Category: Teatime Tattler Page 8 of 138

Gentle Readers,

The following tidbit of long ago doings in Scotland was recovered by an anonymous source. We read with interest the, ahem, musings of Lady Peigi about her sister. We are sure you will enjoy them too, especially given the antics of a certain Lord MacDonald at Almack’s last evening.

Yuletide. 1546. Lady Peigi Grant’s account of her sister’s marriage.

There’s something in James MacDonald’s eyes when he gazes at my wee sister, Aileana. He is one of our clan’s greatest enemies, the Devil, we call him. And his reputation is well-earned. He’s demanding my brother marry one of us to him to compensate for her stealing food from his hunting camp, and yet, he doesn’t want to marry me, Lady Peigi Grant. Nay… He wants Aileana. There’s vengeance in his eyes. I can see it brimming there. Unhealed anger betwixt his folk and mine, too. She defied him. And challenged him. She dared to steal from him when he’s stolen from us for years. And therefore, he has singled her out for his punishment.

“I’ll never make ye marry a man ye nay want,” my brother is whispering to us in the corridor, as we peer through the archway into our castle’s great hall to watch MacDonald twist his brimming goblet in slow, calculating revolutions, when we have barely any food or drink for ourselves as it is from MacDonald’s raids. “But Peigi is demure. Older. Well trained in a lady’s pursuits. She’d make a more suitable bride—”

“I’ll nay see Peigi punished for my actions,” Aileana argues, shielding me with her body as if my brother might pluck me right up from the floor pavers himself to deliver me to the Devil. My wee, fierce sister, always protective when I’m frozen with fear just looking at that terrifying warrior in our hall, blond like his Norse heritage, eyes so icy blue. Knuckles so battered from a life lived with a claymore in his fist. “I’ll—I’ll be the one to marry him.”

“Aileana,” I beg, grasping her. “Nay do this.”

“Sister…” Seamus is frowning, but our wee sister just darted away, and sakes, but I can nay stop her!

“I’ll do it,” she’s just announced to the Devil as we chase after her, even though she’s quaking in her boots.

“I accept,” the Devil rumbles in reply without giving any pause.

And there’s a twinkle in those icy blues I didna’ notice before, a promise as he assures my brother that Aileana will nay be mistreated, that any lady of his castle will be afforded all the comforts of her station. There’s something solemn in the way he’s wrapped their hands in a strip of his tartan wool to handfast them—to claim her as his—as if he’s taking this moment seriously.

I realize in awe… “He likes her,” I whisper.

Our people are enemies, but I see curiosity in MacDonald’s astute gaze. Most men overlook the things that make Aileana beautiful, for she is brash, bold, and never afeared of rolling up her sleeves to get work done. God knows we’ve endured enough raids over the years that there is always plenty of work to do. And mayhap, just mayhap…this handfast will be a Christmastide miracle that ends our clan’s bitter feud?

About Twelfth Night’s Bride: Lady Aileana Grant just wants to help her starving clan at Christmastide. So she pilfers some vegetables from the bastard Laird James MacDonald–the Devil, they call him. When the Devil shows up and demands marriage as recompense for the thievery, Aileana can’t believe it when her brother agrees. Even if she’s able to negotiate a severance on Twelfth Night, that’s still two weeks to put up with the laird in enemy territory. She’s counting down the days, even if James isn’t quite the disgusting cretin she’d imagined.

James needs to marry an enemy bride in order to inherit his fortune. Cursed restrictions. He’d been unable to look away from Aileana’s untamed beauty ever since she squared off with him. He might as well handfast with the infernal lass. He’d get his money and perhaps some peace among the clans. He has a fortnight to win the heart of the lady with the voice of an angel despite her sharp tongue.

Twelfth Night is merry and bright as Aileana and James realize a true connection between them. But when Aileana discovers the reason the Devil forced her into marriage, how can she ever believe he truly wants her?

Available Now: https://www.amazon.com/Twelfth-Knights-Bride-Elizabeth-Watson-ebook/dp/B08LC6NDB3

Gentle Readers, we quote here the greater part of an anonymous letter. We are fascinated, but you may make of it what you will.

Have you heard? The duke’s daughter’s been arrested. Now, do I believe it’s true? I’m afraid I do indeed and not only that, but they’ve thrown her maid in gaol. Her maid, you know, is a gypsy girl, and she’d be pretty if only she were English. I heard the guards talking about how she stole her eggs and she had lace about her person too. I’m certain this must have been pinched also because how else might that kind of beggar afford lace?

The guard walks out with my maid’s sister, you know, so I speak with authority. He says the maid was due to wed before she got herself arrested and I wonder at the wisdom of allowing such folk to purloin such Christian traditions as greedily as they do our legally gained produce.

The duke’s daughter is a lady Lydia and I’m not sure if you recall it, friends, but we came out together three Seasons ago, though she was never so fortunate as I. I married my Yorkshire lord and settled right to breeding, whereas the lady Lydia ran out on her earl. She might have been a countess by now, if she’d not caught herself up among such gyspy folk. What can one expect though, when one’s brother is already married and living among them?

It’s a terribly sad moment, you know, to see one’s former schoolfellows fallen in the world. Not just her, but all her family must now become barred. She’ll not be able to set foot in society again, I shouldn’t wonder, and who can survive without it? I, for one, cannot admit to ever having known her at all anymore. Not even to despise her at a summer ball.

This is what comes, you see, of losing your mama so young, for I’ve always had you to guide me away from such indecent connections. I am grateful, Mama, for your counsel, and your society which is a gratitude not all married matrons recollect to their mothers. Today’s events have put me in mind, however, of the warnings you were kind enough to proffer, regarding associations with such tribes and I wished to express my gratitude as soon as three sets of twins might allow me, which is to explain why these events occurred before Christmas, and I am only now passing on such vital outcomes.

About A Holiday Season at Clifton Hall:

Yorkshire, 1821:

The Romany have been barred from Lancashire for ten years under the old duke. The new duke, however, has new rules and encourages them to travel thither this Christmas. It’s a special season for the royal Romany House of Brishen. They have a new royal babe and a wedding to celebrate.

Or do they?

Stari Besnik is betrothed to Chal Brishen, the Romany King’s youngest brother. The marriage negotiations have taken so long, she doubts his commitment to her. Meanwhile, Chal is doing everything he can to meet her father’s demands for Stari’s bride price, as is the Romany men’s tradition. He determines to do this without his brother’s help. He wants no man aiding him to earn his bride!

Impatient to be with the man she loves, Stari seeks to gain what’s required at an old market. When she’s accused of theft and imprisoned, her life with Chal seems further away than ever.  The penalty for theft in a market town is death by hanging – and no Romany does well under English law.

Can Chal gain his bride by Christmas? And who’s the real thief with such a strong connection to Clifton Hall?

A Holiday Season at Clifton Hall is a Regency Christmas novella following on from Always a Princess and The King’s Mistress.

It includes the prologue to the final title in this series: An Impossible Duchess.

Available Now: Amazon

Excerpt:   “We’ve brought no trouble here,” Stari declared quietly. “However, the trade is fair.” She spoke through gritted teeth, extending her palm.

The fellow shrank away as though she’d the pox. “I’ll not take yer hand, gypsy. I’ve still business to make today.” His glance raked once more over her skirts, glaring disdain.

Despite his rudeness, Stari hoped Lydia wouldn’t seek another stall. They’d been among the English long enough. She longed to return to the woods outside this dark, dank, ill-scented town.

“Oi!” A shout behind made them all turn. The providore stood, red-faced with fury as he waved an empty basket in one huge, hammy fist. “Thieves!” he bellowed, his glare riveted on Stari. “You’ll pay for my eggs, girl! One way or another.” He advanced menacingly towards her as louder shouts came from the growing crowd behind him.

“No!” Stari cried out, aware the gallows awaited any thief in a market town – and a Romany woman had precious little with which to barter. “I’ve taken nothing.”

Lydia’s palm slid into hers, tensed and ready. “We’ve taken nothing.” Out of the corner of her eye, Stari  spied the Frenchwoman hurrying away, her little boy lifted up into her arms, clutching something close inside his coat. Eggs?

She raised her free arm to point out the true culprits, remembering, suddenly, the desperation in the woman’s face. The joyless stare from her young son. What if eggs are all they have for Christmas? Like all Romany, Besnik had endured lean times, but the Romany aided each other. If a Romany house had no meat for Christmas, another furnished it in a fair trade. A Frenchwoman struggling to feed her hungry child in England had no recourse at all.

Stari’s arm fell slack. She closed her lips, praying the French mother and her son stayed safe. Meanwhile, the crowd hemmed right round her, louder, larger, and more menacing as they called for the law.

“Fetch the Watchman! Hang the thieves!” Their cries grew uglier. The pushing and shoving sent her forwards, practically into the goosepen.

Stari’s gut lurched as she struggled to hold her stance, flushing as cruder suggestions were made about disposing of two women in the Oldyards. They’d be lucky if the watchmen arrived in time.

Greetings, dear readers, and gather around as we delve into the enchanting tapestry of Westerfield Manor, where secrets lie beneath the polished veneer of Regency high society. In the historic halls of this venerable estate, a tale of mystery, love, and destiny unfolds—a tale that has tongues wagging and quills at the ready in the hallowed realms of gossip.

Lady Genevieve, a paragon of grace and refinement, and the dashing Lord Ashford have become the unsuspecting protagonists in a challenge that transcends time and family ties. Their quest? To unearth the concealed secrets that have lingered within Westerfield Manor for generations, like whispers carried on the wind.

At the heart of this clandestine adventure is a missing treasure—a brooch of exquisite craftsmanship, whispered to possess a magic of its own. Lady Genevieve, with her keen intellect and unwavering resolve, joins forces with the charismatic Lord Ashford to solve the riddles of the past. As the clock ticks towards the midnight deadline, the duo races against time, navigating the labyrinth of Westerfield Manor in search of answers.

Secret letters passed through the ages like precious heirlooms reveal a saga of love and intrigue that transcends the boundaries of time. The very walls of the manor seem to whisper tales of an age-old romance, echoing the sentiments of a bygone era.

Amidst the flickering candlelight and the rustle of silk gowns, Lady Genevieve and Lord Ashford find themselves entangled in a web of mystery and desire. As they draw closer to the truth, their own bond deepens, mirroring the profound magic that only true love can conjure. It is a love that defies the constraints of a society bound by rules and expectations.

As the clock strikes midnight, the secrets of Westerfield Manor are laid bare, and the legacy of a family is rewritten. The enduring commitment of Lady Genevieve and Lord Ashford serves as a testament to the transformative power of love—a force that illuminates even the darkest corners of the past.

Dear readers, as we pen down this tale of whispered secrets and hidden desires, let us raise our quills to Lady Genevieve and Lord Ashford, the architects of a love story that transcends time and societal constraints. May their journey inspire us all to look beyond the façade and seek the enduring magic that lies within the recesses of our own hearts.

Until next time, dear readers, who knows what secrets may be unveiled in Ms. Casie’s next story? I am certain it will be a tale to savor and enjoy.

About The Lady and the Christmas Brooch: Amidst the splendor of a Christmas ball, Lady Genevieve and a charming rogue Lord Ashford find the secret to her destinies intertwined in an antique brooch. Can their growing love defy society’s demands, or will their love reveal the true magic of the season?

In the historic halls of Westerfield Manor, an entwined tale of mystery, love, and destiny unfolds. Lady Genevieve and Lord Ashford embark on a challenge to uncover the hidden family secrets that span generations—before midnight. Amidst the allure of the past, they find themselves drawn into a web of intrigue fueled by secret letters, a missing treasured brooch, and the whispers of an age-old romance. As midnight draws near, Genevieve and Ashford’s bond deepens, revealing that true love, like the secrets of the past, is illuminated by those willing to look beyond the bounds of a restricted society. In a spellbinding story weaving together destiny and unwavering commitment, the legacy of a family finds itself rewritten by the enduring and profound magic that only love can offer.

About Christmastide Kisses, a Bluestocking Belles with Friends collection:  Six charming holiday season romances from award-winning and best-selling authors. The Bluestocking Belles and Friends brighten your holidays with:

• A beleaguered uncle whose wards have run off every governess–what he needs is a wife, if only he can persuade the latest applicant
• A country solicitor who becomes an earl and then finds a secret that changes everything
• A very proper clergyman battles very improper urges when he and a lady with a murky past find themselves snowbound
• A viscount whose search to unearth generations-old family secrets kindles the fire of love for his lovely search partner
• A former army captain wonders if the best friend of his ex-fiancee is the woman he should have married
• A vicar with a misspent youth and the duke’s daughter who brings out the best in him

Six gentlemen and the ladies with whom they discover the power of a Christmastide Kiss.

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Christmastide-Kisses-Bluestocking-Friends-Collection-ebook/dp/B0CNL3HRKG