Dear Readers,
It is to be admired that a young lady of good family should excel with her paintbrush, as indeed she should also do in music, embroidery and letter-writing. That she should seek to earn her fortune thereby is another matter entirely.
Those of you cognisant of the recent scandal involving a certain Miss A and Mr C will know of what I speak. The seeking of one’s fortune through art represents an extraordinary lack of judgement, a trait oft seen in the story of the aforementioned Young Lady.
I cannot blame the prodigal daughter of Lady A for seeking escape from what I can only consider one of the Less Civilised provinces, despite its having a coastline and an absence of inconvenient hills. Unfortunately, our Great Metropolis draws all towards it, although it is to be wished that said young lady had made the journey in a more Respectable Fashion. Lady A is truly to be pitied that her offspring chose elopement, and even more so that the gentleman, in question, a certain Mr T, chanced to be a Nobody who could have no thought but for the young lady’s Fortune. Rumour has it that he, too, considered himself An Artist. Imagine that! That two such Unworldly Young Persons should be domiciled together is a recipe for Boredom, Penury, and Ultimate Disaster. Any Person of Taste, Fashion or Discretion must be shocked by such behaviour.
If only this were the end of the sorry tale of poor Lady A’s wayward younger daughter! As if creating a Scandal in London were not enough, what must she then do but return to her dreary county of residence in the company of a member of the Lyon’s Den Gambling Hell, whom we shall call Mr C. Said Establishment is right here in Town, almost on my own doorstep, I’ll have you know. Utterly appalling. The goings-on! The only good thing I can say for Mr C is that he’s not known for his Watercolours, Portraits, or Oils, but prefers to lead the ramshackle existence that is so often the Preserve of the Younger Son. His association with the proprietor of the aforementioned establishment bears closer inspection, as it is my understanding that Mrs D-L frequently involves her acolytes in Nefarious Activities. What hope is there for a Daughter of the Provinces when thrown into the company of such a fellow? And if he should have turned her head by saving her from Highway Robbers, a rejected Lover, and indeed, from herself, then she is entirely lost to Decent Society.
Let us pray that the aforementioned Mr C will break the young lady’s heart, render her an Unmarriageable Spinster, and cure her forever of her ambition to set herself up as an Artist. Only then will the drawing rooms of the ton be safe from Scribbles, Indecipherable Blobs, mawkish depictions of babies, Ugly Portraits, and hideous representations of Dogs.
If I learn anything further regarding this Particular Situation, I promise you shall be the first to hear of it.
Yours etc.
LYON ON THE LOOSE
She fled a terrible mistake. Then her past caught up with her.
When scapegrace Miss Lissy Ashby faces ruin, she vows never again to trust a charming smile. But Fate has other plans. An ultimatum, a stolen carriage, and a forced overnight stay entangle her with her mother’s new secretary—a man with secrets of his own.
He was awful at spying. Excellent at falling in love.
Roland Chetwynd has been sent to Lissy’s home under false pretences, charged by renowned matchmaker, Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon, with recovering a missing sapphire necklace. He never imagined he would instead be captivated by a brave, blue-eyed artist who sees far more than he intended to reveal.
When masked villains strike at Lissy’s family’s ball, Roland risks everything—his reputation, his commission, even his heart—to protect her. But when the truth of his deception comes to light, Lissy must decide if the man she loves is a hero… or simply another mistake.
Purchase Link Universal: https://mybook.to/lyonontheloose
Purchase Link Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H5P9LR9Y
Excerpt:
London
The carriage clattered to a halt at the road junction, then rocked alarmingly as someone yanked the door open and flung themselves into the interior. The Honourable Roland Chetwynd automatically reached for his lion-headed cane, a gift from Mrs Dove-Lyon, with which to defend himself. Too late. There was an ominous cracking sound as the unwelcome intruder lost their balance and collapsed onto his lap.
An interesting twist to an already disastrous day; his carriage was now full of rain-drenched young female, and his new walking cane had been snapped in two. He also now had mud on his trousers whilst a trail of water dripped enthusiastically from the woman’s bonnet onto the toes of his carefully polished Hessians.
His coachman, apparently unaware of the new arrival, set the carriage lumbering off once more. Speechless, Roland glared at the damp young lady as she seated herself opposite him and shook the rain from her hooded cloak.
“I most awfully sorry, sir, but I was in dire need and your coach stopped in the street at just the right moment. I promise you needn’t take me far—I just need to travel a few blocks to make sure he can’t find me.”
Usually of a sunny disposition, Roland found himself feeling particularly ungentlemanly today. He was currently boasting a black eye following a set-to with his old enemy Henry Sutton, and he had just discovered that there was a book set up against him at White’s, a further blow to his rickety self-esteem. Rescuing bold young ladies from unwanted suitors—or whoever—was not what he had in mind right now. A few games of cards, a harmless wager or two, and a very decent Canary wine awaited him at the Lyon’s Den gambling club, and he had every intention of making his way straight there without becoming entangled in somebody else’s affairs. Besides, the last time he’d come to the aid of a damsel in distress, it had not gone well.
The young woman was subjecting him to a sober perusal, and he wondered what he must look like to her, dressed up to the nines, his jacket tailored as tightly as Beau Brummel’s, his unruly blonde hair well-suited to the windswept style, and a swelling eye. Part of him wanted to inform the young lady at once that he hadn’t been the loser in the battle with Sutton, and that he had every intention of evening the score, but why should he care what she thought of him? This was his carriage, his ghastly day… and she wasn’t likely to make it any better.
When she pushed her water-blackened hair back from her face, he noticed a pair of intelligent blue eyes peering out from an elfin face with a determined chin. “Oh, I am desolated,” she exclaimed. “I have broken your beautiful cane.”
“Never mind that. Coachman!” He rapped on the roof of the carriage with what remained of the lion-headed cane. “Halt!”
The woman glanced fearfully through the window and pulled her cloak tightly about her neck. “Please, no, sir! He’ll see me if you set me down now. Please—can we not just go a few more blocks? I cannot allow him to catch me.”
Author Bio: USA TODAY bestselling author Elizabeth Keysian writes richly researched historical romance set in Regency England, Tudor Britain and the mysterious landscapes of Dartmoor. She has completed a series for Dragonblade Publishing called Trysts and Treachery, and contributed three Regency romances to their Lyon’s Den Connected World line, with one more still to come. Though primarily a writer of romance, she loves to put a bit of mystery, adventure, and suspense into her stories, and refuses to let her characters take themselves too seriously. Elizabeth likes to write from experience, not easy when her works range from the medieval to the Victorian eras. However, her passion for re-enactment has helped, as have the many years she spent working in museums and British archaeology. If you find some detail in her work you’ve never come across before, you can bet she either dug it up, quite literally, or found it on a museum shelf. She puts out the occasional newsletter when there are books, contests, and bargains to promote.
Social media links and website:
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This edition of the Teatime Tattler has a treat for you! 
Heart of the Hawk
About the Author
Dearest Readers,
Her Beast in Brighton
About Tanya Wilde:
After five years abroad, Alexander Weld, Earl of Hawkesbury, has returned to Somerset under the somber veil of duty. The late Earl, his father, was laid to rest last week in a ceremony both dignified and discreet. Those present report that Lord Hawkesbury conducted himself with composure befitting his station, though there was a gravity about him that spoke of burdens carried beyond grief alone.
A Reckoning for the Earl