Tag: Historical Romance Page 23 of 54

Disgraceful Behavior in a Small Town

On October 6, 2021

This letter reached our newsroom from a village in New York.

Dear S. Clemens,

As a faithful, God fearing Christian woman, I find your column is perfect to find those lost souls who are in need of prayer. You recently mentioned our town bachelor, Mr. David Moses Van Hoyton, was recently seen escorting an unknown female into his hotel.

I’m sure the people of the church will appreciate any further information you may acquire as we wish to pray for her by name. I’m sure she will not be found in the hotel register as she clearly was NOT a guest. I also am an eye witness to this event and I can honestly state, her clothes were definitely not of high quality. Though you speak of her being “a pretty thing with big expressive eyes”, I am only concerned with her soul and any possible harm she may cause the above mentioned man. We do not want any backsliding to occur on his part. I was told by a very reliable source, this very woman was seen near the train station earlier in the day. The train master, an honorable Christian, seemed infatuated by her and was seen enticing her with some sort of gift . It wasn’t long after that Mr. Van Hoyton passed by and she quickly chose our local hotel owner as a better–how do I say it–friend?

Again, any further news on this clearly lost soul will be used discreetly and shared only with the good people of the church’s sprayer group. Thank you,

A concerned Christian woman

About the Series

This bit of fiction is in reference to characters in a work in progress that is part of Camille Regholec’s series Looking on the Heart.

Book 2, Secret Way to the Heart

Though far from the battlefields, the Civil War brings many changes to Jayne’s family and neighbors in the Hudson Valley of New York. As she struggles to keep her family united in the midst of a country torn apart, Jayne seeks God for answers and protection to keep her heart from falling for a mysterious Southern preacher who appears on the scene.

The Dead Baron?

By Bluestocking Belles

On September 29, 2021

In Teatime Tattler

Dear Reader,

This correspondent gleefully shares the news with you the news that Sir James Branstoke and his new bride, Lady Cecilia Branstoke are not on their honeymoon in the Highlands as they would have all believe. No, no, quite the contrary. They were recently spotted at the theater in the company of Lady Elinor Aldrich.

There was no sign of Baron Simon Aldrich, and Lady Aldrich wore black. Though this correspondent has not heard of any official announcement, it is rumored Baron Simon Aldrich has lamentably met his death in a carriage accident along the White Cliffs of Dover.

Sir James and Lady B. don’t believe it.

We shall do our best to ascertain the truth.

About the Book: Rarer Than Gold, Book 2 of “A Chance Inquiry”

When newlyweds Sir James and Lady Cecilia Branstoke come to console a widow on the death of her husband, they discover some things don’t add up about the death of the young Lord. Worse, a man who won’t state his purpose, but is obviously military, wants a carte blanche to search the dead man’s library! The sheer effrontery!

What begins as sympathy and concern for a troubled neighbor escalates into a mystery with reverberations at the highest level of government.

Napoleon has escaped from Elba and someone has stolen a subsidy shipment meant for England’s allies in their renewed war against Napoleon. The shipment, a valuable mix of gold and guns, soon pits thief against thief and ally against ally with the Branstokes in the middle!

Instead of being on a blissful honeymoon, Sir James and Lady Cecilia Branstoke find themselves dodging knives, fires, and pistols as they search for the missing baronet and the stolen subsidies.

Maybe they should have traveled to the highlands for their honeymoon, as they’d told their friends had been their intention.

~ An Excerpt ~

“The ground is uneven here. It might be best if you stayed here while I search the area,” James suggested.

“No, I will accompany you. Two pairs of eyes. I shall be steady enough. If not, I shall just grab tightly on to you,” Cecilia said.

“And I should enjoy that,” her husband teased. “But be careful. There are fallen stones lying at odd angles that you could sprain an ankle on if you were to step oddly.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

They picked their way through the path of fallen stones toward the nave, wide open to the sky above with patches of blue and lavender and yellow wildflowers growing among the tall grasses shadowing the rocks.

“It is so beautiful and peaceful here,” Cecilia murmured. “Spiritual, though the church is long gone.”

“But not so spiritual that evil stays away,” James said grimly. He left Cecilia’s side to walk to a pile of stones beside a half-standing wall. He bent down to pick something up, then pushed the grass away from the rocks.

“What is it, James?” Cecilia asked as she hurried toward him.

He held out a lady’s glove.

“That’s Elinor’s!” Cecilia said.

He gestured back to the rocks. “There is evidence of blood on the rocks here. Not a lot, but it doesn’t show evidence of rain or time dilution, either. It is recent.”

Cecilia examined the rocks with their blood spatters. Then she looked around at the grass in the surrounding area. She found a few white threads as might come from ripped fabric. She pointed these out to James.

James looked beyond the rocks. “There is a trail,” he said, pointing to the trampled grasses leading to the back of the nave.

“It looks like whoever someone injured leaned against the wall here. There is a large smear of blood. By the location of the blood, I would guess it is from an arm or shoulder wound,” James said.

“Look, there is a bloody handprint.” Cecilia pointed to a partial handprint.

“A man’s hand.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “It appears Elinor bandaged whoever was injured, and then they left. I wonder if we can find traces of the direction they took?”

James glanced at the sky. “The clouds are building. We must hurry if we are to discover any signs of their direction before the weather changes and rain wipes all traces away.”

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Rarer-Than-Gold-Chance-Inquiry-ebook/dp/B096WLGYK8

About the Author

Holly Newman lives in Florida seven miles from the Gulf Coast with Ken and their six cats.

Holly decided to be a writer when she was in the fifth grade and filled notebooks with stories—until a mean-spirited high school teacher told her she had no talent for writing. Crushed, for several years she stopped writing, but the writing bug didn’t go away. Her first book won first place in the University of Texas at Dallas fiction writing competition and was first runner-up for the Rita award from Romance Writers of America.

Holly’s interest in the Regency period started in high school when she volunteered to re-shelve books at the community library. Every week there were Georgette Heyer novels to be shelved. Curious, she checked one out and became immersed in the world of the regency.

Website: Holly Newman | History, Mystery, Humor, and Romance . . . 19th Century Style

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HollyNewmanAuthor

Instagram: @hollynewman1811

Twitter: https://twitter.com/author_holly

Newsletter: Click on Perchance to Dream, to get a Georgian era fantasy short story for free with a newsletter sign-up

Matchmaking and Secrets in Falmouth

By Bluestocking Belles

On September 15, 2021

In Teatime Tattler

Judging from this missive that went astray and was, er, rescued by The Teatime Tattler, bachelors in Falmouth best beware the designs of matchmakers.

Falmouth, 1811

My dear Hannah,

I hope you and Reverend Simpson are in good health.

Although I long to see you in person, I’m afraid that yet again I will have to put off my trip to Oxfordshire as Admiral Pridham is still rather tied up with naval business, so this letter will have to suffice. You wouldn’t think that a gentleman who has given up active service would still be embroiled in naval matters, but I suppose I must accept that in dangerous times like these with Napoleon rumoured to be poised to invade, an experienced naval man like my Priddy will be of value to the Admiralty.

But enough of sombre thoughts, let me move to the real purpose of my missive, which is to thank you for sending Sophie Turner to me. I am delighted with her. I simply cannot understand why her erstwhile guardian held her in such poor regard.

A View of Bath

The little that Sophie has shared with me about her past paints a dismal picture of her childhood, as have you when you recommended her to me. Indeed it must have been a blessing for Sophie when you arrived in Crawley and took her under your wing.

Her arrival in Bath did more for me than any amount of taking the waters, it was almost like having dear Kitty with me (who, by the way, is very much enjoying life as a naval officer’s wife in Deptford). Sophie and I attended the Pump Room every morning to join the gossip, I no longer needing to take the waters – ghastly stuff! We visited Bath’s fabric warehouses, which I swear are as good as any in London and I spent a great deal of money. Thank goodness the Admiral has deep pockets.

Despite her reluctance, I insisted on new dresses too for Sophie – the dear child needs to look the part as my companion. The lending libraries on Milsom Street are very good, I recommend them, and we indulged ourselves with all the latest novels.

Falmouth Harbor

As you can see, I am now returned to Falmouth and reunited with my Admiral. Alas, I hardly ever see him, so caught up is he with naval business. I planned to meet with him in Falmouth town for nuncheon this morning and took Sophie with me to show her the sights – would you believe that she has never seen the sea? Alas, just as Pridham arrived, accompanied by a certain Mrs Harris – an overpainted and encroaching creature in my opinion – poor Sophie fainted away. It took a feather from my hat to revive her and once I got her back home a dose of Daffy elixir soon set her to rights, so there is no reason for you to worry.

Between you and I, I am hoping to find a suitable match for Sophie here in Falmouth; there is a single young gentleman friend of my husband – not a naval man – yet I think he will do very nicely. I will write soon and let you know how things go on.

Your dear friend, Emmaline

About the Book: A Bachelor’s Pledge

The woman who haunts his dreams

Secret agent Phil Cullen is upset when he discovers that the young woman he rescued from Mrs Newbody’s establishment has absconded from his housekeeper’s care without a word. Thinking he has been deceived, he resolves to forget about her… something easier said than done.

The man she wants to forget

Sophia Turner is horrified when she is duped into entering a notorious house of ill-repute. Then a handsome stranger comes to her aid. Desperate that no one learns of this scandalous episode, Sophia flees to the one friend she knows she can trust. With luck, she will never see her mysterious rescuer again.

But fate has other plans…

Months later, Phil is on the trail of an elusive French agent and Sophia is a respectable lady’s companion when fate again intervenes, taking their lives on a collision course.

Traitors, spies, and shameful family secrets – will these bring Sophia and Phil together… or drive them apart?

Heart-warming romance combined with action-filled adventure make this third book in Penny Hampson’s Gentleman Series a must-read for all lovers of classic Regency fiction.

Purchase link: mybook.to/ABachelorsPledge

An Extract~

After walking for a while longer and stopping in various shops to make some small purchases, Emmaline decided it was time for some refreshment. ‘The respectable tavern I told you about is just along here. I’ll bespeak us a private parlour and ask the landlord to send a boy with a message for the admiral.’

Sophia followed her employer into an old-fashioned but tidy-looking inn. Emmaline was obviously well known in these parts, for the landlord swiftly joined them and led them to a pleasant parlour. ‘My Annie will be with you in a moment, ma’am, and I’ll send my lad Jack to you just as soon as he returns from the stables.’

Before long, the boy Jack was sent off with a message to the admiral, who was visiting the custom house, and Emmaline bespoke them some savoury patties, meat pies, cheese, and bread. At Sophia’s look of surprise – for she was still replete from her breakfast – Emmaline explained.

‘The admiral will want something substantial, no doubt, when he joins us. The man neglects to eat if I do not prompt him. He left quite early this morning, and I daresay he barely broke his fast.’ She settled herself on a bench under the parlour window, which looked out on to the busy street. ‘Come, let us sit here, Sophia, where we can entertain ourselves by watching the world go by while we wait.’

Sophia took off her hat and sat down at the other end of the bench, so that she and Emmaline both had a view of the bustle outside through the salt-encrusted windows. Emmaline commented on the uniforms passing by, pointing out the different ranks to a mystified Sophia.

‘See that gentleman there with an epaulette on each shoulder? He has made post and commands a ship. His companion has also earned his own command but has less seniority. Now, how do I know that, Sophia?’

Sophia watched as the two officers walked past, feeling guilty at making such close and unseemly observations of them. ‘Erm… Oh, I see it now. He only wears an epaulette on his right shoulder.’

‘Very good.’ Emmaline smiled. ‘We shall make a naval wife of you yet, my dear.’

Sophia smiled but said nothing.

The food was brought in, but the ladies ignored it, in order to carry on their observations. Suddenly, Emmaline’s face brightened.

‘Ah, here he is at last.’ Her smile was quickly replaced by a frown. ‘Oh dear, now he will be delayed while he exchanges pleasantries. So inconvenient that she should cross his path just now.’

Sophia looked out to where Admiral Pridham was standing. He was doffing his hat to a smartly dressed female whose broad-brimmed hat obscured her face from view. She was accompanied by a young, dark-skinned maid carrying several bandboxes. There was something in the older woman’s attitude that seemed familiar. Prickles of apprehension ran down Sophia’s spine. The woman turned and Sophia saw her take the admiral’s arm. He pointed to the inn, and they both walked on together. As they drew closer, his companion’s face came into full view. Sophia’s breath caught in her lungs. Dear Lord, it was Mrs Newbody.

Sophia’s eyes lost focus, and her heart was pounding in her chest so loudly she was sure Emmaline would hear it as she clutched the table to stop herself from sliding off the bench.

About The Author

Penny Hampson writes history, mystery, and romance. Her first published novel, The Unquiet Spirit, a ghostly, romantic mystery set in Cornwall, was published by Darkstroke in 2020. Penny has also written a series of Regency romances because, as a historian, there is nothing she likes more than researching her favourite period in history and bringing it to life. She lives with her family in Oxfordshire, and when she is not writing, she enjoys reading, walking, swimming, and the odd gin and tonic (not all at the same time).

Website: https://pennyhampson.co.uk/

Facebook Author Page: www.facebook.com/pennyhampsonauthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/penny_hampson

Penny’s blog: https://pennyhampson.co.uk/blog/

A Nasty Piece of Work

By Bluestocking Belles

On September 4, 2021

In Teatime Tattler

Ashmead, May 1805

Dear Bessie,

Good to hear grandfather has recovered his ague from April, and I thank you for keeping me informed.

You asked about doings in Ashmead. Mary Norton sends greetings. Her boy Issac is well on his way to joining his father in the carpentry. Arthur Corbin’s wife died in February, grieving many. She was missed by the ladies’ flower committee this Easter past I can tell you.

There has been much dissension about needed repairs at Saint Morwenna and the continued neglect by the folks at Clarion Hall who ostensibly endow the holding. The Earl of Clarion, as you know, prefers his house in London and the fleshpots over to the simple joys of Ashmead.

The son, Viscount Ashmead, Lord David that was, is cut from different cloth. Perhaps he remembers our little village fondly because those parents of his left him and his sister in the hands of Ashmead servants as children. Whatever the case, now that he’s at university he makes sure to come to Ashmead between terms. He even attends Sunday services sitting up there alone in the family pew. He’s no more than eighteen, God love the boy, but he takes estate business seriously and shows an interest in folks here about.

Sometimes I think too much. Rumor from servants at Clarion Hall is he went to the earl on the vicar’s behalf. Told the old bag of wind to repair the road up to the Hall that runs by The Willow and the Rose, too. His da didn’t like none at all. Treated the lad to a tongue lashing for his troubles, threatened to cut him off.

Some folks are miserable in their parents, Bessy, I can tell you. Ours weren’t perfect, but compared to Clarion, we did well.

Maud

PS I held this missive waiting a few extra pennies for postage. I’m glad I did. This will shock you. Last time the young viscount came home, he found his favorite hound and his prize gelding gone, sold on his father’s orders. Elsbeth Simmons says, when he came here between winter terms, he encountered Alice Wilcox, her all of nine years old. Maybe just took a good look for the first time. The nipper is a Clarion butter stamp for sure. Looks just like the viscount, his sister, and truth be told, the oldest Benson boy from up at the Willow, the one that ran off to war. Was in a taking about her treatment.

Lord David rode off and had words with the earl about looking after his by-blows, and the old man took offense. The sneak waited until the boy was back at university and sold off the young lord’s prize possessions, including those beloved animals for spite. Said if Lord David was worried about Alice and the Benson boy, he could pay their way himself. Nasty bit of work is the Earl of Clarion.

About the Series

When the old Earl of Clarion leaves a will with bequests for all his children, legitimate and not, listing each and their mothers by name, he complicates the lives of many in the village of Ashmead. One of them grew believing he was the innkeeper’s son. He is the first of The Ashmead Heirs.

https://www.carolinewarfield.com/bookshelf/

About Book One, The Wayward Son

Sir Robert Benson’s life is in London. He fled Ashmead the day he discovered the man he thought was his father had lied to him, and the girl he loved was beyond his reach. Only a nameless plea from his sister—his half-sister—brings him back to discover he’s been left an estate with a choice piece of land. He will not allow a ludicrous bequest from the earl who sired him turn him into a mockery of landed gentry. When a feisty little termagant with flashing eyes—and a musket—tries to turn Rob off the land—his land—he’s too amused and intrigued to turn away. But the longer he stays, the tighter the bonds that tie him to Ashmead become, strengthened by the powerful draw of the woman rooted on land he’s determined to sell.

Lucy Whitaker’s life is Willowbrook, its land, its tenants, its prosperity, but she always knew it wasn’t hers, knew the missing heir would come eventually. When a powerful man with military bearing rides up looking as if he wants to come in and count the silver, she turns him away, but her heart sinks. She can’t deny Rob Benson his property; she can only try to make him love the place as she does, for her peoples’ sake. A traitorous corner of her heart wishes Rob would love it for her sake.

His life is London and diplomatic intrigue; hers is Ashmead and the land. How can they forge something lasting when they are torn in two directions?

(As to David, the future earl, his story is The Upright Son.)

The Sword of the Maid

By Bluestocking Belles

On September 1, 2021

In Teatime Tattler

3oth of August, 1815

Dearest Eliza,

Joan the Maid by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

I fear my quest for the sword that may have once belonged to The Maid of Orléans will be hindered by the presence of Lord Maxwell Trent. I foolishly believed that he knew nothing of the sword, and trusted that when he boarded the ship in Cornwall, that he’d be well on his way to Italy by now. It was all a ruse. He didn’t want me to know about the sword. I only discovered his duplicity when he arrived at the home of Lord Crispin Tilson, who had written not only to me about the rumor, but Max as well.

As you know, Max and I have often competed when in search of antiquities. However, this quest will prove to be far more difficult than those in the past. You see, there are dangerous men who are also in search of the sword. We’ve unfortunately encountered them previously, and they do not hesitate to use any means necessary to gain information or the antiquity for their employer. Already one shopkeeper has been harmed due to this search. Therefore, Max and I have reluctantly agreed to work together.

I can assure you that this will not be a pleasant task for Lord Maxwell feels the need to protect me. He claims my reckless nature, which I do not possess, will lead us into danger. Of course, I felt the need to remind him that I was the one who rescued him from a miscreant earlier in the day.

This is going to be by far the most trying quest, but because of the added dangers we have agreed to be partners this one time. I can only pray that we find the sword quickly so that we may go our separate ways.

Your dearest friend, Rosemary

About the Book, Lord Maxwell’s Quest

Lord Maxwell Trent has never remained in one place for long. His fascination for history and quest for antiquities has taken him from Pompeii to Greece to Egypt, and now the search of an ancient sword has brought him to London—and back into Miss Rosemary Fairview’s orbit.

Miss Fairview has always valued her independence. Raised by travel-mad parents and fascinated by her mother’s archaeological journals, she knew that she’d never be content to settle into the dull life of running a household. When word of the lost sword brings Rosemary to London, she finds herself in pursuit of the same relic as her nemesis, Lord Maxwell Trent.

They know it’s impossible the sword once belonged to The Maid of Orléans. But that one sliver of hope, the what-if, propels them on the quest to discover the truth.

Danger stalks them from Mayfair’s drawing rooms to the maze of London’s rookeries. Can they work together to find the sword—and to survive? And will they realize that perhaps they shouldn’t have been competitors at all, but something more?

AN EXCERPT

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Fairview.” His tone cool and polite.

He was still angry. “But we both know that it is not,” she smiled at him.

“Yes well, it’s best not to deceive oneself,” Maxwell muttered and strode toward the sideboard and poured a glass of brandy. “Did you make good on your promise and deliver the scroll you stole from me to the Vatican.”

She gasped. “I did not steal from you, Lord Maxwell. I simply found it before you had a chance to do so. And yes, I delivered it to the good Father.”

Maxwell snorted. “Stole,” he muttered under his breath.

Rosemary had found it first, as he well knew, so why was he grumbling about her stealing?

Except, Max didn’t really mean him. He was angry that she had taken the scroll from Jerusalem. However, she had more faith in the priests at the Vatican than he did, and as soon as the translation was provided, she’d return the scroll to Palestine and deliver it to the rightful owner. It was that simple.

Max returned to her side, now holding a glass of brandy, and stared down at her. Rosemary’s breath hitched as she looked up into his blue eyes.

Blast, she shouldn’t react to him at all, but she did. He was both aggravating and handsome and it irritated her that she was affected by his presence at all. It was an attraction she was almost able to set aside when seeking and finding antiquities, but in settings such as this, taking tea, she became all too aware of how much she desired him, and had for several years. This was also the very setting when she’d first met him. She’d only been a girl of thirteen, but infatuation for the rogue had taken root and remained a constant companion.

She’d also never let him know that he had any effect on her whatsoever.

“A word, Miss Fairview,” Max ground out.

Rosemary blew out a sigh and set her tea aside before she followed him out onto the terrace.

“Why did you just lie to everyone and accuse me of theft?” she demanded.

“Because I couldn’t tell them the true reason why I’m angry because it would put your reputation in jeopardy.”

Rosemary blinked at him. “Reputation?”

He hitched a brow.

“Oh, you mean that I snuck out of your chamber, with the scroll, after spending the night with you and without so much as a by your leave?” She grinned. “Like a lover sneaking away after a night of passion?”

He quickly glanced around. “Please lower your voice before someone thinks we are lovers.”

It stung that he’d be embarrassed or ashamed if someone thought he’d been with her. Or it could be because he was respectable. Sometimes Max was more prudish than the few matrons she’d met in Society.

“That is exactly to what I’m referring. Your disappearance that is,” he added.

“I left you a note,” Rosemary reminded him.

BUY LINKS: https://books2read.com/u/bzdpV9

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Jane Charles is a prolific writer of over fifty historical and contemporary romance novels. Her love of research lends authenticity to her Regency romances, and her experience directing theatre productions helps her craft beautiful, touching stories that tug at the heartstrings. Jane is an upbeat and positive author dedicated to giving her characters happy-ever-afters and leaving the readers satisfied at the end of an emotional journey. Lifelong Cubs fan, world traveler and mother of three amazing children, Jane lives in Central Illinois with her husband, two dogs and a cat. She is currently writing her next book and planning her dream trip to England. Be sure to join Jane on Facebook @JaneCharlesAuthor and join her private reader group Romance and Rosé https://www.facebook.com/groups/romanceandrose. More information on her books can be found on her website: https://www.janecharlesauthor.com/