Tag: arranged marriage Page 1 of 2

What can one say about the shocking events at a certain important charity ball yesterday evening. The host is well known to our readers, not only for his loyal service to the Crown and his devoted care of his estates, but also for his scandalous behaviour with actresses, other men’s wives and, indeed, it is rumoured, many other females in every level society.

Much is forgiven a man who is wealthy beyond the wildest dreams of most people, and who holds, besides, one of the highest ranks outside of the Royal Family. Indeed, Royal blood runs in the veins of the man they call the Duke of Haveandhold.

Will this latest start be forgiven, we wonder? You will remember, dear reader, recent speculation in this newspaper about the identity of the man who was caught in the shrubbery with the mother of London’s latest reigning beauty. The lovely young wife of the Marquess of T. was born nine months the scandalous discovery and seven months after her mother’s hasty marriage to a man who had not been in London at the time. Until last night, no one knew who had taken the innocence of that young lady so many years ago. Taken her innocence and walked away, furthermore.

Last night, the mystery was solved. The Duke of H. informed the entire ballroom, including all the interested parties, that he was the marchioness’s father. Not, we grant you, in so many words, but his meaning was clear. As was his threat against any who spoke ill of the young lady.

Far be it from us to criticise any young lady for the sins of her father. We wish the marchioness well. That the duke will find forgiveness in public goes without saying. He is far too powerful to offend. We do wonder, however, what the Duchess of Haverford had to say about the matter in private.

***

The Sincerest Flattery

When Percival Lord Thornstead heads to the far north of England to meet the bride his father has arranged for him to marry, bad weather, the ague and a crooked valet disrupt his travel plans. Turned away at the door of the manor, he takes a job minding sheep to stay close.

Lady Aurelia Byrne sneaks away from the house dressed as a kitchen maid. She is angry at being told she must marry someone she has never met. She’d rather marry the shepherd she meets in the fields than the London fop her father has chosen for her.

Percy guesses who Lia is and is charmed. Lia discovers who Percy is and falls in love. If not for Lia’s overbearing mother all would be perfect.

Then Percy’s father intervenes to carry Lia off to London to make her debut with Percy’s sister. She is having the time of her life when her mother makes public accusations that call her reputation into question. A hasty marriage restores her to favor. Deep in the throes of love, the young couple are blissfully happy, and have fashionable London at their feet.

Until a former mistress of Percy’s comes seeking a boon that takes him away from Lia’s side, and old rumors about Lia’s mother are revived, causing Lia to be shunned by the highest sticklers. Their marriage will be tested to breaking point.

(This is a book in A Twist Upon a Regency Tale, and is inspired by The Goose Girl.)

Excerpt from The Sincerest Flattery

Lia felt her confidence slip two dances later when she and Percy stood out with his family for a dance, and the Duke of Haverford approached, escorting his wife with a raised hand under hers, as if they were about to approach the King or enter the dance.

“Lady Kirkland, Dellborough,” Haverford greeted them. The gentlemen all bowed and the ladies curtseyed. Gwen and Lia dropped into a full court curtsey in honor of the duchess. Even Aunt Enid’s curtsey was a little deeper than usual.

“This little puss must be yours, Dellborough,” said Haverford, putting his hand under Gwen’s chin and forcing her to look up at him. Lia, who was always conscious of her husband, saw him stiffen with outrage.

“Lady Guinevere Versey, my treasured eldest daughter.” The Duke of Dellborough’s voice was pure ice and Haverford withdrew his hand.

There was a glint of mischief in his eyes as he commented, “I do not know which is more likely to wound, on my oath, Dell. Your voice or your minx’s eyes. Both are cold enough to be lethal.” Then, in a change of mood, “You look like your mother, Lady Guinevere. She was a fine lady. Loyal and true, as well as beautiful. You can be proud to be her daughter.”

“I am, Your Grace,” Gwen said, with another beautiful curtsey.

Haverford turned his attention to Lia. “And whom have we here?”

Percy spoke up, addressing the Duchess of Haverford. “Your Grace, may I make known to you my wife, Lady Thornstead.”

Lia curtseyed again, and looked into kind hazel eyes.

“Lady Thornstead, I am pleased to meet you,” said the duchess. “I was a friend of your mother-in-law and have long taken an interest in her sons and daughters. From this day, I shall count you as one of them.”

The glint in her husband’s eyes sparked brighter. “The relationship is closer than you might think, my dear. Since you have seen fit to bring one reminder of my peccadillos under my roof, you can hardly object to me acknowledging another.”

At the flare of alarm in the lady’s eyes, and in her own father-in-law’s, Lia realized that the Duchess of Haverford had not been warned about the proposed announcement, but it was too late. The duke had already signaled the orchestra, and the room had fallen silent. They were close to the bottom of the stairs, and the duke leapt up three of them until he could be seen across the room.

“My friends, I have another announcement to make tonight. I am speaking particularly to those of you who have been tossing gossip around for weeks about one of this year’s debutantes—some would say this year’s most successful debutante, since she was the first married and to the undoubted catch of the season. Aurelia, come here.”

He held out his hand, and Lia saw no choice, but was glad when Percy clasped hands with her and came too.

“Ah! I get two for the price of one,” said the Duke of Haverford. “When my old friend Dellborough asked me to extend my influence and friendship to this charming lady, I wondered at the relationship myself, for a man of my age has many pleasant memories to look back over on a quiet evening.” He grinned at the audience, who were leaning forward in their eagerness to hear more.

“Some are unforgettable, however.” He kissed his hand towards the left, and Lia saw, to her horror, that her mother and Lord Harrowby stood there, a gap widening about them as the crowd drew away.

“So, it is my pleasure to announce that I freely acknowledge my special interest in this lovely young lady, daughter-in-law to the Duke of Dellborough and wife to Lord Thornstead here. The particulars are of no importance to anyone except those involved.” He stopped for the murmur that washed through the crowd as Mama’s face whitened and Lord Harrowby’s reddened.

Haverford changed mood again, the mischief disappearing and the arrogant autocrat rising to the surface. “That being the case, know this. Speak ill of this young lady or her husband, and face the wrath of two dukes, a marquess,” he pointed to Percy, and added in a confiding tone, “—who is a pup, but pups grow and so do their teeth—and an earl.” The last gesture was to Lord Harrowby.

“Not to mention the distaff side,” he added, nodding to Lady Harrowby, and then to Aunt Enid. He also held out a hand to Her Grace.

The duchess took the challenge, climbing the stairs and allowing the duke to bow mockingly over her fingers. “A wise man, or woman, would not discount the distaff side,” she said, her voice ringing clearly over the ballroom as her husband’s had before her. She then kissed Aurelia on the cheek, murmuring, “Welcome to the family.”

Dellborough and Aunt Enid joined them, adding their visual weight to the message. Defy the Haverfords and the Dellboroughs at your peril. As far as it went, that was a good thing, but the Duke of Haverford was a chancy ally. Lia could see he had used the opportunity to settle scores with the Harrowbys and his own wife. Probably with the Duke of Dellborough, too.

Retrieving A Truant Husband? Or Falling Into Sin?

By Bluestocking Belles

On July 2, 2022

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

Sam, I have a doozy of a story for you this time. You told me the other day that the Truant Earl is back in England, and that you hoped he wasn’t ready to settle down. That man has been good copy for at least decade, even though he hasn’t set foot in the country for almost half as long again. But his lovers, his fights, and all his other adventures have kept your readers entertained ever since we started to write about him.

Well, you’ll be pleased to know that–for from settling down–he has taken himself off to a house party. And not just any house party. His lordship has left for a week in the country with none other than Lord S.! That’s right. Lord S. whose house parties are a byword for sin and debauchery. Apparently the two of them were at school together.

The thing is, Sam, that isn’t the story. The Truant Earl’s countess is in London, too. Or she was. Came to collect her husband, found out that he had gone to S.’s party, and took off after him.

Will Lady C. retrieve her husband? How will she know? She hasn’t seen him since their wedding, when they were both all but children. What if she chooses the wrong man? This is, after all, one of S.’s parties! Anything could happen.

Perhaps Lady C. can turn her husband to the paths of righteousness. Or perhaps, just perhaps, she is about to fall down the slippery paths of sinful delight.

I’m getting myself off to the nearby village in the hopes that I can find a few loose tongued servants. More in my next letter.

The Truant Lord Clairmont by Jude Knight

Lady Clairmont goes to a scandalous house party to retrieve her truant husband after his return to England from a nine-year absence. What she discovers is unexpected.

A short story in Sunflower Season a fundraiser collection for Ukraine

SUNFLOWER SEASON is a charity collection featuring stories (some never-been-published and some old favorites) by over 70 — that’s right — SEVENTY of your favorite Historical Romance authors. ALL royalties will be donated to humanitarian relief in Ukraine. This set was released on June 7, 2022 and will only be available for a limited time. Preorder now and enjoy a summer of historical romance!

Featuring novellas, stories and novels by Sabrina Jeffries, Christi Caldwell, Amalie Howard, Virginia Heath, Caroline Lee, Golden Angel, Bree Wolf, Lori Ann Bailey, Nicole Locke, Natasha Blackthorne, Royaline Sing, Lenora Bell, Sabrina Jeffries, Amy Quinton, Janna MacGregor, Annabelle Anders, Rachel Ann Smith, Eva Devon, Sandra Sookoo, Tabetha Waite, Diana Bold, Sadie Bosque, Cheryl Bolen, Erica Monroe, Kate Bateman, Cara Maxwell, Tracy Sumner, Jenna Jaxon, Jane Charles, Eliza Knight, Mariah Stone, Robyn DeHart, Wendy LaCapra, Hildie McQueen, Madeline Martin, Amy Rose Bennett, Ava Bond, Kristin Vayden, Piper Huguley, Fenna Edgewood, Kathryn Le Veque, Caroline Linden, Nancy Yeager, Dawn Brower, Celeste Barclay, Lauren Royal, Michele Pollock Dalton, Glynnis Campbell, Rose Pearson, Erica Ridley, Sydney Jane Baily, Deb Marlowe, Rebecca Paula, Amanda Mariel, Christine Sterling, Ava Stone, Lauren Smith, Sawyer Quinn, Caroline Warfield, Jessica A Clements, Jude Knight, Anna St. Claire, Tamara Gill, Gina Conkle, Charlie Lane, Terri Brisbin, Bronwen Evans, Emmanuelle de Maupassant, Merry Farmer, Tammy Andresen, Cecelia Mecca, Meredith Bond, Christine Donovan, Lana Williams, Carrie Lomax, Eve Pendle, Bethany Bennett, Bianca Blythe, Maggie Dallen, Samara Parish, Anna Campbell and more????

Again, ALL proceeds will be donated to Ukrainian relief efforts. We are not affiliated with any charities but are only doing what we can to provide help for the innocent people who’ve lost so much as a result of this senseless tragedy.

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Imposter Attempts Theft of Title

By Jude Knight

On March 14, 2020

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

Sam, you made a good call when you sent me to listen to the debate in the Lords. Whoever told you the Duke of Haverford was up to something, didn’t hint at the half of it! Here’s a transcript of what he said.

Your Graces, My Lords, it is with a heavy heart that I come before you today. Not long ago, it was our sad duty to recognise that our esteemed monarch was no longer able to meet his responsibilities and needed to be placed in the care of his loving wife.

Today, we face a like task, as one of the foremost peers in the land falls victim to the ravages of time and illness, so that his judgement is impaired and his decisions dangerous for his family, his estates, and the realm.

I refer, dear colleagues, to one of my oldest friends. With the greatest of regret, I must disclose to you that the Duke of Winshire has succumbed to the blandishments of a rogue and the yearnings of his own heart, and has recognised an imposter as his heir.
This man, claiming to be Winshire’s only surviving son, arrived on these shores only days ago. I have reason to believe he is not even English, but comes from the far reaches of Persia, or even further into those godless lands.
My lords, the Duke’s sons are all dead. I, myself, wept with him when the news came from the East of the death of the man this reprobate claims to be.
Moreover, the rogue brings with him six young people whom he claims to be his legitimate children. You and I, my lords, will know how to answer such a ridiculous attempt to lay hands on one of the treasures of England, the duchy of Winshire.

So there it is, Sam. I can’t wait to see what happens next! Fun times to be a reporter, that is for certain.

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

This series begins with a prequel novella telling the love story of James senior and Mahzad, then leaps two decades to a series of six novels as the Winderfield offspring and their cousins search for acceptance and love.

To Wed a Proper Lady, the first novel, is on preorder and will be released on 15 April.

Everyone knows James needs a bride with impeccable blood lines. He needs Sophia’s love more.

James must marry to please his grandfather, the duke, and to win social acceptance for himself and his father’s other foreign-born children. But only Lady Sophia Belvoir makes his heart sing, and to win her, he must invite himself to spend Christmas at the home of his father’s greatest enemy.

Sophia keeps secret her tendre for James, Lord Elfingham. After all, the whole of Society knows he is pursuing the younger Belvoir sister, not the older one left on the shelf after two failed betrothals.

Find out more and buy the book.

Excerpt

The racing curricles had negotiated the bend without disaster and were now hurtling towards the village. Long habit had James studying the path, looking to make sure the villagers were safely out of the way, and an instant later, he put Seistan at the slope.

It was steep, but nothing to the mountains they had lived in all their lives, he and his horse, and Seistan was as sure-footed as any goat. Straight down by the shortest route they hurtled, for in the path of the thoughtless lackwits and their carriages was a child—a boy, by the trousers—who had just escaped through a gate from the village’s one large house, tripped as he crossed the road, and now lay still.

It would be close. As he cleared one stone fence and then another, he could see the child beginning to sit up, shaking his head. Just winded then, and easier to reach than lying flat, thank all the angels and saints.

Out of sight for a moment as he rounded a cottage, he could hear the carriages drawing closer. Had the child recovered enough to run? No. He was still sitting in the road, mouth open, white-faced, looking as his doom approached. What kind of selfish madmen raced breast to breast, wheel to wheel, into a village?

With hand, body and voice, James set Seistan at the child, and dropped off the saddle, trusting to the horse to sweep past in the right place for James to hoist the child out of harm’s way.

One mighty heave, and they were back in the saddle. James’ shoulders would feel the weight of the boy for days, but Seistan had continued across the road, and just in time. The racers hurtled by so close James could feel the wind of their passing.

They didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow. In moments, they were gone.

The boy shaking in his arms, James turned Seistan with his knees, and walked the horse back to the gates of the big house. A crowd of women waited for them, but only one came forward as he dismounted— a gentlewoman, if her aristocratic bearing and the quality of her fashionable gown were any indication.

“Forgive my temerity in speaking without an introduction, my lady,” he said, “but have you perchance mislaid this child?”

“How can we ever thank you enough, sir?” Her voice confirmed her class. She took the child from him, and handed him off to be scolded and hugged and wept over by a bevy of other females.

The woman lingered, and James too. He could hear his father and the others riding towards them, but he couldn’t take his gaze off her. He was drowning in a pair of brown-gray eyes, like a pond in the deep shelter of a nurturing forest. Did she feel it too? The Greeks said that true lovers had one soul, split at birth and placed in two bodies. He had thought it a nice conceit, until now.

Magic and a Kidnapped Bride-to-be Marked for Murder

By Guest author

On November 15, 2017

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Dear Mr. Clemens,

Ah. Dear me. Where to begin?

The impetuous (dare I say reckless?) young Viviane, Lady of the Lake, committed the heist of the century when she, on a dare no less, stole Merlin’s spell book. The headstrong High Priestess of Avalon then fled to her island sanctuary with the purloined grimoire. When warned by the magical waters she commands that the wizard would, indeed, not be amused, and would, in fact, imprison her in an ice castle, the Lady of the Lake fought magic with magic.

One does not reveal in polite society the specifics of such invocations. Suffice to say, two spells were cast forward in time to sixteenth century Scotland. The enchantments had a calamitous affect on Lady Fenella, Thaness of Thorburn. Was her subsequent kidnapping by the ruthless Lord A— a coincidence, or a spell repercussion? I leave it to you, Dear Reader, to decide.

What is known is that Lord A— desired Lady Fenella’s Highland holdings and kidnapped her with the intent to marry her to his son, Edward. Allowing the guiltless Edward and Lady Fenella to fall in love was never part of Lord A—’s murderous plot. Quite the contrary! But then, Lord A— could not have imagined his coveted prize would be magically lured back in time to Avalon and Fairy afore her wedding.

Mayhap Lady Fenella’s deepening attraction for Edward will prove to Lord A—’s advantage. After all, what more powerful reason can Lady Fenella have to bend time and return to her unfortunate situation than love?

Blurb from The Beltane Escape

Lady Fenella, Thaness of Thorburn, has no idea her fate is shackled to a powerful sorceress. She believes Merlin and the Lady of the Lake are myths, Gran’s warnings about Fairy are superstition, and Fairy was invented to make children behave. But a spell cast forward to sixteenth century Scotland finds Fenella and leads to her being branded, stolen, and betrothed. Traumatized and separated from her clan, the Highland heiress finds an unexpected ally in her kidnapper’s son. But their fragile romance is tested when the young Lady of the Lake lures Fenella’s cousin into Fairy. Fenella has seconds to decide. Should she remain with Edward, or should she dive into Fairy to rescue her beloved cousin, endangering her clan, and abandoning Edward to his ruthless father?

Excerpt

Trapped within the doeskin pouch, Merlin’s spell book pulsed like an angry heart. Viviane, the young Lady of the Lake, pushed her qualms aside and knotted the stolen treasure to her waist. An eerie quiet settled over the woods. Either the tree spirits sleep, or they watch me in silence, Viviane surmised as she carefully surveyed the canopy. Knees quaking, she deftly concealed the pouch beneath her cloak, then ran. Shallow breaths caught in her throat, and a sharp pain needled her side as she quickened her pace. She pressed her hand against the twinge and kept running. With each pounding stride, the prize slapped vehemently against her hip.

Viviane chanced a glance over her shoulder. Hah! No sign of Merlin. In her arrogance, she stumbled, her heel catching on her long indigo cape. Her heart cartwheeled. With an oath, she righted herself. Ahead, the Enchanted Forest’s dark mantle ended, and gloaming’s early light shone. She bolted towards the dawn.

Dry pine needles crunched beneath her deerskin sandals. The spell book’s muffled rage beat louder, waking a nearby tree spirit whose angry screech roused others. As one, they grabbed at Viviane with their prickly branches. A wizen-faced pine scratched Viviane’s cheek, stirring the creature marked into the skin above her cheekbone. Agitated, the blue sea serpent threaded itself around the crescent moon inked near her eye. Its nostrils flared, assessing the danger. Viviane shoved the impudent branch away. Catching scent of the lake, she broke through the trees. Her lungs heaved as an ache bloomed between her shoulders where the tree spirits’ angry glares thrust against her.

Viviane ran to the coracle moored at the water’s edge. The woven willow boat creaked when she scrambled into its hull and drew in the rope. Her long gown and flowing cape pooled around her as she crouched. Clutching the boat’s wooden sides, she commanded, “Hasten to the isle!”

The water surrounding the boat surged, forming a current that propelled the craft forward. A flock of startled grebes took flight, their wings thrumming.

“Mist, cloak me from Merlin’s sight.” Viviane arced her arm above her head. Her prisoner pummeled against her hip. But the spell book’s blows were futile and inconsequential.

The air thickened and grew damp. A dove-gray cloud engulfed the lake, swallowing the creaking vessel and its sole occupant.

Viviane knelt, closed her eyes, and raised her chin. Cool mist beaded her face. Merlin will rue the day he dared me to prove my cleverness, to prove I can outwit him. No doubt, he had expected me to stay within my watery realm, not venture into his forest. Does Merlin think because I am ten and eight, and he two years older, I lack cunning and daring? Hah! How dare he insult me?

The book writhed.

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About Ariella Moon

Ariella Moon draws upon her experiences as a shaman to create magical Young Adult fiction. Her Two Realms series includes THE BELTANE ESCAPE, a medieval Scotland and Fairy fantasy adventure, and THE AMBER ELIXIR, a Lady of the Lake novella. Ariella’s Teen Wytche Saga is a series of sweet contemporary paranormal romances. Her “Covert Hearts” appears in Second Chances: A Romance Writers of America Collection.

You can learn more about Ariella Moon and her novels on her website ariellamoon.com. For upcoming books and giveaway news, sign up for her newsletter and follow her on Facebook.

A Letter from a Friend

By Guest author

On August 9, 2017

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

It is less than two weeks before Emily Collicott will find herself on a coach and headed for her first season in London. The prospect of balls, routs, afternoon teas, and well-timed promenades through St. James’s Park are enough to make her catch her breath, but even before she has begun to pack her trunks, the first gossip has already reached her fingertips, by way of a letter from her good friend, Josephine…

My dear Em,

I hope this letter finds you well – and hopefully arrives in your hands before you’ve departed from Cornwall, or else all of these splotches and crossed lines will be for naught! But what news these cramped fingers bring to you! I would wait until you arrive next month, but gossip is such an ephemeral thing I fear that by the time this letter is posted my words will already carry a tinge of staleness at their edges.

Now, to cut through the rest of the tedious salutations and wishes for your health and wellness, I will leap ahead and tell you that a certain Lord Marbley will be making his return to London society within the same week your coach should come trundling up to our doorstep.

Of course, you do not know who Lord Marbley is! Neither did I, until I was informed by no less than three giggling young ladies who swooned and simpered and fluttered their eyelashes over freshly-pinched cheeks as if Marbley himself were about to sweep through the door and propose marriage to one or all of them. Goodness, I thought I would have to administer smelling salts before they had finished their tale.

But should we encounter this Lord Marbley at any point during your sojourn in town, I am told we are supposed to find ourselves astonished by his handsome visage, that we shall nearly drown in the shadow cast upon us by his height and the breadth of his shoulders, and that should he dare to even smile or glance in our direction, we may not be capable of composing ourselves.

Well! I thought I must tell you all of this in order to prepare you for what you shall encounter while you are here! You must not believe half of what is told to you, and of the other half, you would do well to prune away most of it as pure exaggeration. Then, perhaps, you might find yourself with some small kernel of the truth.

Lord Marbley, I’m sure, will have something to recommend him. A fortune, perhaps, though no doubt nothing like the allusions to Croesus that have been bandied about every time his name comes up in conversation. And will he be handsome? That fact must depend on the fortune, for the greater his wealth, the more pleasing to the eye he will likely be. Heaven help him if he is a pauper, for not a single mother or daughter will deign to give him a second glance!

And I am sure we will discover every detail about his time in France, whether we wish to or not. Rumors have already begun to circulate that it was something scandalous that took him away from England in the first place, but again, I’ve no doubt that the truth is not nearly as fascinating or scurrilous as most everyone would wish it to be, and we shall be left yawning behind our fans, wondering why there was such a commotion surrounding his much-heralded return to our shores.

But here I am, already to the end of the page, so I will leave you with the briefest of farewells and wishes for your good health and safe travels that politeness will allow. Until next month!

Yours, etc.

Josephine

The Bride Price

To save her family from scandal, Emily Collicott must marry.

Ruined in her first season in London, she is given no choice but to wed her father’s pick for a husband, or be cast out from her home. Emily agrees to marry William Hazlitt, a man she hardly knows. But William remembers her. Growing up as a tenant on her father’s estate, he admired her from afar, their lives kept separate first by class, and then by loss.

Emily seeks to begin a new life with this quiet man to whom she finds herself wedded. But the scandal she escaped in London soon finds her again, the very man who destroyed her reputation threatening to tear down the happiness she’s found with her new husband. To keep from losing everything, she must either make a deal with a devil… or learn how to defeat one.

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Meet Quenby Olson

Quenby Olson lives in Central Pennsylvania where she writes, homeschools, glares at baskets of unfolded laundry, and chases the cat off the kitchen counters. After training to be a ballet dancer, she turned towards her love of fiction, penning everything from romance to fantasy, historical to mystery. She spends her days with her husband and children, who do nothing to dampen her love of the outdoors, immersing herself in historical minutiae, and staying up late to watch old episodes of Doctor Who.