Category: Teatime Tattler Page 69 of 154

Fira’s Fate

On October 3, 2020

Fira slipped out through the door of the Garrison Hall and into the bright sunshine of the new day. She raised a fist to the glaring sun before she hung her head in her hands and cried. Garrick had refused her and she held little to no hope he would change his mind. Not when the Lady Coira was ever near.

His rejection stung her pride that she was unable to win him over with her charm. She had returned to the kitchen and her duties last eve hoping to make him jealous if she gave her attention to another. She had laughed and flirted with one of the men who had recently come to Berwyck Castle to train with the Devil’s Dragon. Sneaking off to the Garrison Hall with him had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, all she felt was disgust at her own behavior of bedding a man she did not care for.

Fira was half way across the inner bailey before Kenna, the castle’s healer, came running up to her. The woman stood before Fira, most likely ready to scold her.

“Whatever ye are planning next, ye best forget it Fira,” Kenna said in a calm tone. This was not what Fira had expected. “Garrick doesnae belong tae ye and loves another.”

“I am planning nothing,” Fira fumed whilst trying to move around the woman who apparently had more to say. Was it her imagination or did Kenna’s face continue to soften?

“Nothing good can come from yer infatuation with our piper. Best tae leave him be, Fira. Love will find ye when ye least expect it,” Kenna replied before placing a hand on Fira’s arm.

Fira swayed as images of a man flashed before her eyes. Tall and handsome, this unknown stranger swung Fira up into his strong arms before she slowly slid down his body. When her feet touched the ground, he bent forward to kiss her as she had never been kissed before.

The vision lasted only a moment but ’twas enough to have Fira’s mouth open in an O of surprise. “Who was…” she began.

Kenna smiled. “Have patience, dear Fira. He will find ye when the time is right and ye are ready tae allow him into yer heart.” She leaned forward and gave Fira a brief embrace before continuing on with her way toward her own duties.

Fira smiled and felt as though fate might finally shine down upon her. Mayhap Kenna was right. Perchance ’twas time to forget about Garrick and let this unknown stranger find her.

This is an original piece by Bluestocking Belle Sherry Ewing. Fira is a secondary character in The Piper’s Lady: The MacLarens (Book Three). Previously in the Belles’ boxset Never Too Late, The Piper’s Lady is now being released November 17^th for individual sale.

Excerpt:

“You saved me,” she whispered in a shaky tone. “You are truly a gallant knight to rescue me. Your liege lord must value you as one of his warriors.”

Warrior? Him? He opened his mouth to correct her assumption but could not find the words. He knew she would think less of him if she but knew he was only the clan’s piper.

“Are ye harmed?” he murmured, still holding the pleasing womanly curves of the lady who had not yet moved from atop him. Her brow rose, and Garrick inwardly cursed knowing there was no way to hide his Scottish accent.

“Nay, but only because of your ability to move so quickly. Thank you, Sir…” She left her sentence linger in the air between them.

“Garrick,” he answered, giving her his name, “of Clan MacLaren.”

“My thanks, Sir Garrick,” she replied with a kind smile.

They seemed to come to the realization the lists had become eerily silent with the exception of one person running in their direction.

“Get your hands off her!” a voice bellowed.

Before either of them could move, the woman was ripped from his arms, and Garrick saw her enveloped in the fierce embrace of Morgan. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and Garrick could not help the feeling of jealousy assaulting his emotions and tugging at his heartstrings.

“Coira! By St. Michael’s Wings you gave me such a fright, woman,” Morgan scolded in concern. Setting her down upon her feet, he proceeded to clasp both her cheeks afore placing kisses on each.

The Piper’s Lady
The MacLarens (Book Three)
Release Date: November 17, 2020
By Sherry Ewing

True love binds them. Deceit divides them. Will they choose love?

Lady Coira Norwood spent her youth traveling with her grandfather. Now well past the age men prefer when they choose a wife, she has resigned herself to remain a maiden. But everything changes once she arrives at Berwyck Castle. She cannot resist a dashing knight who runs to her rescue, but would he give her a second look?

Garrick of Clan MacLaren can hold his own with the trained Knights of Berwyck, but as the clan’s piper they would rather he play his instruments to entertain them—or lead them into battle—than to fight with a sword upon the lists. Only when he sees a lady across the training field and his heart sings for the first time does he begin to wish to be something he is not.

Will a simple misunderstanding between them threaten what they have found in one another or will they at last let love into their hearts?

This novella was previously released in the Bluestocking Belles boxset, Never Too Late. It has been revised with additional material and an alternative ending. The Piper’s Lady is now being released for individual sale.

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About Bluestocking 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.

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But He’s Not a Gentleman

By Guest author

On September 30, 2020

In Teatime Tattler

This letter has fallen into the hands of your Teatime Tattler editors. We trust our readers will find it of interest.

From Mrs. Letitia Piggott-Pym, Berkeley Square, London

To Miss Lorena Ogilvy, Vine Cottage, Sussex

Dear Sister,

At the close of this most successful Season, I am delighted to report that not only have we secured an entirely satisfactory husband for Arabella, but that our future son-in-law, if somewhat lacking in the matter of a chin, more than makes up for it in family connection and social distinction.

But I will confess that for a time our prospects appeared somewhat less propitious when Bella (along with several silly girls of her set) conceived a sudden tendre for a certain Mr. Merion – a development which, as you can imagine, Mr. Piggott-Pym and I found not a little worrisome.

In particular, dear Lorena, it simply wasn’t possible to refuse to receive Mr. Merion. He is a protégé of Viscount Crowden, not only having saved the viscount’s life during a terrible battle at sea, but being quite excessively attractive, looking just as one wishes one’s national heroes to look, as, sadly, they rarely do. War, after all, will cause disfiguring scars, burns, and amputations, but Mr. Merion’s wound is of the more decorative variety. In truth, the nearly imperceptible limp with which he walks, aided by a masterfully wielded cane, can only fan the flames of patriotic virtue among the girls, and perhaps, at times, even within the bosoms of their Mamas.

Not to speak of the fit of his coat, and even what might discern beneath…

But I digress; and in my meanderings have nearly forgotten to add that Mr. Merion is quite rich, or well on his way to becoming so. Of course, a lady doesn’t speak overmuch of such matters, but I am assured that he’s highly respected as a commercial investor in properties in certain neighborhoods. And although one wouldn’t venture to such quarters oneself, Mr. Piggott-Pym tells me that large sums of money may be made there in rents to a certain class of person.

Which brings me finally to the inescapable truth, that as ornamental an addition as Mr. Merion had made to one’s guest list – for his aforementioned assets and as proof of patriotism on the part of his hosts – the fact remains that Mr. Merion was not born a gentleman, and in fact served in His Majesty’s Royal Navy as a common sailor. And although this did not stop certain families from countenancing his attentions to their daughters, I can assure you that Mr. Piggott-Pym and I felt very differently…

And so in consequence, it was no surprise to find ourselves quite vindicated by the most shocking, interesting, and entertaining development… when a week ago, without a word of explanation or apology to any of his generous and condescending new connections, and leaving several dinner parties horribly lopsided, Mr. Merion quite entirely, and inexplicably, disappeared…

ABOUT THE BOOK: A House East of Regent Street

The future looks bright for former sailor Jack Merion. His wartime heroics have won him influential contacts, and his good looks and flair for business are definite assets. With funds to invest, he’s on the brink of financial success in the high-stakes world of Regency London.

And buying the house in Soho Square is a can’t-miss opportunity. Once a fashionable brothel, the property will yield a good income in commercial rents and a clear path to the respectable life Jack has never known.

There’s only one problem – another prospective buyer. With a dark past, a desperate future, and some unmistakable assets of her own, Miss Cléo Myles is a formidable obstacle, one that Jack would be wise to steer clear of.

But instead, he proposes a bargain that’s as scandalous as it is irresistible.

Five afternoons. Five rooms. Uncountable pleasures…

…In a neighborhood that’s seen better days. And a house that’s seen everything except love.

An Excerpt

Woman, rather than lady.

Unless, Jack supposed, one knew how to pronounce the word lady with a certain ambiguity – a tone of voice like a wink or smirk exchanged with the other men in the room, to show that one really meant quite the opposite. A courtesan. Or even better, the French phrase Lord Crowden had taught him – trust the French to come up with an expression like grande horizontale. He himself had never encountered such a woman at first hand, and so he’d never been quite sure of all the nuances of implication.

But this… ah, lady could quickly fill the gaps in his education. He need only contemplate her posture and manner of address; it would be like memorizing an entire lexicon – of new uses for ordinary words that Miss Myles’s extraordinary presence had suddenly rendered inadequate.

One couldn’t, for example, exactly say she was small: not with her posture so regal that only the proximity of the lanky servant called attention to her lack of stature. Slender? He doubted that the possessor of such a voluptuous bosom could correctly be called slender. She was hardly young but it wouldn’t do to call her old either; the word ageless came to mind, but here his common sense rebelled. No woman was ageless – her youth, or lack of it, was always a critical index of her value.

Beautiful? He wasn’t quite sure – he’d always thought that beauty brought with it a comforting, disinterested sort of serenity. Well, striking, then, Miss Myles was certainly that. Sparkling eyes slanted catlike above well-drawn cheekbones; her mouth was expressive, the sinuous upper lip curving in a wary half-smile above the full, appetitive lower one. The afternoon sunlight seemed to embrace her as its own, her bright eyes and creamy skin outshining the brilliance even of these surroundings.

And oddly dignified, Jack thought, dignified and defiant – though world-weary might have been a more accurate word…

Release Date October 6, 2020 – Available for Preorder Now

FOR BUY LINKS, go to

A House East of Regent Street

About the Author

Author of historical romances set during the English Regency and before the French Revolution, Pam Rosenthal has been praised for her graceful style as well as her writing’s unabashed eroticism. She was twice nominated for Romance Writers of America’s RITA award, and in 2009 her novel The Edge of Impropriety won the RITA for Best Historical Romance. Find out more about Pam and her books at pamrosenthal.com, on Twitter @pamrosenthal, on Facebook, and on Goodreads.

“Elegant, tender, and daring… Pam Rosenthal has an impeccable sense of the Regency and a fearless way with a story.” – Julie Anne Long, USA Today Bestselling Author

Which Maiden Will the Viscount Choose?

By Jude Knight

On September 26, 2020

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

Yes, dear reader, the rumour about London’s newest and most exotic viscount is true. We have it from one who heard it from the Duke of W.’s own lips.

Viscount E. has been ordered choose a bride and marry as soon as possible.

One sees the Duke’s point. The man is heir (after his father) to his grandfather’s title, and he is (not to put too fine a point on it) a foreigner. An English bride as mother of the Duke’s greatgrandchildren, including the one day future duke, would make his existence much more palatable to the high sticklers of Society.

Not that the young viscount is shunned. Far from it. He is handsome (though swarthy) speaks English without an accent, is personable, and is almost certainly extremely rich, if the money now being spent on the much neglected W. estates has anything to say to the matter.

Good looks and fine manners will get him invited to dinner tables and dance floors. Money and the prospect of one of England’s finest titles may assist with the rest. For the moment, the most cautious matchmaking mothers are reserving judgement, waiting to see whether Society’s acceptance will warm beyond reluctant.

But those who have hopes of a duchess in the family may be too late. Our source tells us that Viscount E. has been instructed to marry one of his cousins. Which shall it be? The one known as the Saint of Mayfair? Or Society’s darling, the W. Diamond?

Or, has the prospective groom ideas of his own? His attentions to the sisters of the Earl of H. have not gone unnoticed. Will Lady F. be the viscount’s bride?

Your devoted reporter watches with interest.

***

Excerpt from To Wed a Proper Lady

James had stayed back from the hunt organised for the men in the hopes of spending time with Sophia, and had found out about the charity expedition too late to offer his services. “I am sorry that I missed it,” he said sincerely.

He noted one glaring omission in her descriptions of her preparations for Christmas. “Just a decoration,” she had told him, mendaciously, when he asked about the kissing boughs.

And now pretending to be ignorant of these English Christmas customs was about to pay off. One day, when she was safely his wife, he might admit to Sophia that he and the whole citadel had hung on his father’s tales of an English Christmas, that his mother and her maids had decorated high and low, and his father had led the troops out to find a fitting Yule log to carry home in triumph on Christmas Eve. A harder job in his dry mountains than in this green land.

But this was not the time for that story. Not when Sophia was relaxed and about to pass under a kissing bough that retained its full complement of mistletoe berries.

James suppressed a grin. “Look,” he said, at the opportune time, pointing up. “My Kaka—my father—told me about these.”

She stopped, as he had intended, and with a single stride, he had reached her, wrapped her in his arms, and captured the lips that had been haunting his dreams this past eight months.

And she kissed him back. For a moment… for one long glorious moment, while time stood still and the world ceased to exist, Sophia Belvoir kissed him back.

***

The Children of the Mountain King series

In 1812, high Society is rocked by the return of the Earl of Sutton, heir to the dying Duke of Winshire. James Winderfield, Earl of Sutton, Winshire’s third and only surviving son, has long been thought dead, but his reappearance is not nearly such a shock as those he brings with him, the children of his deceased Persian-born wife and fierce armed retainers.

This series begins with a prequel novella (Paradise Regained) telling the love story of James senior and Mahzad, then leaps two decades to a series of six novels as the Winderfield offspring and their cousins search for acceptance and love. It is free to download from most ebook retailers.

The first novel, To Wed a Proper Lady, tells the story of James junior, the Viscount Elfingham. It was published in April this year and is available from those same retailers.

The novella Melting Matilda (this year’s Bluestocking Belles’ story published in Fire and Frost) is also set in the world of The Children of the Mountain King, and happens after To Wed a Proper Lady and novel 2 (coming soon), To Mend the Broken Hearted.

See the book page on my website for more about my published books. https://judeknightauthor.com/books/

Napoleon Is Not Britain’s Worst Enemy

By Rue Allyn

On September 19, 2020

In Teatime Tattler

Dateline: European Battlefront, Fall 1809

Dear Readers,

I beg of you indulge this poor author for deviating from the Tattler’s normal publication of humorous and tittilating information. A desparate situation has arisen with in our armies on the continent, which is like to win The Corsican’s victories for him.

How could that possibly be when British Forces are the best equipped, best trained in the world? In a word, FEVER. This month sees campaigns at both Guadiana in Spain and Walcheren in the Netherlands where our armies are decimated, not by powder and shot, but by insidious fever that strikes without warning.

Casualties number in the thousands with countless more of our brave lads unable to stand and fight. Medical staff are over worked and supplies to fight this invisible enemy are small.

A Mrs. C., whose son serves in the Royal Fusiliers received word from him of dire conditions.

“[N]o ventilation, twenty men sick in the room, of whom about eighteen died. In this place there were [sic] one door, and one chimney, but no windows. Relapse again; deaf as a post; shirt unchanged and sticking to my sore back; ears running stinking matter; a man lying close on my right hand with both his legs mortified nearly to the knees, and dying. A little sympathy would have soothed, but sympathy there was none.”*

We know well that our women, Ladies or otherwise, cannot go to war personally. However, you can send support. Medical and cleaning supplies (see the list on page seven) are desparately needed. Letters of encouragement, sympathy and hope are needed to give our soldiers the will to continue, to fight to regain their health for confrontations on the battlefield.

Do not allow this sickness to win Napoleon’s war for him. Act Now! Organize, cooperate with churches and charities to send all possible aid to Britain’s only defense against the Coriscan’s aim to conquer England. With your help we can rise victorious over all enemies.

The Tattler is interested in news of your efforts and promises complete discretion to any who wish to share their efforts and contributions to aid our Military.

*This quote was copied from an article by Andrew Bamford.

Scandalous Reports From Yorkshire

By Guest author

On September 16, 2020

In Teatime Tattler

10 January 1818

Our ears have been turned this week to news of Mr. G.A., that Darling of the Debutantes these two Seasons past. Not one, not two, but fully three Society Ladies of unquestioned veracity passed these tidbits of information to the Tattler staff on condition of anonymity. Their source is another Lady of like reputation, residing in Yorkshire’s West Riding, and reported to be an Intimate Friend of the A. family.

It seems that the aforementioned Mr. A.’s flirtations with Society’s Innocents may have been less Innocent than Society believed them to be. To that Lady’s certain knowledge, at least one fair Damsel has suffered Disastrous Consequences as a result of a Dalliance with this Knave of Hearts.

The Lady sent her letters, she told her friends, because they, or perhaps other families with whom they are acquainted, have their own Daughters eagerly anticipating a first Season in Town, and the Source would want no other Young Lady to suffer in like fashion. Beyond that, she asked that the information should be kept private. The recipients feel, however, that all families in such a position, whether known to them or not, ought to have the benefit of the scandalous reports contained in these paragraphs. The Tattler applauds the Generous Spirit behind their act of Public Service. ‘Tis small enough punishment for the Perpetrator of such Sins to have them announced to the Fashionable Society of which he purports to be a part.

Curiously, just three weeks past this paper announced the betrothal of Mr. L.A., younger son of the same family, to Miss S. of Bristol, who made her London Debut during the Spring Season of last year. A coincidence indeed that this provincial family, making its first appearance in these pages, should be mentioned twice in such a short time, to such different effect.

About the Book: Anna’s Refuge

Ruined by one brother. Redeemed by the other.

From the glitter of Regency London…

Knowing little of love, Anna Spain arrives for her one and only Season yearning for love. It’s surely fate when she falls for charming, handsome Gideon Aubrey—but when he spurns her in public, after seducing her with lies, she must find a way to support herself and her baby, or abandon the innocent child to the horrors of the workhouse.

To the grit of industrial Leeds…

For Lewis Aubrey, who has grown up under Gideon’s malignant shadow, there’s never been anyone but Anna Spain. Infuriated by his brother’s treatment of the woman he adores, Lewis steps in to shield her. He thinks he might even court her himself—until one day, without a word, she’s gone.

In a winter of impossible choices…

Can a heartbroken young mother learn to love again? Can her would-be hero endure raising the child of a brother he hates? Can one fragile infant bring these two splintered souls a second chance at love in rural Wrackwater Bridge?

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An excerpt

What was wrong with Gideon? He had a swagger about him tonight, and his eyes gleamed with devilry. Almost with evil.

Anna forced a laugh and shook her head. It was only a bit of mischief. “Oh, you’re teasing again, Mr. Aubrey.”

She would have gone on, making light of it, but Miss Landrum tossed a careless smile at no one in particular and tugged on Gideon’s arm.

“Beauty calls,” Gideon said with a grin. He stepped toward the dance floor with Miss Landrum.

“But, Mr.—” Anna couldn’t breathe. She lurched forward, reaching out to him. He never looked back.

Miss Wedbury put an arm around her waist, drawing her into the protection of their little flock. “It won’t do any good, I’m afraid.”

“But I… He…”

“Shhh,” Miss Wedbury hissed at her. To the others, she said, “People are starting to notice. I’d best take her to the retiring room. Or to her mama.”

The words hurtled by as in a dream. Surely Anna must awake in her bed at any moment with the ball yet to come, the waltz, her whole future secure in Gideon’s love.

His brother Lewis spoke through clenched teeth. “And I’ll have to watch him gloat for the rest of the evening? I think not.” He took Anna’s hand and set it on his arm. “Come, Miss Spain. We’re going to waltz.”

“I can’t,” she mumbled. “I must—”

“No, you must not.” So fierce and hard-hearted. She’d thought him a kind young man, but his expression showed no sympathy as he led her in amongst the dancers.

Instead, he smiled. How could he, when her world was crumbling to dirt around her feet?

He bowed. She curtsied, hardly knowing what she did. I must talk to Gideon, alone.

The younger Mr. Aubrey put his hands in the right places and set her in motion.

Why would Gideon play such a trick on me? When they next met he would chuckle, and call her a goose, and reassure her with kisses and words of love, and—

“I must apologize for my brother, Miss Spain. He has always been an inconsiderate fellow.”

She glanced at Lewis Aubrey, desperate to get away. To scream, to wail.

It would cause a scene. Break all the rules, embarrass him and herself, Miss Wedbury and her parents.

She missed a couple of steps, slewing around awkwardly in his arms. He righted her, his grip strong and secure.

When he spoke again, his voice was gentle, coaxing.

“Let’s play a game, Miss Spain. Pretend nothing’s wrong. My brother likes to see the misery he’s caused.”

She stared him in the eye. “I don’t believe it. He can’t have feigned it all.” Could he?

“I’ve known him a long time, Miss Spain. He enjoys it even more when there’s a room full of gossips to witness his triumphs.”

He was wrong. Of course he was wrong. To say such things of his own brother! Rivalry must drive him, or jealousy. Sour grapes.

“Miss Spain?” She returned her gaze to his. He grinned, ridiculous and exaggerated.

It was the hardest thing she’d ever done, far more difficult than walking into Almack’s the first time among all those people who belonged there.

But it was necessary.

He squeezed her hand, and for the rest of that dreadful waltz, they competed to see which of them could out-smile the other.

He won, but by heaven, she held up her end. He nodded his approval.

She wanted to cry.

About the Author, Kerryn Reid

TODAY IS RELEASE DAY for the brand new edition of ANNA’S REFUGE, Book One in Kerryn’s series focused on the small town of Wrackwater Bridge in Yorkshire. Kerryn spent Covid Summer learning to self-publish, and this is the result! Her publisher went out of business in June, leaving the ebook they released in December 2019 high and dry. Though unavailable for purchase, it won the Silver Medal for Romance in Florida Authors & Publishers Association’s Book Awards. It’s also a finalist in the Maggie Awards (Georgia Romance Writers) and the Royal Palm Awards (Florida Writers Assoc.). Results next month…

Her first novel, LEARNING TO WALTZ, won Best Regency Romance in Chanticleer Books’ Chatelaine Awards. It will be back on the market before Christmas.

Raised in a New England college town, Kerryn inherited her mother’s passion for the British Isles. At seventeen, she roamed the Rock of Cashel after dark with her first love, a local Irish lad. So illicit, so romantic… and so unsustainable. Instead she married her college sweetheart and wound up in Florida, where they’ve lived long enough to feel like natives, with a rotating selection of dogs and cats, and not enough trips to visit their kids—not to mention the cutest, sweetest, smartest little boy any grandma ever had.

But a piece of Kerryn’s heart still lives “across the pond” where so many adventures took place—as well as the Regency romances she loves. And when the itch to write needs scratching, that’s where her imagination takes her. Enjoy the journey!

Kerryn’s monthly “Letters from Wrackwater Bridge” will keep you up to date. Sign up at her website

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