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Did She…Or Didn’t She? Village in Uproar over Runaway Girl

The little Cotswold village of D is divided into two camps, due to the sudden flight of pretty Miss W: those who accuse her of theft and possibly worse, and those who say she is a sweet, kind young lady who would never harm a soul.

While we at the Teatime Tattler are of necessity cynical – it’s difficult to be otherwise given that our business is gossip, gossip, and more unpleasant gossip – we wish to give equal weight to each camp.

Mrs. W, the girl’s stepmother, heads the camp of those who believe the worst. Her two daughters, C and P – the elder a shrew and the younger a ninny — are naturally supportive of their mother. “She’s a thief,” Mrs. W sobbed to our correspondent. “She was always a bad sort, consorting with servants rather than respectable people. She insists on working in the kitchen, of all places—and I believe she did so with wicked plans in mind. Now, she has stolen my mother’s locket and run away. No matter the scandal it brings upon us, the girl must be caught and punished to the full extent of the law!”

Well! That does sound rather harsh, doesn’t it? To accuse her stepchild, the daughter of her deceased husband, of such infamy! A few of Mrs. W’s cronies, ladies of similar status, seem to agree with her.

The majority of the village, though—people of lower estate, from shopkeepers to laborers—are fiercely ranged on Miss W’s side. “A sweet, charming girl,” they told us, “so friendly and kind. Definitely not a thief! She’s the sort who would share her meager meal with a beggar, and has done so more than once.” As for their opinion of her stepmother—well! The villagers are strangely mum, perhaps for fear of losing the lady’s custom.

Meanwhile, where has Miss W gone? Will she be found, and if so, what will be poor Miss W’s fate?

 

Christmas in September!

Sir Rupert has taken in strays from time to time, but never two the same night: first a tiny dog, and then a bedraggled young woman found shivering by the roadside in the rain. He hires her on the spot to help in the kitchen, for his cook is down with the ague, and it’s only two days till Christmas.

Nell can’t believe her luck, but warm and welcoming as Sir Rupert and his household are, she can only stay till Christmas, for she will be pursued, caught, and hanged unless she can reach the safe haven of her father’s friend.

Nell adores Sir Rupert, but she cannot tell him the truth, for no one will believe her. Nor can she tell a lie. She will prepare the Christmas feast—she’d promised to—but after that, she will flee once again.

With time running out, can Rupert convince her that she is safe with him, no matter what?

Only 99 cents!

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Bride Disappears into a Snowstorm!

Dear Readers:

Whispers from Cumberland inform the Tattler that the long-delayed Christmas wedding between the Duke of Kendal and industrialist’s daughter Miss Penelope Montgomery has been delayed once more by the bride’s disappearance into a snowstorm. Captain Lord Hugo Dalston, the bridegroom’s brother, went in hot pursuit of the runaway, but neither has returned to Gaitskill Castle. Have they perished, or is a more scandalous possibility in the offing?

Snowed In with the Runaway Bride

by Alexa Santi

Betrothed to the Duke of Kendal since they were children and still recovering from a near-fatal illness, Miss Penelope Montgomery is resigned to the marriage … until she discovers her twin sister Pippa has been in love with Kendal for years. The only way to prevent disaster is for Penny to flee her Christmas wedding ahead of an incoming snowstorm that strands her at a tiny inn with her jilted groom’s irritatingly attractive brother Hugo.

Royal Navy Captain Lord Hugo Dalston wanted to escape the spectacle of the woman he loves marrying his older brother, but Penny’s impulsive actions force them to share the smallest room he’s ever seen in an isolated village where everyone believes them to be husband and wife. Even worse, the masquerade is dangerously seductive, showing Hugo what his life with Penny can be if he has the courage to risk his family, his livelihood, and even Penny’s health should her illness return.

Part of the Regency Runaway Brides Series

Buy Link:

https://Books2Read.com/SnowedInRunawayBride

Excerpt:

The closer her family’s traveling coach came to her wedding, the more Penelope Montgomery wished she could turn tail and run.

Her mother’s continuous burbles about the romance of Christmas weddings, as though this had not all been arranged when Penny was a mere child, made her want to scream.

A scream would echo oddly in the coach, likely muffled by the thick curtains that covered the windows and warm blankets that covered Penny, her mother, and Penny’s identical twin sister, Pippa.

Penny looked over at her sister, who had finally awakened after sleeping like the dead all the way from their last change of horses. Pippa lifted the curtain to look out the carriage window with a frown. Mother followed Penny’s gaze.

“Stop that, Pippa. You’re letting in a draft. Your sister will freeze.”

“Sorry, Mother,” Pippa said, without dropping the curtain. “I do believe it will snow.”

“It would be lovely to have snow for Christmas!” Mother gushed. Then she frowned. “But not until all of the guests have arrived. It would be dreadful to have everyone trapped on the road. Your father is still on his way from whatever that business was that sent him to Manchester.”

“If Papa is late, we could postpone the wedding,” Penny said, trying to keep the hope out of her voice.

Mother glared at her. “Bridal jitters are all very well, my dear, but it’s a bit late now. You shall be married in three days’ time.” She sighed. “A Christmas Eve wedding. So romantic.”

The rumble of the carriage wheels and clatter of the horses’ hooves picked up the rhythm of Mother’s words.

Three days’ time… three days’ time…

Penny had only three more days to escape her fate.

As the coach rounded the drive, she lifted the curtain on her own side of the carriage despite Mother’s fussing about the cold. That same cold seeped into Penny’s already aching bones as she regarded the gray stone walls that rose starkly against the winter-brown countryside.

In three days’ time, this would be her home. Away from her family. Away from her sister. Alone with a man who still felt like a virtual stranger even though they had known each other since they were children.

Barring one half-hearted attempt the previous year, he had never even so much as kissed her.

Not that she particularly wanted him to.

The carriage drew to a halt and the Duke of Kendal emerged from the front door, closely followed by a bevy of footmen. Carefully, Penny unfolded her limbs from the carriage seat. The painful swelling of her joints that had plagued her all through her recovery from the fever that had nearly killed her was becoming less frequent, but the cold, damp weather had made it flare up again. Combined with the rigors of travel, her aching joints wanted nothing more than a warm bed and perhaps some bitter but soothing willow bark tea.

But that could not be allowed, of course. She was the future Duchess of Kendal. The rituals must be adhered to. She must greet the servants, and then attend the reception with the whole family, and then dress for dinner, and then, and then, and then…

Penny shook out her skirts and pasted a smile on her face as the carriage door opened and a footman lowered the steps. Her gloved hand crept into the pocket of her pelisse to make certain the tiny wooden swallow was still there. Her good luck charm.

Before Penny could get to her feet, Mother all but leaped for the open door, startling the waiting footman, and made a precipitous descent, chattering all the way down. Taking a deep breath, Penny put weight on her sore joints and stood, her head stooped to avoid catching her traveling bonnet on the roof of the coach.

As she descended from the carriage, Penny looked beyond Kendal to see a familiar figure standing just inside the door, and her heart made a little leap even as her step faltered.

Hugo had come after all.

It had been uncertain whether Kendal’s younger brother would be able to get away from London, or so Kendal had written her. With Napoleon safely stashed away on St. Helena, Hugo had won his first official command as a post-captain after competing with most of the other captains of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. The Navy’s reduction in forces following the Allied victory at Waterloo had left many captains scrambling to find berths, which made Hugo’s accomplishment even more impressive.

Once he had left to be a midshipman, Penny had only seen Hugo once a year, or every few years, depending on his assignment, always with a new tale of derring-do at sea for his younger cousins… and for Penny to eavesdrop on, if she happened to be nearby.

She had always tried to be nearby.

But now the war was over, and he was here.

Penny busied herself with straightening her skirts once her feet were firmly on the ground, her heart pounding. The thought of marrying Kendal was already dreadful, but to have to do it with Hugo watching would be unbearable. He was always… judging her and her frivolous ways. Lurking in corners, frowning at her. Her skin prickled with heat every time she caught him looking at her with those disapproving brown eyes. He had only ever made one gesture that made her wonder if she was wrong about him.

Her hand strayed to where the tiny hand-carved swallow rested in her pocket before she tossed her head and straightened her bonnet. She didn’t care what Captain Lord Hugo Dalston thought of her. Not in the slightest.

Instead, she smiled at Kendal.

About the Author:

Alexa Santi loves storytelling of all kinds, so it’s no wonder it took some time for her to settle on writing romance novels after several career detours, including an MFA in Screenwriting from Loyola Marymount University. She lives near Los Angeles with her handsome archivist husband and their pesky cats, who insist she take frequent breaks from her writing to pay attention to them. You can find her on Facebook, Instagram, or on her website at https://www.alexasanti.com

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A French Adventuress in Cheshire

Dear Readers,

What an interesting harvest season the residents of Cheshire are having. This report comes from a resident of a small village which shall be left unnamed.

My Dear Mr. Clemens,

It has been some time since my last letter, but so it has been with the goings on in Belgium that one has no chance but to read whatever report one can find and otherwise worry.

Now we have come through that, and our people of R have both mourned the loss of some brave young men and celebrated the return of many as well as this year’s good harvest.

And what goings-on there have been before, during, and after our harvest fete!

In particular, we have seen the return to the village of a young Frenchwoman (one might call her an adventuress!) and the lady who employed her as a companion. They were both offered shelter by a friend of the younger woman, one of our most genteel widowed ladies. Such a fuss, with the Frenchwoman here in R openly seeking a wealthy husband, her employer bedazzling one of our elderly local worthies, and the widowed lady praying that her posthumous child (yes, she was in the family way at the time of her husband’s death) is a boy—else she and her daughters will be homeless!

There is more. A handsome young officer has returned from the army with a Frenchman in tow meant to marry the fortune-hunting young Frenchwoman, she who wants nothing to do with anything French. It is whispered that she is the heiress of a French vintner!

What is the truth? I will write again when I know more.

Under the Champagne Moon

Orphaned by the French Revolution and rescued by a British family, Fleur Hardouin didn’t—or wouldn’t—speak, until the jolly young Gareth Ardleigh crossed her path one summer and saved her from bullies. Fifteen years later, Fleur and the beloved lady she serves return to Cheshire. Determined to rescue them both through an advantageous marriage, Fleur tries to brush off the attention she receives from Gareth, who’s home from the wars and as handsome as ever. Her heart longs for him, but her head knows he can’t provide the security she needs.

Gareth’s excuse for visiting Cheshire is to deliver the personal effects of his best friend who perished at Quatre Bras. But his real purpose is finding the little French girl he met years ago, for marriage—not to him, but to the Frenchman who helped save his life. Astonished to find that Fleur has grown into a beautiful—and still intriguing—young woman, it soon becomes clear, he must choose between honoring a promise or trying to win the hand of the woman he loves.

Originally published in Under the Harvest Moon, a Bluestocking Belles with Friends Collection

Buy Links: https://books2read.com/underthechampagnemoon

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature but prefers the much happier world of romance fiction. Her roots are in the Midwestern U.S., but after six very, very, very cold years in Chicago, she moved to Southern California. Now widowed, and with the kids grown, she recently transplanted from Orange County to a desert community. The nest is empty except for a sweet, feisty chihuahua and grandkids who frequently need looking after and visit often

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Exotic Otter and a Missing Orphan

Dear Readers,

When his majesty the Prince Regent entrusted certain animals from the Royal Menagerie to deserving recipients, the Tattler never imagined any would come up missing. However, that appears to be the case for three exotic otters granted to an obscure baronet in Sussex, which have vanished along with the orphaned daughter of the house, Miss Georgiana Morland.

The latest news is that the otters have re-appeared in the custody of the Reverend Lord Peter Avondale – youngest of the scandalous Avondale brothers – but Miss Morland is nowhere to be found, only a young gentleman who claims to be the owner and has been seen by scarcely anyone in the rural village of Kilbythorpe.

Truly, it is a mystery where Miss Georgiana could have disappeared to, and why she would not claim the otters herself.

Otters and Obstacles

by Alexa Santi
Three mischievous otters, a sleepy village, and a lady in disguise. What could go wrong?

When Georgiana Morland’s cruel cousin sends her beloved pet otters away to what seems certain death, she has no choice but to pursue them… even if that means disguising herself as a young man for the journey.

In the charming Yorkshire village of Kilbythorpe, the Reverend Lord Peter Avondale knows he only has one chance to salvage his damaged ecclesiastical career, or be forced to leave the work he loves behind forever. All he needs to do is be less impulsive. How hard can it be?

The arrival of three mischievous otters, followed by a mysterious young man who claims to be their keeper, upends Peter’s peaceful exile. The revelation that the “young man” Peter invited to stay with him is a respectable young woman leaves them with only one option: marriage.

As scandal looms and the Ladies’ Auxiliary meddles, Peter begins to fear he will lose the only thing he loves more than his career: Georgie.

Excerpt

A crash rang through the hallway outside his study, and loud voices caused him to rise from his desk and cross to the door to open it. His housekeeper, Mrs. Barwick, seemed to be trying to push a young man holding a large basket out the front door, and the young man pushed back, shoving his foot into the door to prevent her from closing it.

“What’s all the racket?” Peter asked, and Mrs. Barwick whirled on him. The young man took the opportunity to slip through the half-open door and stand in the hallway with the basket balanced on one hip, snatching his cap off as he did so.

“Oh! I’m that sorry to disturb you, Lord Peter, but this young ruffian is trying to deliver something that don’t belong here.”

As the racket died down, Peter realized the basket was… squeaking.

He looked from the basket to the impassive young man holding it, and back to the basket.

The squeaking intensified, and the basket began to vibrate.

“Ain’t you Mr. Sloane? I was told Mr. Sloane lived here,” the young man said.

“I’m afraid a mistake has been made,” Peter said. “The Reverend Mr. Sloane has retired to Brighton.”

Peter’s eldest brother, the Duke of Livesey, had provided Mr. Sloane with a handsome pension to clear the way for Peter to take over the living here as a glorified curate, with Mr. Sloane nominally keeping his title as rector of the parish. After a few necessary improvements had been completed, Peter had finished the process of unpacking and re-organizing the rectory only a few weeks ago, having removed what seemed like dozens of small animals posed under glass from every corner of the cottage to the attic so he could rest without reproachful eyes watching his every move.

And now he was receiving live animals in their stead.

The boy shrugged. “That ain’t my concern, vicar. I was told to deliver these here, and I ain’t got the funds to go haring across the country. They’re yours now.”

He set the basket on the floor and legged it out the front door, ducking under the housekeeper’s attempt at restraint and fleeing down the walkway as Peter and Mrs. Barwick went in fruitless pursuit.

For one moment, the young man paused and shouted over his shoulder, “They like a bit o’ fish!” before continuing down the lane towards the village and vanishing from sight.

Buy Link: https://Books2Read.com/OttersAndObstacles

About the Author:

Alexa Santi loves storytelling of all kinds, so it’s no wonder it took some time for her to settle on writing romance novels after several career detours, including an MFA in Screenwriting from Loyola Marymount University. She lives near Los Angeles with her handsome archivist husband and their pesky cats, who insist she take frequent breaks from her writing to pay attention to them. You can find her on Facebook, Instagram, or on her website at https://www.alexasanti.com

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Letter from “A Lady”

Dear Readers,

It is to be admired that a young lady of good family should excel with her paintbrush, as indeed she should also do in music, embroidery and letter-writing. That she should seek to earn her fortune thereby is another matter entirely.

Those of you cognisant of the recent scandal involving a certain Miss A and Mr C will know of what I speak. The seeking of one’s fortune through art represents an extraordinary lack of judgement, a trait oft seen in the story of the aforementioned Young Lady.

I cannot blame the prodigal daughter of Lady A for seeking escape from what I can only consider one of the Less Civilised provinces, despite its having a coastline and an absence of inconvenient hills. Unfortunately, our Great Metropolis draws all towards it, although it is to be wished that said young lady had made the journey in a more Respectable Fashion. Lady A is truly to be pitied that her offspring chose elopement, and even more so that the gentleman, in question, a certain Mr T, chanced to be a Nobody who could have no thought but for the young lady’s Fortune. Rumour has it that he, too, considered himself An Artist. Imagine that! That two such Unworldly Young Persons should be domiciled together is a recipe for Boredom, Penury, and Ultimate Disaster. Any Person of Taste, Fashion or Discretion must be shocked by such behaviour.

If only this were the end of the sorry tale of poor Lady A’s wayward younger daughter! As if creating a Scandal in London were not enough, what must she then do but return to her dreary county of residence in the company of a member of the Lyon’s Den Gambling Hell, whom we shall call Mr C. Said Establishment is right here in Town, almost on my own doorstep, I’ll have you know. Utterly appalling. The goings-on! The only good thing I can say for Mr C is that he’s not known for his Watercolours, Portraits, or Oils, but prefers to lead the ramshackle existence that is so often the Preserve of the Younger Son. His association with the proprietor of the aforementioned establishment bears closer inspection, as it is my understanding that Mrs D-L frequently involves her acolytes in Nefarious Activities. What hope is there for a Daughter of the Provinces when thrown into the company of such a fellow? And if he should have turned her head by saving her from Highway Robbers, a rejected Lover, and indeed, from herself, then she is entirely lost to Decent Society.

Let us pray that the aforementioned Mr C will break the young lady’s heart, render her an Unmarriageable Spinster, and cure her forever of her ambition to set herself up as an Artist. Only then will the drawing rooms of the ton be safe from Scribbles, Indecipherable Blobs, mawkish depictions of babies, Ugly Portraits, and hideous representations of Dogs.

If I learn anything further regarding this Particular Situation, I promise you shall be the first to hear of it.

Yours etc.

LYON ON THE LOOSE

She fled a terrible mistake. Then her past caught up with her.

When scapegrace Miss Lissy Ashby faces ruin, she vows never again to trust a charming smile. But Fate has other plans. An ultimatum, a stolen carriage, and a forced overnight stay entangle her with her mother’s new secretary—a man with secrets of his own.

He was awful at spying. Excellent at falling in love.

Roland Chetwynd has been sent to Lissy’s home under false pretences, charged by renowned matchmaker, Mrs. Bessie Dove-Lyon, with recovering a missing sapphire necklace. He never imagined he would instead be captivated by a brave, blue-eyed artist who sees far more than he intended to reveal.

When masked villains strike at Lissy’s family’s ball, Roland risks everything—his reputation, his commission, even his heart—to protect her. But when the truth of his deception comes to light, Lissy must decide if the man she loves is a hero… or simply another mistake.

Purchase Link Universal: https://mybook.to/lyonontheloose

Purchase Link Amazon.com: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H5P9LR9Y

Excerpt:

London

The carriage clattered to a halt at the road junction, then rocked alarmingly as someone yanked the door open and flung themselves into the interior. The Honourable Roland Chetwynd automatically reached for his lion-headed cane, a gift from Mrs Dove-Lyon, with which to defend himself. Too late. There was an ominous cracking sound as the unwelcome intruder lost their balance and collapsed onto his lap.

An interesting twist to an already disastrous day; his carriage was now full of rain-drenched young female, and his new walking cane had been snapped in two. He also now had mud on his trousers whilst a trail of water dripped enthusiastically from the woman’s bonnet onto the toes of his carefully polished Hessians.

His coachman, apparently unaware of the new arrival, set the carriage lumbering off once more. Speechless, Roland glared at the damp young lady as she seated herself opposite him and shook the rain from her hooded cloak.

“I most awfully sorry, sir, but I was in dire need and your coach stopped in the street at just the right moment. I promise you needn’t take me far—I just need to travel a few blocks to make sure he can’t find me.”

Usually of a sunny disposition, Roland found himself feeling particularly ungentlemanly today. He was currently boasting a black eye following a set-to with his old enemy Henry Sutton, and he had just discovered that there was a book set up against him at White’s, a further blow to his rickety self-esteem. Rescuing bold young ladies from unwanted suitors—or whoever—was not what he had in mind right now. A few games of cards, a harmless wager or two, and a very decent Canary wine awaited him at the Lyon’s Den gambling club, and he had every intention of making his way straight there without becoming entangled in somebody else’s affairs. Besides, the last time he’d come to the aid of a damsel in distress, it had not gone well.

The young woman was subjecting him to a sober perusal, and he wondered what he must look like to her, dressed up to the nines, his jacket tailored as tightly as Beau Brummel’s, his unruly blonde hair well-suited to the windswept style, and a swelling eye. Part of him wanted to inform the young lady at once that he hadn’t been the loser in the battle with Sutton, and that he had every intention of evening the score, but why should he care what she thought of him? This was his carriage, his ghastly day… and she wasn’t likely to make it any better.

When she pushed her water-blackened hair back from her face, he noticed a pair of intelligent blue eyes peering out from an elfin face with a determined chin. “Oh, I am desolated,” she exclaimed. “I have broken your beautiful cane.”

“Never mind that. Coachman!” He rapped on the roof of the carriage with what remained of the lion-headed cane. “Halt!”

The woman glanced fearfully through the window and pulled her cloak tightly about her neck. “Please, no, sir! He’ll see me if you set me down now. Please—can we not just go a few more blocks? I cannot allow him to catch me.”

Author Bio: USA TODAY bestselling author Elizabeth Keysian writes richly researched historical romance set in Regency England, Tudor Britain and the mysterious landscapes of Dartmoor. She has completed a series for Dragonblade Publishing called Trysts and Treachery, and contributed three Regency romances to their Lyon’s Den Connected World line, with one more still to come. Though primarily a writer of romance, she loves to put a bit of mystery, adventure, and suspense into her stories, and refuses to let her characters take themselves too seriously. Elizabeth likes to write from experience, not easy when her works range from the medieval to the Victorian eras. However, her passion for re-enactment has helped, as have the many years she spent working in museums and British archaeology. If you find some detail in her work you’ve never come across before, you can bet she either dug it up, quite literally, or found it on a museum shelf. She puts out the occasional newsletter when there are books, contests, and bargains to promote.

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