Category: Teatime Tattler Page 70 of 152

A Mother Demands Intervention

On August 19, 2020

Loyal Readers of The Teatime Tattler,

A letter has come to our attention, borrowed by a lady who insists it must be returned before her mother-in-law discovers it is missing. A well born chit, once embroiled in a huge scandal, seems headed toward another.

My dear Gwen,

I hope this letter finds you, John, and my precious granddaughter, Cecily, well. I vow to make the journey to Yorkshire one day to visit, but my bones are tired and cross these days. Perhaps in the fall.

You remember the Moreland’s eldest daughter? I attended her presentation ball and your friend, Emily, was there with her mother. Such a charming girl, but so foolish. Lydia, your sister-in-law saw her dancing with Lord Cardmore. A waltz! Has she no shame? He threw her over and ran off with that chit, Carolyn Woodley, seven years ago. You remember the scandal, do you not? The gel’s mother caught them together in his bedchamber. He claimed it was a trap, but no one believed him.

I am writing to give you some distressing news about your dearest friend, Lady Emily. I hope you can write to her and dissuade her from the disastrous course she is undertaking.

To make matters worse, Lydia insists she saw Lady Emily and Lord Cardmore on the terrace in an improper embrace. I cannot countenance it. The poor gel has lost all sense of self-esteem. Just because Cardmore is a widower and war hero now does not mean she should flaunt propriety and associate with him again. Does she expect to renew their betrothal after he shamefully betrayed her?

I know you think Lydia has a waspish tongue and yes, she does like to tattle, but I’ve always liked Emily and I hate to see her heading for disaster. Plus there’s a terrible rumor afoot that Cardmore is not what he should be, if you get my meaning. We all know he was once overly fond of drink and now they say he is overly fond of the laudanum. Are we destined to allow opium eaters in our midst?

Poor Emily. I hope you can pound some sense in her. I hate to see her become a spinster, but some rogues are not worth it.

Your loving mother

About the Book

Haunted by questions and her own insecurities, Lady Emily Sinclair longs to discover why her betrothed abandoned her and married another. Seven years have passed, but the pain of his betrayal still lingers, buried beneath layers of humiliation and mistrust. When he returns after the Napoleonic Wars, she vows to avoid him. If only her foolish heart felt the same.

Broken and addicted to his medication, widower Andrew Quimby, Lord Cardmore, rattles around his ancient manor, oblivious to his deteriorating health and state of mind. When he learns the woman he was forced to abandon remains unmarried, he vows to try to win her back, even if it means returning to a society he despises.

But Andrew soon discovers he has a secret enemy. Threatening notes appear and sinister accidents put those in his inner circle in danger. Can he overcome his demons in time to keep them safe or will everyone and everything he loves disappear forever.

Buy it here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08F2LVR5B/

About the Author

Author of eight books on California history and fifteen romance novels, Pamela Gibson is a former City Manager who lives in the Nevada desert. Having spent the last three years messing about in boats, a hobby that included a five-thousand-mile trip in a 32-foot Nordic Tug, she now spends most of her time indoors happily reading,writing,cooking and keeping up with the antics of Ralph, the Rescue Cat. If you want to learn more about her activities go to https://www.pamelagibsonwrites.com and sign up for her quarterly newsletter and occasional blog. Or follow her in these places:

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What Sort of Man?

By Guest author

On August 12, 2020

In Teatime Tattler

That Tattler has learned that General Beresford is currently considering a request from Capt. Warwick Clifton (the Duke’s son) to purchase his promised commission. We hear the General is reluctant to support the advancement of such a man. Why? Dear readers, you may well ask!

Miss Louisa Beresford, traveling in Switzerland at present ‘to improve her French’ knows nothing of the matter. So say all her intimate friends and relations — in which case your author asks, how came such as the below to be written?

A Letter from Major Musgrave to his cousin, Louisa.

My dearest cousin,

Firstly, may I say that your last letter last greatly distressed both myself and the General. You need not fear the family. We would not dream of abandoning you, and will ensure the child is well-placed. Why, Evers recently spoke of a family ready and willing to assist us, for a relatively minor consideration. Rest assured you will not be inconvenienced in any way once your continental sojourn is complete.

I insist we meet Evers directly on your return to England, that we may resolve this matter entirely. The General joins with me in requesting again – most urgently – that you give up screening the man.

You report that he is ‘too mighty a gentleman’ and to expose him risks you and yours. My dear Louisa, you are a general’s daughter and your father has the ear of the Regent. There is no man in all England more favoured than my uncle at present, and there is no favour he will not request on behalf of a most beloved daughter.

Pertinent to the above, your Papa begs you will answer his letters. He asks that you not resent his temper too deeply or for too much longer, my dear. Anger is the least of the feelings he holds towards you, and his resentment is long since passed.

May your memories of his kindness and duty as a most affectionate parent outdo any final impressions. Depend on the former, gentler sensations my dear cousin, and place no faith in your last. You know his pride, Louisa, and his temper.

I ask you again to consider my request regarding the man involved. The term ‘gentleman’ is in this case mis-applied. Only speak his name, cousin, and you shall find yourself at once defended, and your honour avenged.

Your (always) affectionate cousin,

Maj. Henry Musgrave

For delivery of these words we am indebted to a source I cannot name. Rest assured, dear readers, that our authority is irreproachable. Let it serve, too, as a warning to those managing large establishments that they’d best take better care of their staff than they do of their clothing.

About the Book

Captain Warwick ‘Wil’ Clifton returns from the Peninsula Wars too world-weary for English social niceties. He wants nothing more than to return to the army but finds his father, the duke, his greatest obstacle. Frustrated and restless, Wil seeks solace in the bedchambers of Regency England, skirting such scandal with finesse. When Clifton finds himself facing an entirely different man on the duelling field to the one he expects, he starts to wonder if even he may have gone too far this time.

When Clifton offers to assist the Romany family he has injured, he’s unprepared for the warmth of Romany camaraderie. Neither is he remotely ready for the force of nature that is their princess. Keeping a lid on his desire for the Romany princess takes all Wil’s self-control. This rake is well out of practice at showing restraint but soon, the Captain has a new decision to make: What is he willing to risk for love?

As the eldest daughter of the Romany king, Syeira Brishen carries the title of Princess as proudly as she does her finely-honed distrust of Englishmen. When the Romany prince faces the surest shot in the country and loses, Syeira is determined to see to it that her brother heals fully. To do this, she reluctantly accepts Captain Clifton’s help and finds that, while the English may not conduct family matters the same way as her Romany, some at least are capable of affection, passion – even love. As a Romany, she trusts her heart – but what if her heart loves an Englishman?

Caught between family duty, and a desire to be with the man she loves, can the Romany princess choose happiness over duty, or will she need some convincing?

About the Author

Clyve Rose is an award-winning author of historical fiction both in Australia and the US. She has been writing historical romance fiction for the best part of two decades. She works in the Regency and Georgian periods, with occasional detours into Ancient Greece.

https://www.clyverose.com

Cambridge Ladies Take Tea

By Caroline Warfield

On August 8, 2020

In Teatime Tattler

Mrs. Bailey to Mrs. Smythe

First, my dear friend, I wish to thank you for hosting the Cambridge Wives Monthly Tea last May when I was indisposed. Now my turn has come again and I find myself in a quandary. Do you suppose one is required to invite that woman who dwells at Helsington? Duke’s daughter she may be, but I was never comfortable with the woman. Some have hinted we ought to ask her again if only for the titillation (Margaret Evans said that, can you believe it). Mrs. Potter still receives the woman.

Mrs. Smythe to Mrs. Clarke

Poor Maud Bailey seems to feel obliged to invite Lady Georgiana to tea this month. (If “lady” is accurate in her case.) Rumors do swirl, and Maud would get to the bottom of them if she could. She fears Margaret Evans, for one, takes salacious interest. What do you think?

Mrs. Clarke to Mrs. Evans

My dear Margaret, your Christian Righteousness continues to inspire! I understand you wish to invite the Duke of Sudbury’s Scandalous Daughter to tea—in order to let her defend against Certain Rumors, of course. I beg you do not push this issue!! I myself saw the truth of the matter. As you well know I live across the lane from Doctor Mallet’s recently returned son. Hero and fine soldier he may be, but he is not immune to a Woman’s Wiles. I personally witnessed her coming for his bachelor house at various hours. Admittedly it has been in the middle of the day but there is no chaperone in sight. When confronted she claimed she went there for help with her studies, that the man is her tutor. Who could believe such a thing! Greek indeed. She must think we’re all Babes to believe such a thing.

Mrs. Evans to Mrs. Bailey

Do not invite That Woman no matter what Molly Harding or Edwina Potter say. We’ll all hear what Abigail Clarke has to report.

About the Book

Even poetry, with its musical lyrics and sensual traps, is dangerous when you partner with the love of your life. It can quickly lead past improper to positively scandalous. A battered war hero and an abused woman come together in an emotionally complex story about the seductive power of words and the triumph of love over fear.

Lady Georgiana Hayden learned very young to keep her heart safe. She learned to keep loneliness at bay through work. If it takes a scandalous affair to teach her what she needs to complete her work, she will risk it. If the man in question chooses not to teach her, she will use any means at her disposal to change his mind. She is determined to give voice to the ancient women whose poetry has long been neglected.

Some scars cut deeper than others. Major Andrew Mallet returns to Cambridge a battle scarred hero. He dared to love Georgiana once and suffered swift retribution from her powerful family. The encounter cost him eleven years of his life. Determined to avoid her, he seeks work to heal his soul and make his scholar father proud. The work she offers risks his career, his peace of mind, and (worst of all) his heart. Can he protect himself from a woman who almost destroyed him? Does he want to?

About the Author

Caroline Warfield writes family-centered novels set in the Regency, Late Georgian, and Victorian eras. She lives in quarantine with the love of her life, while writing new stories. A lover of owls, history, and travel, she is also a Bluestocking Belle.

Stolen Kisses Home to Roost

By Guest author

On July 29, 2020

In Teatime Tattler

Dear readers, we present a bit from a purloined diary regarding a similarly stolen kiss.

Wednesday—29th July, 1763… This afternoon, while removing ink stains from shirts, I watched that meddlesome miss from the house across the field, Miss Henrietta Smith, kiss Marcus Hardwicke. Just the thought of it brings me fits of giggles that leave me hiccupping. I know I should feel sorry for her, but the look on Marcus’s face can never be unseen. Instead of closing his eyes like he taught me last summer, his eyes grew twice as large as turkey eggs. He stood there, stiller than the statue at the center of town, arms like oak limbs stiff and hanging at his sides, and pallor as pale as putty.

I can’t keep my quill from shaking, I’m laughing all over again.

You could tell by the enthusiastic way she leaned into him, color high on her cheeks, she intended the kiss as a conquest. It lasted, and lasted, and lasted, to the point where I almost stepped away from my chores to save them both from the misery of it. At long last, she released him. Poor girl had a face like a kicked kitten—and now I’m feeling sorry for her! Miss Smith took a step back, and then retreated. She lifted handfuls of her skirts and ran all the way home. (I would have done the same, had I been soundly rejected. But when I kissed Marcus, I was kissed back!)

Now I suppose we won’t be seeing the likes of Miss Smith around here anymore. No loss for me, that’s for sure. Doubtful it’s a loss for poor Marcus either.

The Laundress, Jean-Baptiste Greuze, 1761
(Public Domain)

About the Book

Henrietta Smith was fifteen when she stole a kiss from Marcus Hardwicke. Over a decade later, she’s still waiting to be kissed back…

Henrietta learned the hard way that when you get what you pay for you might end up with a British soldier quartering in your home threatening your friends, an enormous dog tracking mud through your house and stealing the chickens, and Marcus Hardwicke disrupting your uncomplicated life by trying to improve it. And to think she just wanted her roof fixed.

Marcus, wickedly handsome carpenter and rebel rogue, fell off Henrietta’s leaking roof. He can’t leave until his broken ankle heals, giving him plenty of time to consider his past mistakes, including Henrietta’s indelible kiss from a lifetime ago. But Henrietta could lose more than her home if she doesn’t encrypt British secrets, and the latest puts Marcus in the crosshairs.

The first installment in debut author Hallie Alexander’s steamy Sons of Neptune Series introduces readers to a band of heroic rebels at the brink of the American Revolution.

Available on Amazon & KindleUnlimited: amzn.to/2ZxZqhJ

Excerpt

“Hetty Betty, a man couldn’t easily forget you. But you haven’t been Hetty Betty Smith in a long time, have you?”

“It’s Caldwell. Is. Was.” Henrietta rolled her eyes. Sam died last year, and she still hadn’t mustered the emotional resources to mourn.

“My condolences, Mrs. Caldwell.” Marcus bowed theatrically over an extended leg.

“Don’t be a fool.” She swatted him with her fan as if the last thirteen years hadn’t shaped them into adults. When was the last time she joked?

His face brightened with a wide grin. Nice to see he had all of his teeth. Was he assessing her too? For a woman nearing thirty, she could look a lot worse. Would he see her that way, or would he recall the mousy girl he had rejected?

“Pretty Hetty Betty.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue.

Dear God. He remembered everything, didn’t he? The one time she took a risk.

“Stop. No one’s called me that since childhood.” Since playing tag by the pond in the shade of the old great barn. Since stealing a kiss not meant for her.

“Pity.”

About the Author

Hallie Alexander’s debut historical romance, A Widow’s Guide to Scandal, was published in 2020 by Soul Mate Publishing. It was a finalist in the 2019 Cleveland Rocks Romance Contest. She writes steamy, feminist historical romances that take place in America with heroines who become the heroes of their own story as their swoon-worthy partners work to deserve their love. She is a Northerner living in the South with her husband, three children, and Doodles of Mayhem™, Bruno and Willow.

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Characters Demand Happy Endings

By Bluestocking Belles

On July 18, 2020

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

“She has been rather busy,” Barney Somerville commented. As a vicar, he felt it incumbent on him to be fair, anxious though he was to know how his story turned out. “She has retired, left her old house, spent months house-hunting, moved into her new house, and is now renovating.”

Lady Ruth Winderfield was prowling impatiently along the spaces between the lines in her manuscript. “That’s easy for you to say, Reverend. You and Theo are first on her list. She has to have you done by early next month.” She bit back what she was going to say next, but the Marquis of Aldridge guessed her complaint.

“You and Val were about to enjoy your first kiss, were you not? And now it has been months. But take heart. She must finish your story before it is my turn.” His smirk turned wry at the edges. “I’ve waited years,” he murmured, almost too low to be heard. For the moment his heart was in the hazel eyes that lingered on the lady he loved. Saint Charlotte, they called her. She had rejected him several times, and how his author was going to resolve this was beyond him.

Otto had been sitting hunched over a tankard of ale, but he looked up at Aldridge’s complaint. “At least you are sure your story will be written one day,” he pointed out. “She doesn’t think she’ll have time for mine. And I read the original at school. It did not turn out well.”

Barney clapped the big dark-skinned man on one rugged shoulder. “She specialises in happy endings, my friend,” he pointed out.

Theo looked up from the game of cards she was playing with Otto’s wife, Desiree. “Why don’t we write a letter?” she suggested. “A summary of our concerns. A manifesto, if you will. We could send it through the Teatime Tattler. I know she reads that.”

Aldridge twirled his empty glass between his fingers. “Dear Jude, your characters are revolting?” he suggested.

“Set aside time to write us now, or we leave.” Otto’s blunt suggestion fell into a brief silence, which Val broke, speaking as Theo’s pen flew across the page at his dictation.

“Dear author, please remember your characters. We are yearning to get out of your head and onto our pages.”

Dear characters and readers. I have missed you all. I’m trying to carve out some time to write each day, and hope to catch up soon. Love you all.

Jude Knight