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An Earl with Two Mistresses in the Same House?

Dearest Readers,

The Tattler is certainly no stranger to scandals and rumors, but this latest news from the countryside even brings a blush to our faces. A dear friend has just returned from a ball held at the Earl of Rothden’s country estate and reports that the earl had not one, but two mistresses present.

The earl has long been associated with a certain Lady M, whom our witness saw at the ball. However, our witness later spied the Earl sweeping an unknown miss into the shadows and come out looking quite flushed. Is it any wonder that he should act so scandalously with friends like Lord Twisden? You may recall, dear readers, that Lord Twisden was in the Tattler just last week when he was caught indecent with Major Waler’s wife!

Rumors have circulated for the last few months that the Earl broke his arrangement with Lady M. Yet we must wonder if those rumors are true with her attendance at the ball. Even if they are true, who is the mysterious young miss the Earl was spotted with? Be assured that The Tattler will not rest until her identity is discovered.

The Earl’s Timely Wallflower

Never let destiny meddle in your romantic affairs…

When Lily Bennett became the caretaker of her teenage sister, it came at the expense of her hopes, dreams, and the home she grew up in. Now that her sister is grown and on her own, Lily struggles to find a place to call home. She wants to feel part of a family again and intends to mend the broken relationships with her siblings. That is, until she discovers an unusual timepiece that lands her in Regency England. And at the feet of one of the most eligible men in society. Unfortunately, he believes that she’s crazy. Any attraction Lily feels for the stubborn man is clearly one-sided. Too bad she’s stuck with him until she can figure out how to get home.

Gabriel Hawthorne, Earl of Rothden, has decided to host one last house party before returning to London for the dreaded season where every simpering chit and money-hungry mother will hover around him like flies. Add to that his sister’s hunt for a husband and Gabriel would rather shoot himself than a grouse. Still, it’s his duty to find his sister a suitable match, which he’ll do after one last bit of respite to shore up his defenses. A respite interrupted when a pretty little wallflower in scandalous clothes lands at his feet claiming to be from the future. He’d turn her over to doctors if she weren’t so damn intriguing. Suddenly, all thoughts of London, responsibilities, and simpering debutantes don’t seem half as hard as getting Lily to stay with him.

But when his ex-mistress arrives unannounced at the house party, she makes every effort to drive a wedge between the fragile bond Gabriel and Lily have forged. If she succeeds, he could lose Lily forever. And if Lily finds a way back to her time, he may have to follow her.

Because the Earl of Rothden always gets what he wants. Even when it’s a wallflower from the future.

Purchase Link: https://amzn.to/3lYSzNm

(also available in KU)

Excerpt: Gabriel finds Lily in the library late one night…

“What about a family of your own? A husband and children?” His stomach tightened unaccountably at the thought.

“Some future dream, I suppose.”

“Any other future dreams?”

Lily chewed her lip. “There should be.”

“Perhaps it is time to think about the things that you want, Lily.”

“Maybe. Right now, I want to find a clock maker. All I found was a book on the theory of trade in the world.”

“Excellent choice. That book should put you right to sleep.”

“Would you like one for yourself?” Lily handed him the book. Her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled.

“Ah, no. I was hoping for something even more dull. The General View of Agriculture perhaps.”

“At home, I read every night in bed. It helped settle my mind so that I could sleep.”

“What did you read?”

“Romance. I only read romances.”

His Lily was a romantic. Did she read them and dream of a great romance of her own?

“I don’t suppose you have any?” she asked, although by her tone, she thought he wouldn’t.

His lips tugged up. “Violet snuck a few romances into the library, hoping that I wouldn’t notice.” He reached behind her, pressing himself that much closer, to run a finger over the leather spines.

She sucked in a breath.

The air changed between them, like the charge before a lightning strike. Heady and breathless. Something about this woman drew him. The more he learned about her, the more he desired her. Her strength and intelligence shone through every conversation, and Gabriel found himself deeply attracted to that combination.

Gabriel rested his other hand on the bookshelf, caging her in. He looked down into her eyes, illuminated only by the candle flame. The darkness wrapped around them, cocooning them in shadows. A branch brushed the window outside, and the house creaked. The silence of the night cast a spell, weaving between them, tugging them closer. It was as if they’d slipped into the land of dreams, where nothing felt real.

Lily pressed her hands to his chest. She didn’t push him away.

He wanted to feel her soft hands against his bare skin, but his dressing gown and sleep shirt were in the way. She stroked over his chest, then dipped her fingers under the edge of his velvet robe.

Closer to where he wanted her hands.

He dipped his head and traced his nose along her hairline, breathing her in. She arched into him, brushing her hips against his.

Her eyes widened when she felt his hard cock, and a shuddering breath left her lips.

“You fit against me perfectly,” he whispered. “When we danced, this is what I imagined.”

 

 

Bio and Social Media Links:

Aurrora St. James writes sexy historical and paranormal/fantasy romances featuring tough heroes, strong women, quirky characters, and a touch of humor added in for spice. She loves coffee, making her own journals, old B, C, and D-movies, and the magic of a happily ever after.

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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

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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.

A Matchmaker? Or a Matchbreaker?

Dear Readers,

Spring is in the air, and the ladies of the ton have set about managing the affairs of what is so crassly referred to as the Marriage Mart: “Lord X could do with an infusion of, ahem, cash for his hunting box—an heiress would do. Lady Y is looking for nothing less than a marquess.”

Ah, and then we have Miss M. While the leading ladies of the ton whisper about dowries, incomes, and whether a man’s questionable peculiarities render him completely unsuitable, the Tattler has received news of this particular miss making her come-out.

Her dowry is rumored to be staggeringly large and has drawn the interest of no less than an earl, Lord H, a man with an unfortunate, but to some parties, not unqualifying reputation. Miss M’s father, a man of the mercantile class, has accepted his suit. The bride-to-be, we are told, is the compliant sort and will do as she’s told.

Interestingly, the lady bringing Miss M out, a spinster of good enough ton but small fortune is rumored to oppose the match. In fact, she is rumored to have gone daggers with one of the primary instigators of this arrangement, Lord H’s uncle.

Ah, but perhaps I’ve said too much. As to whether Miss M will soon be Lady H, we must wait to see if a bridal announcement is forthcoming.

Liliana’s Letter

The Matchmaker

A promise to his long-dead sister forces Lord Grigsby back into society to broker the marriage of his disreputable nephew to the heiress whose money can save the earldom.

The Matchbreaker

Liliana Ashford has been hired to help an heiress pass muster with the ton and snare a titled husband. Though, if she had a magic wand, she’d turn her charge’s fiancé back into the toad he truly was.

Scandal and a New Match

But she never plotted murder! As the young Earl’s sordid death evokes the scandal of the season, a shadow from Liliana’s own past appears, threatening her carefully crafted world. Grigsby sets about finding his nephew’s killer…and Liliana’s secrets. Meanwhile she scrambles to make a new match for the girl, because finding a husband of her own is out of the question—or is it?

Excerpt

The woman at Grigsby’s side was like a lightning rod expecting a bolt to strike, or like a Fury about to deliver one. This close, scent wafted from her, roses and lemon, he’d guess. Tall, straight, and stiff, underneath her self-possession was a temper ready to unleash. He would bet on it.

Intriguing. He dared to poke her ire. “You clearly don’t approve of the match. Do you intend to openly oppose it?”

Her head whipped around, and she glared. “It’s not for me to approve or disapprove. Katie—Miss Mercer—will decide.”

Passion flashed in her eyes, sending an answering spark through him. She was magnificent—though so very mistaken. “Really? Then her father is more liberal than I expected.”

She looked him over more closely. “What do you know of this matter?”

I might ask you the same question. Her tone had been stiff, like the crystallized dome covering bubbling lava. He fixed her with his sternest glare, not entirely surprised at her cheek.

His glower didn’t impress her. She lifted her shoulders higher. Stood a little taller, proud, lovely, and filled with indignation.

Quite righteous indignation. He gave into an unmanly sigh, truly weary of his responsibility for Thomas. “I know a good deal, Miss Ashford. I have been negotiating for these nuptials. The arrangement is my doing as much as Mr. Mercer’s. Much more than it is my nephew’s. He is probably the least culpable, except for his abominable behavior.”

She clenched her hands tightly. “I see.”

“Thomas’s mother was my older sister. I made a promise to her that I would look after him.” Her gaze softened, and she bit her lip in a way that made him want to taste the part that she was nipping.

And where had that thought come from?

“And your nephew needs money and an heir.”

He nodded. As a woman of the ton, of course she would understand how marriage worked. Marriage wasn’t about love, or the bride’s approval, or a plump lower lip that begged to be kissed.

“He needs money most of all. He has a younger brother in the army who would make a far more dutiful earl.”

He covered his mouth with his hand. The words had rolled out, shocking him. He rarely spoke this frankly with any woman.

Very well, he never spoke this frankly with any woman.

She released a soft breath. “And there is the matter of the ore.”

His mouth gaped and he quickly closed it. Mr. Mercer had shared that information? Well. “That part of the county is rich with newly discovered veins of iron.”

That information brought her up straighter. She looked away, gazing intently at a thick, dark spot of foliage, making him want to pry into that sharp mind.

“I see,” she said. “I believe we should go back in now.”

Not yet. He tucked her hand over his arm but did not move. “I had hoped we were not finished talking. I’ve learned your Christian name is Liliana, but I don’t know anything else about you. I don’t know where you’re from or anything about your family.”

He sensed her bristling, and waited for some reaction, perhaps a slap, verbal, or, with a woman of her passion, even a physical one. Strictly speaking, he was importuning her, and damn if he wasn’t enjoying the nerves rippling through her.

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About the Author

Alina K. FieldUSA Today Bestselling and award-winning author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature but prefers the much happier world of romance fiction. Though her roots are in the Midwestern U.S., after six very, very, very cold years in Chicago, she moved to Southern California and hasn’t looked back. She shares a midcentury home with two spunky rescues, a blonde terrier and a people-loving chihuahua.

She is the author of several Regency romances, including the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner, Rosalyn’s Ring. She is hard at work on her next series of Regency romances but loves to hear from readers!

Visit her at:

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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.

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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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