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Outrageous! A young lady with two beaux?

By

On July 20, 2022

In Guest author, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

Gentle Reader,

Society is agog and young debutants a slight shade of green as one of our newest members, the niece of Lady B—seems to have found herself not one beau, but two! The young lady, a very pretty miss who is by turns charming with a smile for all she meets or more sober and intellectually minded, is one who society is having difficulty comprehending. We are certainly not averse to beautiful bluestockings nor young ladies who are well rounded in their enjoyments, but the young lady in question have all wondering which Miss K– they are going to encounter when give a cheery wave. To this end, the young lady has attracted the notice to two very different sorts of gentlemen to her side. Lord C–, recently returned from Italy, can quite often be seen attending to her. When he isn’t there, it is Lord St. V—who is engaging her in deep, meaningful conversations. 

The other young ladies of society respectfully wish for Miss K to make up her mind in order to leave the playing field open for those who have a mind to join the game. 

Lady P— was overheard just the other day saying to her daughter that it was “simply too bad of her to hold onto the attention of two gentlemen. It’s not like she can marry them both.”

A Trick of Mirrors by Meredith Bond

Can the Ladies of the Wagering Whist Society help sort out a love quadrangle?

It’s not that the practical Beatrice Kendrick doesn’t trust her mirror twin, the vivacious and flirtatious Isabel. It’s just that the rebellious Bel has proven herself all too capable of welcoming the attentions of the wrong sort of man. So to keep her sister from getting into trouble, Bee secretly accompanies her when she goes to make her debut. Can Bee shield her own heart while trying to protect her sister? And can Bel ensure that her quiet sister gets a taste of the joys of London society – and a chance at romance?

When the broodingly romantic Edward Conway, nursing a broken heart, meets musically inclined Bel Kendrick, she stirs a passion in him he wasn’t sure he could ever feel again after the death of his Italian lover. The strappingly handsome Paul St. Vincent, too, meets the thoughtful and clever woman he thinks is Bel, and she seems to be just the sort of intellectually-minded woman he’s looking for. Only sometimes Edward senses that Bel doesn’t always remember what they’d discussed the last time they met. And at times she is entirely too giggly for Paul’s taste.

Both men, however, have decided that Miss Kendrick is the right woman for him. What they don’t realize is that they’re both right. But it will take a little sleight of hand by the ladies of the Wagering Whist Society to untangle this trick of mirrors.

Purchase Link at Books2Read: books2read.com/u/4AzO5d

Excerpt: 

“Ah, Miss Kendrick, good evening,” said a very tall, blond-haired man standing with Lady Blakemore.

“Good evening,” Bee said. Her mind went absolutely blank for a moment as she took in this incredibly handsome man. He was wonderfully tall, and while Lord Conway filled out his coat extremely well, this gentleman made her feel almost overwhelmed by the strength of him. She suddenly realized she was staring at him like a fool, so she quickly added, “It’s lovely to see you again.” And then prayed that “she” had met him before.

“And you,” he said. His voice was deep and sent tingles down to her toes. “Have you started any more fascinating books since yesterday?”

Bee widened her eyes at him. Bel had spoken to him about books? But she hated reading—well, she hated reading anything that wasn’t a novel. Every once in a while, she would pick up a book on travel and look through the pictures, but that was the extent of her reading habits.

“Oh! I promise, I haven’t told a soul,” he whispered just loud enough for her to hear.

“Thank goodness,” Bee said with a giggle, wondering what her sister might have said to this man.

“So, what are you reading just now?”

“A History of Greece by William Mitford,” she answered without thinking.

“A history? But you told me you hated histories,” he said with surprise.

“I…I did?”

“Most emphatically. You told me you disliked history and especially the history of Lincolnshire, in no uncertain terms.” He frowned as he seemed to think back to what she’d said—which was good since Bel hadn’t told Bee a word about this. “But you did say that you enjoyed reading about foreign lands, so I suppose Greece counts in that way.”

“Er…yes. Greece is definitely foreign. And, er, my uncle’s library here isn’t very extensive. I had very little to choose from.” Well, that was honest. What was also honest was the fact that Bee was going to have a serious word with her sister on alienating handsome men!

“Ah, I understand. One must make do, I suppose,” he said, his smile returning to his face.

“Yes,” she said, giving a little giggle. Bee wasn’t sure, but she thought all this giggling was giving her a headache.

“Well, I promised you no more discussion of the history of Lincolnshire, and I’m determined to  keep to my promise.”

“The history of Lincolnshire? Oh, but it has such a wonderful, rich history,” she blurted before her tongue could catch up to her brain. But truly, the history of the area where she lived interested her beyond anything. She’d read every book she could find on the subject and had been to visit a great number of ruins, dragging poor Bel with her every time.

He frowned. “Yes, indeed, it does. But you made it more than clear to me yesterday that you had no interest in it.”

“Oh.” For a moment Bee wanted to curse her sister. How could she tell this fascinating man that she wasn’t interested in history? How could she tell him that she wasn’t interested in anything he wanted to discuss? He could talk about horse manure, and she would find it fascinating. “While that’s true, there are a great many fascinating ruins not far from where we live, not to mention Lincolnshire Cathedral itself, which is just beautiful.”

“I think I mentioned that to you myself,” he said, raising one eyebrow.

“Oh, did you? I… I didn’t recall.” Ugh, now he was going to think her an idiot.

About the author:

Meredith Bond’s books straddle that beautiful line between historical romance and fantasy. An award-winning author, she writes fun traditional Regency romances, medieval Arthurian romances, and Regency romances with a touch of magic. Known for her characters “who slip readily into one’s heart,” Meredith loves to take her readers on a journey they won’t soon forget.  

Merry loves connecting with readers. Be sure to find her:

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News and Appeal for Aid from a Rival Publisher!

By

On July 13, 2022

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

My dear Mr. Clemens,

Though in the usual course of things we are rival publishers, I come to you today on bended knee. My printing press has broken down and I am unable to issue the latest edition of Hither and Yon, Tales of the Beau Monde. On any other day I would simply set aside the articles meant to go to print today. However, Mr. Clemens, this is no ordinary day and the news I have to impart cannot—nay, should not—be held back. It regards a certain raven-haired duke. Would you, kind sir, be amenable to printing this article of mine? I am open to negotiating the financials. 

I await your reply,

A. Ripley, proprietor—Ripley and Sons Printing

Dear Mr. Ripley,

Send the article to me with all due haste. I will share the profits of today’s edition at a 70/30 split.

S. Clemens

Sir,

I appreciate your efficiency and sense of business, however I do think 60/40 would be more appropriate. The article should read as follows:

It appears that a certain bachelor duke, of the house of T—, has at last decided to cast his eye upon the marriage mart. He not only attended a ball at Northfield House, he spoke with a number of eligible young ladies. The shock of the evening came with His Grace’s first dance. Did he escort a marquess’s daughter or an earl’s sister to the dance floor? No, dear reader, he most assuredly did not. He offered his arm to a young lady so undistinguished this author does not even know her name. The only remarkable thing about her was the monstrously hideous gown she wore. His Grace, ever the gentleman, seemed to take no notice. He did laugh, though, an achievement the young lady should take to heart forevermore, especially since she has no chance to land the illustrious duke. Oh indeed, this should be an interesting Season!

Ever grateful,

A. Ripley

Mr. Ripley,

Considering the content of your article, my final offer is 65/35. 

S. Clemens

Book title: His Duchess, first in the His & Hers series

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WPRFTL4 

Other retailers: https://books2read.com/u/49lEd0

Blurb:

Victoria Foster needs a husband. Orphaned, nearly penniless, saddled with an indifferent guardian plus a cousin intent on sabotaging her matrimonial hopes, she cannot afford to be a wallflower. Unfortunately for her, the only man in her path is a stuffy, well-above-her-touch duke. But with every fateful encounter, she glimpses more and more of the lonely, kindred soul behind the duke’s decorous demeanor.

Charles Danforth, Duke of Taviston, is seeking a wife. Nothing if not methodical, he determines a set of qualities his future bride must possess—neither love nor passion makes the list. Above all, she must be free of scandal so as not to tarnish the family legacy. Soon enough though, Taviston’s well-ordered life, impeccable social standing, and not-so-impenetrable heart are in jeopardy.

What’s an exceedingly proper duke to do when he finds himself embroiled in a scandal of his own making? 

Excerpt:

“Miss Foster, would you favor me with this dance?” He stepped forward and offered his hand. Her blue eyes fixated on it as if he had six fingers.

“She would be delighted,” Louisa replied brightly as she shoved her cousin in the small of the back, propelling the lady straight into Taviston.

 He pressed his lips into a thin line to keep from bringing the uncouth woman down a peg. When Miss Foster placed her small hand in his, he steered the two of them away from their intimate assembly with more haste than was proper.

Taviston was none too fond of dancing, especially these lengthy contra dances, but right now he would have gladly participated in three or four just to escape Louisa Browne. He glanced down at Miss Foster, who had not spoken so much as a word since their departure from the group. An odd despondency shrouded her face as they lined up for the dance.

For heaven’s sakes, he had never seen a young lady so reluctant to dance with him. As the music whistled around their heads and the other couples gracefully glided down the floor, he watched a rigid paralysis overtake his partner’s body, from head to toe. What was the matter with her?

When the couple beside them finally proceeded past, Taviston reached out and lightly grasped her hand. After a brief second, he instinctively tightened his grip, not wishing to ever let her go. She must not have felt the same for she bowed her head as if concentrating on her feet. He began moving to the rhythm of the music; Miss Foster moved as well, although unfortunately nothing remotely resembling rhythm was involved on her part.

By the time they were halfway down the line she had already stepped on his toes three times. Not that this was painful, as her feet were as small and dainty as the rest of her. But in the next instant those tiny feet became tangled amongst themselves, and Miss Foster fell into a headlong trip. Taviston snaked his arm out to prevent her fall and caught her around the waist. Soft breasts on his forearm and aromatic waves of lavender caused a certain unruly part of his body to tense. He was damn lucky he didn’t drop her from the shock of it all. Instead, he effortlessly swung her back into an upright position and settled her on her feet once again. Mercifully, they reached their position in the line within a few more steps.

Taviston stared across at Miss Foster, who eyed her feet as if she wished to chop them off. Two reddening ovals outlined her cheekbones.

“Miss Foster.”

She ever so slowly lifted her head, misery, but thankfully no tears, filling her eyes. “I am so sorry.”

He shook off her apology. “Try something simpler, like a skip.”

Her eyebrows marched upward, as if to say how is that simpler? But she nodded affirmatively anyway. They promenaded around the other couples and then the dancers began moving through the line again.

Awkwardly, they made it through with only one small stumble on her part, which alas only required that he lift her hand up to help her regain her balance. He would have gladly caught her again and again, if only to touch her and experience the heady pleasure enveloping his body when he did so.

As they took their places again, he attempted to lighten her mood with conversation. “That’s an interesting gown.”

She glanced down and then back up. “I’m not sure ‘interesting’ is the word I would have chosen. I have lived in fear all evening that the staff would mistake me for a fowl to be served up at the midnight supper.”

Taviston couldn’t help it, he laughed. Exactly what he had envisioned, some rustic bird. For a brief moment she looked startled by his laughter, but then flashed him the most brilliant smile. Something tightened in his chest. Her smile gave her face beauty and passion that hadn’t been there before.

They were required to make one more pass down the line of dancers. This they did without Miss Foster tripping even once, though she did bump her hip into Taviston’s thigh three different times. He didn’t mind in the least.

Bio:

Charlotte Russell didn’t always know she wanted to be a writer. At one point she had grand plans to be an architect, until she realized she couldn’t draw anything more complicated than a stick figure. So, she enrolled at Notre Dame and studied her first love—history. Now she writes historical and contemporary romances. When not pounding on the keyboard or tending to her family, she serves the people of her community at the local public library. She’s resided in numerous locales, including Indiana, Mexico City, Phoenix, and Seattle but currently lives in the middle of the US.

Find Charlotte:

Look what I found!

By

On July 9, 2022

In Sherry Ewing, Teatime Tattler

Zoe hurried to her apartment door. The person on the other side must have some kind of an emergency, given the frantic pounding on her door. She undid the multiple locks and swung open the door to find her friend Meagan. She waved a bunch of papers in front of Zoe’s face before handing her the documents.

“You’ll never believe what I found searching the library,” Meagan exclaimed barging into the apartment and plopping down on the couch.

“Sure… come on in,” Zoe said shutting the door and taking a seat next to her friend.

“Sorry. But I was just so excited I had to show you the proof that she made it,” Meagan said with a wide grin. “Go on. Read it. I made a copy so we could have it.”

Zoe sighed. “Have what?”

Meagan laughed. “Proof!”

“Can you catch me up here, dear?”

Meagan reached over to take the paperwork from Zoe. She flipped through several pages until she found what she was looking for. “It’s all right here. You can read it for yourself. But this is proof that Bridgette traveled back in time. We don’t need to keep looking for her because we won’t find her here.”

Zoe’s brow rose and she attempted to hide her own smile of satisfaction. Her ability of seeing future events were a gift from her grandmother, several generations removed, but a gift all the same. She peered down at the paperwork and began to read:

Gentle Readers:

 It is with great amusement that I give you this latest bit of tiddle tattle coming from the twelfth century. Yes, you read that right. The twelfth century! I do so love a good story with magical developments that will ask yourself this… do you believe in time travel? One of our ever-efficient reporters just learned that the current owners at Dunster Castle found an old metal chest when a portion of a wall from the old keep fell. Inside the box was a letter on old parchment. The writer of this letter was none other than a lady named Bridgette, the Countess of Somerset who eluded that she came from another place in time. Whoever her friends Zoe and Meagan are, they can rest knowing she was safe. There were other treasures inside that were a puzzle to the reporter: a pen made of an odd material along with a slim rectangular box with an apple on it. No one seemed to know what the purpose of second item was, but it must have been important to the countess to conceal it inside the wall. So, I ask again, dearest readers… do you believe that time travel is possible?

S Clemons
Editor in Chief of the Teatime Tattler

 Zoe looked up from the documents and handed them back to Meagan. “Very interesting,” she murmured.

“You knew!” Meagan all but shouted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Zoe stood, went into the kitchen, and returned with a bottle of champagne and two fluted glasses. She popped the cork and proceeded to pour them a glass of the bubbly nectar. “It’s that whole messing with the fabric of time issue. I needed to let it play out and let you learn Bridgette’s fate for yourself.”

“Do you suppose she was happy?” Meagan asked holding out her hand for the glass.

“She was,” Zoe said with a laugh. “To Ulrick and Bridgette! May we one day all be reunited again.”

Meagan gave her a quizzical look before she raised her glass in a toast. As the two friends began tot chat about what was going on in their boring daily lives, Zoe could only wonder when they, too, would slip through time to find the other half of themselves that had been missing. She hoped the wait wouldn’t be too long.

This is an original piece by Belle Sherry Ewing who is celebrating the latest release of her medieval time travel Promises Made at Midnight: The Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time (Book 6). Although this novel is part of a series, it can be read as a standalone. Read on to learn more about Sherry’s latest book!

Excerpt:

Ulrick escorted the Lady Bridgette back toward the festivities. He tried not to stare but ’twas difficult when the woman next to him was one of the most beautiful women he had ever encountered. High cheekbones with a straight nose framed a face with clear skin and a neck as graceful as a swan. Her dark green eyes rivaled the brilliance of the leaves of a forest after the rain and her face was so beautiful it must make the angels weep in heaven.

He dared not look lower, and yet how could he not when he could see the creamy soft mounds of her breasts pushed up so the fabric of her dress barely covered her nipples. A jeweled necklace, surely costly, hung from her neck with the largest bauble nestled in her cleavage, tempting him even further. Her purple gown must be in the height of fashion somewhere abroad for, although similar to others he had seen women wearing at court, ’twas still… different… Not that he was an expert on what frippery women wore these days. Generally, Ulrick was more concerned about the treasure that awaited him beneath their gowns than anything else.

They approached the center of the village when Lady Bridgette came to a sudden halt. Her hand trembled whilst her fingertips clutched roughly to the fabric of his tunic.

“I don’t remember this part of the fair,” she whispered in concern, “and I was paying close attention to the orientation speaker.”

“What speaker?” he asked, confused not only by the pattern of her speech but also what she thought was so unusual about what was before her.

She ignored his question but looked up at him with a frown. “It looks so… real.”

Ulrick was unsure how to answer her and began to wonder if perchance she sustained a bump to her head that had addled her wits when she fell. Mayhap he should seek out Kenna, Berwyck’s healer, and see if she could find out what was ailing the Lady Bridgette.

Before he could mention assisting her to the castle, she began tugging on his arm and pointing in the direction of a cleared field. A raised platform had been constructed for Dristan, Amiria, and those within their party so they might take their ease beneath the shade of an awning. Dristan’s standard, depicting a fire-breathing dragon, flew high above upon towering poles.

“Jousting? I don’t remember that on the program. Can we go watch?” Bridgette exclaimed, with renewed excitement, “that is, if you’d like to go with me. You may have other plans for the day.”

“I cannot in all good conscience leave a woman unattended. I will accompany you, my lady, until you are reunited with those in your party,” Ulrick answered, knowing he must needs perform his duty to the woman.

“Awesome!” she exclaimed rather loudly, before covering her mouth. “Damn… sorry about that. I’ll try to get myself back into character, I promise.”

Ulrick shook his head, more concerned than ever the longer he heard her strange speech. There was surely something wrong with Lady Bridgette. He peered at her an instant before they began to make their way across the field. Her eyes were lit with excitement at the sight of the tourney, clearly proving the woman was of a normal mind. He ignored the small nagging voice in his head and the odd premonition that another one of those future women had landed in his arms but a short while ago.

Promises Made at Midnight:
The Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time
By Sherry Ewing

Sometimes all it takes to find your heart’s desire is to make a wish…

After a series of failed relationships, Bridgette Harris would like a fresh start. If only she could escape her ex-boyfriend since they participate in the same renaissance fairs. While gazing at a granite statue of a handsome knight—her dream man—at one such fair, a mysterious elderly Scottish woman offers her a coin to toss into the fountain and make a wish. Bridgette can’t resist, but nothing prepares her to suddenly slip through time.

Sir Ulrick de Mohan does not have time for love. He is charged with training possible recruits to become worthy guardsmen for the Devil’s Dragon. The woman who magically appears out of thin air and falls into his arms must be one of those future ladies who continue to show up at Berwyck’s gate. But she can’t be for him.

Fate has brought two people together despite the centuries that should be keeping them apart. Will the growing love between them be enough to keep Bridgette in the past or will Time return her to where she should belong?

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Learn more at https://sherryewing.com/books/promises-made-at-midnight/

Bluestocking Belle Sherry Ewing picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A bestselling author, she writes historical and time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. 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 books on her website where a new adventure awaits you on every page at www.SherryEwing.com.

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The Marriage Stakes

By

On June 25, 2022

In Caroline Warfield, Teatime Tattler

My dear Mr. Clemens,

I have the distinction of attending a most exclusive house party at Clarion Hall in Ashmead, hosted by the Earl of Clarion with his sister, Mrs. Morgan—she who was once Duchess of Glenmoor—serving as hostess. Much of London vied for invitations, and ours was obtained only by dint of my longstanding friendship with none other than the Marchioness of Danbury, patron of the event. The usual

Clarion Hall

entertainments have been on offer but I quickly realized that all of this forced conviviality is in the service of politics, of all provoking and boring things. I note the attendance of the Home Secretary himself along with his closest cronies including the Duke of Awbury. I personally have always found Awbury a bit too high in the, well, instep, for my comfort. The man believes himself superior to most mortals except perhaps the Prince of Wales, and he disapproves of Prinny, too. It is all most disappointing, but I digress.

What is most interesting to your dear readers, of course, is the question of the earl’s marital aspirations. For weeks the most frequent on-dit in London would have it that, while the excessively proper earl had finally bent sufficiently to host his peers, he had no intention of looking for a wife, being content to mourn his first spouse dead these six years. Families with daughters to puff off, for the most part, stayed away.

You may understand, then, dear Sir, why I am aflutter with excitement. One could ignore the handful of persistent mamas who inserted ambitious daughters into the party. An unattached earl—particularly one as attractive (dare I say it?) as the earl—is a marital prize they cannot ignore. One can hardly blame them, but one can ignore them. I say that because it quickly became clear that Mrs. Morgan had marshaled the ladies of the family–regrettably not all of them legitimate members—to depress those ambitions. No amount of sprained ankles, lost wandering into the bachelor bedrooms, rearranged seating charts, or manipulated teams for games escaped the vigilance of the earl’s female relatives. I was ready to believe that he actually was not in search of a wife. Almost.

The arrival of Lady Estelle Wilton in the company of her grandparents, the Marquess and Marchioness of Wilbury, was an entirely different thing. A perfect lady, she has resorted to none of the shenanigans the other hoydens have attempted and yet, she has monopolized much of the earl’s attention. A man as reserved and proper as the upright earl would certainly seek such refinement in a wife. A man with political ambition would no doubt seek one with a pedigree as illustrious as that of Lady Estelle who would without doubt make a superior political hostess. As if all that weren’t transparent enough, my maid confided that a footmen told those assembled in the servants hall that the two of them rode out today with only his nominal company. Furthermore, they rode to Willowbrook, the earl’s former home and spent over an hour inside—sans footman or other chaperone.

In short, it appears we anticipate a happy announcement. I write now so that you may have the news first, and get the jump on your competition. You may coyly print:

Has a certain house party in the midlands brought marital aspirations to the Earl of C__? A certain Lady E__ W__ appears to have won the race to capture his attention. We expect wedding bells soon.

I have no doubt you will be merely reporting the truth, though of course you will protect the lady’s name. There has, alas, also been some foolish gossip about Lady Delia Fitzwallace, Awbury’s former daughter-in-law. If she weren’t a widow and a matron one might call her a hoyden as well. She lacks the refinement one would expect in an earl’s bride. Awbury himself is quite critical of her easy ways. Her looks are too coarse for a countess—her skin and hair reflect an island heritage—even as her manners show her family origins in trade. No, she would not do at all, and the earl can be relied on to know it. I’m sure of it.

Your devoted friend,

Alvira, Lady Eaton

About the Book

The final book in Caroline Warfield’s beloved Ashmead Heirs series is available at preorder pricing (only 99 cents) today. It reverts to retail after launch on June 28.
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0B4FCXDX2/
The notorious will left David, the very proper Earl of Clarion, with a crippled estate and dependents. He’s the one left to pick up the pieces while caring for others—his children, his tenants, and the people of Ashmead. He cares for England, too. Now that the estate has been put to right, he is free to pursue his political ambitions. But loneliness weighs him down. Then he meets his new neighbor. When his family plans a house party to launch his political ambitions, nothing goes quite as he planned.
Her uninhibited behavior shocks him. Why can’t he get her out of his mind?
Happily widowed Lady Delia Fitzwallace revels in her newly rented cottage, surrounded by flowers and the wonder of nature, thrilled to free her three rambunctious children from the city of Bristol and let them enjoy the countryside to the fullest. If only she can avoid offending her very proper neighbor, the earl, when their children keep pulling her into scrapes.
She is not what he needs in a countess. Can she help him find a proper political wife?

 

One Diamond who seeks an Apothecary? Heavens, no!

By

On April 20, 2022

In Bluestocking Belles, gossip, Guest author, Historical Period, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

Dear Readers, the Earl of Seahaven’s daughters seem determined to raise eyebrows wherever they go, especially the beautiful, but too independent, Lady Josefina Bigglesworth. She may be one of the Seahaven diamonds and certain to turn heads during her season in York, but is this not all the more reason she ought to be careful about running off on her own? Even an innocent daytime excursion to a local apothecary shop in The Shambles may be viewed as too forward.

She has also been seen lately having tea with none other than the Duke of Bourne, York’s most eligible bachelor, and it is said he could not take his eyes off her. Although the Dowager Countess of Seahaven is keeping quiet about it, several reliable sources present at the Castlegate Tea Room assure this Tattler the duke proposed to the lovely Josefina and she has accepted his offer of marriage.

The duke, that handsome devil, is taking Lady Josefina to his seaside estate outside of Whitby to meet his beloved sister. It is rumored she is ill and the doctors seem unable to cure her. Lady Josefina is known as quite the expert in curative plant medicines. Do her plant lore talents have anything to do with his desire to marry her? And will he marry her if she is unable to cure his sister? It would be a shocking scandal if he begged out, ruining the girl and her family. 

Desperate Daughters, Box Set, Bluestocking Belles and Friends

Desperate DaughtersBlurb:

Lady Josefina would much rather spend her time studying plants and their healing properties, but her father, the Earl of Seahaven, has died and left the family impoverished. Marriage seems her only alternative until she meets the handsome Duke of Bourne in an apothecary in York’s ancient Shambles. He offers her an intriguing proposition, a fake betrothal and a king’s ransom as reward if she returns with him to his estate and finds a cure for his sister’s illness. But will the true reward be his heart?

The Earl of Seahaven desperately wanted a son and heir but died leaving nine daughters and a fifth wife. Cruelly turned out by the new earl, they live hand-to-mouth in a small cottage.

The young dowager Countess’s one regret is that she cannot give Seahaven’s dear girls a chance at happiness.

When a cousin offers the use of her townhouse in York during the season, the Countess rallies her stepdaughters. They will pool their resources so that the youngest marriageable daughters might make successful matches, thereby saving them all.

So start their adventures in York, amid a whirl of balls, lectures, and al fresco picnics. Is it possible each of them might find love by the time the York horse races bring the season to a close?

About the Author, Meara Platt:

Meara Platt is an award winning, USA TODAY bestselling author and an Amazon UK All-Star. Her favorite place in all the world is England’s Lake District, which may not come as a surprise since many of her stories are set in that idyllic landscape, including her paranormal romance Dark Gardens series. Learn more about the Dark Gardens and Meara’s lighthearted and humorous Regency romances in her Farthingale series and Book of Love series, or her warmhearted Regency romances in her Braydens series by visiting her website at www.mearaplatt.com 

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