In which Mr. Clemens welcomes Alanna Lucas, author of Waltzing with the Earl, who interviews her heroine.
AL: Welcome, Lady Trevena. Thank you for joining me today. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.
LT: The pleasure is all mine. This is a new experience for me. I must admit, I am quite nervous. I’ve never been interviewed before. I have not been this nervous since I pretended to be my dearest friend at a country house party last year and….
She takes in a deep breath and then exhales slowly.
I apologize. When I’m nervous I tend to ramble. It is one of my greatest flaws, but one my darling husband assures me is quite endearing.
AL: I hear that you didn’t want to have a season in London. What made you change your mind?
LT: I lost a wager to my brother. I was so desperate for things not to change, to 
maintain a quiet country life that I left my fate to a game of chess.
She lowers her voice.
You see, I had not lost to Weston before. I thought nothing could go wrong. That game was the first of many things that would go wrong.
AL: Miss Jerome has made it known throughout the ton that you were an utter disaster.
LT: Miss Jerome is a horrible gossipmonger, but for once, what she spews is true. Between spilled punch, torn dresses, and toppled footmen…shaking her head… Who knew a wallflower could cause such a ruckus!
Giggling.
At least I can laugh about it now.
AL: Not a very auspicious beginning. Please tell us how you met Lord Trevena.
LT: He is my brother’s oldest friend. But it wasn’t until I saw him at Lady Lamden’s ball that I thought of him as anything other than Weston’s friend.
She says with a sigh.
He was so handsome in his dark blue coat. From across the room, our eyes met. He strolled toward me, never shifting his gaze. He was the first gentleman to ever ask me to dance. The moment our hands met…I knew.
AL: How romantic! But it wasn’t all smooth sailing.
LT: No. Tristram believed that he was cursed; it had all but consumed his life. Rumors had circulated for years about the Longstone curse, which had taken all Tristram loved.
Shaking her head.
He was convinced that harm would come to me, so he fled London to protect me.
AL: You must have been heartbroken.
LT: I was devastated, but my dearest sister-in-law devised a plan and arranged for me to go after him. Such wanton behavior! Desperate times called for desperate measures.
AL: Everything seemed to have worked out in the end.
LT: It definitely did. She said with a smile that lit the room. Our love is stronger than the curse of Longstone.
AL: Thank you for visiting today. I wish you and Lord Trevena much happiness.
About the Book
Believing he is cursed, Tristram, Lord Trevena, the Earl of Longstone, agrees to do just one favor for a friend, to dance with the man’s sister, but the beautiful and headstrong Isabel Albryght will settle for no less than claiming his lonely heart.
A PROPHECY FORETOLD
Raised by her doting older brother, Isabel Albryght grew up cosseted and protected. She enjoyed her life in the country, her books, and her freedom. Then her brother married. Within months Isabel’s best friend married. It seemed it was time for Isabel to marry, too. Socially awkward and a bit too keen for most of the ton, Isabel proceeded to have the most horrible season on record…until she was approached by Tristram, the Earl of Longstone.
Two dances. That was all Tristram could offer anyone when considering his family curse, which had taken all he loved in the last ten years, so his promise to the beautiful Miss Albryght’s brother was simply that. The ton would soon see she was a desirable partner, her awkwardness would fade and other young swains would beat feet to her doorstep. But then he held her in his arms, and the delightful Isabel became his beating heart. Headstrong and full of passion, she believed she might waltz them away from Death. She alone could tempt him to try.
~Excerpt~
The temperature in the room rose by several degrees—it was positively sweltering. Isabel did not know how much longer she could tolerate standing in the midst of hell, surrounded by a mixture of unidentifiable odors and loud boisterous laughter. She thought her head would explode.
Closing her tired eyes, she brought her gloved hand to her temple. Isabel could feel her body sway, but was unable to stop the motion. She could not even gather her wits about her to stamp down, or even beg, the feelings to cooperate. Isabel could sense another mishap was forthcoming, which further added to her distress. And she had been doing so well.
A gentle hand came to her elbow. “Allow me to accompany you onto the balcony for some fresh air, Miss Albryght.” Lord Trevena’s voice broke through the haze. His tone was soft and full of concern.
Isabel opened her eyes; they felt thick and heavy, and still out of focus. Tristram somehow managed to maneuver her through the crush without bumping into anyone. The moment they reached the unoccupied balcony, the cool evening breeze cleared the haziness Isabel had been fighting in her head.
They strolled to the edge of the balcony, partly hidden within the shadows, and clear of any curious gossipmongers. The garden beyond was concealed in darkness, but the lingering scent of blooming roses wafted through the air. Tristram released his gentle hold on her arm. The absence of his hand made her heart lurch, wanting more.
Isabel turned to face him. Even in the dim light, his clear blue eyes sparkled like stars in the night. She struggled to find the words, but when they finally came, they would not stop.
“Thank you for coming to my aid. I am quite recovered now. The room was quite warm and the noise…”
“Isabel,” Tristram said in a deep husky tone. Her name on his lips sent a jolt of excitement through her body.
Taking a step closer, he brought his hand to her face, his gloved thumb dancing intimately across her cheek. Her heart pounded against her ribs, practically stealing her breath.
“Lord Trevena.” His name exited her lips in a breathy gasp.
He bent his head and whispered his name across her cheek. “Tristram.”
Isabel could not imagine anything more sensual than this moment. She lifted her chin, and their cheeks brushed. His lips were so close, but still too far away. His warm breath teased her senses. Closing her eyes, she waited for his kiss.
Amazon All Romance Smashwords Boroughs Publishing Group
About the Author
Alanna Lucas grew up in Southern California, but always dreamed of distant lands and bygone eras. From an early age she took interest in art, history, and travel, and enjoys incorporating those diversions into her writing. However, she believes that true love is the greatest source of inspiration and is always an adventure.
Alanna makes her home in California where she spends her time writing historical romances, dreaming of her next travel destination, spending time with family, and staying up too late indulging in her favorite past time, reading.
Find her here:
https://www.facebook.com/alannalucas27
https://twitter.com/alannalucas27
She raised her red puffy eyes and stared at the man who was so old that he surely had one foot perched on the edge of his grave. How her father could promise her to a man of his ilk was beyond her imagination. That her own brother would honor the contract after their sire’s passing and condemn her to a loveless marriage tore at her heart. And the pressure he had put on her to give her consent! She would never forgive Hartford for as long as she drew breath in her body.
Sandhurst took her elbow and began escorting her down the aisle of the church that was relatively empty. As empty as her heart. Her husband nodded to several acquaintances. Gwendolyn passed her mother who hid a handkerchief that she surely had used to dry her eyes. Her brother, Brandon, looked as grim as she herself felt. She would not acknowledge Hartford’s presence. He may hold their father’s title of duke but as far as she was concerned, he was dead to her. As dead as her emotions would become if she was going to survive this marriage.
This is an original piece and prequel to Sherry Ewing’s work in progress, Nothing But Time. Sherry picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical & time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. Always wanting to write a novel but busy raising her children, she finally took the plunge in 2008 and wrote her first Regency. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Beau Monde & the Bluestocking Belles. Sherry is currently working on her next novel and 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 Sherry and her published work here on her page with the Belles or on these social medial outlets:
Dear Mr. Clemens,
About the Book
About the Author
One did not need to ask who “She” was. The main topic this past year has been the doings of Lady Georgiana Hayden, in residence at Helsington Cottage, an unnatural creature if ever I saw one. When her great aunt sat in residence she kept to herself and provided little fodder for our little discussions. At first the niece did the same, but that was before her true eccentricity exhibited itself for all to see.
“Woman she may be,” Abigail intoned, drawing attention back to herself, “But lady she is not. My Ernest told me…” Here she dropped her voice so we all had to lean in. She looked around at each of us to make sure we were attentive. How could we not be? “She approached one of the fellows in his premises.”
I would have pointed out that my husband, sole proprietor of one of the better bookstores—all of Cambridge knows Groghan’s Scholarly Bookshop—told me she orders highly inappropriate books and manuscripts. He only services her order because, after all, if he didn’t another store might. He makes sure she pays a pretty penny. I didn’t get a chance to say it.
Edmond Worthington, 9th Duke of Hartford looked up in annoyance when his study door slammed opened, the paintings on the walls trembling from the force. He had wondered how long it would take his younger brother to find him once he was told the news.
Brandon once more crossed the room to take hold of two crystal glasses before surveying his choice of liquor. He grabbed the whiskey. “Perhaps I should bring the bottle.” Setting the glasses down, he began pouring, not bothering to be neat about it.