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Whispers from the Countess of H. regarding Those Scamps, the Devereaux triplets!

A Gentleman in Search of Revenge

August 7, 1815
Brighton, England

Today is a sad day, I tell you, when three young ladies from Ireland are brought to our distinguished shores to celebrate among the ton the end of Bony’s horrid regime.

Why, you may ask?

Oh, truly, these triplets appear to possess the best credentials. They are ladies by birth, the granddaughters of an earl, recently deceased. They are ladies by training, although one does wonder what caliber of education one can acheive in Dublin! They are ladies by inclination, even if it whispered that they have no dowry of any worth. And that, my dear friends, we may lay at the doorstep of their rapscallion grandfather who had quite a few marks against his character.

But then verily, I say that these three young ladies—dare I call them that—are known in Dublin and Waterford as…yes…scamps! Now I am astonished that they are brought here by that light of London society, Lady William Downs.

That formidable scion of our social order, it turns out, is cousin to the three girls’ dear departed mother. Having been favored by that lady when she was young, the lady who is their chaperone and mentor is eager to introduce these three young ladies to our English shores and our estimable English gentlemen.

Of course, these triplets are so unique that to look at them is to gasp in astonishment at their beauty. They are elegant of face and form, beautifully attired in the latest fashion, courtesy of their cousin.

A lady who wants to reform!

But what of their character?

Ahh. It has been whispered (not by me, of course) that one is rather…ahem…light-fingered. She has been known to acquire a few things that are not her own.

The oldest is light-fingered in another way and we shudder to think in what way. The third and the youngest, Adelaide, has no marks against her character. Lovely beyond belief. She certainly is a Diamond. But is she also a bit of an airhead?

I shudder to think at what will occur when these three ladies debut this evening at the latest ball of the season.

Countess of H.

BUY LINK: https://books2read.com/u/b5XRE6

LADY, BE WANTON, NAUGHTY LADIES, Book #1

The lady wants to be good.
Lady Imogen has reformed! She’s witty, from an old Irish family, in pursuit of a fine man to marry—and she swears she’ll never indulge in her little…um…peccadilloes again!

She’s arrived in Brighton with her two sisters and her cousin for the Season—and she’ll ignore anyone who gossips about Grandpapa’s notorious odd talents—or her own tiny scandal. After all, a lady can change.

The gentleman wants revenge.
Returning home after the wars, Lex Rowlandson, the Earl of Martindale, vows to find the cur who sold him and his father into the hell of Napoleon’s dungeons.

With a few clues to the identity of the creature who stole years from his life and caused the death of his father, Lex seeks out suspects at a Brighton ball. But he’s captured by the effervescent woman whose smiles light the dark corners of his heart.

He should not be distracted from his cause. Yet he cannot resist the lure of Imogen’s charm. When he witnesses her plight at the hands of one fellow who threatens her reputation, Lex saves it—and marries her.

Falling in love with her husband, Imogen sees that the best way to thank him for saving her is to commit the very crime she vowed never to repeat.

But can a man whose life was stolen from him love a wife whose skill is taking from others what is not hers?

BUY LINK: https://amzn.to/3Hfcm0G

Cerise DeLand embarks on her next romcom adventure with these three Irish ladies in this new series! She hopes you forgive their peccadilloes…and love how they reform and how they catch their man. Or, in these books, most often how the dashing men catch them! Cerise is really Jo-Ann Power who has been published since…well, forever! She is currently counting the number of novels she’s published because she has not kept track! Enjoy a laugh with Cerise DeLand’s newest releases, NAUGHTY LADIES from Dragonblade Publishing!

Suspicious Behavior in York

Dear Euphemia,

Can you enlighten me about the boisterous clan of Bigglesworth women that have invaded York Society this Season? The younger daughters are being launched (one might say cast upon us) and are being feted hither and yon as “the Seahaven Diamonds.” Anyone who is anyone scurried about hoping for invitations to the grand ball they hosted to celebrate said launch, though my own invitation went astray. But that is neither here nor there.

York is virtually crawling with Bigglesworth women. One cannot pay a morning call on a friend without encountering two or three of them, as if they travel in packs. One encounters them in the shops. Some were seen dragging some poor bored children along the walls for a history lecture. Others are rather too cozy with the horse racing scene. Always they are dressed fashionably, which leads one to wonder. How are they managing the expense?

You live near Starbrook and are quite cozy (or so you claim) with the new Earl of Seahaven’s Dear Wife. You gave me the impression in times past that the earl left the widowed countess with little or nothing. How did that chit, the former countess—the fifth wife in a row who failed to produce a male child—manage a season for all those stepdaughters, even the ones clearly on the shelf? Can you enlighten me?

One wonders whether one ought to befriend some or all, or even if one ought to receive them. As if the number and questionable situation weren’t enough, morals are in question. My maid heard a story from our footman who took ale with another footman, one that had been hired by the Bigglesworths—temporarily, mind you, to handle the undiscerning crowds that descended on them after their ball. That person testified that at least one of those young women was seen creeping out of a closet with her clothing askew and her hair out of place in the company of Viscount Stanbeck’s shabby younger brother who purports to be a curate. What must they teach young clergy these days?

Do write back quickly. The Season moves swiftly, and that baggage and her tribe of daughters are everywhere. Ought I avoid them?

Sir William, my dear husband, sends his regards.

Yours

Marian, Lady Smithers

About the Book: Desperate Daughters

Love Against the Odds

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.

Among them?  “Lady Dorothea’s Curate,” by Caroline Warfield

Employed at a hotel in order to assist her stepmother, Lady Dorothea Bigglesworth had no use for a title. It would only invite scorn, or, worse, pity. Plain Miss Doro Bigglesworth suited her fine.

Ben Clarke dedicated his life to helping the neediest. It gave his life meaning. He tended to forget the younger son of a viscount went by “Honorable.”

Working together at Pilgrim’s Rest, neither saw the need to mention it to the other, before fate separated them. When they were formally introduced after an unexpected reunion— in a ballroom in York—shock rocked them both. Can their budding love survive?

You can find links to various vendors here:

https://bluestockingbelles.net/belles-joint-projects/desperate-daughters/

Scandal can be found anywhere!

Abigail Danvers paced behind her sister as she penned the latest gossip they learned at the Valentine’s Day ball in Bath. If Prudence didn’t hurry, they would never get the information to Samuel Clemens at The Teatime Tattler in time for the morning edition. Perhaps this might not be a bad thing after all…

“It’s done,” Prudence finally said before standing up to allow Abigail to sit at the desk. “Tell me what you think.”

Abigail continued her pacing. She had recently begun to wonder if being an anonymous reporter for The Teatime Tattler was worth their time and energy. They’d never find husbands if they spent all their time snooping into other people’s business.

“I’m certain it’s fine, Prudence.”

A heavy sigh left her sister. “Just look at it, for heaven’s sake. A second pair of eyes are helpful.”

“Very well,” Abigail replied taking a seat and beginning to read.

This just in, gentle readers!

If you missed the charity Valentine’s Day ball in Bath, and honestly anyone who is everyone was present, then you didn’t witness the latest gossip. A certain Miss M.d.C. was spotted dancing without a proper introduction to an unknown gentleman. There was much speculation after she was escorted from the ball by her sister on exactly who this very fine-looking man was. Stay tuned for more news on what this young Miss will get herself involved in next. It’s never a dull moment where this young lady is concerned.

An Anonymous Reporter for
The Teatime Tattler

Abigail began folding the letter. “It’s fine,” she replied curtly.

Prudence frowned. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing at all. It’s just me. I’m in a foul mood,” Abigail replied. “I’m getting a bit tired of constantly blabbing all we see for Clemens instead of focusing on finding our own husbands.”

Prudence laughed. “Miranda de Courtenay deserves everything she gets!”

Abigail’s brow lifted. “Does she, Prudence? Honestly, it was only a dance. What harm was done?”

“But it was Miranda de Courtenay!” her sister bellowed.

“Never mind. Just send the darn thing,” Abigail snapped. “Mr. Clemen’s will be pleased with it even if I am questioning our involvement.”

Prudence grabbed at the letter and called for a servant to have it delivered post haste. Abigail wiped a tear from her eye and went to her room. She’d worry over where her life would lead from this point forward in the morning.


This is an original post is from Belle Sherry Ewing whose novella Before I Found You: A De Courtenay Novella (Book Three) releases on February 8th. Recently found in the Belles’ box set Storm & Shelter, it will now be available for individual sale.

Before I Found You:
A De Courtenay Novella (Book Three)
By Sherry Ewing

Release Date: February 8, 2022

A quest for a title. An encounter with a stranger. Will she choose love?

Miss Miranda de Courtenay has only one goal in life: to find a rich husband who can change her status from Miss to My Lady. But when a handsome stranger crosses her path at a Valentine’s Day ball, her obsession with titles dims. Might love be enough?

Captain Jasper Rousseau has no plans to become infatuated during a chance encounter at a ball. He has a new ship to run, passengers to book, and cargo to deliver. But one look into a young lady’s beautiful hazel eyes, and he becomes lost. Does love at first sight really exist?

Their paths continue to cross until they are both stranded in Fenwick on Sea. Their growing connection is hard to dismiss, despite Miranda’s childish quest for a title at all cost. But what if the cost includes love?

Buy Links:

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Church Lady’s Lament

To Reverend Mr. Horace Sorsby, Vicar of Saint John the Evangelist Parish, Knaresborough

Sir:

Reluctant though I am to criticize church matters, I truly must speak up, and hope my frequent liberal contributions to your parish will gain me attention. As you know age and infirmity make it impossible for me to attend services in Knaresborough. While I am pleased that a chapel of ease has been set up here in Harrogate for the benefit of leading citizens like myself who find themselves hampered from full participation, the man assigned  it has failed us. I am compelled to report that the curate you appointed to serve my our needs has proven to be negligent and useless.

First of all, his sermons focus entirely too heavily on service due the poor, in my opinion, and too little on the respect the lower classes owe their betters. I suppose I must excuse this as he is young and does seem to have a grasp on scripture.

I excuse it mainly because I am rarely able to attend even the chapel of ease here. That curate, Mr. Eustace Clarke, has been repeatedly asked to attend me at home. We are now moving into December, and I am obliged to report he made but two visits since summer. Neither visit lasted longer than an hour. I ask, Mr. Sorsby, do you believe that shows sufficient care for a frail old woman, one I might add who has generously supported Saint John in the past?

I am quite, quite distressed to add that my precious Wellington, an extraordinarily noble pug, has taken him dislike as well. The impudent young man accused my darling Welly of damaging his boots. I cannot believe poor Welly has developed a taste for leather. He has demonstrated no such affinity in the past. I am certain Mr. Clarke enticed him as an excuse to make a quick departure.

My loyal butler reports that it appears Mr. Clarke persists in wasting his time with that pathetic little soup kitchen he calls Pilgrim’s Rest, feeding every lazy, worthless beggar that imbibes from Harrogate’s public springs but refuses to pay for his lunch. Now news has reached me that he believes he needs funds to repair the roof of that barn. I will not stand for it. I demand you order him to close that fruitless and unproductive little mission down and focus on those of us who support the parish at large as he ought.

If my words have not been enough to convince you the man needs sharp words from his superior there is this. My personal maid, a woman of fine character, has told me that he is now seen walking out with a woman employed in the kitchens of the The Hampton Hotel. What such a woman is doing sporting about town on the arm of a single man, I can only guess. The hussy’s name I’m told is Doro Bigglesworth.

I trust you will counsel your curate about proper behavior and duties. I would hate to take my contributions and charity elsewhere.

With Respect,

Lady Louella Spotsworthy

About the Book: Desperate Daughters

Love Against the Odds

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.

Among them?  “Lady Dorothea’s Curate,” by Caroline Warfield

Employed at a hotel in order to assist her stepmother, Lady Dorothea Bigglesworth had no use for a title. It would only invite scorn, or, worse, pity. Plain Miss Doro Bigglesworth suited her fine.

Ben Clarke dedicated his life to helping the neediest. It gave his life meaning. He tended to forget the younger son of a viscount went by “Honorable.”

Working together at Pilgrim’s Rest, neither saw the need to mention it to the other, before fate separated them. When they were formally introduced after an unexpected reunion— in a ballroom in York—shock rocked them both. Can their budding love survive?

You can find links to various vendors here: https://bluestockingbelles.net/belles-joint-projects/desperate-daughters/

 

Vigilante among the Ton?

Every day in London’s streets, women of all ilk sell their bodies to earn enough to live and survive. Prostitution is no secret; it is a thriving business. Like all businesses, there are those who profit and those who toil. Equally so, every year in the glittering ballrooms of the marriage mart, young women are sold to the highest bidder for money and power. Here also, there are those who profit from the bodies and lives of their women.

So, it may come as no surprise that London has a new hero from this set. A vigilante who rescues young girls who have become tangled in the web of sex and excesses. She rescued a young girl from a prominent brothel run by Mrs. G two weeks ago. Brandishing her slim deadly blade, she snatched away the girl who had been sold to the brothel owner by her drunk of a father.

Then our vigilante struck again last weekend at an infamous bacchanal, which is thrown annually by Lord D. Yes, all the rumors you have heard are true. The party is as debauched as Lord D’s dark heart. Free-flowing wine and liquor, and anonymity provided by the masks fuel an atmosphere of immoral behavior. This night of excess was topped off by an auction, where the highest bidder would get to deflower a genuine virgin.

Don’t worry, dear reader, our vigilante swooped in and rescued the poor farm girl, stolen from her family by Mrs. G to serve as the virgin sacrifice. Yes, our vigilante is no ordinary woman. She is fearless, passionate, a LADY of great heart. I will wait alongside you, breathlessly, to see where she will strike next.

About the Book: Unmask My Heart

Caroline Langdon has gained a reputation for being unattainable; she has turned down twelve offers of marriage over the past four years. A traumatic incident from her past has convinced her she never wants to belong to any man. Her plan to live as a wealthy spinster is tested when she meets the enigmatic Lord Wrotham.

For his new assignment for the crown, Cage Morgan must slip into the one role he’s never wanted, his title as the Earl of Wrotham. Lady Caroline is in grave danger. His job is to watch over her and investigate which of her jilted suitors wants her dead. But keeping tabs on the clever and fiery lady will prove to be challenging. And ignoring the attraction that flares between them impossible.

Will a daring rescue and a fake engagement lead two guarded hearts to take a risk on a passionate love neither of them thought imaginable?

 Excerpt:

“You can never trust a newspaperman.” Cage commented.

“Well, in this case, because the editor is a woman, I thought I could.” Clearly a mistake. Of course, a woman whose paper survives on its gossip column would choose the most sensational bits. Caroline grudgingly admired the editor’s cleverness. She glanced down at the article in her hand. “She does paint a flattering picture of me. Fierce and passionate. I almost wish people knew she was talking about me.” She took another swallow of wine. “I am tired of everyone talking behind my back about being an ice queen. I’m not frigid,” she muttered.

“Who had the gall to say you were frigid?”

Caroline couldn’t believe she had said that out loud. Her cheeks warmed and not because of the wine. He was the one man who made her feel the opposite of frigid. He made her want things that she had given up ever feeling again. She set down her empty wine glass on the windowsill.

Cage took one finger and lifted her chin until her gaze met his. “You are the most passionate woman I have ever known. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a blind fool.” The heat in his eyes almost had her believing his statement. He lowered his mouth to hers, brushing her lips once, twice.

Caroline sighed at the pleasure of his kiss. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Nibbling at her bottom lip, he pulled her under his spell. She parted her lips to welcome his exploration. His tongue swept in to play with hers, slick and hot. She grabbed hold of the lapels of his jacket as the world around them melted away.

“Caroline, your fire consumes me.” He kissed across her cheek and up to her temple. “You haunt my nights. I want to discover every inch of you with my tongue, my lips. I want you to burn me alive.”

His words emboldened her. Caroline slid her hand into his hair and pulled his head back enough for their eyes to meet. “Show me.”

About the Author

From the time she read fairytales as a child, Karla Kratovil was hooked on stories that ended in Happily Ever After. Now as an author of sexy historical romance she gets to craft her own happy endings. Karla lives right on the edge of Northern Virginia’s wine country with her college sweetheart, two terrific teenagers, and two blond terriers. She is a Taurus. Like any good earth sign she loves good food, good wine, and getting her hands dirty growing things in her garden.

To keep in touch, sign up for her newsletter on her website – www.karlakratovil.com

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