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A Sight to See! Mr. Ridley in Rome!

April 20, 1818

Mrs. Claudian’s boarding house

Rome

“There goes Mr. Ridley. Alone again,” Mrs. Claudian groused as she watched the bustling activity on the street in front of her boarding house.

“Who is he?” Miss Kingston followed the older woman’s gaze. The man in question was possessed of a barrel chest, broad shoulders, a head of dark hair, and as he paused to speak with another man in the street, she stole a peek at his taut backside that was more or less on display in the rather tight tan breeches. “I don’t believe I’m familiar with him.”

The land lady snorted. “Of course you are not. You only just arrived two days ago, and he hasn’t left his rooms. Only does when he is out of brandy. Nasty stuff.” She handed Miss Kingston a cup of tea. “I will be flooded with English transplants soon.”

“There is nothing wrong with wishing to take a holiday of sorts in Rome,” Miss Kingston said, but her gaze didn’t leave Mr. Ridley’s most pleasing form. “Why do you have an interest in him?”

“Why not?” Mrs. Claudian gestured at him with a flourish that only the Italians could master. “He is exquisite, yes? And I am not blind.” Her clucking sounded much like a hen. “He has been here for a few years. Retired from what he calls Bow Street.” She shrugged, and it was eloquent. “And he is unattached.”

“Oh?” Now that was interesting. “Oh!” Miss Kingston turned to the older lady in some excitement. “You wish to play matchmaker to him.” It wasn’t a question. “Is there someone in mind?” She stopped short of preening, for though Mr. Ridley wasn’t a handsome sort, he wasn’t ugly.

“Stop that, young woman.” The Italian woman shook her head. The strands of gray in her black hair sparkled in the Roman sunshine. “You are not his equal.” Her dark gaze seemed to go right through her. “Too mousy. No backbone. No tragic tale. He’ll never notice you.” She shook her head. “Besides, your fiancée will come to retrieve you soon enough. He has chased you all over the Continent already.”

Miss Kingston huffed in annoyance, for she’d assumed she was much more mysterious than that. She had only told the land lady a few things regarding how she’d ended up here. “What makes you think I’ll take him back?”

“You have no vision. He has coin. You will take him back, marry him, and return to England flush with bridal excitement, ready to take up the reins of your unremarkable life.” Mrs. Claudian took a sip of her tea while she watched the strapping Mr. Ridley. “He is a detective.”

“Is that important?” Truly, Miss Kingston didn’t understand. And her cheeks still burned with indignation from the slight.

“I think so. He finds lost things. It is a good skill to have.”

“Yet he is unattached.”

“Yes, and without an income.”

Perhaps he wasn’t as interesting as she thought. Certainly not a catch by English standards. “Then why do you show an interest in such an unremarkable man?”

“He has a cat,” Mrs. Claudian said, as if that made all the difference.

“I do not care for cats.” When Miss Kingston merely stared, the land lady sighed. 

“That says more about you than anything else.” Mrs. Claudian harrumphed. “The gods are not done with Mr. Ridley.”

“How can you know that?” Truly, the denizens of Rome were not quite right in their upper stories, for they were forever spouting stories of gods and goddess, of fate and folly, instead of seeing people around them for what they were. Much different than jolly old England. This country was entirely too romantic. Perhaps she would take her errant fiancée back after all.

“Men like Mr. Ridley have a destiny to fulfil.” The older woman continued to sip her tea. When the man in question glanced in their direction, she waved with her free hand. With a scowl, he waved back before continuing on his way. “He will be needed, and soon, for a case that will have everyone in Rome talking.”

“You don’t know that.” Miss Kingston frowned. Perhaps she should go take in the sights before she went back to England.

“I do not, but how can it not be true? He has secrets, that one, and his heart was broken in the past. He only needs one special woman to cross his path to help him heal, to give him back a purpose.” She nodded and drained the contents of her teacup. “It will be soon. I can feel it.”

“I would rather have facts and assurances.” Miss Kingston finished her tea. “And a future without struggle.” Compared to the departing Mr. Ridley, her fiancée didn’t look half bad.

“And that is why your union will be without heat or passion.” A slow smile curved Mrs. Claudian’s lips. “His whole world will be shaken at its foundations before long, and the poor man will fall hard.” She snorted with laughter. “I look forward to his suffering. He deserves a woman who will challenge in him every way.”

Miss Kingston frowned. It was unseemly how meddling Mrs. Claudian was. “Thank you for the tea. I’ll just grab my maid, for I wish to perhaps take in the Forum before night fall.”

“I shall make your fiancée feel welcome if he arrives while you are out.” She winked. “It is something else I know.” She waved her off with a shooing motion. “Go. You scare away potential matchmaking clients with your rigid posture and frowns.”

With a huff, Miss Kingston went back into the unassuming boarding house. Why did she ever think running to Rome was a good idea? There was nothing but sunshine and fanciful attitudes here, much different from England.

 

Blurb for My Dear Mr. Ridley:

Sometimes, the road to romance is littered with intrigue, harrowing danger, and wild shock.

The year is 1818 and Theodosia Netherton—Lady Ballantyne—is wintering in the sunny climes of Italy in an effort to protect her health as well as to visit her brother. Widowed for three years, she has no interest in a new romance, but when a horrific emergency leads her to the doorstep of a handsome, former Bow Street Runner with wide shoulders and a mysterious scar, she might just change her mind.

Mr. Hudson Ridley is in Rome for the warmth and relative obscurity. Retired at the age of eight and thirty, the last thing he wants is to become embroiled in a kidnapping plot that involves an attractive widow and her missing son. Yet he was the best in the retrieval business in his prime, and she did have hauntingly unforgettable eyes as well as a smile that could make a man do wicked, stupid things.

In the quest to hunt the people who nabbed the boy and heir to a viscounty, Theodosia and Hudson dance about mutual desire until passion gets the better of them one star-lit evening amidst some of the country’s finest ruins. But tracking the criminals turns deadly when shots are fired at them. Time is running out to rescue the young heir, keep a valuable jewel safe, and somehow discover if love is the ultimate reward despite the risk. 

Can two fearful hearts feel less broken together? Find out in My Dear Mr. Ridley, the first book in the exciting new Diamonds of London series.

 

Author Sandra Sookoo

 

Buy links:

Amz: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B2V529KB

B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/my-dear-mr-ridley-sandra-sookoo/1141586015;jsessionid=3CA5546682E4E157B828E6198ABC41DB.prodny_store02-atgap05?ean=2940166288684

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/my-dear-mr-ridley

Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id6442912743

Social media links:

Facebook Profile: https://www.facebook.com/sandra.sookoo

Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/sandrasookooauthor/

Private reader group on FB: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1985711228318050/

Amazon page: amazon.com/author/sandrasookoo

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Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/sandra-sookoo

Website: http://www.sandrasookoo.com

Also, if you want to join my ARC review team on BookSprout, here’s the link: https://booksprout.co/reviewer/team/10540/sandra-sookoos-review-team

Bear in mind, these ARCS go fast, like in a few hours the day I post so make sure you’re signed up for notifications.

Lord P married! Wife accepts depraved lifestyle?

 

Readers, the Teatime Tattler has an update for you on the shocking news out of Peterborough in the north. If you recall, the Earl of Peterborough died suddenly this winter, with no heir (despite seven years of marriage, Lady C had not done her duty by him yet!), leaving his younger brother to assume the title. What does this mean for the once respectable earldom?  Not only does Mr. M, now Lord P, breed horses as a trade, he is rumored to be a member of a certain spanking club!

The new Lord P had appeared determined to avoid marriage and spent as much time at that nefarious club as he did at White’s. His best friend, Lord S, had also been a member until his marriage – a love match – to the beautiful and decorous Lady R two years ago. More recently, a lovely young lady joined his household as Lord S’s ward, who we hear is a cousin from the north. Shockingly, she was seen riding with Lord P several mornings. He has also provided escort to several balls, along with Lord S and Lady R.

We of course could not imagine a lady of any breeding accepting the hand of such a man. But news has it that just this week, the lovely ward of Lord S’s wed Lord P! Does she know of his predilections? Or will she force Lord P to abandon his membership in the naughty club on Charlotte Street?

SOPHIA’S SCHOOLING, SCHOOL OF ENLIGHTENMENT BOOK 1

 An innocent country girl…a jaded earl…an education in pleasure.

Orphaned at eighteen, Sophia has learned love means loss.  Now she must leave her country home to navigate the opulence of the London Season, although she has no desire for romance or a husband.

Edward, the newest Earl of Peterborough, is struggling with the business of his family estate. He has shunned marriage due to a shameful secret, but with his title comes the need for heirs.

Despite their misgivings, Sophia and Edward cannot resist their attraction.  When she accidentally discovers his penchant for spankings, her curiosity is her undoing.  A clandestine meeting risks a scandal. Only marriage to a reluctant bridegroom can save her reputation. But perhaps the School of Enlightenment can give her an education in love.

Universal buy link:  https://books2read.com/u/mY680V

Excerpt:

Edward gave a mental snort. “You continue to disobey orders.”

Sophia groaned in frustration, probably suspecting where his statement was leading. “I’m very sorry.” She sucked in a breath. “I shan’t do it again. As I came out alone, I thought it would be safe.” She sent him a sidelong glance. “Is this a punishable offense, my lord?”

Perfect. She knew she was wrong. She saw what was coming. Her side-eyed glance told him she mayhap even invited it. Who was he to refuse a girl a spanking?

He took a deep breath, wishing… No. She’s not mine to covet. But she is mine to punish tonight.

His eyes shuttered as he considered. Was he taking advantage of her naiveté about Ton rules? He knew she’d enjoyed the last punishment and could not deny either of their desires. He almost heard the turn of the key as his conscience was again locked away.

He pushed, “We have been over this, Sophia. Punishment is an important learning tool. Hopefully, it shall be an incentive for you to obey specific directions in the future.”

Frustrated, she crossed her gloved arms. “Darn it. My feet hurt so much. I did not anticipate my bottom becoming sore, too. I shan’t be able to sit or stand comfortably.”

That wasn’t a no.

Author bio:

 

Maggie Sims began her love affair with romance before her teen years, drawn to the Regency by her mum’s British influence. In her twenties, she did her best to live the Carrie Bradshaw life in New York City, albeit with less expensive shoes and more books.

Despite reading hundreds of romance novels in her life, she was still blown away when she met the love of her life, an ex-Marine cinnamon roll with creative woodworking and culinary skills.

Having retired from corporate life, they live in Central Texas and are parents to a varying number of dogs and cats.  When not writing, Maggie is a wine enthusiast, a travel junkie, and a romance reading fiend.  She also sporadically crochets for KnotsofLove.org and does just enough exercise for that second glass of wine at night.

To find out more about Maggie’s latest reads, favorite wines, and travel destinations – and to get the free prequel novella featuring Lord S and Lady R – sign up for her newsletter at https://tinyurl.com/5enevd7w and follow her on social media.

https://maggiesims.com/

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https://www.facebook.com/maggie.sims.1401

https://twitter.com/MaggieSimsAuthr

 

A young lady nursing wounded acts improperly? NO!

Greetings Dear Reader.

This bit of hearsay comes by way of a letter sent me by my cousin across the pond in America. As you may already know, that country of upstarts is once
again engaged in a war, not with Britain thankfully, but now amongst themselves. 

 

They are apparently divided over an issue Parliament abolished here nearly thirty years ago. However you do not come to this column for news of politics and world concerns, but rather for news of a more personal nature.

This propensity for squabbling has evidently filtered down even to the men and women on the same side of this rebellion and involves two people working in hospital who should be united, fighting together to save the lives of those soldiers wounded on the battlefields.  

 

My cousin, recovering from illness at Armory Square Hospital in Washington, D.C., witnessed first-hand the impropriety of one nurse Gracie McBride, behavior from whom one might expect of the Irish, and who on one occasion tackled an orderly to the floor and literally sat upon the man while she ripped the very shirt off his back. She even had the audacity to sneak into the kitchen and steal food, an act which brought her serious reprimand from the hospital chief surgeon.  

Undaunted, she continued her unlady-like behaviors, standing toe-to-toe with and arguing with the ward surgeon, Doctor Charles Ellard. Apparently the two mix like oil and vinegar, acting out their rows in the middle of the ward for all to witness, as if they were players upon the stage.

Although, as my cousin reports, many patients find such indecorous conduct to be entertaining, causing much laughter, hence breaking the clouds of depression and sadness which normally hang over the ward.

On one occasion, a rumor circulated that the good Doctor Ellard, after ignoring the advice of a more experienced physician, performed an operation not only incorrectly, but while drunk. Shortly thereafter Doctor Ellard was sent back to the fighting. Since the patient would have died if not for the skill of Doctor Ellard, my cousin and others have speculated if the accusations against him, might not have been made by this other physician out of jealousy and spite.

Though nurse McBride remained as cheerful and industrious as before, the atmosphere in the ward has returned to its previous quiet gloom.

Now nurse McBride has also left the hospital.  Rumor supposes her departure occurred upon receipt of a mysterious package, although she has purportedly gone to deliver supplies to the battlefield with the Sanitary Commission. Many wonder, which is it?

The ward is once again rife with speculation. Will Gracie McBride and Charles Ellard meet on the battlefield? Was it hate or love which caused the friction between them? Will my dear cousin and his fellow soldiers see them again in order to learn what happened? Let us hope that somehow love will prevail and Gracie McBride and Doctor Ellard will live happily for ever after.

Dear readers, I hope to hear soon from my cousin, for the only way to satisfy my own curiosity will be through further reading of their tale.

I wish you well.

Blurb:

Gracie McBride isn’t looking for love; she’s looking for respect. But in this man’s world of Civil War medicine, Gracie is expected to maintain her place changing beds and writing letters. Her biggest nemesis is the ward surgeon, Doctor Charles Ellard, who seems determined to woo her with arrogant kisses and terrible jokes.

Charles is an excellent surgeon. He assumed he would be well received by an army at war. He was not. Friendless and alone, he struggles to hide the panic attacks that plague him while the only person who understands him is a feisty Irish nurse clearly resolved to keep him at a distance. 

But Charles is sent to the battlefield, and Gracie is left with a wounded soldier, a box of toys, and a mystery which can only be solved by the one man she wishes could love her, both as a woman and a nurse. 

Excerpt

“Would ye have me go home to shop for bonnets and gossip with me morning guests, ignorin’ that ten-year-old boys are being shot on battlefields? Do ye want me to stay unchanged, so that when I go home I can pretend none o’ this ever happened?”

“No. I want you to go home before the death of that ten-year-old boy becomes so ordinary, that one day you wake up and realize your womanly softness has grown so hard you no longer have the ability to feel.”

She squared her shoulders and stepped toward him. “Me own husband was a doctor, sir. I’ve birthed babies and stitched wounds. I stood by William’s side during surgeries and passed him instruments. I helped him clean the intestines of a man gored by a bull, before putting it all back inside that man’s belly. Me delicate sensibilities did not send me into a swoon then nor will they here. I thank ye for yer concern, Doctor Ellard, but ‘tis who I am. And by the saints, as long as I have breath in me body, I will feel, and I will care.”

Their gazes locked in that moment, and something flickered in his icy depths, overshadowing his usual cynicism with what she suspected might be admiration. The harsh lines of his face softened.

“Saint Jude must indeed be watching over you, Mrs. McBride.”

“That he is, Doctor Ellard, that he is.”

He gave her a brisk nod and opened the door.  “You’re not going home then, are you?”

She turned. “Ye know us Irish, Doctor Ellard, we don’t know what we want, but we’ll fight to the death to get it.”

Bio of Author, Kathy Otten

Kathy is the published author of multiple historical romance novels and short stories. Her Civil War romance novel A Place in Your Heart was a 2016 RWA Northwest Houston Chapter, Lone Star Winner and her western novel Lost Hearts, was a 2008 Utah/Salt Lake RWA Hearts of the West finalist.

Kathy has been writing and making up stories as long as she can remember. Her first short story, Redemption of a Cavalier was published in 2006 and she has moving forward ever since.

Her young adult novel, The Solace of Denim is scheduled for release this summer.

Recently Kathy became a certified book coach and now helps clients bring their writing vision to life.

She also teaches classes on writing craft both on-line and in person at workshops and conferences. 

When she’s not writing, she enjoys walking her German shepherd through the woods and fields near her home or curling up with a good book and her cat. 

www.facebook.com/kathyottenauthor

www.twitter.com/kathyotten

Web Site: www.kathyotten.com

Contact: kathy@kathyotten.com

SCANDAL OF THE YEAR… WILL IT END WITH A SILKEN ROPE?

Sir Pinkerton Jones-Worthy, who always knows the latest gossip, was kind enough to give the Tattler an interview about the latest—and possibly the greatest—scandal in the ton.

Did Lord Derwent, heir to the Earl of Medway, murder his close friend, Lord Worsten? Lord Worsten’s body, shockingly stabbed several times, was found in a ditch on the Great North Road the day after Lord Worsten abducted Lord Derwent’s mistress―or did he? 

“Everyone thinks so,” Sir Pinkerton said, “but my dear friend, Lady Rosamund Phipps, tells another story.”

“Lord Derwent is her brother, so surely she should know,” I ventured. 

“One would assume so, but one would also expect her to protect her brother to the best of her poor ability,” Sir Pinkerton said with a sigh. “She claims Derwent left town with his mistress, and that the abduction story is pure fabrication. However…”

“Yes?” I prompted him eagerly.

“Lords Derwent and Worsten quarreled publicly the other day―in White’s, of all places―and Worsten swore to steal Derwent’s mistress.”

“Ah!” I said, “Rivals in love. Or perhaps only lust, but gentlemen have been known to duel over such foolishness.”

“Alas,” Sir Pinkerton said, “if it were only a duel, which is an honorable way to settle a dispute. Unfortunately, there is nothing more dishonorable than murder.”

“Especially such a vicious sort of murder. Stabbing! Leaving the corpse in a ditch, prey to scavengers and vermin.” I shuddered. “How frightfully barbaric.”

“Indeed, but the Bow Street Runners are in pursuit, and when they apprehend Derwent, he will be tried swiftly—and hanged.” He paused. “With a silken rope.”

“Isn’t that only for peers?” I mused. “He’s not a peer yet, merely the heir to one.” I wrinkled my nose. “Not that the sort of rope would be much comfort when one is about to die.”

Sir Pinkerton tittered. “I fancy not.”

“Poor Lady Rosamund must be distraught,” I said. “She suffered much in the spring from rumors about her fragile state of mind.”

Sir Pinkerton puffed out his narrow chest. “Lady Rosamund needs a man to take care of her.”

Perhaps. She does have a sizeable fortune. 

“What about the latest print by Corvus?” I asked. “It suggests that many so-called gentlemen are bandying her name about and vying for her hand in a horribly louche sort of way. The print implies that you, dear Sir Pinkerton, are one of those very gentlemen.”

Sir Pinkerton bristled with affront. “How dare that rascally caricaturist insult me? I am nothing like those rakes. I adore Lady Rosamund. I care deeply for her.”

Hmm. We shall leave it to our readers to judge his motives. 

“A little bird told me Lady Rosamund has just left town, heading up the Great North Road,” I said. “Maybe she knows where her brother has gone and means to warn him, so he can escape to the Continent.”

“She went after him?” Sir Pinkerton huffed. “In that case, I must leave town forthwith.”

He hastened away. I hope I am not the cause of more trouble for Lady Rosamund. The last thing she needs, if she indeed goes to save her brother, is Sir Pinkerton getting in the way. We at the Tattler wish her luck―and fervently hope that Lord Derwent will escape the silken rope.

***

 

 

Lady Rosamund visits the bookshop with Miss Concord (her brother’s mistress, whom she rescued from an abductor) and is accosted by two gentlemen who show signs of planning to woo her. Rosamund is aghast at the notion of remarrying—particularly not one of these men. Miss Concord has a better suggestion.

“If I were you, I would choose that lovely Mr. McBrae,” Miss Concord said.

“I beg your pardon?” 

“He’s head over ears for you,” she said. “Surely you’re aware of that!”

I managed a shrug. “I know he finds me attractive, but he doesn’t intend marriage.” Thank heavens, for that would make our situation even more awkward. It’s bad enough that he disapproves of me and lets me know, and worse that he wants to make me his mistress. Not that he has asked me in so many words, but his actions have made it clear.

“No? Why not?” she asked.

“Because—because, well, it’s preposterous,” I said. “He’s an impecunious Scotsman, and I’m the daughter of the Earl of Medway.”

“So what? He’s a gentleman and you are a lady.” She stuck out her chin. “If you’re in love with each other, why shouldn’t you marry?”

“We aren’t in love,” I retorted, stopping myself just in time from spouting some nonsense about love matches being only for the underbred. Despite my best efforts, my mother’s dictums tend to surge to my lips, especially in moments of disquiet.

The thought of intimacy with McBrae made me uneasy. Actually, the thought of intimacy with any man did—but admittedly, far less so with McBrae than with any other gentleman of my acquaintance.

I liked him, and he lusted after me. And to be fair, he seemed to have a certain amount of respect for my intelligence. To be fair again, he had taught me a certain amount about matters of which I had no previous experience, and he had also saved my life.

But none of this had anything to do with love. 

“Perhaps not yet,” she began, then quailed slightly at my frown.  

“I don’t plan to marry again,” I pronounced.

She looked as if she wanted to ask why, but stopped herself, no doubt for fear of offending me. Good, for I had no intention of explaining myself.

It was a good thing McBrae didn’t want to wed me. I couldn’t possibly marry anyone, even if I wanted to. I would carry the reason for that to my grave.

***

LADY ROSAMUND AND THE PLAGUE OF SUITORS, Blurb 

Lady Rosamund’s plan for a quiet return to London society goes awry when she rescues a woman fleeing along the road—the mistress of her brother, Lord Derwent. Rosamund takes her in, meaning to sort matters out with Derwent—but he has left town in a hurry, and soon the Bow Street Runners are after him for murder. If that wasn’t trouble enough, several suitors are vying for Lady Rosamund’s hand. 

Luckily, Gilroy McBrae is in London to help Rosamund save her brother. Will their strained relationship, along with his rivals for her heart, impede the race to unmask the real murderer before Derwent is caught and hanged?

Bio:

USA Today bestselling author Barbara Monajem wrote her first story at eight years old about apple tree gnomes. After publishing a middle-grade fantasy, she settled on historical mysteries and romances with intrepid heroines and long-suffering heroes (or vice versa). Sometimes there’s bit of fantasy mixed in, because she wants to avoid reality as much as possible.

Barbara used to have two items on her bucket list: to make asparagus pudding and to succeed at knitting socks. She managed the first (don’t ask) but doubts she’ll ever accomplish the second. This is not a bid for immortality but merely the dismal truth. She lives near Atlanta with an ever-shifting population of relatives, friends, and feline strays. Learn more at www.BarbaraMonajem.com.

Social media links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/barbara.monajem

Bookbub:  https://www.bookbub.com/profile/barbara-monajem

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3270624.Barbara_Monajem

Website: http://www.BarbaraMonajem.com

 

Buy links:

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BMGRR74Y/

Amazon Canada: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0BMGRR74Y/

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0BMGRR74Y/

Amazon Australia: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B0BMGRR74Y/

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lady-rosamund-and-the-plague-of-suitors-barbara-monajem/1142786548

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/lady-rosamund-and-the-plague-of-suitors

Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/lady-rosamund-and-the-plague-of-suitors/id6444872414

New Scandal Sheets take up ‘Sensitive’ Matters! Beware!

Dearest Readers,

Readers of this regular missive are certainly aware of other purveyors of news related to the Bon Ton. The Lady’s Newspaper and Pictorial Times, for example, or Fraser’s Magazine for Town and Country. Those of genteel breeding, however, may not be aware of the existence of single-sheet items printed hurriedly and sold on the streets cheaply for a penny or halfpenny, perhaps because they deal with issues of politics that many ladies do not concern themselves with.

However, a rumor has arisen that a member of the gentry may be behind one of these scandalous sheets. This man calls himself Janner, which is a name for an English person born within ten miles of the sea, and though his ideas may be controversial his language and ability to express himself reveals that he is a man of great education, perhaps a graduate of one of our finest universities.

Janner takes up a variety of causes, from the support of bills in Parliament governing the labor of women and children in factories to the plight of boys who work delivering goods to our very homes from vendors we might otherwise hold in esteem.

His fervor is that of a young man, and enquiring minds are curious to see if he can be matched to anyone from a seaside background with an excellent education. Certain names have arisen, most specifically Lord Tyne and Lord Therkenwell, who both hail from Cornwall.

Those who encountered Lord Tyne during his sister’s season may have reason to doubt his ability to form such elegant sentences. Which leaves Lord Therkenwell, who shares a dwelling in Eaton Square with a gentleman employed by the French embassy. This somewhat louche arrangement results in two eligible bachelors who are rarely seen in the company of women.

These particulars, as well as the fact that Therkenwell has taken a more public stance on issues now that his father, Earl Badgely, is less active in the House of Lords, leads your correspondent to make a connection between Janner and the Cornish lord.

How does this relate to the readers of this publication? Recently Janner has taken a position on the pay and working conditions of household staff! And that should concern any lady who wishes to maintain a proper home—especially on a budget. We shall keep abreast of these issues in the future, and whether we can expose Lord Therkenwell as the author of these missives.

***

Janner Excerpt,  The Lord and the Gentleman

Ahead of him he spotted a young boy selling broadsides. He hurried closer to see if it was the latest Janner. And indeed as the boy called out the headline, he recognized it. He felt warm inside—until a portly man in a heavy overcoat grabbed one of the pages from the boy without paying.

“Here, mister, that’s a penny,” the boy said.

The man glanced at the headline. “I don’t pay for trash!” he said.

When the boy grabbed for the paper, the man pushed him, and John felt obliged to step in. “It is theft to take something without paying for it,” John said. “Either return that page to the boy or pay him, or I will call the bobbies on you!”

The man turned on him, his mouth a snarl. Then his eyes opened. He looked at John, taking in the cut of his topcoat, the ruffled sleeve that stretched over his wrist. “A molly, are you?”

“Even I were, I would have no interest in such as you,” John said coldly. “A pork pie stuffed in a sausage casing, and a thief to boot. I reiterate, sirrah. Give the boy his coin or his paper.”

Huffing, the main pulled a coin from his pocket and handed it to the boy. He folded the paper under his arm. 

John tipped his hat and said, “Good day.” Then he turned and began to stride back toward Russell Square, his heart beating rapidly. The nerve of the man, a commoner in cheap clothing, to insult him, a member of the gentry. Usually his outrage led him to write as Janner, so when he got home, he pulled down an empty notebook from his shelf and wrote out the incident, indicating, time, place and what the man was wearing. Those details would be useful at some point, he was sure.

As he closed the book and put it back on the shelf, he wondered if other boys suffer the same conduct when selling his work? The idea remained with him, and became the substance of the next Janner broadside, about the value of work. Regardless what readers might think of broadsides, they were the result of work by writers, editors, printers and salesboys, and each of them deserved to be compensated. To snatch away a page, as the man had done, was a theft against all involved in the production.

He worked all week on this essay, taking quick trips out to spy on the salesboys and see if anyone else tried to take advantage of them. He witnessed hectoring and even one man who spit, and he used those examples as well. 

By the time Saturday night arrived, when he had an invitation to a soirée at the home of Lord Dawson and the man he shared a house with, Toby Marsh, he was tired. He was still angry about the injustices perpetrated against the salesboys, and unhappy over his father’s demand that he head to Shorecliff.

“I don’t know if I shall go out tonight,” he said to Beller as evening darkened. 

“You have worked hard this whole long week, my lord,” Beller said. “See how ink-stained your fingertips are? They are a mark of your industry. Whether you go out or not you must let me work on them.”

John sat at the small table in his kitchen. Beller sat across from him with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a worn cloth, and John stretched out his right hand. Beller grasped it with one hand and used the other to brush aggressively against the ink stains. 

“You take very good care of me, Beller,” John said, even as his fingertips stung against the abrasion.

“God calls every Christian to glorify him in our work,” Beller said. “According to Saint Luke’s account in the Bible, Mary Magdalen washed the feet of Christ with her tears at a banquet in the House of Simon.” He looked up at John with the hint of a smile. “At least I may use rubbing alcohol instead of my tears.”

John laughed. “You are a rogue, Beller,” he said. “And that is why I enjoy your company so much.”

“And I yours, my lord.” When he finished cleaning John’s fingers, he said, “and now, are you ready to reward your hard work with some entertainment?”

John smiled. “I am, my good man. Thank you. Shall I wear the tweed suit?”

“I think it is appropriate for the January cold,” Beller said. “With a wool scarf and top hat, and your greatcoat over it.” 

Once Beller had completed John’s ensemble, John struck out for the walk to Ormond Yard. The night was chilly but clear—or as clear as sooty London could be. He even managed to spot the North Star above him, though it was quickly eclipsed by wafts of smoke coming from chimneys he passed.

Cornwall in February would be quite dreary, he thought, as he turned onto Great Russell Street, past the enormous pile of the British Museum. It was closed, of course, but he gave a nod toward the Egyptian sculpture gallery, one of his favorites. When he came down to London occasionally from Cambridge, he had often strolled through those galleries, peering at the Rosetta Stone as if it could decipher his future for him.

He had so much good fortune in his life, he thought. An allowance from his father that enabled him to live in comfort, his writings as Janner that gave him a purpose. He had Beller for companionship and service. Though he longed for a male companion he had to resolve to continue until such a man arrived in his life.

Two elderly men passed him, one holding the other by the belt so he would not topple, and John tipped his cap at them and wished them good evening. Seeing their connection made him smile all the way to Ormond Yard.

***

The Lord and the Frenchman, blurb

Two wounded men discover true love and a found family in Victorian England

In the opulent courts of Victorian England, John Seales, Lord Therkenwell, is a man of wealth and privilege, expected to marry a woman of his own social standing and produce an heir. But when he meets dashing French diplomat Raoul Desjardins at a soirée arranged by a politically-connected gay couple, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to the man despite the risks of their forbidden love.

John and Raoul struggle to keep their feelings for each other hidden while becoming ensnared in a web of international intrigue that threatens to ruin their careers and endanger their lives. As they navigate the dangerous political landscape of the time, they must also confront their own demons and make a choice: follow the expectations of society or follow their hearts. Set against the backdrop of a tumultuous era, “The Lord and the Frenchman” is a passionate and romantic tale of love that knows no bounds.

Genre: MM Romance

Length: 81,000 words

Publisher: Samwise Books

All formats available

Release date: February 14, 2023

https://www.amazon.com/Lord-Frenchman-Ormond-Romantic-Adventures-ebook/dp/B0BSH6ZL4N/

https://amzn.to/3XNKHMm 

https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-lord-and-the-frenchman/id6445491482

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-lord-and-the-frenchman

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-lord-and-the-frenchman-neil-s-plakcy/1142969348?ean=2940167013803

https://books2read.com/u/4DJyJe 

Neil Plakcy, author bio

Neil Plakcy is living his own happily ever after with his husband and two rambunctious golden retrievers in South Florida, where he is a professor of English at Broward College. He has been a construction manager, a computer game producer, and a web developer – all experiences he uses in his fiction.

He has written or edited over fifty novels and short stories in gay romance, gay mystery, cozy mystery and erotica. His research has taken him from the FBI’s sixteen-week citizen’s academy, where he practiced at a shooting range, to visiting numerous gay bars in Miami Beach and Fort Lauderdale. (Seriously, it was research.) 

His website is www.mahubooks.com

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