Tag: Aubrey Wynne

Greetings Lovely Readers,

Christmastide is almost upon us, and with that comes house parties, games, wassail, and… seduction. This is a tale that began six or seven years ago. Our younger readers may want to ask their elders regarding the earlier details.

It concerns a certain viscount who was once rumored to be close to an “announcement” with Lady C. Much to everyone’s surprise, while the viscount was away, his rakish best friend took the reins. Poor Lord P returned to find his heart’s desire betrothed to Lord W.

The forlorn Lord P spent the next year drinking away his sorrows until Lord W. unexpectedly died. (Perhaps not too unexpected considering Lord W’s propensity for gambling, drinking, and dangerous vices.) We waited to see the original couple reunited, but the said widow fled to the country and away from prying eyes and pushy viscounts.

Blink those lashes and move ahead to the present. This widow has grown quite the reputation for annual house parties. Only this upcoming event has a very short and unique guest list. Even more interesting is the invitation. Lady W challenges the guests to a series of contests, and she will accept the proposal of the winner.

Guess who was seen riding pell-mell to Lady W’s country estate? On the eve of Christmas Day? According to our sources, an unrequited love may soon be resolved. Will the banns soon be read for Lord P and Lady W? Or will the viscount accept a final defeat and leave the widow to her own vices?

Stay tuned for the results of this passion puzzle. We’ll be waiting to see who is left standing after the wassail is gone and the yule log has been snuffed out.

A Scoundrel’s Christmas Challenge

By Aubrey Wynne

A contest to win her fortune…

Lady Winfield, a wealthy widow of six years, is infamous for her outrageous house parties. While hosting her annual Christmastide gathering, Christiana proposes a new game: a daily challenge of her choice. She will accept the proposal of the man who can best her at three or more competitions by Twelfth Night. Though all agree to the diversion, no one expects the games to include marksmanship, archery, and fencing.

A contest to win her heart…

Lucius, Viscount Page has held a torch for the countess since his university days. But he doused the flames of passion after she married his best friend. Ten years later, the embers begin a slow burn when he learns Christiana may be ready for another husband. Lucius, determined not to waste this second chance at love, presents the audacious Lady Winfield with a secret challenge that she can’t resist.

Will their midnight rendezvous and private contests end in certain victory for one or a dual attraction for both?

Excerpt:

“Brother,” cried William, “it’s good to see you again. My apologies for not being able to meet you at White’s before you left London.”

“Happy Christmas,” Lucius said as they thumped one another on the back. “Have you just arrived?”

“Yes. We ran into Nettie and Weston outside.” Will turned to the man beside him. “May I introduce Mr. Charles Wilkens, whom I work with in London. If you ever need a solicitor, he’s your man. Charles, this is my brother Lord Page.”

“Mr. Wilkens.” Lucius inclined his head. William was a barrister, and solicitors often required him to present a legal action for a client. But Will was supposed to be bringing the final suitor for his sister. “Where is…”

“The gentleman was unable to make it. However, I ran into Charles on his way to another house party. So, I convinced him to stay with us a night before he continued on to Falcon Hall.” Will grinned, his hazel eyes twinkling as he mentioned the location.

Falcon Hall.

Lucius’s head snapped up. “Are you well acquainted with Lady Winfield?” he asked, ignoring the mad thumping of his heart.

“No, my lord. My uncle, Sir Horace Franklin, has been trying to buy two slate mines from her. It’s in Wales and close to two that he owns. She has put him off for over two years, and then he received an invitation to her estate over Christmastide.” Charles shrugged. He was tall with brown hair, kind brown eyes, and a genuine smile. Lucius liked him immediately.

“It seems one must have a personal invite to be admitted. The wording is quite cryptic.” Will grinned at his friend. “Would you mind showing it to him?”

Charles set down his satchel, opened it, and pulled out a thick lavender card with holly and ivy entwined around the edges. He handed it to Lucius.

Admits bearer to the private house party

Of the Countess of Winfield at Falcon Hall.

Guests shall arrive 24 December.

The competition for the desired prize begins 25 December thru 6 January.

Lady Winfield will only accept the proposal of the gentleman

Claiming victory of three or more challenges.

The favor of an answer is requested.

His mouth fell open. What was the chit up to? The vague wording of this left too many questions. Marriage? “Mr. Wilkens, I have questions and a proposition for you.”

Buy link:

https://books2read.com/scoundrelschristmaschallenge

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling author Aubrey Wynne resides in the Midwest with her husband, dogs, horses, mule, and barn cats. Obsessions include wine, history, travel, trail riding, and all things Christmas. Her Chicago Christmas series and historical romances have received multiple awards and nominations as a Rone finalist by InD’tale Magazine.

Aubrey’s first love is medieval romance but after dipping her toe in the Regency period in 2018 with the Wicked Earls’ Club, she was smitten. This inspired her sweet Regency spin-off series Once Upon a Widow, and a steamy Scottish Regency series, A MacNaughton Castle Romance. Her Regency detective series, Paddy’s Peelers, will launch in 2025.

Social Media Links:

Website:

http://www.aubreywynne.com

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A Lady Plants a Facer!

By Alina K. Field

On November 6, 2024

In Teatime Tattler

Dear Readers,

It seems there was a bit more “punch” by the punch bowl last night at Almack’s. One particular debutante, Lady A, arrived with her handsome chaperon brother, Lord P, for an evening of dancing. Lord P made an exit, leaving poor Lady A on her own. An unnamed patroness stepped in to find her a dance partner. The eminent Lord F offered his services and seemed to enjoy himself, fetching refreshment for the lady after the set.

From the murmurings of those who witnessed the event, Lord F approached Lady A from the rear. The aggressive debutante turned around swinging, her fist planting a facer on the poor man. A shout of “lecherous lickpenny” echoed through the ballroom, followed by Lord F’s nose flowing like the Great Fountain at Hampton Court.

The lady pugilist defended herself, saying she was pinched, beseeching the crowd to defend her. Of course, no proper gentleman or lady came to her aid after such an altercation except her tardy chaperon. Lord P promptly threatened Lord F with finishing the job, then collected his swooning sister in his arms. It was quite a dramatic exit—for the evening and possibly the Season.

Lord F’s nose will heal, though it may be a bit… flattened. But can we say the same for Lady A’s reputation? Only time will tell…

Find out how Lady A fares after her horrendous debut Season. Will the punch bowl be her legacy? Or will she find love beyond the glitter of London?

A Wallflower’s Wassail Punch by Aubrey Wynne

Lady Annette’s first Season was a disaster after a duke’s son pinched her by the punchbowl, and she walloped him in the nose. And broke it. After five years, she has yet to live down the scandal.

Lord Weston has been a widow for twenty years, his daughter is finally betrothed, and he is ready to take another wife. At a country party, the viscount discovers a striking, intelligent woman, with a dry wit only he seems to appreciate.

When the two become allies, their partnership soon goes beyond friendship. But will Lady Annette’s age and the viscount’s interfering daughter keep them from a happy ending under the mistletoe?

https://books2read.com/wallflowerswassailpunch

Excerpt:

Annette hovered by a gilded column on the edge of the ballroom. The newly installed gas lights of the elaborately cut chandeliers glittered with an unnatural brilliance. At the far end of the room, the musicians were seated on the balcony and just ending the last strains of a dance. She turned to see herself in one of the mirrors lining the walls at various points. Smoothing her plain dark-brown hair and tucking in a loose strand at her neck, she inspected her dress. It was pomona silk, one of her favorites. It had tiny red flowers embroidered along the cuff of her short sleeves and the hem, and the color made her green eyes seem brighter.

Lady Jersey joined her, pulling Annette’s hand through her arm. The woman had made it her mission to find the “poor motherless waif” a husband this Season. “Are you quite ready?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Annette followed the countess to a group of debutantes and young gentlemen. She knew all of them at least by name. No! Lady Jersey wouldn’t possibly introduce her to—

“Lady Annette, have you met Lord Frederick?” She curtsied and then extended her hand.

“I understand you are in need of a partner for the next dance?” asked the short blond, rubbing his weak chin. His pale blue eyes never reached her eyes, remaining on her square neckline. Though he wasn’t a handsome man, it was his personality that made him unattractive.

“If the request is out of pity, please don’t feel obligated,” she said, trying not to wrinkle her skirt as her hands fisted at her sides. “I won’t be disappointed to miss a dance.”

“A dance? I hadn’t thought you’d been asked at all this evening.” He smirked. “My mother said I need to be more charitable, so you’ll be helping me out.” He held out his arm.

She laid her fingers on his sleeve, knowing it would be an insult to Lady Jersey if she refused. “Then you owe me a favor.”

He laughed, showing a mouthful of crooked teeth. “I may not be the best-looking in the room, but I’m the only man brave enough to risk your brothers’ wrath. I shall be the hero at my club tonight.”

Annette rolled her eyes as they joined the line of dancers, then pasted on a smile. She couldn’t be seen as shrewish. She’d never find a husband. And she wanted a family of her own desperately. As Lord Frederick bowed to her curtsy and the dance commenced, she also realized she wasn’t that desperate yet.

At one point, as she and Lord Frederick touched palms and made a turn, he licked his lips, staring at her bosoms. The gleam of the chandeliers shone on his thick mouth. The man had no idea how unappealing he was. Some woman will have to kiss him, she thought in disgust, and pretend to enjoy it. That image almost sent her into giggles.

The quadrille finally ended, and Annette thought to escape, but his hand caught her arm. “Shall I escort you for a refreshment? It seems I’ve put quite the blush onto your cheeks,” he murmured in her ear.

Annette’s mouth opened with a quick retort, then closed. It wouldn’t help to end the Season insulting this man or causing a scene. She clenched her hand to keep from wiping his moist breath off her neck. Peering at the dais where the patronesses sat, she saw Lady Jersey smile at her encouragingly. “Yes, my lord, that would be lovely.”

“I knew I’d break through that ice,” he said with a waggle of his brows. His hand was a bit too heavy on her lower back as he guided her through the crowd. He fetched her a cup of ratafia.

“Thank you, I’m parched,” she said, sipping the punch. Each time Lord Frederick tried to lean in close, she took another drink to keep him at bay. Which meant the drink quickly disappeared.

“I’ll get you another,” he said with a chuckle. “Did you like it?”

“It has a different taste but not in a bad way,” she said, handing him the empty glass.

“I gave it a splash of rum,” he said in her ear, then turned away.

Her cheeks burned with the knowledge that she’d just imbibed at Almack’s. How dare he do such a thing without her permission. She looked about the crowd for Lucius, her ire growing when she couldn’t find him. It was nearly eleven, and he promised to bring her to supper. She could not stomach dining with Lord Frederick. Either he, the alcohol, or both had ruined her appetite. Although she didn’t mind the lightness in her head or the looseness of her limbs. The rum seemed to have a pleasant numbing effect.

Then she spied her brother’s golden-brown head, and he waved his hand in greeting. He’d made it. Oh, thank the heavens. A warm breath hit the back of her neck, and then a sharp pain pinched her backside. She blinked, her mind a bit fuzzy. Had someone just—

It happened it again, and she pivoted on her heel, swinging with all her might. Just as her brothers had taught her.

Crunch. Hard bone met her gloved fist. A wave of satisfaction roared through Annette, and a smug grin turned her lips. And then chaos ensued.

There was a loud collective gasp, then loud cries and shouts for help.

“Lord Greggson has been attacked!”

“Did Lady Annette plant him a facer?”

“She never did act a proper lady.”

“Between her brothers and that right hook, she’s doomed now.”

The remarks echoed in her head like a swarm of bees.

“What the devil did you do that for?” screamed Lord Frederick. He held his hand to his nose, trying to staunch the flow of blood. “You broke my bloody nose, you trollop.”