Cerise DeLand – Home of the Bluestocking Belles

Dear Sir,

I am here to report a tale of treason. It involves a lovely French emigre and one of our finest English families!

You must print this so that this lady—a princess of Bourbon blood, too—does not corrupt this good English family completely.

It began weeks ago when our renowned MP, Sir R—was pushed into the and run over by a careless coachman. He nearly died. He has lost his leg to amputation. But I ask you, who put the coachman up to the heinous crime???

I say it was this Miss Marguerite, aka ‘Daisy’ M—. Yes, she of the famous M— family, comtes of Normandy. Cousins to the new King Louis and his family. She has hidden in our country, lo these many years with her large elusive family, who are nothing more than thieves and charlatans themselves!

Why has she appeared at our poor Sir R—’s home? And at such an importune time?

Why does she remain?

I tell you why. I have it on good authority that she seduces SIr R’s nephew. He is younger than his uncle and handsome as a god.

You must stop her seduction. She is dangerous and will only once again ruin the name of Sir R’s nephew. After all, he was once suspected of murder. Though the true criminal was never caught, Sir R’s nephew must not fall for this lady and further lose whatever reputation he has left.

Spread the word, dear sir.

Daisy M— is not to trusted.

***

“You are most kind,” Daisy told her host as the servant departed. “And I have intruded. I do beg your pardon. I had no idea Mr. Ruxton was injured.”

“Sir Daniel,” Garrick said with a tone of polite correction.

She tipped her head. “Excuse me?”

“My uncle is Sir Daniel Ruxton, Baronet Ruxton. Eighth of his line.”

“Forgive me. I had no idea.”

He walked toward her and took the settee opposite. An arm flung across the back, crossing one leg over the other, he regarded her. His perusal this time was friendlier than before, but inquisitive. “You truly have no idea who my uncle is?”

She knew not what his phrasing implied. She told him what she could. “I do know that he wrote to me for weeks. That he is a widower with two young daughters whom he loves dearly. That he wishes for himself to have a normal life again, which, since the death of his wife, he has not enjoyed.”

With knitted brows, he took that in as if he weighed it in his heart. “My uncle is a kind man, a good one, Miss Molyneaux. He does suffer with this injury. I will tell you that. We do pray for his recovery.”

“As do I, sir. As do I. Oh, not…not because I wish an apology. Not now. But because one should not suffer so dearly. Life is difficult enough without…without chaos.” And now chaos was hers. If Sir Daniel did not marry her, chaos was once again hers.

“Just so.” Mr. Ruxton pressed his hands together. “I gather you understand that well.”

She stared at him. “I do.”

He inclined his head toward her. “The chaos of your particular memories.”

She flinched. Her particular memories. She successfully hid them most of the time.

“The Terror?”

“Oui.” Would she never escape it? “The Great Terror.”

“I must ask, miss, why precisely were my uncle and you to meet at Gunter’s?”

“He was to bring me home and—”

“Pardon me.” The man blinked. “You would come…here with him?”

“That’s normal. I mean—”

The man’s angelic eyes turned a shocking green. “To live?”

“Well, yes. That is the way.”

“You were to be his…” He gazed around the room, looking for a word.

“Wife.”

***

MATRIMONY! #2 BECAUSE OF YOU

Love does not advertise. Love is not proud.

But when a young woman has nothing left but pride, she places an ad and hopes for a husband to treasure.

Miss ‘Daisy’ Molyneaux is desperate. All her family is dead. Her home in Normandy, attacked by mobs. Now that the little general has abdicated, she has a chance to gain back her lands. But she needs a husband who will help her regain her rights. So she pays to post an advert for a husband.

When the man who answers is not one she could ever love, but his nephew could be, can she accept his proposal?

Garrick Ruxton appears to her like a golden-haired hero, a handsome creature who saves her from an imperfect marriage. Garrick vows to accompany Daisy to France and, in the bargain, solve his own problem. His shipments, meant for British forces on the Continent, constantly go missing. He knows not who or how or why the thieves steal his goods. Worse, someone has attempted to kill his uncle. Daisy, too.

Garrick must find all those guilty before he is accused of treason. Before Daisy loses all hope of regaining her rights. And before they both lose the one chance they have to find happiness together.

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Cerise DeLand is the USA TODAY bestselling author who hates to dust, loves to cook and write!

Visit her: http://cerisedeland.com

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

By Cerise DeLand

On February 18, 2023

In Cerise Deland, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

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

“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

Our great hero weds a widow and promises only companionship?

By Cerise DeLand

On October 29, 2022

In Bluestocking Belles, Cerise Deland, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

Dear Reader,

I have it on best authority from servants in the house of a relative of the bride-to-be that our illustrious Hound of the Cavalry, decorated as he is and a newly minted earl, weds a widow today! This is such a loss to our many younger ladies who had hoped for a chance to enchant him!

We understand however that he has made promises to his new wife that they shall be forever just friends. Friends?

Does he not deserve more?

The comfort of a loving wife? The joy of children? The certainty that his line will be continued?

We are astonished that the lady would agree. But then, we’ve also heard that she requested this celibacy herself? What could possibly be her reason? Did she love her first husband so much? Did she promise him abstention? If so, where is her duty and her loyalty to her new husband?

Where is her love for him?

THE LYON’S SHARE by Cerise DeLand

She’d spend every last penny to marry again for security, comfort—or even friendship.

He’d win her wager, possess her, keep her for himself—even if he’d never win her love.

(Their wedding day in London.)

Sydney’s good friend and now his new brother-in-law, Henry, Lord Norbridge, handed him a whisky. “Welcome to the fold. Marlowe women are a unique brood.”

Sidney emptied his glass. Nerves were not a condition in which he usually indulged. “I’m pleased to be among you.”

“Do not say that too loudly.” Henry considered the three men younger than he who stood to one side of the bishop by the piano. “Our other brothers-in-law will have a thing or two to add to buck you up for the challenge.”

“Come now, Henry. You don’t want to frighten me off. I’ve had enough trouble getting this done.”

Henry clinked glasses with him. “Good job, too. However, I understand from my best source that we are still denying how good this union can be.”

Sidney frowned even as his heart swelled with the sight of his bride who stood across the room talking with her four sisters. “Adriana appears happy and …” Blast it. “Resigned to the match.”

“I hope you have plans to hasten her along. She’s been at this mourning business much too long and I dare say, it grows tedious. She needs to buck up.”

“I do agree.” I’d have her forget about Paul and focus her every thought on me.

Across the room, his new wife threw back her head to laugh at some remark of one of her sisters. Sidney vowed one day he’d make her do that whilst talking to him. She was a glory when happy.

“Give yourself joy in this too, Sidney. You deserve it. Don’t let her cow you into a friendship with no…”

“Benefits? Yes.” He absorbed the delicate beauty of his bride. How tall she was, how elegant, her long fingers and lithe limbs. Her lovely firm breasts. Her troth was his. Her vows. Her honor. But he had yearned for decades for more. Without hope too had he pined. Like a schoolboy. Watching Paul take her hand, help her to mount her horse or a carriage, embracing her in jest or passion.

His gaze swept down her form, her plump breasts spanning a gown of citron green velvet. She shifted to speak with one of her nieces and one long leg pulled the fabric taut to accentuate her limb. He wanted to run his hands up her leg, her arms, each inch of her. And how long could he wait to have her like that?

Forever, man. You vowed.

He put down his glass on a footman’s tray. “I have plans to draw her to me. But I have promised myself and Dove-Lyon, if she never wishes it, I will not pressure her.”

“A damn lonely way to live your life, my friend. You are Middlethorpe now. You have responsibilities.”

“That I know.”

“And needs.”

His gaze locked on Henry’s. “Never worry about that.”

“But I do. It is not natural what you promise. And I know how you truly regard my sister-in-law.”

He went to dust. “You will never say.”

“No, never. I would not break your trust. But damn it, Sidney, I like you as you are. I don’t want to see you turn bitter because you sold yourself into a bad bargain.”

“I fought one war, Henry. I can fight this one, too.”

“Can you?” His friend shook his head, weary. “It’s one thing to fight a foe with sabers and pistols. This opponent is yourself. Your very nature. Your every des—”

He clamped his hand on Henry’s shoulder. He’d had many women for a night, for the comfort and relief. One lovely French countess he’d kept in Paris last year for a month. “I will be well. I have girded myself with my own forbearance.”

“Which is strong, I do hope.”

Love. “The very stuff of life.” He smiled at his friend. “Forgive me now. I must take her away.” And begin my next campaign. The hardest one of all will be to become her best friend—and remain celibate.

The Lyon’s Share, the story

Adriana, Lady Benton, has many regrets—and one hope. To wed a good man to gain a life to which she is entitled. One free of sorrow, penury and ridicule. Appealing to Mrs. Dove-Lyon, Adriana hopes to attract one man who may appreciate her assets. But never need her love.

Colonel Sidney Wolf, once hailed as the ruthless ‘Hound of the Horse Guards’, vows to end Adriana’s hardships. He’s home from the wars and faces the daunting task of filling his father’s role as the Earl of Middlethorpe. Believing only Adriana will do as his helpmate, he strikes a deal with Dove-Lyon that brings him the one woman he admires. The one woman he tells himself he can live with—and never touch.

But the nearness of his funny, charming, beautiful bride drives him mad. Knowing she will never love other than her first husband, can he keep his hands—and his heart to himself?

And if he doesn’t, can she ever forgive him?

Cerise DeLand is the USA Today Bestselling author of romantic fiction starring sassy ladies and the charming men who adore them!

In KU on Amazon: https://amzn.to/3bc6ri3

Tell no one! A lady calling upon a gentleman in her nightrail?

By Cerise DeLand

On September 17, 2022

In Bluestocking Belles, Teatime Tattler

I write to you today to tell you of a most outlandish tale I heard. That of the Whiskey King’s daughter. (I dare not say her name.) And that she visited the Duke of M—’s son in her nightrail!

Now I know that seems impossible, but one of her neighbors swears it was she who scampered out of her house toward the duke’s.

Who else could it be? That man has no other girl so bold.

Or I do believe it to be so. What say you of his second child?

***

THE RAVEN’S LAST BET in THE WEDDING WAGER

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Desperate Sara Fleming decides the only way to escape her father’s plan is to make her newest betrothed a bet he can’t refuse.

Never good at gambling, Harry Seymour bets he can find a better way to win her heart!

But he better hurry!

Harry Seymour is home from years of fighting abroad to clean up the mess his roguish brother left upon his untimely death. Worse, his father, the Duke of Meredith, demands Harry honor a deal he made with his best friend to marry the man’s eldest 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 not for money.

Sara cannot accept the bargain her father made with the duke. 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 happy if Harry will do her the favor of ruining her. It’s a bet Harry can’t refuse.

Can he?