I wish to alert your readership to a scandalous situation occurring in Wiltshire as I write. The London to Bristol road—much used by our military during the hostilities—has suffered a great degree of damage from the demands for rapid delivery of armaments and troops from the West of England to the Capitol and beyond.
Stock image from Tattler files
I cannot describe the number of serious accidents that have occurred with increasing frequency. From personal experience, I can relate that ruts as deep as ditches wander the road in all directions, causing all sorts of mayhem. I myself was so badly tossed about when traveling to my cousin in Chippenham that I was unable to walk for a week after arriving. My daughter-in-law suffered the deep embarrassment and pain of being forced to deliver my grandchild at the side of the road, when driving conditions became so terrible as to make forward progress impossible. Our local newspapers are filled with tales of businesses and even schools that are forced to close because of the poor condition of the road.
Now I have learned that a dastardly plot is afoot to prevent the much needed repairs. Several months ago, when the Corsican Monster was finally defeated, a proposal was made in Parliament to spend monies no longer needed for war on improving the roads between London and Bristol. These turnpikes have needed improvement since before the turn of the century. However, any monies available for such necessary improvements was diverted to our military efforts in more than ten years of war with France.
The MP for Wiltshire has made a valiant effort to see success for the proposal to allot national funding to aid the various turnpike trusts with direly needed improvements. Most of these trusts are as impoverished as the general citizenry of Wiltshire. Else I am certain that improvements would have been made promptly.
However, I digress, despite all the efforts of our MP to see that right is done, the proposed allotment has been diverted to fund another canal. Another canal is not needed. This diversion is simply an attempt by coal companies and barge owners to line their pockets at the expense of the good citizens of Wiltshire.
Worse yet is the financial speculation that the government has allowed for what are clearly spurious canal companies. I have it on good authority that Lord L W. and Earl F—among many others—are deeply involved in speculative investments in the canal companies. No doubt in an attempt to repair the fortunes they each lost to gambling and extravagance.
This cannot be allowed to continue. I urge you, sir, and your entire readership to protest most vociferously to Parliament against allotment of funds for mere speculation when British citizens are suffering.
Most Respectfully Yours
Lady R. N.
Dear fans of The Teatime Tattler, I wrote this fictional letter as I began research for a new novel involving a lady engineer and the man she comes to love. I am still in the midst of drafting The Pirate Duchess, so this new book is a year or so in the future, but I enjoy sharing the possibilities inspired by research. The images and factual information that this letter is based on come from Wikipedia and Shutterstock. Thank you very much for reading,
I have another tidbit that may be of interest, you darling man. This one is a bit more explosive than some of the other bits I’ve gathered in my travels. I count on you to mask the lady’s name when you publish in your delicious newssheet, for she is young and may yet require the tattered remnants of her reputation.
I reached Geneva in September and to my delight encountered my dear friend Lady Florence Tyree. She fell on me, relieved to have a sensible companion in which to confide. The poor woman had been dragooned into accompanying her niece, Lady Charlotte Tyree when the girl imposed herself on her brother, the Earl of Ambler who by rights ought to be completing his Grand Tour accompanied only by his tutor free to do whatever it is young men get up to on the continent (I don’t need to be explicit with you, dear friend!).
Lady Florence had reached utter weariness with the boy’s behavior, it being as wild as may be expected, abetted by his tutor no doubt. The dear woman fears for the girl who seems to have attempted to absorb every work of art or culture to be found on the continent, in an excess of learning that we all know can only bring feverish distress to a young lady’s mind, causing who knows what enfeeblement of her faculties.
No amount of begging on the part of dear Lady Florence convinced the girl to take her ease at some of the more pleasant gardens or porticoes of the city. When the young people announced they were preparing to move on over those daunting mountains into Italy, Florence reached the end of her patience. She and I decided we needed the restorative spa at Baden, which we are entirely in agreement is precisely what Lady Charlotte needs.
Alas the young woman prove intractable in this matter as well. When Lady Florence forbade her Italy and announce she herself would accompany me to Baden, Lady Charlotte informed her she would leave for Venice with her brother.
Venice! I need not tell you Bryon himself is there. Who knows what sort of immorality goes on, and the young woman insisted she would travel there without a chaperone. Lady Florence declared she would report this to the guardians of this pair of young people who would undoubtedly demand she return to London (leaving the boy on his own to continue his tour, of course). What did Lady Charlotte declare but that she didn’t care. By the time any such demands from the guardians reached her she would be in Rome at last. She has some notion that her life will be poorer forever if she doesn’t see Rome.
I tremble to tell you, good sir, that the following morning we awoke to find the young people gone. My beloved Lady Florence was prostrate. She came to this lovely spa with me to recover. Word reached us yesterday via friends traveling north from there that Lady Charlotte is indeed in Venice, and that the young earl is running with the wildest of crowds exposing his sister to no end of debauchery. We disregarded hints she has taken residence with an Italian gentleman.
Be kind in your publication. She is young.
Your good friend and supporter, Lady Horsham
About the Book: Lady Charlotte’s Christmas Vigil
Love is the best medicine and the sweetest things in life are worth the wait, especially at Christmastime in Venice for a stranded English Lady and a handsome physician.
Lady Charlotte clings to one dream—to see the splendor of Rome before settling for life as the spinster sister of an earl. But now her feckless brother forces her to wait again, stranded in Venice when he falls ill, halfway to the place of her dreams. She finds the city damp, moldy, and riddled with disease. As a physician, Salvatore Caresini well knows the danger of putrid fever. He lost his young wife to it, leaving him alone to care for their rambunctious children. He isn’t about to let the lovely English lady risk her life nursing her brother. But Christmas is coming, that season of miracles, and with it, perhaps, lessons for two lonely people: that love heals the deepest wounds and sometimes the deepest dreams aren’t what we expect.
Award winning author of family centered romance set in the Regency and Victorian eras, Caroline Warfield has been many things—including a Bluestocking Belle. 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.
As I embark upon a new Season, I cannot help but reflect upon last year, my observations, and the few people in which I’d taken a great interest. One being the Duke of Arscott and how he grew more irritable with each passing day.
The cause—his daughter, Lady Lucinda Claxton. She was soon to turn two and twenty and had yet to settle upon anyone, though many lords wished to settle on her. Her father claimed that she was being too fastidious. I believe she was being pragmatic. Deciding upon a husband is far more serious than choosing whom one might grant a waltz.
Her admirers were many, as you may recall. Not only was her father a duke, but she also possessed lovely chestnut locks and intelligent grey eyes. However, she did not suffer fools, which could explain why she remained unwed. I, too, have often wondered if intelligence exists during the Season, especially among the dandies.
I waited in anticipation for a lord to win her heart, but alas, as the Season came to an end there was no hope of a betrothal. It was then that I returned my attention to His Grace and wondered if he would be forced into drastic measures to see his daughter his wed. Which is exactly what occurred, and rumors may have already reached your ears regarding the Duke of Arscott’s house party held shortly after Christmas.
It was ten days of festivities, outings, games and a guest list to impress, if not small, all for the purpose of seeing that Lady Lucinda finally settle on a husband.
Did I mention that it was small? Yes, I did. In fact, there were only ten lords invited and all for the single purpose of wooing Lady Lucinda.
The lady herself, was not pleased. Especially since her father refused to reveal the names of the guests for fear that she’d form her objections before they ever arrived.
However, the gathering turned out to be far more pleasant than Lady Lucinda ever dreamed, and you’ll never guess who she settled upon.
About the Book: Lady Lucinda’s Lords: Tenth Day of Christmas
Ten Leaping Lords, one imperious grandmother, and a Mister from Louisiana were her Christmas fate.
Much to Lady Lucinda Claxton’s dismay and irritation, her father’s house party only includes bachelors ready to wed. With her siblings off celebrating Christmas elsewhere, Lucinda is left to fend for herself. A new arrival, however, changes everything, and soon Lucinda decides the next ten days may not be so tedious after all.
Mr. Caleb Copeland agrees to accompany his great-aunts to the home of the Duke of Arscott on one condition: He’ll not participate in any of the entertainments. He is simply their escort, not an invited guest. However, as much as he tries to keep his vow, his path often crosses Lady Lucinda’s while she is hiding from her court. Before long, Caleb knows none of her leaping lords will ever be worthy of her. Unfortunately, neither is he.
Caleb nearly jumped at the female whisper and turned to find a young woman with dark ringlets and laughing grey eyes.
“I’m not really a guest.”
She frowned, her full, rosy lips puckering. “Then why are you here? Did you sneak in? Are you here to rob us? Should I be screaming?”
Affronted, Caleb took a step back, though he was beginning to suspect she teased him. “I simply accompanied my great-aunts.” He pointed to the three older women seated side by side.
She glanced down at the gathering below before a smile burst on the woman’s lips. “Ladies Priscilla, Joanna and Esther Tilson!” She quietly clapped her hands in delight. “I’d not been told they’d be coming. I do so adore them. They may be just what saves this house party from being tedious.”
“Tedious?”
“Yes.” She sighed and leaned on the balcony. “Those ten are the only guests, other than you and your great-aunts. To make matters worse, the rest of my family has found a reason to be absent, leaving me, my father and grandmother to attend to those lords.” She turned. “Forgive me, I’m Lady Lucinda Claxton.”
“Mister Caleb Copeland.” He bowed to the duke’s second daughter. “Why did he only invite ten gentlemen?”
She let out a deep sigh. “To see me married, of course.”
It was as he suspected, though it didn’t explain why his great-aunts needed him. They couldn’t expect him to be included in the group below, who would undoubtedly leap to do any deed to win Lady Lucinda’s favor.
He chuckled. “Ten lords a leaping,” he sang quietly.
Lady Lucinda scowled at him. “I don’t find you the least bit humorous.”
Caleb would have believed her if Lady Lucinda’s lips hadn’t twitched.
“Yes, you do.”
She brought a hand to her mouth to muffle her giggle. “Perhaps I do.”
Merriment danced in her grey eyes. “They do tend to jump, or in this case leap, to do one’s bidding when one is the daughter of a duke.”
“You should be flattered.”
At that she rolled her eyes. “It’s bothersome. I shan’t wed because they are of the right family and are titled, nor should that be the reason anyone wished to marry me.”
“It is the way of things, is it not?”
“For some, but not for me.” She lifted her chin. “Shall we join the others?”
“You go on,” Caleb insisted. He’d much rather have a view of the leaping from where he currently stood.
“Are you not a bachelor as well?” A dark eyebrow lifted with the question.
“I am, but while my uncle may be a duke, and my brother in training to become one, I am but a simple mister from New Orleans.” He then grinned. “And I do not leap.”
“Such a pity for I do believe I’d enjoy you doing so.” She laughed.
Lady Lucinda swished away from him and for the briefest moment, Caleb almost wished that he could claim the title of lord.
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.
One of our correspondents, Mrs. B-W, has been visiting relatives in the city of Boston in the former colonies. She sends us this fascinating tidbit about a local tradition.
Dear Mr. Clemens,
I have very much enjoyed my visit with my American cousins. Boston is a lovely and propsperous town with a cultured society such as I never would have expected. We’ve had no end of balls, routs, salons, concerts and informative lectures. Politics is much discussed, and Bostonians do not hesitate to express their opinions and argue when they differ. Such contention did not prepare me for the custom of Thanksgiving Day. A day that celebrates the good fortune and blessings bestowed by God upon the former colonies.
When I first heard of the event, my cousin expressed surprise that I did not know of it and gave me some of the writings from my ancestor, one William Bradford of Plymouth Plantation. I found these texts informative not just of the celebration, but of an American cultural element no usually seen by English visitors. Mr. Bradford describes the inciting events for this Thanksgiving celebration as follows. words follow:
They began now to gather in the small harvest they had, and to fit up their houses and dwellings against winter, being all well recovered in health and strength and had all things in good plenty. For as some were thus employed in affairs abroad, others were exercised in fishing, about cod and bass and other fish, of which they took good store, of which every family had their portion. All the summer there was no want; and now began to come in store of fowl, as winter approached, of which this place did abound when they can be used (but afterward decreased by degrees). And besides waterfowl, there was great store of wild turkeys, of which they took many, besides venison, etc. Besides, they had about a peck a meal a week to a person, or now since harvest, Indian corn to the proportion. Which made many afterward write so largely of their plenty here to their friends in England, which were not feigned but true reports.[27]
And afterward the Lord sent them such seasonable showers, with the interchange of fair warm weather as, through His blessing, caused a fruitful and liberal harvest, to their no small comfort and rejoicing. For which mercy, in time convenient, they also set apart a day of thanksgiving … By this time harvest was come, and instead of famine now God gave them plenty … for which they blessed God. And the effect of their particular planting was well seen, for all had … pretty well … so as any general want or famine had not been amongst them since to this day.[35]
It would seem to me, Mr. Clemens and dear readers that such a celebration is well worthy of emulation. I hope to have more historical items of interest to pass along in the future.
Three years after The Bachelor Dukewas taken off the market
London 1824
Here we are again! Another exciting Season! Every year, eager debutants and reluctant gentlemen come together with one common goal. Marriage! Or perhaps other pursuits. Ladies that are new to the London Season shan’t fret over the possibility of finding a suitable husband. The numerous success stories of our past are an inspiration to all mothers and daughters.
The most successful love story of the last three seasons is that of the former Lady O and The Bachelor Duke, although now that name has been long gone for years. When Lady O arrived with her exuberant cousin, Lady J, she was all anyone could speak of … and not in a good way. There were those who believed that she was too plump, too round in the hips to win such a man as the Duke of K, but she soon proved everyone wrong! I, for one, never doubted her for a second!
It’s been three years since the marriage of the century and the heart. The now Duchess of K has become a bit of a celebrity throughout society. Especially after the ordeal she survived after her first season. Oh, the horror!
In spite of the exciting first Season, Her Grace has excelled in every endeavor that has been presented to her. A kindhearted philanthropist, she often contributes to the poor, both in London, and on their country estate in Norwich. Whatever endeavor she tackles next, it is sure to be a great one, now if only her cousin, Lady J, could repair her ruined reputation!
Let’s hope that now that a new Season has begun, Lady J finds what she lost three years past, but I’m sure opportunity like the one she had will not come around again. Rumor has it a new bachelor will soon be arriving in town.
“Let me assure you that I find every single inch of you pleasing, and I cannot wait until the day I may call you mine.” Remington’s lips pressed to hers. His free arm encircled her waist and pulled her closer to him. A groan of pleasure escaped him. Livie was excited, knowing she was the one that caused him to react in such a way. He brushed his lips softly against hers, allowing her time to become accustomed. She relaxed in his arms. Her lips parted, releasing a sigh of contentment. Taking her bottom lip into his own, he sucked gently, before gliding his silky tongue along it. Livie whimpered, the pure ecstasy of his lips touching hers was a feeling she had never felt in her life. His hand spread wide on her lower back branding her through the fabric of her dress. “Remington,” she sighed against his lips, hearing voices all around them. She wanted to stop the madness with all of society just on the other side of the curtain. But she could only grasp his lapels and hold on tight as she opened to him, allowing him the freedom to devour her.
About the Author
Cecilia Rene is a creative, happy, and outgoing Detroit native who majored in Broadcast Communication at Grambling State University. Immediately following her graduation, she started her new life in New York City. As a self-proclaimed New Yorker, her stimulating and diverse career in advertising sparked a drive for hard work and dedication. Her love and passion for writing followed her from childhood through adulthood, where she wrote short stories, poems, and screenplays. Always an avid reader, she stumbled across a book that ignited a deeper need for more and joined a fandom of like-minded individuals. Cecilia and her family made a huge move five years ago to the great state of Texas, where she currently lives with her loving husband, wonderful son, and spoiled fur baby, Sadie. Cecilia Rene loves romance, humor, and all things spicy. For this reason, she will always give you a Happily Ever After.
