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Never let a little money come between a girl and her future comfort, I say!

Sweetbriar Engagement Ball

Dearest Reader,

I hesitate to tell you this dreadful tale of a young lady of respectable family, yet not high in the instep. Yes, her father has marital aspirations for her and her younger sister. You do know what I mean. Well! I tell you that I have it on good authority that she will not marry the man whom her father has purchased for her.

Yes. I do say purchased.

Now you must think me quite mad to say that I rather hope she does marry him anyway. As it is her pride that stands at the door to her happiness, she must give in and marry the poor fellow! (He is very poor.)

Don’t you agree?

Aside from the fact that she should have danced all night, rather than succumb to madness, I am all for her! I mean, after all, a girl who has money should take advantage of all opportunities.

I know you will find my thinking sound. After all, I never had any money and look what happened to me!

Lady Reginald Marlow

Excerpt, THE RAVEN’S LAST BET, All rights reserved. Copyright, Cerise DeLand 2022.

“Listen to me, Sara. I have a plan. It won’t be one either of our fathers likes but it might work.”

She pulled away. Peering into his magnificent eyes clouded her judgement. His green-brown orbs reflected a sadness in the faint lights that matched her own. “Tell me.”

“We announce that we intend to marry others.”

“I’ve already left two men alone before the vicar. Now there’s this gossip in the Gazette—?”

“Forget those other two men. And hang them at the Gazette.”

She put a hand to her hip. “We’ll send them new stories. Marvelous. I dislike your thinking, Harry. Totally. Marry another? Ba! Precisely who did you have in mind?” 

He gave her a look that said he had the right answer. “A man who makes you tingle.”

“Of whom there is no one.” Which is a lie.

“For each woman, there is a man. A perfect match.”

“I’ve not found him in four years. Why now?”

“You will lure him.”

 By some folly, to be sure. “How?”

A wicked gleam lit those iridescent eyes. “With kisses.”

“You expect me to kiss men?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “How else will you discover the right fellow?”

“How else will I go down as a scarlet woman? I’ve climbed enough fences barring me because I am of the dreaded merchant class. Papa’s money might continue to buy me entry, but if I degrade myself further, no one will touch me!”

He tipped up his chin. “You will be discreet. I will help.”

“You’ll bar doors?”

“And divert traffic.”

She scowled at him. “You’ve been away much too long, sir. You think me so brave. I am different from that child who tagged along behind you and tucked frogs in your pants.”

He scoffed. “Remind me. Who came to me night before last in her nightrail?”

”Dressing gown.”

He waved that away. “Exactly my point.”

Exasperated, she huffed. “The fault, dear Harry, is not in our stars, but in myself.”

“I agree.”

Oh, he infuriated her! “I do not know how to kiss.”

“And so you will learn.”

Only one way. She could barely say it. “By doing.”

“Indeed.” He winked. “With me.”

That way lay disaster and hopeless ruin. She’d should return to this party, because this was hopeless. She’d given up wanting him so long ago. Or thought she had. She threw up her hands. “Absurd.”

“Is it?” He took a step toward her, so near she inhaled his scent, imbibed his familiar allure that she could not allow to thrill her. “You said my kiss left you with no…what is the word?”

“You know perfectly well the word.”

“Tickle?”

If only. “Tingle.”

“Well then, my darling.” With one hand he caught her wrist while he swept his other hand around her waist. “Let’s see if this fits the bill.”

“No, stop!” Wonderful. Now she sounded like the village crier. 

“There, there. Don’t be shy. An experiment, eh?” He lifted her hand toward his mouth. “Or shall we call it…” he murmured, as he put her index finger, fully gloved, against the neat cleft in his chin, “…a demonstration? Visible to the naked eye.”

He smiled. Or was that the show of teeth of a predator? A creature who…gloated? 

He caught the point of her glove between his long white incisors. The act of a male bent on taking a bite of her, he tugged. The fabric slid along her finger, silk on silk, a glissade of shivering delight. Her glove glided from her elbow in a silent skim of her nerves. She shivered.

He halted. Glanced up at her, those long dark lashes of his rising to reveal the facets of a Harry she’d never known. A ravenous devil appeared there, one who pulled at another fingertip, starving for more of her until her hand was bare. Nipping her third finger and the next, he sent tremors up her spine. Her mouth fell open as he took her smallest finger, fabric and all, and bathed the whole of it in his hot moist mouth. His tongue served as succor—and as torture. 

She panted as if she’d run a mile. Her gaze glued to his voracious teeth, she dare not look away or lose a second. What he gave, she took. If it was instruction, it was also a revelation. Though she knew not how to interpret his lips to her fingers as lips to lips, she reveled in whatever he’d choose next. 

With a yank of his teeth, he pulled and her glove slid slowly down her arm and fell to the floor. She was bare to the night air, chilled and burning, as he caught her fingers and pressed them to his open mouth. He cupped her elbow, and her wrist was once more his. Bare skin gave him no pause, but encouragement to lift her hand once more. 

He groaned and crushed her torso fully against him. His possession, from her breasts to her hips, left her pulsing. 

He put her palm to his lips and licked the hollow of her hand. She moaned at his luscious homage and her knees gave way. As he caught her up, he bit the heal of her hand. She yelped. He gave a grunt, nigh unto laughter or triumph, she knew not which, then wrapped her arm around his waist. As he sweetly backed her to the wall, his hair fell loose over his brow and he focused on her lips. 

Then he took them.

THE RAVEN’S LAST BET and a BONUS BOOK!
She won’t be sold into marriage.
He won’t wed her for any amount of money. Only love.
If he can just figure out a way!

Harry Seymour arrives home from years of fighting abroad to learn he must clean up the family mess. His father demands Harry honor a deal he made with his best friend for Harry to marry the man’s daughter…for money.
Harry, who’s loved Sara Fleming since she was four, has no problem marrying her. He never did, even when she was denied him because she was the Whiskey King’s daughter.
But he won’t wed her for money.
Sara cannot accept the bargain her father made. She’s already left two men at the altar because she didn’t love either one. And if she can’t wed Harry for love, she’ll marry no one. But she wagers she’ll walk away a spinster…and happy if Harry will do her the favor of ruining her.
It’s a bet Harry can’t refuse.
Can he?
***
Bonus Book!
LORD STANTON’S SHOCKING SEASIDE HONEYMOON

She is so wrong for him.
Miss Josephine Meadows is so young. In love with life. His accountant in his work for Whitehall. Her father’s heir to his trading company—and his espionage network.
Lord Stanton cannot resist marrying her. But to ensure Wellington defeats Napoleon, they must save one of Josephine’s agents.
Far from home, amidst a horrific storm, Stanton discovers that his new bride loves him dearly.
Can he truly be so right for her?
And she for him?

BUY LINK: The Raven’s Last Bet – Kindle edition by DeLand, Cerise. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

Cerise DeLand, The Author

Cerise DeLand is the USA TODAY bestselling author who has been writing since God created dirt. (That’s an old Texas saying!) But she has been at it for nearly 40 years! With about 80 books to her credit, she has stopped counting.

Follow her please on Amazon: Cerise DeLand on Amazon

 

New Scandal Sheets take up ‘Sensitive’ Matters! Beware!

Dearest Readers,

Readers of this regular missive are certainly aware of other purveyors of news related to the Bon Ton. The Lady’s Newspaper and Pictorial Times, for example, or Fraser’s Magazine for Town and Country. Those of genteel breeding, however, may not be aware of the existence of single-sheet items printed hurriedly and sold on the streets cheaply for a penny or halfpenny, perhaps because they deal with issues of politics that many ladies do not concern themselves with.

However, a rumor has arisen that a member of the gentry may be behind one of these scandalous sheets. This man calls himself Janner, which is a name for an English person born within ten miles of the sea, and though his ideas may be controversial his language and ability to express himself reveals that he is a man of great education, perhaps a graduate of one of our finest universities.

Janner takes up a variety of causes, from the support of bills in Parliament governing the labor of women and children in factories to the plight of boys who work delivering goods to our very homes from vendors we might otherwise hold in esteem.

His fervor is that of a young man, and enquiring minds are curious to see if he can be matched to anyone from a seaside background with an excellent education. Certain names have arisen, most specifically Lord Tyne and Lord Therkenwell, who both hail from Cornwall.

Those who encountered Lord Tyne during his sister’s season may have reason to doubt his ability to form such elegant sentences. Which leaves Lord Therkenwell, who shares a dwelling in Eaton Square with a gentleman employed by the French embassy. This somewhat louche arrangement results in two eligible bachelors who are rarely seen in the company of women.

These particulars, as well as the fact that Therkenwell has taken a more public stance on issues now that his father, Earl Badgely, is less active in the House of Lords, leads your correspondent to make a connection between Janner and the Cornish lord.

How does this relate to the readers of this publication? Recently Janner has taken a position on the pay and working conditions of household staff! And that should concern any lady who wishes to maintain a proper home—especially on a budget. We shall keep abreast of these issues in the future, and whether we can expose Lord Therkenwell as the author of these missives.

***

Janner Excerpt,  The Lord and the Gentleman

Ahead of him he spotted a young boy selling broadsides. He hurried closer to see if it was the latest Janner. And indeed as the boy called out the headline, he recognized it. He felt warm inside—until a portly man in a heavy overcoat grabbed one of the pages from the boy without paying.

“Here, mister, that’s a penny,” the boy said.

The man glanced at the headline. “I don’t pay for trash!” he said.

When the boy grabbed for the paper, the man pushed him, and John felt obliged to step in. “It is theft to take something without paying for it,” John said. “Either return that page to the boy or pay him, or I will call the bobbies on you!”

The man turned on him, his mouth a snarl. Then his eyes opened. He looked at John, taking in the cut of his topcoat, the ruffled sleeve that stretched over his wrist. “A molly, are you?”

“Even I were, I would have no interest in such as you,” John said coldly. “A pork pie stuffed in a sausage casing, and a thief to boot. I reiterate, sirrah. Give the boy his coin or his paper.”

Huffing, the main pulled a coin from his pocket and handed it to the boy. He folded the paper under his arm. 

John tipped his hat and said, “Good day.” Then he turned and began to stride back toward Russell Square, his heart beating rapidly. The nerve of the man, a commoner in cheap clothing, to insult him, a member of the gentry. Usually his outrage led him to write as Janner, so when he got home, he pulled down an empty notebook from his shelf and wrote out the incident, indicating, time, place and what the man was wearing. Those details would be useful at some point, he was sure.

As he closed the book and put it back on the shelf, he wondered if other boys suffer the same conduct when selling his work? The idea remained with him, and became the substance of the next Janner broadside, about the value of work. Regardless what readers might think of broadsides, they were the result of work by writers, editors, printers and salesboys, and each of them deserved to be compensated. To snatch away a page, as the man had done, was a theft against all involved in the production.

He worked all week on this essay, taking quick trips out to spy on the salesboys and see if anyone else tried to take advantage of them. He witnessed hectoring and even one man who spit, and he used those examples as well. 

By the time Saturday night arrived, when he had an invitation to a soirée at the home of Lord Dawson and the man he shared a house with, Toby Marsh, he was tired. He was still angry about the injustices perpetrated against the salesboys, and unhappy over his father’s demand that he head to Shorecliff.

“I don’t know if I shall go out tonight,” he said to Beller as evening darkened. 

“You have worked hard this whole long week, my lord,” Beller said. “See how ink-stained your fingertips are? They are a mark of your industry. Whether you go out or not you must let me work on them.”

John sat at the small table in his kitchen. Beller sat across from him with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a worn cloth, and John stretched out his right hand. Beller grasped it with one hand and used the other to brush aggressively against the ink stains. 

“You take very good care of me, Beller,” John said, even as his fingertips stung against the abrasion.

“God calls every Christian to glorify him in our work,” Beller said. “According to Saint Luke’s account in the Bible, Mary Magdalen washed the feet of Christ with her tears at a banquet in the House of Simon.” He looked up at John with the hint of a smile. “At least I may use rubbing alcohol instead of my tears.”

John laughed. “You are a rogue, Beller,” he said. “And that is why I enjoy your company so much.”

“And I yours, my lord.” When he finished cleaning John’s fingers, he said, “and now, are you ready to reward your hard work with some entertainment?”

John smiled. “I am, my good man. Thank you. Shall I wear the tweed suit?”

“I think it is appropriate for the January cold,” Beller said. “With a wool scarf and top hat, and your greatcoat over it.” 

Once Beller had completed John’s ensemble, John struck out for the walk to Ormond Yard. The night was chilly but clear—or as clear as sooty London could be. He even managed to spot the North Star above him, though it was quickly eclipsed by wafts of smoke coming from chimneys he passed.

Cornwall in February would be quite dreary, he thought, as he turned onto Great Russell Street, past the enormous pile of the British Museum. It was closed, of course, but he gave a nod toward the Egyptian sculpture gallery, one of his favorites. When he came down to London occasionally from Cambridge, he had often strolled through those galleries, peering at the Rosetta Stone as if it could decipher his future for him.

He had so much good fortune in his life, he thought. An allowance from his father that enabled him to live in comfort, his writings as Janner that gave him a purpose. He had Beller for companionship and service. Though he longed for a male companion he had to resolve to continue until such a man arrived in his life.

Two elderly men passed him, one holding the other by the belt so he would not topple, and John tipped his cap at them and wished them good evening. Seeing their connection made him smile all the way to Ormond Yard.

***

The Lord and the Frenchman, blurb

Two wounded men discover true love and a found family in Victorian England

In the opulent courts of Victorian England, John Seales, Lord Therkenwell, is a man of wealth and privilege, expected to marry a woman of his own social standing and produce an heir. But when he meets dashing French diplomat Raoul Desjardins at a soirée arranged by a politically-connected gay couple, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to the man despite the risks of their forbidden love.

John and Raoul struggle to keep their feelings for each other hidden while becoming ensnared in a web of international intrigue that threatens to ruin their careers and endanger their lives. As they navigate the dangerous political landscape of the time, they must also confront their own demons and make a choice: follow the expectations of society or follow their hearts. Set against the backdrop of a tumultuous era, “The Lord and the Frenchman” is a passionate and romantic tale of love that knows no bounds.

Genre: MM Romance

Length: 81,000 words

Publisher: Samwise Books

All formats available

Release date: February 14, 2023

https://www.amazon.com/Lord-Frenchman-Ormond-Romantic-Adventures-ebook/dp/B0BSH6ZL4N/

https://amzn.to/3XNKHMm 

https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-lord-and-the-frenchman/id6445491482

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-lord-and-the-frenchman

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-lord-and-the-frenchman-neil-s-plakcy/1142969348?ean=2940167013803

https://books2read.com/u/4DJyJe 

Neil Plakcy, author bio

Neil Plakcy is living his own happily ever after with his husband and two rambunctious golden retrievers in South Florida, where he is a professor of English at Broward College. He has been a construction manager, a computer game producer, and a web developer – all experiences he uses in his fiction.

He has written or edited over fifty novels and short stories in gay romance, gay mystery, cozy mystery and erotica. His research has taken him from the FBI’s sixteen-week citizen’s academy, where he practiced at a shooting range, to visiting numerous gay bars in Miami Beach and Fort Lauderdale. (Seriously, it was research.) 

His website is www.mahubooks.com

A Lady Deserts her Books…to seek a Scoundrel?

My very good Lady P!  I feel I must write and utterly and completely refute a nefarious rumor that has come to my hearing about my dear sister Lady Caroline Blacknall.  It has been said she left her home, her friends, and her studies to seek out the reclusive, formerly villainous Sir Grant Dunmore on his distant Irish island.  This could not possibly be true!  Lady C would never leave her books for such a length of time, and she grows seasick on boats.  She is a respectable widow!

It could be true that Sir G is in possession of a medieval manuscript that might be of use to her.  But surely after the Great Scandal where Sir G treated Lady C abominably, and was injured and scarred rescuing her, she would never wish to see him again.  And as for tales that the island is haunted—I could not possibly say…

I hope, my dears, this clears up any scurrilous rumors about my sister’s whereabouts

Yours, Anna, Duchess of Adair

Lady of Seduction Book 3 of The Daughters of Erin

It’s a mad, ill-advised journey that leads the usually sensible Lady Caroline Blacknall to the legendary isle of Muirin Inish, off the windswept coast of Ireland. Even so, she doesn’t expect to find herself shipwrecked and then rescued by a man she believed she would never see again. A man who, long ago, held her life in his hands . . . and with it, her heart.

Reformed rake Sir Grant Dunmore knew he could never forget the beautiful woman he once endangered nor will he ever forgive himself. But history seems doomed to repeat itself, for as long as Caroline stays on the island, she is trapped in a secret plot that could forever free Ireland-or turn deadly for all. And yet, now that she is in his arms again, how can he dream of ever letting her go? 

https://www.amazon.com/Lady-Seduction-Daughters-Erin-Book-ebook/dp/B0B5YPY64X/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1TSJAKSXMQACN&keywords=mccabe+lady+of+seduction&qid=1675718713&sprefix=mccabe+lady+of+seduction%2Caps%2C165&sr=8-1

The author: Amanda McCabe wrote her first romance at the age of sixteen—a vast historical epic starring all her friends as the characters, written secretly during algebra class (and her parents wondered why math was not her strongest subject…).

She’s never since used algebra, but her books have been nominated for many awards, including the RITA Award, the Romantic Times BOOKReviews Reviewers’ Choice Award, the Booksellers Best, the National Readers Choice Award, and the Holt Medallion.  She lives in Santa Fe with two rescue dogs, a wonderful husband, and a very and far too many books and royal memorabilia collections.

When not writing or reading, she loves taking dance classes, collecting cheesy travel souvenirs, and watching the Food Network–even though she doesn’t cook.

Visit her at ammandamccabe.com

4 Years Ago, A most unusual Marriage took place!

London, 1816

Four years ago, Victor Hawthorn, son of Viscount Blackmar, traveled to the country estate of wealthy merchant, Mr. Thompson. What Hawthorn thought to be a quiet holiday in the country with his parents turned into a betrothal and quick marriage by Special License to a Miss Charlotte Thompson, who was soon to be sixteen.

I can assure you that Hawthorn did nothing untoward, nor was Miss Thompson ruined. Hawthorn married Charlotte to save his family.

You see, Viscount Blackmar managed to get himself so deeply in debt that the family was on the verge of complete ruin. Mr. Thompson had taken advantage of the situation and had purchased every note of indebtedness, which he promised to forgive and provide a substantial settlement if Hawthorn married the man’s daughter. This sacrifice of the young couple meant that Hawthorn’s younger siblings would not suffer because of their father, and Thompson would finally gain a title for his family once his daughter produced a son and that son inherited.

The betrothal lasted all of twelve hours and the couple married the following day. Hawthorn promptly took his young bride north where he deposited her on an estate he had inherited and then returned to London.

For the past four years the ton has anxiously awaited the appearance of Mrs. Hawthorn, but her husband never saw the need to bring her to Town, which resulted in much speculation, especially since it was common knowledge that he had never once visited after he left her all alone in Willanton.

We thought for certain that when the father died and he became Viscount Blackmar that he’d retrieve his wife and do his duty, yet he did not, and one had to wonder if he ever would. 

That all changed one evening at Whites when Baron Percival Jordan was heard telling Blackmar, “I did not know your wife four years ago, but I do know her now. If she were mine, I would not be here.”

I am to understand that Viscount Blackmar hightailed it out of London the following day to retrieve the wife that he had absented himself from these last four years.

One does wonder what he may find once he arrives.

LINKS FOR ENTICED BY A GOVERNESS:  

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Enticed-Governess-Love-4-ebook/dp/B0BNYBL4QC 

Apple: https://apple.co/3WXsHyM 

Nook/BN: http://bit.ly/3WWGKou 

Kobo: http://bit.ly/3GOIuu8 

Smashwords: https://bit.ly/3GOp2xz 

Books2Read:  https://books2read.com/u/b6zdBE 

RELEASE DATE OF ENTICED BY A GOVERNESS: January 31, 2023

EXCERPT from ENTICED BY A GOVERNESS:

     “So, we finally meet.” As a smile graced his lips, a small dimple appeared on the left side.

“It appears so.” Charlotte turned away from him. He was so much more handsome when he smiled. A girl couldn’t think straight looking at him. “You were not supposed to meet me until tomorrow.”

     “Yes, I know,” he said coming to stand beside her. “But my curiosity got the better of me.”

     “They say curiosity killed the cat,” Charlotte mumbled. 

     Victor chuckled. “In this case curiosity only brought relief.”

     Charlotte tipped her head so that she could study him from the corner of her eye, skeptical of his words. 

“Your appearance has been much of a mystery, and after overhearing my parents, as you did, I feared my imagination had me marrying a witch with a huge wart on the end of her nose.”

     Charlotte laughed lightly. At least she wasn’t that ugly, she hoped.

“I do apologize for their words. I can only offer that they are rude and smug for no reason other than they feel entitled to belittle others because they are in possession of a title.”

     “It is not necessary to apologize for what many believe is the truth,” she explained.

Mr. Hawthorn pulled back and opened his mouth to speak but said nothing. He likely wished to insist that they were wrong but could not bring himself to lie to her. 

     “How old are you?” There was hesitation in his voice.  

She looked young, that she knew, but had her father failed to mention her age in all of this? “Fifteen, soon to turn sixteen.” 

He stilled and she could almost feel the tension radiate from him. Was it too much to hope that he would stomp off and refuse the marriage, or insist that it take place when she was older? 

After a moment he heaved a sigh and settled on the hillside and invited her to sit. “As we have been given this opportunity, we might as well become acquainted.” 

“We should not be out here together.” She had never been alone with a man before, let alone anyone who looked like him.

Mr. Hawthorn smiled up at her. “As we are marrying tomorrow, I see no harm.”

Charlotte sank to her knees beside him. “You are still going to marry me?” She couldn’t believe he wasn’t trying to find a way to back out of the agreement. His family must really be in a most dire financial state.

BLURB

Charlotte Hawthorn had everything she could ever want. She lived alone, enjoyed freedoms that few women ever experience, was a governess and an artist, and she had not seen her husband in four years. Theirs was a marriage in name only, a convenience.

Victor Hawthorn, Viscount Blackmar, had not wanted to marry a stranger at the age of one and twenty. However, when a wealthy merchant purchased all his father’s debts, Victor was given the choice to either marry the man’s soon-to-be sixteen-year-old daughter or his family would face complete ruination. Victor had chosen marriage then left his young bride on a small estate and returned to his life.

When he reluctantly returns four years later, Victor doesn’t find the girl he left behind, but an enticing, independent woman who not only creates beautiful art but would rather be a governess than married to him. Will they find their way to love and happiness or will all be ruined by an enemy who sets out to destroy their future?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

USA Today bestselling author Jane Charles is a prolific writer of over fifty historical and contemporary romance novels. Her love of research lends authenticity to her Regency romances, and her experience directing theatre productions helps her craft beautiful, touching stories that tug at the heartstrings. Jane is an upbeat and positive author dedicated to giving her characters happy-ever-afters and leaving the readers satisfied at the end of an emotional journey. Lifelong Cubs fan, world traveler and mother of three amazing children, Jane lives in Central Illinois with her husband, two dogs and a cat. She is currently writing her next book and planning her dream trip to England. Be sure to join Jane on Facebook @JaneCharlesAuthor for Wine Pairings Wednesdays.

FOLLOW JANE:

Website:  https://www.janecharlesauthor.com/

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

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4879172.Jane_Charles

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/jane-charles

Jane’s Reader Group – Romance & Rosé: https://www.facebook.com/groups/romanceandrose 

Count’s Actions Get Curiouser and Curioser

There’s been scandalous talk in some corners of the Bon Ton regarding the company kept by the eligible bachelor, Armand Danger, Comte de Ytres.

Rumour has it that he was spotted at White’s seeking out the company of Lord Kingston Prendegast. Now your correspondent has it on good authority that the only reason why one seeks out the man willingly is to seek an invitations to one of his parties.

Few details are known about what goes on inside these bacchanals, as both guests and servants are sworn to secrecy suffice to say that the finest of spirits (and the finest of the lightskirts) are to be found.

We are curious to know what the good count is up to given his predeliction for attending auction houses of late and being seen in the company of one Miss Jade Bridges, sister of the current proprietor of Bridges & Sons.

A CURIO FOR THE COUNT

To find his future, he must own his past…

An excerpt from A Curio For The Count:
Lord Prendegast was easy to spot.

His costume hinted at a Tudor style – a close-fitting doublet in red satin edged in black which featured mameluke sleeves of red satin slashed with black. His hose was the same shade of scarlet. His shoes were red leather held by gold buckles and black bows, while gold rings and a striking collar made of large square links sat around his shoulders and neck.

Armand imagined this would be how a libertine Sir Francis Drake might dress. But who was he representing?

Mephistopheles?

It seemed appropriate.

Prendegast headed his way. Armand acknowledged him with a nod, but not his name.

His host clasped him by the shoulders. “Come now, do you see nothing to your liking?”

Armand forced a laugh. “I see plenty – too much to take in all at once.”

“Then greed is not your deadly sin. Very wise of you. The virtuous say to delay gratification is to make the conquest more satisfying. Perhaps there is something to it, perhaps not. Every taste is catered for here. You must be one of my first-time guests.”

He nodded over to a clutch of colorfully dressed prostitutes.

“Nothing is off-limits to my guests. If they do not whet your appetite, you may wish to sample the serving wenches as well as the food.”

He watched as Armand took it all in – the spectacle, the displays of flesh. More welcome than any of that was the smell of freshly roasted meat on a spit.

Prendegast noticed his interest.

“Lust and gluttony can be a potent combination. Enjoy.”

Armand bowed, took another sip from his ale, and put a lightness in his step to stop himself from looking entirely sober and used the opportunity to wander around the gardens.

There were more here than just the statue of Athena. There were at least a dozen magnificent life-sized figures from the pantheon of Greek deity. Armand had no idea who the sculptor was, but he could appreciate the workmanship. It was tempting to run his hands along the shapely calf of Aphrodite, so he did and ignored any strange glances that might have been directed his way.

Why not? Nothing was off-limits.

The anonymous sculptor was a master of his craft. Armand understood how Prometheus thought, his desire to create a beautiful woman – his perfect woman captured in marble and yet brought to life.

Armand allowed himself to feel a measure of hope for his mission.

Given the sculptures in the grounds, perhaps it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that the Thalatte clock was in this building after all.

A CURIO FOR THE COUNT (BOOK TWO, THE GEMS OF LONDON)

Raised as an Englishman, Armand Danger, Comte de Ytres, is troubled by a dream from his childhood that leaves him speculating on his French past.

He is convinced an elaborate clock belonging to his late father, executed in the French Revolution, holds the answers he seeks.

Miss Jade Bridges works as a valuer in her family’s London antiques shop and auction house. One day she receives mysterious letter from an anonymous client willing to pay any price for a very specific statue clock.

While in pursuit of the clock, Jade and Armand meet and there’s immediate attraction. But how can it amount to anything when they are rivals for the very same object?

As the couple grow closer and attraction deepens, they agree to join forces to find the timepiece together.
Then an antiques dealer is killed. It appears someone else is willing to extract a fatal price to possess the clock for themselves.

What is it about this curio for the count that someone is willing to commit murder for it?

About Elizabeth Ellen Carter

Elizabeth Ellen Carter is a USA Today best selling author who writes richly detailed historical romantic adventures that have been praised for their strong characters and ‘edge-of-seat intrigue’. Her eleventh full length title, Deceiving The Duke, will be released early in 2022 by Dragonblade Publishing.

A former newspaper journalist, Elizabeth ran an award-winning PR agency for 12 years. She lives in Queensland, Australia with her amazing husband and two adorable and mischievous cats. In addition to writing books, Elizabeth produces a online reader magazine called Love’s Great Adventure.

Follow Elizabeth

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/page/6CCBA860-8532-439A-8E16-6A43F47D0C18

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

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/elizabeth_ellen_carter

Website: https://www.elizabethellencarter.com

 

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