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But He’s Not a Gentleman

This letter has fallen into the hands of your Teatime Tattler editors. We trust our readers will find it of interest.

From Mrs. Letitia Piggott-Pym, Berkeley Square, London

To Miss Lorena Ogilvy, Vine Cottage, Sussex

Dear Sister,

At the close of this most successful Season, I am delighted to report that not only have we secured an entirely satisfactory husband for Arabella, but that our future son-in-law, if somewhat lacking in the matter of a chin, more than makes up for it in family connection and social distinction.

But I will confess that for a time our prospects appeared somewhat less propitious when Bella (along with several silly girls of her set) conceived a sudden tendre for a certain Mr. Merion – a development which, as you can imagine, Mr. Piggott-Pym and I found not a little worrisome.

In particular, dear Lorena, it simply wasn’t possible to refuse to receive Mr. Merion. He is a protégé of Viscount Crowden, not only having saved the viscount’s life during a terrible battle at sea, but being quite excessively attractive, looking just as one wishes one’s national heroes to look, as, sadly, they rarely do. War, after all, will cause disfiguring scars, burns, and amputations, but Mr. Merion’s wound is of the more decorative variety. In truth, the nearly imperceptible limp with which he walks, aided by a masterfully wielded cane, can only fan the flames of patriotic virtue among the girls, and perhaps, at times, even within the bosoms of their Mamas.

Not to speak of the fit of his coat, and even what might discern beneath…

But I digress; and in my meanderings have nearly forgotten to add that Mr. Merion is quite rich, or well on his way to becoming so. Of course, a lady doesn’t speak overmuch of such matters, but I am assured that he’s highly respected as a commercial investor in properties in certain neighborhoods. And although one wouldn’t venture to such quarters oneself, Mr. Piggott-Pym tells me that large sums of money may be made there in rents to a certain class of person.

Which brings me finally to the inescapable truth, that as ornamental an addition as Mr. Merion had made to one’s guest list – for his aforementioned assets and as proof of patriotism on the part of his hosts – the fact remains that Mr. Merion was not born a gentleman, and in fact served in His Majesty’s Royal Navy as a common sailor. And although this did not stop certain families from countenancing his attentions to their daughters, I can assure you that Mr. Piggott-Pym and I felt very differently…

And so in consequence, it was no surprise to find ourselves quite vindicated by the most shocking, interesting, and entertaining development… when a week ago, without a word of explanation or apology to any of his generous and condescending new connections, and leaving several dinner parties horribly lopsided, Mr. Merion quite entirely, and inexplicably, disappeared

ABOUT THE BOOK: A House East of Regent Street

The future looks bright for former sailor Jack Merion. His wartime heroics have won him influential contacts, and his good looks and flair for business are definite assets. With funds to invest, he’s on the brink of financial success in the high-stakes world of Regency London.

And buying the house in Soho Square is a can’t-miss opportunity. Once a fashionable brothel, the property will yield a good income in commercial rents and a clear path to the respectable life Jack has never known.

There’s only one problem – another prospective buyer. With a dark past, a desperate future, and some unmistakable assets of her own, Miss Cléo Myles is a formidable obstacle, one that Jack would be wise to steer clear of.

But instead, he proposes a bargain that’s as scandalous as it is irresistible.

Five afternoons. Five rooms. Uncountable pleasures…

…In a neighborhood that’s seen better days. And a house that’s seen everything except love.

An Excerpt

Woman, rather than lady.

Unless, Jack supposed, one knew how to pronounce the word lady with a certain ambiguity – a tone of voice like a wink or smirk exchanged with the other men in the room, to show that one really meant quite the opposite. A courtesan. Or even better, the French phrase Lord Crowden had taught him – trust the French to come up with an expression like grande horizontale. He himself had never encountered such a woman at first hand, and so he’d never been quite sure of all the nuances of implication.

But this… ah, lady could quickly fill the gaps in his education. He need only contemplate her posture and manner of address; it would be like memorizing an entire lexicon – of new uses for ordinary words that Miss Myles’s extraordinary presence had suddenly rendered inadequate.

One couldn’t, for example, exactly say she was small: not with her posture so regal that only the proximity of the lanky servant called attention to her lack of stature. Slender? He doubted that the possessor of such a voluptuous bosom could correctly be called slender. She was hardly young but it wouldn’t do to call her old either; the word ageless came to mind, but here his common sense rebelled. No woman was ageless – her youth, or lack of it, was always a critical index of her value.

Beautiful? He wasn’t quite sure – he’d always thought that beauty brought with it a comforting, disinterested sort of serenity. Well, striking, then, Miss Myles was certainly that. Sparkling eyes slanted catlike above well-drawn cheekbones; her mouth was expressive, the sinuous upper lip curving in a wary half-smile above the full, appetitive lower one. The afternoon sunlight seemed to embrace her as its own, her bright eyes and creamy skin outshining the brilliance even of these surroundings.

And oddly dignified, Jack thought, dignified and defiant – though world-weary might have been a more accurate word…

Release Date October 6, 2020 – Available for Preorder Now

FOR BUY LINKS, go to

About the Author

Author of historical romances set during the English Regency and before the French Revolution, Pam Rosenthal has been praised for her graceful style as well as her writing’s unabashed eroticism. She was twice nominated for Romance Writers of America’s RITA award, and in 2009 her novel The Edge of Impropriety won the RITA for Best Historical Romance. Find out more about Pam and her books at pamrosenthal.com, on Twitter @pamrosenthal, on Facebook, and on Goodreads.

“Elegant, tender, and daring… Pam Rosenthal has an impeccable sense of the Regency and a fearless way with a story.” – Julie Anne Long, USA Today Bestselling Author

A Country Wedding

Clemens,

Regarding the recent marriage of the Earl of Chadbourn to that country mouse who appears to be some sort of relative of his late brother-in-law, I found the affair to be respectable enough but woefully modest for a man of his stature. I suppose some find a village church wedding charming, but your readers would no doubt prefer to hear about a fully realized society affair at Saint George, Hanover Square, or even Saint Paul’s. Still, I managed to unearth a few tidbits to report, per your request.

The Landrum family was out in force of course, even Lady Flora who so scandalously married in a rush. There was much talk about the hurry, because the family was in mourning for her sister’s husband. Neither she nor her new spouse, Lord Ethan Alcott—who makes no effort to disguise the obvious deformity he brought back from war—appeared the slightest concerned about talk. Her attendence was particularly shocking, when her obvious queasiness gave evidence that she anticipates an interesting event.

Of more interest to your readers, Lord Ethan’s brother, the very eligible Viscount Penrhyd, who is after all the heir to a Marquess, attended. He escaped entanglement last Season and showed no particular preference for any lady at the wedding, so the hopeful young women of London may take heart.

The ladies may also note that the Marquess of Glenaire stood up with Chadbourn. The man would be an breathtaking catch for any hopeful debutante—rich as Croesus, heir to the Duke of Sudbury who claims precedence following only the royal dukes, and well to look at—but alas an elusive one. Some find him as handsome as sin; I for one find him cold. Those icy blue eyes quite give one a shudder. I would warn any young lady under my patronage to avoid him.

Glenaire’s entire family attended the wedding. That the Duke and Duchess of Sudbury honored Chadbourn with their company was no surprise, given the son’s friendship. Their youngest daughter, who recently completed her second season (perhaps third, I quite forget) without a betrothal, spent the affair trying to attract the attention of Penrhyd with little success. The presence of their oldest (and let me say quite unmarried) daughter, Lady Georgiana, was the biggest surprise. They call her The Recluse of Cambridge, and she rarely appears in society.  She appeared every inch the spinster she is.

Baron Ross’s rakehell son, the Honorable James Heyworth managed to behave like a gentleman, though he imbibed a bit much. One recalls that he, Glenaire, and Chadbourn, were fast friends before war with the despicable French sent most of them off. It caused me to recall their other friend, Andrew Mallet. He lacked the connections of the other three, but went about in society with them when the four came down from university. He too went off to war and came back rather sadly scarred.

I raise his name because the presence of the others and Lady Georgiana brought to mind some old gossip. It has been several years, but I seem to recall rumors regarding the duke’s daughter and the scholar’s son. Odd that he didn’t attend, and she did. Plus, there is the Cambridge connection for I am positive he grew up there. You might want to put some of your people on it to see if there is something delicious to uncover.

I endured the wedding for your sake, my dear Clemens, overrun as it was with small boys and odd servants. (Chadbourn does hire a peculiar collection of scarred, limping, and deaf retainers, former soldiers all. Admirable, but unpleasant for his guests.) In any case I trust you to keep my name off any items you decide to publish. I do appreciate your little gifts. Leaving a packet at Williamson’s Lending Library as you have before, makes for a pleasant surprise.

Your devoted friend,

Lady Albright

About the Book

There are indeed grounds for the rumors about Lady Georgiana and Andrew Mallet. Their story is in Dangerous Works.

A little Greek is one thing; the art of love is another. 

Only one man ever tried to teach Lady Georgiana Hayden both. Now she has taken on a body of work; translating the poetry of the women of ancient Greece. If it takes a scandalous affair to teach her what she needs to complete her work, she will risk it.

Major Andrew Mallet returns to Cambridge a battle-scarred hero and would be scholar. His last encounter with Georgiana cost him eleven years of his life.  Determined to avoid her, he seeks work to heal his soul and make his scholar father proud. The work she offers risks his career, his peace of mind, and (worst of all) his heart. Can he protect himself from a woman who almost destroyed him? Does he want to?

FREE with Kindle Unlimited or for purchase at https://www.amazon.com/Dangerous-Works-Caroline-Warfield-ebook/dp/B00N9KHDWQ/

As to the Earl of Chadbourn, the story of he and his “country mouse” can be found in A Dangerous Nativity, which is always ***FREE*** at various retailers.

Lady Flora, Lord Ethan, and Viscount Penryth appear in “Lord Ethan’s Honor,” in the Bluestocking Belles’ Collection, Fire & Frost.

The very elusive Marquess of Glenaire finally gets taken down a peg or two in Dangerous Weakness, also FREE with Kindle Unlimited.

About the Author

Caroline Warfield, Bluestocking Belle and lover of romance, writes stories set in the Regency and Victorian eras from her desk in the urban wilds of eastern Pennsylvania when she isn’t traveling the world with her Beloved looking for interesting places to send her characters.

Servants’ Natter

Beloved readers of The Teatime Tattler,

When last I wrote, I related the servants’ natter I overheard regarding the Marquess of Castlereigh and his Irish mistress, and the Duchess of Wiltshire’s new ward, her recently departed fourth cousin’s daughter, Lady Maris.

Servants' Gossip

Lately the servants’ gossip has not been much more interesting then the boring gossip overheard at every ladies’ tea in London. But I have gathered a few more details on both accounts.
One of our number, who shall not be named, was overheard in one of the more notorious gaming hells rambling on about the aforementioned Marquess of Castlereigh. It seems this habitually drunken earl had the occasion to meet the previously mentioned Irish mistress while in Ireland.
According to my source, who is a servant in the household of one of the others in attendance that night at the gaming hell, the earl claimed the Irish woman, though common, to be a raven-tressed sorceress, whose beauty bewitched and beguiled the marquess so thoroughly that he humiliated a perpetually drunken earl’s daughter at a harvest ball by choosing to waltz with the beauty instead.
That is all this maid could relay, as it seems her employer was much in his cups himself that evening. For my part, I must admit to being entirely beside myself with curiosity and hope beyond hope Lord Castlereagh brings a dash of scandal to this Season.
As for young Lady Maris, she was seen recently being escorted to the seamstress’ shop by her dutiful cousin Lord Wellesley. Being that Lord Wellesley’s relation to Lady Maris is quite distant, and it being said he is overly protective of her, I had thought perhaps the two might make the Season interesting.
Sadly, Lady Maris showed up on the arm of that scoundrel Archibald, the current Duke of Wiltshire, Friday evening past, dashing my plans to have news far more entertaining for you.
It seems the marriage between Lord Wellesley and Lady Twila is still to be expected before this year closes
Let us all pray Lady Maris finds a more worthy suitor than the duke.
Yrs. Truly,Lady Doe

About the Book

THE LOCKET, Aidan, Marquess of Wellesley, and Maris’s story, which was to be released early summer 2020, has been pushed back too late summer/early fall 2020.

The author’s previous book, THE BRIAR AND THE ROSE, is available as an ebook. 

THE BRIAR…One moment Raven is alone in the world and working as a maid in the gardens of a grand estate in Ireland; the next she finds herself handed the life of a lady by the dark and handsome Marquess of Castlereagh. Devan insists his intentions are honorable, and that he only wishes to help reunite her with her family. But Raven finds herself in a constant struggle to deny the smoldering attraction between them, and in her secret heart, wishes he wanted more.

THE ROSE…Devan, Marquess of Castlereagh, is tormented by his past and determined to live out his days in quiet solitude at his Ireland estate. That is until Raven enters his life. With the face of an angel, the body of Aphrodite, and the tongue of a drunken Irishman, he’s never met any woman so infuriating… so seductive… so… his match.

THE LEGEND…From historical Ireland and its mystical legends to the elegant ballrooms of Regency London, together Devan and Raven discover the truth of the past and a love so strong it cannot be denied.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07X3747H6/

About the Author

Laura Mills-Alcott spent the first two months of 2020 with pneumonia and two flus, thanks to her beautiful grandchildren. In March, after Ohio locked down, she went through four quarantines back to back, having been exposed to three active Covid-19 cases and one employee whose wife had come down with the virus. With her husband using her computer so he could work remotely, and not being able to use it herself for fear she may have contracted the virus, she opted to stay at the house they moved from and take on a full remodel in the hopes of eventually renting or selling it.

Just for entertainment, because things get boring living in a house all by one’s self without books, a computer, or Wi-Fi, Laura put the house on Zillow for sale or rent, not expecting much interest as the pictures showed it torn apart and in the throes of a major remodel. As fate would have it, in early April, a couple 1500 miles away landed on the ad, toured the house via Facebook video call, and believed her when she bragged about all she planned to single-handedly do to the house. They signed a rent-to-own contract the same day. Then Laura found herself in the unenviable position of having to make good on her bragging. The couple moves in May 31st and she is still living on the job site, determined to get the house finished on time.

Laura recently learned she has the coronavirus antibodies and actually had the virus in January when she thought she had pneumonia, which explains why she was so sick for so long, and why since March she has not caught the virus even though she was exposed to it numerous times.
Laura looks forward to using her computer soon and having WiFi, and getting back to writing on something other than her smart phone.

It should come as no surprise that her second book, THE LOCKET, Aidan, Marquess of Wellesley, and Maris’s story, which was to be released early summer 2020, has been pushed back too late summer/early fall 2020.

Family Secrets and Ghastly Deeds

To the editor, Teatime Tattler,

Dear Honoured Sir,

Though it is not in my gentle nature to speak ill of those in the highest of society’s ranks, I feel it my duty to report a most shocking miscarriage of justice. The Amesbury family, those who are relations of my lord, the Earl of Tarrington, may not be all they seem. In fact, they are, in fact, secretly villains. You see, good sir, I have information, nay, verily proof, that while they appear all that is proper and noble, with two of the family’s sons serving His Majesty’s’ army and navy, scandal and danger follow in their wake.
You see, sir, I know for a fact that the current earl married his wife under false pretenses almost too shocking to utter. Although they seem blissfully wedded now, they had most unbecoming beginnings including a false identity. Is their marriage even valid? Is their infant son a legitimate heir?

As far as the second son, it’s a well-known fact that he served as a privateer during the war. However, I have it on good authority that he was, in truth, a pirate! He was captured by His Majesty’s Navy, stood trial, and nearly met his doom at the gallows. Oh, he used an assumed name—that seems to be a family trait—but I know it was him.

The third son, alas, has always been the black sheep. He shuns society, snubbing conventions, and wearing shockingly low apparel. But this is not all; he even works—works!—with the Bow Street officers to solve cases that are best left to those of the working class. To be fair, he has saved lives, but has also taken a good many under the excuse that it was all in the line of duty. But does that include shooting peers without trial?

Though hailed as society’s golden child, the youngest Amesbury son, who most closely resembles the late earl, has the most shocking secret of all. He not only may have participated in arranging the death of a peer with the help of his brothers, but more shocking still, he even married the widow within mere weeks of the ghastly deed.

Now, I ask you, does this not bear further inquiry into the Amesbury family? Do we demand that this family answer to the laws of justice or do we let them live above the law?

The Amesbury sisters, it seems, are perfectly respectable, although one is estranged from her husband, and the other, a bluestocking spinster. This suggests that something went terribly wrong in their upbringing, does it not?

With regards to the men (I refuse to use the word “gentlemen”) of this family, I beseech you to consider my words. Since Bow Street has discounted my concerns—likely due to their familiarity with the aforementioned brother who works with Bow Street—perhaps this public revelation will put pressure on the law to do the right thing. If nothing else, the opinion of society may deliver its own form of justice.

Sincerely yours,

A concerned neighbor

About the Book

The Stranger She Married

When her parents and only brother die within weeks of each other, Alicia and her younger sister are left in the hands of an uncle who has brought them all to financial and social ruin. Desperate to save her family from debtor’s prison, Alicia vows to marry the first wealthy man to propose. She meets the dashing Lord Amesbury, and her heart whispers that this is the man she is destined to love, but his tainted past may forever stand in their way. Her choices in potential husbands narrow to either a scarred cripple with the heart of a poet or a handsome rake with a deadly secret.

Cole Amesbury is tormented by his own ghosts and believes he is beyond redemption, yet he cannot deny his attraction for the girl whose genuine goodness touches the heart he’d thought long dead. He fears the scars in his soul cut so deeply that he may never be able to offer Alicia a love that is true. When yet another bizarre mishap threatens her life, Alicia suspects the seemingly unrelated accidents that have plagued her loved ones are actually a killer’s attempt to exterminate every member of her family. Despite the threat looming over her, learning to love the stranger she married may pose the greatest danger of all, a danger to her heart.

Excerpt:

As Cole looked down into Alicia Palmer’s face, he knew of a surety she was worth any risk. She touched him in a place he’d thought long dead.

A younger man wearing a saucy grin approached Miss Palmer. “Did you save me a dance, Lissie?”

Cole’s initial irritation for the man’s cheekiness faded to puzzlement. He knew him from somewhere. A vague unease arose.

When the young man’s gaze moved to Cole, he paled visibly. “You!”

Miss Palmer gasped. “Robert Palmer, where are your manners?”

Of course. Robert Palmer. From London. Cold dread trickled  across  his  heart  as  he  considered  the ramifications.

 Palmer pinned him with a dangerous glare. “Stay away from my cousin.”

“Your cousin?” Cole looked from him to the lovely Miss Palmer and understanding dawned. He cursed under his breath. He hadn’t been aware Armand Palmer had a sister. Not that he’d bothered to find out. The possible ramifications took a more serious turn.

Miss Palmer sent Cole a look of apology and turned to her cousin. “Robert, explain yourself.”

In a cold sweat, Cole waited for her condemning stare.

Palmer trembled in rage. He spoke quietly, but each word shot through Cole like bullets fired at close range. “He’s the scoundrel who shot your twin.”

About the Author

Multi-award-winning author of more than twenty best-selling Regency Historical Romances, Donna Hatch is a hopeful romantic and an adventurer at heart. Each book she writes is filled with wit and heart and plenty of swoon-worthy romance. Donna sings, plays the harp, and loves to ballroom dance. Her family, including six children and two cats, recently left their native Arizona for the US Pacific coast. No matter where they live, she and her husband of over twenty years are proof that there truly is a happily ever after.

To find out more about this author and her books, visit her at:

Website: www.donnahatch.com

Blog: www.donnahatch.com/blog

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Donna-Hatch/e/B002BMG9KK/

Facebook: www.facebook.com/RomanceAuthorDonnaHatch

Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/donna-hatch

Twitter: https://twitter.com/donnahatch

Pinterest : https://www.pinterest.com/donnahatch29/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/donnahatch.author/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2072970.Donna_HatchAmazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Donna-Hatch/e/B002BMG9KK

Servants Always Know

You can learn a lot in pubs and cafés. Your Teatime Tattler has long had a policy of lingering in such establishments on the fringe more posh neighborhoods—the sort of places servants might gather on their off days.

The Little Brown Hen Pub has been particularly useful lately. It seems one of our “better” squares, one populated by two earls, a wealthy baron, and a dowager duchess to name a few, has had an abundance of havey-cavey behavior lately—enough to make a debutante blush.

First off an upstairs maid from the Earl of W—’s house and a footman from Mr. M.C.’s both were at pains to tell our man on the spot about strange arrangements in the Earl of C—’s fashionable townhouse—he who came into his title just last summer.

servants

“Y’don’t see them servants here, do ya? They keep to themselves they do. Downright unfriendly,” complained the footman.

“That butler o’thern looks more like a prize fighter than a butler, if you ask me,” the little maid sniffed. “And have you seen that footman missing one ear? His visage has an ugly scar. What kind of earl hires ugly servants?”

They scurried off to fetch more ale when an older woman, dressed in black, and obviously an upper servant shooed them away. She introduced herself as Her Grace’s dresser—that would be the dowager—and insisted on tea. “Only tea,” she said with a sniff. This bird seemed a bit high class for this pub, but then maybe widowed duchesses don’t pay as well as others.

Servants

“If you’re interested in the Earl of C—, I can tell you more interesting things about that house than deformed footmen,” she said, rubbing two fingers together. We’re always willing to spare a few coin for a woman who can use ‘em. We obliged.

“To begin with the man doesn’t live there. He has rooms at the Albany, and God only knows what bachelors get up to there. When the old earl died, the older sister—she who is the Duchess of M— came to look after the younger girl, a flibbertigibbet of the first order, in my opinion.” She drew breath and our man quickly suspected she had many opinions loosened by coin.

“Now the Duke of M— is a fine man, but his wife is a pale shadow of a thing, utterly incapable of minding the hoyden. They must have gotten fed up with her foolish starts and outlandish taking because they up and left. Closed up the house but for a few servants.”

She leaned over and dropped her voice, those fingers moving. Another coin may have slid across the table. “I saw them leave. Saw the carriage pull round, the duchess get in, the duke pull their boy by his collar and toss him in, and then they left.”

Our man waited, and not in vain. “I did not see the younger sister get in that carriage. Nor the one with the maid, valet, and baggage,” she went on. “Neither one. I watched the whole time.” He took her meaning, but to be sure he asked, “Are you telling me the Earl of C—’s young unmarried sister is living on her own in a house that’s supposed to be closed?”

“Well I know I didn’t see her leave with ‘em, and more.” She leaned in again. “I’ve been watching a girl her size wearing the clothes of a scullery maid but walking with the bearing of a countess coming and going through the tradesmen’s door. That chit is up to something, no doubt about it, and heading for ruin.”

“Is that it?”

“Well. The Earl of C— feeds anyone who come to his kitchen. Her Grace has complained mightily that it attracts all sorts of unsavory types. This very morning I saw a particularly horrid specimen—a filthy one-armed ruffian—parade through their garden as free as you please, and get taken in. Taken in and that girl in residence! Not an hour later he was out on the street. Did they toss him on his fundament? No! One of those deformed footmen was giving him directions. I ask you, is that how a respectable household conducts itself?”

________________

The Earl of Chadbourn makes it a policy to hire as many veterans in need of work as he can. The result has been a rather unusual collection of servants. As to his sister, perhaps he wasn’t watching as closely as he should.

Watch for Lord Ethan’s Honor in Fire & Frost: a Bluestocking Belles Collection

When a young woman marches into an alley full of homeless former soldiers, Ethan Alcott feels something he thought dead stir to life: his sense of honor. Effort at charity put the chit in danger; someone needs to take her in hand.

Lady Flora Landrum discovers that the mysterious one-armed ruffian she encountered in a back alley is Lord Ethan Alcott, son of the Marquess of Welbrook; her astonishment gives way to determination. As Ethan comes to admire Flora’s courage, perhaps he can reclaim his own.

About Fire & Frost

Join The Ladies’ Society For The Care of the Widows and Orphans of Fallen Heroes and the Children of Wounded Veterans in their pursuit of justice, charity, and soul-searing romance.

The Napoleonic Wars have left England with wounded warriors, fatherless children, unemployed veterans, and hungry families. The ladies of London, led by the indomitable Duchess of Haverford plot a campaign to feed the hungry, care for the fallen—and bring the neglectful Parliament to heel. They will use any means at their disposal to convince the gentlemen of their choice to assist.

Their campaign involves strategy, persuasion, and a wee bit of fun. Pamphlets are all well and good, but auctioning a lady’s company along with her basket of delicious treats is bound to get more attention. Their efforts fall amid weeks of fog and weather so cold the Thames freezes over and a festive Frost Fair breaks out right on the river. The ladies take to the ice. What could be better for their purposes than a little Fire and Frost?

Celebrate Valentine’s Day 2020 with six interconnected Regency romances from the Bluestocking Belles.

Caroline Warfield is a Belle. You can learn about her and her writing here: https://www.carolinewarfield.com/

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