beautiful it must make the angels weep in heaven.

He dared not look lower, and yet how could he not when he could see the creamy soft mounds of her breasts pushed up so the fabric of her dress barely covered her nipples. A jeweled necklace, surely costly, hung from her neck with the largest bauble nestled in her cleavage, tempting him even further. Her purple gown must be in the height of fashion somewhere abroad for, although similar to others he had seen women wearing at court, ’twas still… different… Not that he was an expert on what frippery women wore these days. Generally, Ulrick was more concerned about the treasure that awaited him beneath their gowns than anything else.

They approached the center of the village when Lady Bridgette came to a sudden halt. Her hand trembled whilst her fingertips clutched roughly to the fabric of his tunic.

“I don’t remember this part of the fair,” she whispered in concern, “and I was paying close attention to the orientation speaker.”

“What speaker?” he asked, confused not only by the pattern of her speech but also what she thought was so unusual about what was before her.

She ignored his question but looked up at him with a frown. “It looks so… real.”

Ulrick was unsure how to answer her and began to wonder if perchance she sustained a bump to her head that had addled her wits when she fell. Mayhap he should seek out Kenna, Berwyck’s healer, and see if she could find out what was ailing the Lady Bridgette.

Before he could mention assisting her to the castle, she began tugging on his arm and pointing in the direction of a cleared field. A raised platform had been constructed for Dristan, Amiria, and those within their party so they might take their ease beneath the shade of an awning. Dristan’s standard, depicting a fire-breathing dragon, flew high above upon towering poles.

“Jousting? I don’t remember that on the program. Can we go watch?” Bridgette exclaimed, with renewed excitement, “that is, if you’d like to go with me. You may have other plans for the day.”

“I cannot in all good conscience leave a woman unattended. I will accompany you, my lady, until you are reunited with those in your party,” Ulrick answered, knowing he must needs perform his duty to the woman.

“Awesome!” she exclaimed rather loudly, before covering her mouth. “Damn… sorry about that. I’ll try to get myself back into character, I promise.”

Ulrick shook his head, more concerned than ever the longer he heard her strange speech. There was surely something wrong with Lady Bridgette. He peered at her an instant before they began to make their way across the field. Her eyes were lit with excitement at the sight of the tourney, clearly proving the woman was of a normal mind. He ignored the small nagging voice in his head and the odd premonition that another one of those future women had landed in his arms but a short while ago.

Promises Made at Midnight:
The Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time
By Sherry Ewing

Sometimes all it takes to find your heart’s desire is to make a wish…

After a series of failed relationships, Bridgette Harris would like a fresh start. If only she could escape her ex-boyfriend since they participate in the same renaissance fairs. While gazing at a granite statue of a handsome knight—her dream man—at one such fair, a mysterious elderly Scottish woman offers her a coin to toss into the fountain and make a wish. Bridgette can’t resist, but nothing prepares her to suddenly slip through time.

Sir Ulrick de Mohan does not have time for love. He is charged with training possible recruits to become worthy guardsmen for the Devil’s Dragon. The woman who magically appears out of thin air and falls into his arms must be one of those future ladies who continue to show up at Berwyck’s gate. But she can’t be for him.

Fate has brought two people together despite the centuries that should be keeping them apart. Will the growing love between them be enough to keep Bridgette in the past or will Time return her to where she should belong?

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Bluestocking Belle Sherry Ewing picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical and time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. 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 and her books on her website where a new adventure awaits you on every page at www.SherryEwing.com.

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