Category: Teatime Tattler Page 92 of 152

Dear Readers,

Allow me to introduce you to Caibre MacFearann, hero of Forever Hold My Heart, an historical romance novella by Rue Allyn.

Welcome to The Teatime Tattler Mr. MacFearann. I’m Samuel Clemens, editor and owner of this periodical.

Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Clemens. Please call me Ciabre.

Tattler: As you wish. The Tattler is well acquainted with Miss Allyn’s work and interviewing her heroes is a constant delight. Please, if you will, confirm the following information about your story.

Tattler: The title is Forever Hold My Heart by Rue Allyn, an historical romance novella that one would politely call steamy; that is not to be read by children under the age of seventeen?

Caibre: “Och, I suppose so, Mr. Clemens. T’ tell the truth, I concern myself no so much with the story as I do with makin’ sure t’ author gets m’ character right, and that she doesna malign Miss Aisla MacKai in any way,

Tattler: Well that’s forthright. I gather you and Miss MacKai are lovers?

Caibre: (He’s grinning.) I’d no say anything to damage Aisla’s reputation. Let’s say that I intend to propose to the lady and pray she’ll accept me.

Tattler: I wish you the best of luck Mr. MacFearann, er Caibre, as I’m sure our readership does too.

Tattler: Are you aware of the expression “kicked the bucket?”

Caibre: Oh, aye. That and a number of other, ah, quaint expressions are used in the Wyoming Territory where I make my home now.

Tattler: Then it would make sense to you to say that a list of things a person wants to accomplish, places to go, situations to experience, and so on have become known as a “Bucket List.”

Caibre: Aye, that does make sense.

Tattler: I’ll be asking you some questions about what you might include in your bucket list. But let’s get some basics out of the way first.

Caibre: Verra well.

Tattler: What is your age?

Caibre: Twenty seven or there abouts.

Tattler: You are definitely male?

Caibre: Are ye blind or daft? D’ye wish me to prove it to ye?

Tattler: No, no. Forgive me, please. Let’s just pretend I didn’t ask that.

Caibre: Suits me.

Tattler: Thank you. Where were you born?

Caibre: MacFearann Castle on the northeast tip of Scotland’s coast.

Tattler: What would you say is your profession?

Caibre: I’m a ranch owner. I raise beef cattle and horses for sale to a number of different markets.

Tattler: You’re the son of a nobleman. Does it embarrass you that you work for a living?

Caibre: Does it embarrass you?

Tattler: No Caibre, but I’m not of the nobility.

Caibre: I never had patience with that nonsense. Luckily, I’m a second son, and I dinna have t’ concern m’sel wi’ it. Proud I am that I’ve made a good life for m’sel in a hard country.

Tattler: Please describe yourself for our readers.

Caibre: I’ve dark hair, some might call it black. My eyes are blue. I’ve a muscular build and am considered tall.

Tatter: Tell us a little about yourself, please.

Caibre: Because my spendthrift da gave me naught with which to set m’sel up in life, I left the woman I love and Scotland for the western territories. As I said, I’ve no patience with the idea that a man should not earn his way simply because of his birth. I never thought to return to Scotland, but my older brother asked my help with our father’s funeral.

Tattler: Who is that woman you left behind, and have you seen her since your return to Scotland?

Caibre: Her name is Aisla MacKai. And no I havena yet seen her. So, ye must promise me ye’ll no publish this interview until after ye hear from me that all is well between Aisla and I or that all is finished.

Tattler: I so promise. Moving on, if you haven’t made a bucket list before, perhaps now would be a good time. Who knows? It might inspire another story from Miss Allyn. While you’re thinking about that list. Please tell us about some of your other favorite things, starting with your favorite toy as a child.

Caibre: Oh tha’s an easy one. My brother Eric and I were fascinated by all the old suits of armor and weapons scattered about MacFearann Castle. Whenever we could, we’d don as much of the armor as we were able and play at attacking each other with any of the weapons we could lift. We were in our teens before we were capable of using most of the weapons, and we weren’t very expert, so we dinna do much damage to each other. The castle walls, however, bear a number of chinks and gouges that resulted from our play.

Tattler: That is truly amazing and dangerous. Didn’t your father or your tutor stop you?

Caibre: Our da was never home, and we dinna have a tutor.

Tattler: Tell us about your best friend.

Caibre: That’d be Aisla MacKai.

Tattler: Isn’t she the woman you said you loved but never expected to see again?

Caibre: Aye. She’s also the one I told you I plan to ask to marry me. I’ll be seeing her again, whether she accepts my proposal or no. My da stole something from her family, and I’m honor bound to return it.

Tattler: So, if you’ve been apart these many years, what makes her your best friend?

Caibre: Simple. I’ve never had a better. I’ve many friends and acquaintances in Wyoming, but none of them share the kinds of memories and experiences I share with Aisla. We learned to ride together. We explored the highlands together. Until we got too old for it, we spent long days and nights out under the highland skies sharing stories and dreams. We always thought we’d marry, but we dinna count on my da’s feckless ways leaving me as penniless as she was. She deserved so much more than I could offer her as a younger man. I did the only thing that was right. I left her behind. I honestly thought she’d forget me. Seems I may have been wrong.

Tattler: What are two places you would like to visit before you die, and why?

Caibre: Anywhere Aisla is. I love Wyoming. Like the highlands it’s both harsh and beautiful. However, I’ve already been to both. For some place I’d never been, I think I’d like to visit Austria and Australia. I hear that they too are places of difficult beauty.

Tattler: Where is a place you would never like to return, and why?

Caibre: MacFearann Castle.

Tattler: But that’s your home?

Caibre: Nay any longer. ‘Tis my brother’s home, and I wish him joy of it. Whether I want to return to MacFearann Castle or not, I’m sure I will. I’ll no allow a little thing like stones and mortar to stop me seeing my brother.

Tattler: Who is someone you would like to meet, and why?

Caibre: I wish I had been in a time and place when I could have met Mr. Abraham Lincoln. From all I’ve heard he seemed a wise and canny man. A conversation with him could have yielded much to think on and much to learn.

Tattler: Who is someone you would like to avoid, and why?

Caibre: ‘Twould be rude of me to say.

Tattler: So there is someone?

Caibre: Aye, but sharing that person’s name would be wrong. I’ll no do it.

Tattler: I can accept discretion and courtesy. Last question. If you could time travel to any date, what would it be, and what would you do there?

Caibre: I’d go back in time to when the second Lord MacFearann committed a crime so heinous that it has tarnished the MacFearann name to this day.

Tattler: Heavens a centuries old scandal. Do tell us the details please. What did he do?

Caibre: That ancestor disagreed with a bishop over the boundary between his lands and where the Bishop wished to build a new abbey. Deeds and other documents show that my ancestor was in the right. But the Bishop claimed that the needs of the church were more important than the papers of men, and he started construction of his abbey on MacFearann lands.

Tattler: Opposing a land-grabber, be he prelate or king, seems the right thing to me and no crime.

Caibre: Had the second Lord MacFearann left it at that and let the courts decide, all would have been well and our name would no equal that of the blackest criminals. But he was no accustomed to waiting on the pleasure of anyone regarding what was his. He invited the bishop and his brethren to dinner. He and the bishop went apart, supposedly to resolve their dispute. They were gone a very long while. When my ancestor returned, he was alone. He told the brothers the bishop was indisposed and begged that they should partake of the meal. Their leader would join them anon.

Tattler: And did he?

Caibre: (His expression is grim.) Aye, in a manner of speaking. The brothers praised the skills of the MacFearann cook and asked why my ancestor did not partake. He explained that the meat was not to his taste but they should eat their fill. They cleaned their plates twice over—for the clergy were always hungry. When they thanked Lord MacFearann for the delectable dish, he told them they should thank the lord for allowing the Bishop to make their meal for them.

Tattler: You don’t mean . . .?

Caibre: Aye, I do mean. That while the second Lord MacFearann and the bishop were alone, my ancestor killed the man then had him roasted over a spit in the kitchens, carved and sauced and served to his holy brothers. Interestingly, every one of those holy men died within the year.

Tattler: I confess dear readers at this point I found myself unable to continue the interview. Mr. MacFearann was kind enough to leave me with a short summary of his story and some information about the author, which you will find below.

Blurb: The last thing Caibre MacFearann wants is to return to Scotland let alone be forced to stay there. But the chance to rekindle the lost love of his youth is too tempting to resist.

Losing Caibre MacFearann’s love once hurt so much that Aisla MacKai wants nothing to do with him when a blizzard brings the man to her doorstep. Kindness and human charity require that she give him shelter, no matter that her poor heart had never mended.

Where to buy Forever Hold My Heart: Forever Hold My Heart cannot be purchased. It’s release date is May 20, 2019. On that date the novella will be free to all of Miss Allyn’s newsletter subscribers and the members of the RAVON FB Community. The link for newsletter subscription is: https://www.rueallyn.com/ravonsubscribefhmh/.

The link for the RAVON Community is: https://www.facebook.com/groups/RAVONcommunity/

About Rue Allyn: Hi, I’m Rue Allyn, I write heart melting romance novels. Books about characters and adventures in which love triumphs at the darkest moment. The kind of hopeful, steal-your-breath romance that melts a reader’s heart. The type of book I like to read. Hope you will too

Author social medial links—

Rue’s Website: https://RueAllyn.com

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/rue-allyn

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RueAllynFriends

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/default/e/B00AUBF3NI/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5031290.Rue_Allyn?from_search=true

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.es/search/pins/?q=rue%20allyn&rs=typed&term_meta[]=rue%7Ctyped&term_meta[]=allyn%7Ctyped

Twitter: https://twitter.com/RueAllyn

Horror at Hastings Manor

By Guest author

On April 10, 2019

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Auckland, New Zealand, 1884
Lady Ermintrude

You don’t mind if I whisper, do you? Hastings Manor is full of ears, and people’s best pastime is gossip. Thank goodness I’m not that type of lady. But I have to speak my mind.

My niece Isabel, the current Duchess of Sussex, has gone mad. She’s accommodating, here in Hastings Manor, street urchins. Street urchins! From Auckland’s rookery!

Good gracious, I need a sherry. These street urchins don’t even have decent names and the youngest one, called Trigger—ptf!—spat on his teaspoon to clean it. The older, the one called Murk, I think he’s a thief or a murderer. Apparently, he can turn himself invisible. Invisible! So inappropriate.

Those dark eyes mean trouble, mark my word, but Isabel thinks he’s charming. Poppycock, I say. I’m sure she’d like to dirty-puzzle with him. Oh, the horror. But does she listen to me? No one is listening to me anymore. A bunch of rebels they are. Now, where’s my sherry?

The Heart Collector

Auckland, 1884. The Supernaturals are frightened. Despite being able to do extraordinary things like teleporting or lighting a fire with a stare, a serial killer, the Heart Collector, is slaughtering them. He rips their chests open and removes their hearts.

While other aristocratic, nineteen-year-old girls spend time dancing, Isabel trains hard to become an MI7 agent—Military Intelligence Seventh Division, a crime squad run by Supernaturals. The Heart Collector murdered her best friend, and enrolling at MI7 is the best way to help catch the killer.

Isabel senses other people’s feelings as if they were her owns. But MI7’s leader is too worried about Isabel’s safety to let her join the team.

Eager to prove that her power is valuable, Isabel volunteers to meet Murk, a dangerous Supernatural man who can turn himself invisible. MI7 desperately tried to recruit him and failed.

She believes that her power is enough to convince Murk to become an MI7’s agent and help apprehend the Heart Collector. If he wants to attack her, his feelings will broadcast his intention, and she’ll be ready.

What Isabel isn’t ready for is to fall in love with the man who will collect her heart.

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Auckland, 1884

One of the perks of being a duchess and the lady of Hastings Manor was that I could make my own decisions.

Most of the time.

I bunched a corner of my long brocade skirt and climbed the sweeping stairs toward Victor’s office. The bustle, heavy with satin ribbons, bounced lightly, tapping on the small of my back.

On the landing, one of the little cleaning machines that roamed the house trotted around, buzzing as its brushes dusted the white marble floor. A puff of steam trailed behind it while its wheels and pistons whirred. I strode on, the star-bright tiles sparkling under my velvet slippers.

The butler bowed stiffly, carrying a tray with tea and cakes that smelled of cinnamon. “Your Grace.” He stepped aside to let me pass.

“Hollom.” My heels’ click-clacking noise died down on the blue rug covering the entrance in front of Victor’s office.

I raised my fist to knock but stopped inches away from the gleaming, polished oak wood, needing a moment to collect myself. Victor had to see reason. Convincing him that my role in the investigation was vital wouldn’t be easy, but I was nineteen and properly trained in combat. More or less. The point was, I could face danger.

My resolve wavered, and I bit the inside of my cheek. On light feet, I turned and slid inside my late father’s personal library. Victor’s supernatural hearing wouldn’t catch me in the room protected by thick walls, and the old leather-bound volumes calmed my nerves.

I cleared my throat before rehashing my speech. “Victor, you’re the leader of Military Intelligence Seven, but as Duchess of Sussex, I have the right to . . .” I shook my head. This sounded patronizing. I took a deep breath to slow my pounding heart, glad that I wasn’t wearing a corset. Another perk of being a duchess.

I squared my shoulders. A wrong word and Victor would dismiss me. “Victor, I kindly request… would you… I would appreciate if you assign me to the ongoing investigation on the Heart Collector, since I believe my skills can be an asset.” There. Simple, polite, and to the point.

I jutted out my chin and smoothed my bodice. I should’ve worn my dark green dress. It made me look taller and older. This blue gown gave me a childish air with its velvet ribbons and budding roses.

Too late.

After another deep inhalation, I marched toward Victor’s office again and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” The thick door muffled his deep voice.

I wiped my sweaty hand on my skirt before turning the handle and stepping into the office that had once belonged to my father. Victor and his younger brother Jamie stood up from their stuffed chairs and bowed.

“Good morning, Victor, Jamie.”

After the dimly lit corridor, the sunlight streaming from the floor-to-ceiling window blinded me, and I squinted, closing the door behind me.

I walked to the desk that occupied almost half of the room, keeping my eyes on Victor’s frowning face. “I need to talk to you.”

Victor stretched out an arm, indicating the empty chairs. His serious expression added wisdom to his five and twenty years. “Of course, Isabel. Please, sit.”

I perched on the very edge of the chair and set my back straight to not crush my bustle. Victor sat at his desk while Jamie settled himself next to the fireplace.

“Is something the matter?” Jamie leaned forward, his blond hair swishing about his cheeks. “You are pale.”

I faced him. “Well, I—” A dark blue bruise marked his chin, his bottom lip was split, and a fresh cut marred his forehead. “What happened to you?”

Jamie clenched and unclenched his fists. “My encounter with one of the Supernaturals we’re trying to recruit didn’t end well.”

I focused on Jamie, unleashed my power, and reached out for his feelings. A rush of energy flooded me, and heat warmed my chest. His anger, annoyance, and humiliation washed over me. Physical pain stabbed him as well. I gently prodded his body with my mental strength. His ribs hurt, and a cut on his back throbbed. His feelings left the sour taste of unripe grapes in my mouth.

I swallowed. “This Supernatural must be particularly strong to hurt you.”

Jamie stroked his bruised skin. A new wave of mortification surged from him. “He is moderately strong.”

Moderately strong? Jamie could bend iron bars with two fingers and lift twenty times his weight. How strong was this Supernatural?

Victor shifted his gaze to me. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Exactly about this.” I nodded toward Jamie. “This Supernatural you want to recruit for the investigation on the Heart Collector.”

Victor knitted his blond eyebrows in the same way Jamie would. “You don’t have to concern yourself with that. Jamie will soon make another attempt to meet this Supernatural.”

“But.” I paused to read Victor’s feelings. His determination and mild exasperation reached me. It wasn’t a good start, but maybe my speech would convince him. “I would like you to allow me . . . I mean, to assign me to this mission since I request, kindly, I request kindly, that it would be me, myself, to do it.” Damn. So much for rehashing. I clasped my hands in my lap not to show how much they trembled. “I’d like it to be me.” I swallowed. If I weren’t so eager to get the job, I’d laugh at Victor’s scrunched face.

I searched his feelings again. Even without my supernatural empathetic power, the hard set of his jaw and his narrowed icy blue eyes told me he wasn’t pleased. I cleared my throat. “I want to meet this Supernatural.”

“You want what?” Jamie asked, propping an elbow on the mantelpiece.

I ignored him. “What did you say his name was?”

“I didn’t.” Victor straightened the pile of documents on his desk, arranged quills and inkbottles, and loosened his bow tie.

Meet Barbara Russell

I’m an entomologist and a soil biologist, which is a fancy way to say that I dig in the dirt, looking for bugs. Nature and books have always been my passion. I was a kid when I read The Lord Of The Ring and fell in love with fantasy novels.

When I discovered cosy mystery and crime novel, I fell in love with Hercules Poirot and Sherlock Holmes. Then I grew up and . . . Nah, I’m joking. I didn’t grow up. Don’t grow up, folks! It’s a trap.

PS I hate gardening. There, I said it. Sorry fellow Kiwis.

Freya’s Folly

By Sherry Ewing

On April 6, 2019

In Sherry Ewing, Teatime Tattler

Gentle Reader:

The Teatime Tattler received this aged parchment yesterday. While we puzzle over its delivery to our office, we are pleased to know brazen wenches are not new in 1815.

S. Clemens

Freya peaked around the canvas of a tent to watch the English knight as he made his way through the crowd. She had first seen him leaving his own tent this morn and on impulse she asked a nearby squire for the knight’s name. Sir Charles de Grey, she had been told, and a small smile had lit her face upon hearing it while she began following him through camp.

Heart pounding, she continued to dodge people and other obstacles in her pursuit to stay near Sir Charles. She was unprepared when he suddenly turned as though he felt her presence. She quickly ducked behind another tent in the hopes he had not caught her following him. She could not say why she was so drawn to this handsome stranger but he had certainly held her interest from afar. No harm could come from a closer look, could it?

With her chest heaving at the near thought of being found out, she dared another look only to find him gone! She stepped from her hiding place in order to once more continue her search for him. She was unprepared when her arm was taken in a fierce grip. Forced backwards against the canvas that had obviously not provided any source of concealment, she stared into the eyes of the very person who had momentarily escaped her. He was taller up close than she expected for she barely reached to his chest. With his blond hair and vivid blue eyes, she almost sighed at how handsome he was now that he stood before her. And then he spoke, and her world crashed down around her.

“Why are you following me?” he asked in an amused tone. Before she could answer, he continued, much to her dismay. “If you are looking for a bit of sport, I do not have time to dally at the moment. Perchance later, although I must admit you are prettier than most of the wenches who meander about.” He took hold of her chin as though to examine her closer before he gave her a quick kiss upon her lips.

“H-how d-dare ye kiss me?” Freya sputtered.

He began fumbling at a leather pouch upon his belt. Drawing out a coin, he held out the meager offering for her to take. “For your troubles…”

A gasp escaped her. “Do ye ken who ye are speaking tae?”

A chuckle escaped him. “Given you have been dodging my every move this morn, I assumed you were one of the women camp followers who earn their way at such events. Was I mistaken?”

He thought her a whore! His insult stung even as she knew her brother Douglas would be mortified to learn she had been following the man in the first place. Swinging her arm to smack the smirk off his face, he easily caught her hand before pulling her closer. Her breath left her while she tried to think clearly.

She began to struggle in his arms. “Ye braying arse! I am Lady Freya of Berwyck,” she shouted. He let go of her so quickly she stumbled to right herself and not land in the dirt.

“As in the sister to Laird Douglas of Clan MacLaren?” A look passed across his features showing her that he was not pleased she was associated with her brother.

“Aye. I will tell him of yer insult tae me,” she hissed.

“Tell him anything you like but for your own sake, and mine, stay away from me. I have had all I can handle from a MacLaren for one day.”

Freya continued to stare at him while he stomp away and as she watched him go, she was uncertain if she was happy or sad at his leaving.

Freya and Charles are secondary characters in Belle Sherry Ewing’s latest release: To Love A Scottish Laird: De Wolfe Pack Connected World. This novella has become a prequel to Sherry’s debut novel If My Heart Can See You. It combines the worlds of Katheryn Le Veque’s De Wolfe Pack series and Sherry’s Knights of Berwyck.

Sometimes you really can fall in love at first sight…

Lady Catherine de Wolfe knows she must find a husband before her brother chooses one for her. A tournament to celebrate the wedding of the Duke of Normandy might be her answer. She does not expect to fall for a man after just one touch.

Laird Douglas MacLaren of Berwyck is invited to the tournament by the Duke of Normandy. He goes to ensure Berwyck’s safety once Henry takes the throne. He does not expect to become entranced by a woman who bumps into him.

Yet, nothing is ever quite that simple. Not everyone is happy with the union of this English lady and a Scottish laird. From the shores of France, to Berwyck Castle on the border between their countries, Douglas and Catherine must find their way to protect their newfound love.

Excerpt:

“You can let go of me now,” she said softly, not wanting to appear ungrateful for his help. His arms dropped to his sides, and she swore she felt a loss she had never experienced before.

“Aye, of course,” he said a little too gruffly. “Mayhap we should introduce ourselves since I all but caused ye tae fall.”

“’Twas hardly your fault,” Catherine said with a small smile. “I must apologize for my clumsiness.”

“No harm was done as long as ye were not injured.”

“Nay… I am well, as you can see for yourself.”

“Ye appear very well.” A grin split his lips. He gave a short bow. “I am Douglas of Clan MacLaren and laird of Berwyck Castle. And ye are…”

She curtsied. “Lady Catherine de Wolfe.”

His brow lifted, giving evidence of his surprise. “de Wolfe?”

Catherine raised her chin. “Aye. You have perchance heard of us?” she asked. Although proud of her heritage, ’twas sometimes an inconvenience when it came to men, their ambitions, and her dowry. Dowry? When had Lord Douglas become a possibility for her husband?

He chuckled. “I would have tae be living in a hole in the ground tae have not heard of the de Wolfe family.”

Buy it on Amazon or read it now with Kindle Unlimited.

More about Sherry:

Sherry is proud to be one of the Bluestocking Belles. Sherry 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 her on the tab above or visit her on one of these social media outlets:

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Outrageous Debut!

By Bluestocking Belles

On April 3, 2019

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Mr. S. Clemmons is alarmed to confirm the rumor running rampant for the past week that a certain Miss T*** L***, a young female of such dubious reputation that one hesitates to call her a “lady,” despite her gentle birth, will in fact affront the propriety of Society by entering the Marriage Mart this Season.

Such a young person would expect to meet with nothing but the Cut Direct she so richly deserves, were it not for the unfortunate circumstance that perhaps the most redoubtable matron in all Society, the Dowager Countess Lady S****, has inexplicably agreed to act as her sponsor.

While one would never have the temerity to question the decision of this formidable lady (or wish to risk incurring her censure,) we believe that responsible members of Society (and certainly matrons with innocent daughters to protect) will find a discrete but effective way to avoid interacting with this Infamous Personage. After sufficient discouragement, we trust that this unsuitable female will soon remove herself from the company of respectable members of Society.

Respectfully submitted, Mr. S. Clemmons

About the Book

Angered by Society’s treatment of her mother and unfounded suspicions about her character, Temperance Lattimar dreams of exploring the world, gathering treasures for her father. Hiding a dark secret, she’s determined never to marry—until her father’s restrictions on her fortune induce her to suggest a marriage of convenience to her brother’s rakish best friend, Gifford Newell. If he’ll allow her to travel as she wishes, he can use her money to further his career in Parliament.

Then a tragic accident turns this “mister” into an earl, upsetting the comfortable terms of their “marriage blanche.” Temper knows an earl needs an heir, while Gifford finds himself increasingly tempted to renegotiate their bargain of a marriage in name only–for the hoyden he once knew has become a seductively beguiling woman…

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2LtnNpC

B&N: https://bit.ly/2QKq6dK

Kobo: https://bit.ly/2BxwQRx

Google play: https://bit.ly/2PUz5Dz

~Excerpt~

London, early April, 1833

“You’re certain you won’t come with me?” Temperance Lattimar’s twin sister asked as she looked up from the trunk into which she’d just laid the last tissue-wrapped gown. “I know Bath isn’t the center of Society it used to be, but there will be balls and musicales and soirées to attend. And, with luck, attend without whispers of Mama’s latest escapade following us everywhere.”

Temperance jumped up from the window seat overlooking the tiny garden of Lord Vraux’s Brook Street townhouse and walked over to give Prudence a hug. “Much as I will miss you, darling Pru, I have no intention of leaving London. I won’t let the rumor mongers chase me away. But I do very much hope that Bath will treat you kindly—“ though I doubt it, London gossips being sure to keep their Bath counterparts updated about the latest scandal—“and that you will find that gentleman to love you and give you the normal family you’ve always wanted.” Letting her sister go, Temper laughed. “Although, growing up in this family, I’m not sure you’ll recognize ‘normal’ even if you find it.”

“You mean,” Prudence asked, irony—and anger—in her voice, “not everyone grows up with a father who won’t touch them, a mother with lovers tripping up and down the stairs every day, and rumors that only their oldest brother is really the son of their father?”

“Remember when we were little—how much we enjoyed having all those handsome young men bring us hair ribbons and sweets?” Temper said, trying to tease her sister out of her pique.

Pru stopped folding the tissue paper she was inserting to cushion the gowns and sent Temper a look her twin had no trouble interpreting.

“I suppose it’s only us, the lucky ‘Vraux Miscellany,’ who fit that sorry description,” Temper said, changing tacks, torn between sympathy for the distress of her twin and a smoldering anger for the way Society had treated their mother. “Gregory, the anointed heir, then you and me and Christopher, the…add-ons. Heavens, what would Papa have done, had Gregory not survived? He might have had to go near Mama again.”

“Maybe if he had, they’d have reconciled—whatever difficulty lay between them, and we would have ended up being a normal family.”

Temper sighed. “Is there such a thing? Although, to be fair, you have to admit that Mama has fulfilled the promise she made to us on our sixteenth birthday. She’s conducted herself with much more restraint these last six years.”

“Maybe so, but by then, the damage was already done,” Pru said bitterly. “How wonderful, at your first event with your hair up and your skirts down, to walk into the drawing room and hear someone whisper, ‘There they are–the Scandal Sisters.’ Besides, as this latest incident shows, Mama’s reputation is such that she doesn’t have to do anything now to create a furor.”

“Not when there are always block-headed men around to do it for her,” Temper said acidly. “Well, nothing we can do about that.”

After helping her twin hold down the lid of the trunk and latch it, she gave Pru another hug. “Done, then! Aunt Gussie collects you this morning, doesn’t she? So take yourself off to Bath, find that worthy gentleman, and create the warm, happy, normal family you so desire. No one could be more deserving of a happy ending than you, my sweet sister!”

“Thank you, Temper,” Pru said as her sister crossed to the door. “I shall certainly try my hardest to make it so. But…are you still so determined not to marry? I know you’ve insisted that practically since we were sixteen, but…
The dark memories struggled to surface, and Temper forced them down. “You really think I would give up my freedom, put myself legally and financially under the thumb of some man who can ignore me or beat me or spend my entire dowry without my being able to do a thing to prevent it?”

“I know we haven’t been witness to a…very hopeful example, but not all marriages are disasters. Look at Christopher and Ellie.”

“They are fortunate.”

“Christopher’s friends seem to be equally fortunate—Lyndlington with his Maggie, David Smith with his duchess, Ben Tawny with Lady Alyssa,” Pru pointed out.

Temper shifted uncomfortably. If she were truly honest, she had to admit a niggle of envy for the sort of radiant happiness her brother Christopher and his friends had found with the women they’d chosen as wives.

“Besides,” Pru pressed her point, “it’s the character of the husband that will determine how fairly and kindly the wife is treated. And we both know there are fair, kind, admirable men in London. Look at Gregory—or Gifford!”

Gifford Newell. Her brother’s best friend and carousing buddy, who’d acted as another older brother, tease, nag and friend since she was in leading strings. Although lately, something seemed to have shifted between them…some sort of wordless tension that telegraphed between them when they were together, edgy, exciting…and threatening.

She might be inexperienced, but with a mother like theirs, Temper knew where that sort of tension led. And she wanted none of it.

“Very well, I grant you that there are some upstanding gentlemen in England, and some of them actually find the happy unions they deserve. I…I just don’t think marriage is for me. “ Squeezing her sister’s hand, she crossed to the doorway. “Don’t forget to come say good-bye before you leave! Now, you’d better find where your maid has disappeared with the rest of your bonnets before Aunt Gussie arrives. You know she hates to be kept waiting.”

Pru gave her a troubled look, but to Temper’s relief, did not question her any further. She kept very few secrets from her sister, but this one she simply couldn’t share.

Tacitly accepting Temper’s change of subject, Pru said, “Of course I’ll bid everyone goodbye. And you’re correct, Aunt Gussie will be anxious to get started. She’s hoping to travel most of the way to Bath today, so we might arrive in good time tomorrow. Anyway, since you can’t be presented this year, what do you mean to do in London?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Temper replied, looking back at her from the doorway. “Maybe I’ll create some scandals of my own!”

About the Author

Award-winning historical romance author Julia Justiss has written more than thirty novels and novellas set in the English Regency and the American West.

A voracious reader who began jotting down plot ideas for Nancy Drew novels in her third grade spiral, Julia has published poetry and worked as a business journalist.

She and her husband live in East Texas, where she continues to craft the stories she loves. Check her website for details about her books, chat with her on social media, and follow her on Bookbub and Amazon to receive notices about her latest releases. For special subscriber giveaways, discounted books, character sketches and more, sign up for her newsletter at:

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Deception and family honor

By Guest author

On March 27, 2019

In Teatime Tattler

Welcome to this special lecture presentation of The Teatime Tattler. I am your host and moderator, Samuel Clemens. In our continuing effort to bring you information about the people involved in The Stelton Legacy, we’ve been able to pull off a real coup. Family honor is at stake.

Tonight we meet Lady Darla Maxwell, a young woman for whom her father Graeme Maxwell and close friend, Lord Ewan MacDougall sought a suitable husband. Lady Darla has a … magical background which, as a young woman would, she sought to deny. I hope we can find out more about how her magic influenced the outcome of her story.

Lord Wesley Reynolds, the son of the well-known silk merchant William Reynolds has a most interesting background that I hope he’ll elaborate on today. It’s what made him the man trusted by the King of England as well as the Guardians of Scotland.

One moment, please. I’m getting instructions from our stage manager. (leans over the stage). Ladies and gentlemen. Our stage manager has just informed me our guests have arrived at the studio.

Ah. The lights have dimmed. A hush has come over the theatre. I can see into the wings. Yes. The door has opened. The anticipation in the room is palpable. Wait. I see them. They’re walking toward us. They have a stately and commanding appearance, and they’re holding hands. It is very tender and touching.

(Clemens rises from his chair as his guests’ approach.)

Clemens: Lord Wesley, Lady Darla. It’s good to meet you.

(Chairs scrape the floor, feet shuffle as everyone takes their seats.)

Clemens: Lady Darla please sit here next to Lord Wesley.

(Darla and Wesley hold hands. Wesley eases back in his chair and crosses his legs in a relaxed position.)

Clemens: Thank you for granting us an interview. Everyone here at Inside Scoop is excited you’re with us.

Lord Wesley: Lady Darla and I are happy to be with you today.

Justin: Our time is short so unless you have any questions I’d like to get right to the questions.

Wesley: I have no questions at the moment. Please begin.

Clemens:: (Papers rustle as Clemens gets settled.) Lord Wesley, you have a very interesting personal history with several twists and turns. Please explain how your background made you the man you are today.

Wesley: As a young man I followed in my father’s footsteps. He was both an excellent silk merchant and business man. He taught me the silk business from cultivating the silk worms, to making the final bolts of cloth, to selling and shipping the bolts. I learned by traveling with him and observing him at his work. He was a well-respected merchant and excellent negotiator. When he passed away, I was ready to take over although I will never be able to take his place.

(Darla squeezes Wesley’s hand, her face full of encouragement.)

Justin: I understand you sailed out of the Cinque Ports in southern Europe, in the service of the King of England. Some say you were a privateer.

(Wesley lets go of Darla’s hand and moves to the edge of his seat.)

Wesley: Why do you ask?

Darla: Wesley. (She touches her husband’s arm.)

Wesley: My Love, it still pains me to think of those days much less speak about them.

(Darla gives her husband an encouraging smile. Wesley turns back to Justin and lets out a slow breath.)

Wesley: I provided the king with the silks he wanted, as I did with many monarchs across Europe. Because of my connections I was a good sounding board for him. I had my own ships and one thing led to another. I had no love for the Spanish. They thought I was a charity, taking my goods without paying for them. So, I simply took from their ships to repay their debt. All in all, a good transaction.

Darla: When Wesley’s father took ill he went to help him.

Wesley: There were certain family incidents that happened. Over the years, my brother told me what happened and why. I believed Darla’s father and Lord Ewan, my father’s closest friends plotted against him and my family. I thought they ruined his business and took his property, circumstances that led to his death.

Justin: You said you thought they conspired against your father. I surmise you don’t believe that now. What made you believe it in the first place and why did you have a change of heart?

Wesley: Simply said, I put my trust in someone close and was deceived.

Clemens: Did this have anything to do with the pirate king, MacAlpin?

(Wesley chuckles.)

Wesley: I understand why you ask. The MacAlpin has the reputation of being a ruthless savage pirate. But, in all my dealings with him he proved to be fair and trustworthy. He was instrumental is seeing justice was served. It was difficult after years of believing something so strongly that it became your essence, to have the truth uncovered and recognize you’d been lied to for a very long time.

Justin: I’m sure it is. I understand Lady Darla was at your side.Darla: From the first moment we met on the docks by my father’s ship and I mistook him for Lord Ewan’s son-in-law, Magnus I was drawn to Wesley. I was relieved to learn he wasn’t Magnus. Very pleased indeed.

Wesley: Darla’s father, Lord Graeme Maxwell–

Clemens: The renowned gem and jewelry merchant?

(Darla beamed with pride.)

Wesley: Yes. Maxwell and Lord Ewan were nothing like I expected. After my father’s death I was told again of their thievery, had it stamped into my brain. I didn’t question it. You see, from an early age I was fostered to the Highland Maxwells. When I came back and worked with my father he had already moved the family from our home on Lord Ewan’s island, forced out I was told. I accepted it as truth and when my father died I vowed to take revenge for all the injustices Graeme Maxwell and Ewan MacDougall did to my father and family.

Darla: Wesley thought to use me as a pawn in his effort to hurt my father.

Wesley: (He turns to Darla) That wasn’t one of my shining moments. The more time we spent together and the more I got to know you, your father, and Lord Ewan, the more I knew I had it all wrong, but evil kept buzzing in my ear, pushing me to carry out the plans.

Darla: You found the truth. It’s all over now.

(Wesley holds Darla’s hand and looks into her eyes.)

Wesley: I’m a very lucky man.

(Clemens coughs to remind them they aren’t alone. They both turn toward Clemens.)

Clemens: Lady Darla, I understand you have unique insight—

Wesley: Come Darla. (Wesley gets to his feet.) It’s time to leave.

(Clemens, astonished by Lord Wesley’s action looks at Wesley. Darla remains calm and seated.)

Clemens: M’lord. I apologize if I have offended you or your lady.

Darla: No, Mr. Clemens. My husband is very protective. (Darla stands next to her husband.) I do have a unique ability. I have second sight. I see things before they happen. Some people—

Wesley: Unintelligent, witless ones–

Darla: Mr. Clemens gets your meaning. Some people believe it witchcraft. They say and do foolish things. It is why I kept to myself while growing up. Why I never allowed myself to become attached to a gentleman. How could I get someone I loved tangled in that rat’s nest. Some may see my gift as a blessing, but I assure you it is not. Imagine knowing something terrible is going to happen and you’re not able to influence it at all. I thought I would never marry. I was satisfied with being alone the rest of my life. I was wrong. I had no idea that I waited for the right person, my soul mate. I never saw that coming until I met Wesley. So much for my second sight. When I found him I knew I would never let him go. He is my love, my life.

(Wesley takes his wife in his arms. Clemens stands.)

Wesley: As you are mine. (He turns to Clemens.) Deception and family honor were at stake.

Darla: So was my heart.

Wesley: Do you have any other questions?

Clemens: No, Lord Wesley. Thank you both for speaking to us. (He turns to the audience.) Thank you for coming today. Lady Darla hasn’t told us much about her second sight, but I understand it is quite interesting. You can find out more about Lady Darla’s magic and Lord Wesley in The Pirate’s Jewel. Until next time.

The Pirate’s Jewel

Deception and family honor are at stake – so is her heart.

Wesley Reynolds will do anything to avenge his family’s banishment from Dundhragon Castle even throw in with the notorious pirate, MacAlpin. His plan, ruin Lord Ewan’s trading network. He has a more devious plan for his father’s ‘best friend,’ the man who abandoned them at the eleventh hour. He’ll ruin the man’s most precious jewel, his daughter Darla. Wesley’s so close to ruining the trade network and succeeding he can almost taste it, but revenge is not nearly as sweet as Darla’s kisses.

Darla Maxwell, beloved by her parents has no prospects of marriage. Her father and Lord Ewan search to find her the right husband. Darla’s special gifts are frightening to many. She has visions that often come true. The murky image of a man haunts her, she’s sure it’s Lord Ewan’s soon-to-be son-in-law, but the vision morphs when she meets Wesley. The meaning couldn’t be any clearer to her, her destiny lies with Wesley.

When revelations surface indicating Wesley has been deceived and his revenge misplaced. Will he find the truth of what really happened to his family in time to stop the pirates? Will Darla ever forgive him? Will he ever forgive himself?

Buy Link: Kindle Unlimited https://amzn.to/2Cyrbev

About the Author

Hi – I’m Ruth A. Casie and I write historical and contemporary romance. You might be wondering what I’m about. Sit back and let me tell you.

I’m happiest when I’m telling stories either chatting in a group or writing them down. I love to put my hero and heroine in tough situations and dare them to work it out—together, always together. They haven’t disappointed. Oh, they complain but in the end their love and relationships are stronger than ever.

Here are five things you probably don’t know about me.

1. I filled my passport up in one year.

2. I have three series. The Druid Knight stories are a historical time travel series. The Stelton Legacy is historical fantasy about the seven sons of a seventh son. Havenport Romances are stories set in a small coast Rhode Island town. I also write stories in the connected world the Pirates of Britannia.

3. I did a rap to “How Many Trucks Can a Tow Truck Tow If a Tow Truck Could Tow Trucks.”

4. When I cook I dance.

5. My Sudoku book is in the bathroom. I’m not saying anything else about that.

My stories feature strong women and the men who deserve them, endearing flaws and all. Their stories will keep you turning the pages until the end. I hope my stories become your favorite adventures.

I’m a USA Today bestselling author.

My hobbies:

* counted cross stitch

* ballroom dancing – not just between the fridge and stove

* reading almost anything

* Sudoko – I’m still staying quiet about that

Social Media Links:

Website: https://ruthacasie.com/

Email: mailto:ruth@ruthacasie.com

Personal Blog: http://www.ruthacasie.blogspot.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/RuthACasie

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/RuthACasie/