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Category: Teatime Tattler Page 56 of 152

Will she be mine?

Sir Rolf stared across the great hall to the woman who held his affection as she danced across the floor to a lively tune. Her current partner, one of several who had won the honor of a dance at today’s tourney, was of similar age to Lady Lynett. He caught her gaze and a smile spread across her features and gave Rolf hope that he could somehow capture her heart. But others stood in his way, along with the knight who came to stand beside him.

“She will never be yours, Rolf,” Ian MacGillivray murmured as he, too, watched the lady who now frowned whilst she observed them.

“And you think you will win her hand?” Rolf asked knowing full well that Ian had more of an opportunity of marriage with the fair lady than he did. After all, she had been in love with Ian once. “You had your chance years ago before you disappeared to seek your fame.”

“Lynett was young then and at the time I had nothing to offer her. You know that. She is a woman full grown and, now that I have inherited, I am more than suitable to provide a lifestyle that she is accustomed to. What do you have to offer?”

Rolf glanced at Ian. What indeed? Love perchance? He ignored the underlying taunt and returned his attention to the lady. “I was here to dry her tears whilst she mourned that you did not come back for her. Every. Single. Day. That alone should prove my worth, not that I must needs justify anything to you.”

Ian sighed. “We were comrades once… fighting for the same cause. We can put our differences behind us and remain friends. I only have Lynett’s best interest at heart.”

Rolfe scoffed. “And you think I do not share a similar mind as to what is best for the lady?”

“We are both fools,” Ian said with a shake of his head. “Neither of us will have an easy time winning the lady’s love.”

Rolf’s heart lurched in his chest as though Ian’s words held some merit. As the music died down, Lord Dristan motioned towards him. “If you will excuse me, Ian. I have a dance to claim with the fair Lynett.”

Rolfe did not wait for a reply. Instead, he went to the woman he wished to wed with all his heart. If this was the only time he would ever hold her in his arms, so be it. He would enjoy this moment to cherish for the rest of his lifetime.


This is an original piece from Belle Sherry Ewing for her medieval romance A Knight To Call My Own. Read on to learn more about this bestselling novel.

A Knight To Call My Own:
The MacLarens: A Medieval Romance (Book Two)
By Sherry Ewing

Excerpt:

Lynet should have expected this to happen when she had stated she would stay with him. But nothing in her score of years had prepared her for the sensation of her very first kiss as a woman full grown. She would have thought such a momentous event would send her heart flipping end over end, but ’twas further from the truth than she cared to admit, even unto herself. Although mildly pleasant, such a kiss as this did not make her want to profess her undying love to the knight who would offer her everything she desired if she could but learn to love him.

Perchance, she did not put enough effort into such an endeavor, for how was she to know how this kissing business was accomplished, having only experienced it once afore as a young girl with Ian, haphazard and brief as that had been. She took a step closer. Rolf must have taken this as a sign of encouragement. He deepened their kiss, and Lynet quickly became aware of two startling revelations. For one, Rolf had far more experience than she herself did when it came to kissing and certainly knew what he was doing. The second was far more disappointing to her peace of mind. She abruptly realized, if they were to marry, she would be settling into a relationship where they may have found a common accord, but Lynet would never truly love him deep within her heart. They both deserved much better than such a fate as that.

“I hope we’re not interrupting…” an annoyed voice called out from behind her.

Shame flooded through her, down to her very toes, as they swiftly broke apart. To be caught in such a compromising position such as this and by him, of all people! She turned to see none other than Ian himself making his way up the last of the parapet steps, followed closely by her brother Aiden, who strode menacingly towards Rolf with a clenched fist.

“I should call you out for taking advantage of my sister!” Aiden bellowed, wedging himself between her and Rolf. “What the devil were you thinking to touch her so?” Rolf threw both his hands up, obviously not willing to fight her brother in front of her.

“’Tis wretchedly obvious he was not thinking at all, Aiden,” Ian drawled, taking her elbow. “Come, Lynet. I will escort you to your chambers.”

“Nay! I will go nowhere with you, Ian,” she professed in embarrassment whilst trying to wrench her arm free with little success.

Aiden whirled around, glaring at her ’til she snapped her mouth shut. “You will go with Ian to your chambers. You have enough to worry about in the coming days with all the rabble outside our gates vying for your hand and should get your rest whilst you may,” her brother ordered. He made sure his words were abundantly clear, giving evidence he was not pleased with her behavior.

Her emotions torn between the three men, she watched as Aiden made to usher Rolf from the battlement wall. ’Twas clear her brother had no qualm about leaving her alone with Ian. But she knew otherwise and what this could mean to her already tattered heart. Ian was by far more dangerous to her wellbeing.

“Rolf,” she called, stepping towards him although Ian’s grip kept her from getting any closer to him. “I will see you on the morrow.” He gave her the briefest of nods as acknowledgement afore leaving with Aiden, who continued his lecture as they did so.

Lynet stood in silence as she watched the turret door shut with a resounding slam. She made the blunder of looking up into Ian’s stormy face once they were alone. His visage was furious with possibly a hint of jealousy hidden in the depths of his eyes. ’Twas hard to tell what the man was pondering inside his head, but she knew she would not have to wait long afore he spoke his mind. When he did, it caused her to inwardly cringe.

“You will not meet with him by yourself again, Lynet.” He enunciated each word with clenched teeth, giving confirmation to the anger he was holding in check. “Do I make myself clear?”

Her own rage exploded to the surface like blinding, white-hot lightning. “Who do you think you are that you assume you can just order me about and tell me what to do?” Courage to stand up for herself raced through Lynet, for she would not let him see how he affected her so. Her reckless and traitorous heart skipped a beat with his nearness. Damn the man’s soul to hell. How she hated him!

“I will tell you who I am, lass. I am the man you will forever bow down to and call husband come the end of these games,” he roared ferociously, like a wounded animal.

“I will neither bow down to you, nor any other man, you worthless cur,” she shouted right back at him.

Ian grabbed her arms, giving her a shake ’til she felt her teeth rattle. “You will submit to me, you stubborn woman. Do you not even realize when you have met your match?”

She lifted her head at him with narrowed eyes. “Aye, as a matter of fact, I do, for he just left with my brother!”

“He is only the captain of your guard, Lynet. He has no right to lay claim to you as his future bride,” Ian retorted hotly, “nor to steal your kisses in the moonlight.”

“That did not stop you from loving my sister when the same held true of your position. What makes you think you are a better man than Rolf to hold my affection, or that you can do a finer job of kissing me? I enjoyed his lips on mine and will kiss him anytime I should choose to do so,” she snickered, tossing him a defiant glare that all too quickly fell from her features. With one glance upon him, she might as well have slapped his face, considering the look he gave her. She knew she had pushed him too far.

He said not another word, but made fast work of guiding her down from the lofty parapet walkway. Her slippered feet barely touched the coldness of the stones beneath her, so rapid was their hasty decent down the turret stairs. When they came to the portal of her chamber, Ian backed her up against the solid wood with his arms resting on either side of her, as he had done but recently. There was no escaping him.

They stood, just the two of them, listening to the crackling sound of the lit torches in the passageway. Far more troubling to her way of thinking was her heaving chest as she attempted to gain her breath. She could no longer stand her submissive stance of looking down at her feet, so she raised her eyes to meet his.

When would she stop making such stupid decisions as actually looking at the man, not that she had anywhere else to gaze, given his close proximity. The firelight from the torches in the wall sconces brought out the red of his hair. She would have sighed at the sight of it, but would not give him the gratification. His heavy lidded, hazel eyes took on a light of their own and seemed to search into her very soul. She gulped and watched a gleam enter those knowing orbs whilst a discerning grin formed on his mouth. A mouth that was rapidly closing the distance between them!

“Do not dare─”

Her words were cut off as his mouth quickly took possession of her own, for possess her he did, with just the slightest first brush of his lips. She gasped when a turbulent wave of searing heat radiated throughout her entire body. But, such a profound encounter only allowed him to further plunder her senses as his tongue began to frolic with her own. Sweet Jesus, what in the world is he doing to me?

She felt his hands cup her face ’til he tilted her head, allowing him better access to her mouth. An unexpected moan escaped her. ’Twas, apparently, what he had wanted to hear from her. The sound surely only confirmed his own damn suspicions that she had told a lie when speaking of the effect of Rolf’s kiss. She was certain such a revelation pleased him.

His hands began a slow descent as they roamed down her back ’til he cupped her bottom, bringing her up hard against his solid frame. She quaked in response to such intimacy between them. Her shock did not stop his arm from winding around her waist, keeping her firmly in place as he continued to devour her last shreds of reality. The disbelief of feeling his firmly muscled body pressed up against her own sent any sense of prudence to remain indifferent to him fleeing from her mind. How could one keep a hold on any form of rationality when all she could suddenly feel was the unmistakable form of his manhood pressed intimately against her?

She was lost, and she unexpectedly cared not. Nay… all she could recognize in her feeble attempts to remain level headed was the fact that any control of the situation she may have had up to this point had vanished as soon as Ian had kissed her. Her arms made their way up and around his neck to playfully finger his shoulder length hair. She mimicked what he was doing to her mouth, letting him teach her what he liked. She must have done something right, for she heard his own groan of pleasure whilst he tightened his grip upon her.

About A Knight To Call My Own:

When your heart is broken, is love still worth the risk?

Lynet of clan MacLaren knows how it feels to love someone and not have that love returned. After waiting for six long years, she has given up hope of Ian’s return. Her brother-in-law, the Devil’s Dragon of Berwyck, is tired of waiting for her to choose a husband and has decided a competition for the right to wed Lynet is just the thing his willful charge needs to force her hand.

Ian MacGillivray has returned to Berwyck Castle in search of a bride and who better than the young girl who cared for him all those years ago. But Lynet is anything but an easy conquest and he will need more than charm to win her hand in marriage.

From the English borders to the Highlands of Scotland, the chase is on for who will claim the fair Lynet. The price paid will indeed be high to ensure her safety and even higher to win her love.

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About Belle Sherry Ewing:

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!

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Ten Lords Rejected

London, 1817

In a previous article I mentioned my curiosity with regards to the house party that took place in the home of the Duke of Arscott to see that his daughter, Lady Lucinda Claxton married. Ten lords had been invited and I was anxious to learn which lord she settled upon. Therefore, it came as great surprise when she chose an American. Which then begged the question, why were the ten lords rejected?

One of those ten curiosities has been answered for I am told that the first to leave was Lord Emory Talbot, Viscount Ferrard. I was rather surprised that he’d been invited to begin with as last I’d heard he was not seeking a wife. In all my observations, he’d always preferred young widows to misses.

At first, I thought that perhaps he assumed it was a normal house party, with several guests, and hoped young widows would be present, when in fact, the guest list included few. However, it then came to my attention that he’d not attended for young widows or Lady Lucinda but announced that he’d hoped to gain an introduction to a younger sister, Lady Violet Claxton.

I can think of no two individuals less suited for the other. You see, while Ferrard can often be found in the ballroom, enjoying his status of a wealthy, bachelor viscount, Lady Violet avoided Societal events and when forced to attend she escaped to the gardens at the first opportunity. She spent far more time admiring flowers, plants, and bushes than she ever spent dancing, or even conversing with those in attendance. Further, if Ferrard had wished an introduction, all knew where she could be found as it was no secret that Lady Violet preferred roses to bachelors. Therefore, I’m quite perplexed as to why Lord Ferrard developed a sudden interest in Lady Violet.

Links for COURTSHIP OF CONVENIENCE: https://books2read.com/u/3JRlxX

Release Date: May 18, 2021

Excerpt~

Lady Violet folded her hands on her lap, tilted her chin and looked toward the horizon. Her green eyes narrowed as her lips pursed, as if she were mulling over a problem.

She then glanced at Emory, hummed, then turned away again.

“May I ask what is on your mind.”

“I believe I have a solution that might solve both of our problems, if you are willing of course.”

The only solution was a courtship and then marriage, but as he’d just met Lady Violet, that solution wasn’t an option.

“What I propose is a courtship of convenience.”

“Courtship of convenience?” he repeated, uncertain as to her meaning.

“Yes,” she answered with a nod of her chin. “You shall court me until January sixth and then we will declare that we do not suit. Your father will be satisfied that you spent more than an afternoon of effort, and mine will be satisfied that I allowed a courtship.”

All he could do was stare at her. Such an agreement would placate his father. What he did not know was if Lady Violet might have an ulterior motive, other than pleasing her father.

“But it must be a true courtship, in that we come to know one another, as I don’t wish to lie to my father and say you courted me when we just pretended to do so.”

A fine line to avoid deception, but he understood. Yet, he didn’t trust that this wasn’t a trap to get him to enter into an agreement in hopes that more came of their association. However, while he did not know Lady Violet, he had the oddest feeling that he could trust her and that this scheme was no more or less than what she described.

“As you detest untruth as much as me, I trust that you are in agreement that it must be a true courtship with a scheduled time for it to end and the two of us to part. Based upon your behavior in London, I assume you have no real desire for a courtship any more than I, as I fully intend to remain unmarried for as long as I am allowed. Therefore, we can satisfy the demands of our families while knowing that we will both be free of any commitment come January sixth.”

A true courtship without the expectation of a betrothal? The very idea was intriguing. If she were as truthful as she claimed, and Emory believed that she was, this would be a perfect solution. “I think that is an excellent idea, Lady Violet.”

Emory smiled to himself. This was the first commitment in memory that he was more than willing to make.

She nodded and faced forward. “I am glad we are in agreement Lord Ferrard.”

“How does one court in Laswell?” If he were in London, it would be drives through Hyde Park, ices at Gunter’s, taking in the theatre, calling on her home, and dancing at balls. None of which were available to him here.

“I’m not certain, Lord Ferrard. Perhaps we could simply stroll through Laswell and in the park, each day at a certain time for a specific length in duration when we will most likely be seen. Such meetings will eventually be reported back to my father, and as your brother lives here, he can assure your father that we did indeed court.”

At her statement, he assumed there were no other entertainments to be offered. Perhaps his brother would have suggestions. Though, if strolls were all they did, Emory doubted any conversation with Lady Violet would be dull. At least, not for the first few days.

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Jane Charles is a prolific writer of over fifty historical and contemporary romance novels. Her love of research lends authenticity to her Regency romances, and her experience directing theatre productions helps her craft beautiful, touching stories that tug at the heartstrings. Jane is an upbeat and positive author dedicated to giving her characters happy-ever-afters and leaving the readers satisfied at the end of an emotional journey. Lifelong Cubs fan, world traveler and mother of three amazing children, Jane lives in Central Illinois with her husband, two dogs and a cat. She is currently writing her next book and planning her dream trip to England. Be sure to join Jane on Facebook @JaneCharlesAuthor for Wine Pairings Wednesdays.

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The Ashmead Assembly

Special to the Teatime Tattler from Eunice Norton and the Monday Tea Circle of Ashmead on Afan.

We gathered as is our habit on Monday afternoon to review the news of the week here in the valley, and ran so far over our time that Bessy Grigg’s husband took umbrage at the delay in his supper. We had much to discuss.

The Benson family put up an entertainment for all and sundry at the Assembly Rooms on Saturday evening to celebrate old Robert’s sixtieth birthday. There were many who thought that appropriate, him being a fixture in the village, but some of us questioned use of the large room over the village offices for a family party, that space having run to shabby and disrepair in recent years, and the Benson family being in possession of a inn with a perfectly fine dining room, but Emma Corbin—she as was Emma Benson—insisted.

Most of us admitted she did the rooms justice. New paint. Waxed floors. Clean windows. Flowers sprucing it up, and greenery too for all it is summer and not Christmas. She even got that Welsh colonel staying at the inn—him who is some engineer they say—to repair the musicians gallery so it was safe to use. They brought some group of players down from Nottingham, too, for the dancing.

As you may expect every man and woman in Ashmead came, and the tenant farmers from round about as well. Some seemed to find children appropriate, notably the Corbins, but most of us don’t approve of little ones where there is drink and dancing. A bigger surprise was the arrival of the Duchess of Glenmoor, Lady Madelyn Caulfield that was. She rarely socializes with common folk and keeps to herself since the old duke she married died.

Of course, most folk came for a glimpse of Wee Robbie Benson himself, the innkeepers wild son gone these many years. Went off to war and came back a baronet. Emma Corbin claims he was a hero at Waterloo, too. Now he’s come to take ownership of Willowbrook, left to him by the old earl. Most folks claim they always knew he was the earl’s get. You only had to look at him to know, but don’t tell old Robert the innkeeper that. Took him as his own and won’t hear otherwise.

The biggest news was the arrival of the Earl of Clarion himself late into the evening. Come up from London straight to the assembly, though no one knows whether it was the only reason he came. Walked in proud as a lord—which of course he is—walked up and congratulated old Robert as bold as you please as if the innkeeper was a peer when everyone knows he started life as a footman at the Hall.

Then Wee Robbie came from the corner he’d been lurking in. When he stood next to the earl and the duchess stood to join them, you could hear a pin drop. Same eyes. Same hair. Same tall frame (though Robbies is a bit, er, sturdier than the earl.) Same proud tilt to the head. Folks in London ought to be aware that the man they know as Sir Robert Benson is naught but an innkeeper’s charity case and the Earl of Clarion’s bastard brother. No question about it. Don’t know what was said, but Sir Robert left right after.

The earl stayed. He even led Emma Corbin out, and she looked like she was going to burst. Then the duchess danced with that Welsh colonel. It was certainly a night to remember.

About the Book

When the Earl of Clarion leaves a will with bequests for all his children, legitimate and not, listing each and their mothers by name, he complicates the lives of many in the village of Ashmead.

One sleepy village. One scandalous will. Four beleaguered heirs.

One is The Wayward Son.

Rob Benson returns to Ashmead reluctantly, determined to stay briefly. He never expects a shocking bequest and a termagant with flashing eyes—and a musket—to bind him to the place. Lucy Whitaker wants what she can’t have, Willowbrook. If she must turn it over to the heir, she can at least make sure he loves it and its people like she does.  His life is London; hers is Ashmead. How can they forge something lasting when they are torn in two directions?

Pre-order link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09484DC1D/

Watch for the duchess and the colonel in The Defiant Daughter in October.

About the Author

Caroline Warfield, proud Bluestocking Belle, 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.

Advertising for a wife? Astonishing!

I hasten to inform you, dear readers, of a most titillating scandal. I am certain many of you have heard of the opening of a very fine (but small and rather shabby) hotel on the Marine Parade in Brighton.

I was there only last week and met with the Lady Proprietor in question. A Viscountess, or once she was, until her dear husband died under mysterious circumstances in Paris. Yes, you grasp about whom I speak, because that man, noble and charming as he was, died while at court of that horrid little Napoleon.

Well! I tell you, dear readers, that this lovely Viscountess W— has moved to Brighton and opened the only asset her dear husband left her. All else that was in the entail, of course, has gone to her departed husband’s rapscallion cousin. Lady W— was hard put to survive and appreciated that her husband had bequeathed her something tangible. If it’s of value remains however to be seen.

Alas! I am off the subject!

It seems that Lady W— has turned the graceful old mansion into a hotel. Yes! She sees how many wish to frolic along with the Prince Regent and she smartly has refurbished the W— mansion into a hotel! And her first guest is none other than Duke of S—.

Imagine that. He comes in search of a wife, too. And how do I know this? Because I have seen, as have you I do imagine, the advert in the Brighton Chronicle yesterday for a wife. It reads:

To the Ladies

A Wife Wanted

A Gentleman, who has lately arrived from Philadelphia, wishes to settle for life and is therefore anxious to be Married. His connections are reputable, his fortune large and he is thirty-one years of age.

He has no objections to a lady without fortune, provided she is young, sensible and with good disposition. 

Any lady who wishes to contact said advertiser, may send a letter to this publication, care of the editor, Mr. Fawkes.

The Gentelmen will take residence in Lady W—’s hotel on the 20th of June and remains until July first. During that time, he will interview those women of whose letters he approves.

The wedding will occur July second.

Can you imagine wedded bliss from such a procedure? 

I ask you, have we not come to the lowest method of seekiing a spouse?

And in such a pleasant place as Brighton. Astonishing!

***

Who is advertising for a wife?

Lady Winston’s Scandalous Hotel is a new series of Regency romantic comedies starring the lovely widow, Viscountess of Winston. A mysterious fellow who appears to materialize on the Brighton sands one morning becomes her assistant in the arts of love. Yes, he has come from the lamp. Come from Istanbul where the sultan’s vizier condemned him to aid widows and those who seek spouses. He is charming. Lady W is dismayed. Her hotel guests are all made quite happy because they are assisted in their quest for romance! For debut in the near future, THE DUKE’S SURPRISING BRIDE, BOOK 1!

Do see my website for more happy reading! 

The Mysterious Disappearance of Lady Arabella

July 1819

A most shocking bit of news has reached This Author’s ears regarding none other than the Duke of Ashmore’s sister. Yes, you have read right: Lady Arabella, this season’s Incomparable. They say, gentle reader, that Lady Arabella has mysteriously disappeared from the aforementioned duke’s residence on the evening of June 14 and not been seen since. It has come to This Author’s attention that the duke has sent out bowstreet runners to look for her. The Duke of Ashmore, who is as high in the instep as no other, with a name yet untouched by scandal and gossip, is said to be quite beside himself with worry.

Has she been kidnapped?

Has she run away?

Or has she – oh horror – eloped to Gretna Green?

The ton is abuzz with rumours. One cannot help but wonder how, and in what manner, our Incomparable has finally, and sadly, come to fall.

But oh, let it be known, Curious Reader, that This Author has it on the best of authority that a lady of the same stature, regal bearing and complexion as Lady Arabella has been espied boarding the stagecoach not to Gretna Green, but to Cornwall! Upon inquiring where she was heading, she replied she was answering a position as a governess—with a family of bourgeois origins.

A duke’s daughter as a governess?

This Author finds this so inconceivable that she has concluded this particular rumour to be a vicious falsehood, indeed. It cannot be true.

Or can it?

♥♥♥

About the Book

Arabella and the Reluctant Duke by Sofi Laporte

A runaway duke’s daughter. A handsome blacksmith. A festering secret.

Their lives were built on lies……until they unravelled.

Being a duke’s daughter is not all it’s cracked up to be. Surely there must be more to life than embroidery, balls, and finding a husband?

Running away to work as a governess, Lady Arabella does not count on being hired by a precocious 14-year-old girl who runs the family…. or being swept away by her dashingly handsome father.

Mr Philip Merivale, inventor, blacksmith and widowed father of three lively children, is not amused. Clearly, the beautiful new governess who answered his daughter’s advertisement must be a lady. There is one thing he hates more than anything: the aristocracy.

But challenging the lady who has snuck into his life has unexpected consequences: Philip finds himself falling for a woman whose true identity represents all he claims to despise.

When spats turn to sparks, Arabella discovers that Philip harbours a devastating secret of his own… one that threatens to jeopardise everything.

Arabella and the Reluctant Duke is a standalone and Book 2 of The Wishing Well Series. This is a sweet traditional Regency with simmering romance, mischievous, witty banter, and heart-throbbing happily ever after.

Available on Amazon: https://amzn.to/32xRAa1

 ♥♥♥

About the Author

Sofi was born in Vienna, grew up in Seoul, studied Comparative Literature in Maryland, U.S.A., and lived in Quito with her Ecuadorian husband. She has worked as a journalist, university lecturer, foreign language teacher and librarian. Sofi likes coffee, owls, ruins and books. When not writing – she is always reading – she likes to travel and scramble about the countryside exploring medieval castle ruins, which she blogs about on her website. She currently lives with her husband, 3 trilingual children, a sassy cat and a cheeky dog in Europe.

Visit her website here: https://www.sofilaporte.com

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