Tag: Regency romance Page 41 of 49

Missing his cue

On February 18, 2017

Lord Adrian de Courtenay entered the billiards room and scanned the guests already in attendance for the afternoon’s tournament. He thought this was to be a game between gentlemen. Given the number of women and children in the room, the event was apparently open to any and all who were visiting Hollystone Hall.

Noticing his sister Grace had as yet to arrive, his gaze landed on the young miss who had been following him for several days. Lady Celia Lacey was a pretty little bird who would one day become a true beauty once she left childhood far behind. He would admit, if only to himself, he had enjoyed the few encounters when their paths had met, for she acted far older than her fifteen years.

Lady Celia was the niece of the very same gentleman who thought Adrian and Grace were married, not brother and sister. The man was a fool to let a simple misunderstanding stand between him and Grace, and worse to give her no opportunity to rectify his misconception. As Adrian continued to examine the room, it was as if Lord Nicholas Lacey knew where Adrian’s thoughts had led. Grace’s gentleman eyed him warily whilst sizing up the table for his next shot. Adrian did his best to hide a smirk of satisfaction knowing he could so easily get under the man’s skin just by appearing in the room. He wondered how far he could push him.

Wishing to test his theory, he made his way to Lady Celia, whose face lit up as he drew closer. “Lady Celia, how lovely you look this afternoon,” he crooned in a sweet tone. “Why, the sun and stars must surely shine brighter knowing they gaze upon you from their place in the heavenly sky above.”

Nervous giggles escaped both the young lady, and her sister, Lady Alice, who stood next to her. “You are too kind, my lord. Will you be joining in the tournament?” Lady Celia replied, snapping open her fan to wave it in front of her flushed face.

What a becoming blush, he thought as he gave her what he considered his best smile. It really was a shame she was not older. “Perhaps, if I can find a willing opponent.”

“Pick someone. There are plenty here waiting for a chance to play.”

Her eyes sparkled as she gave him the challenge, leaving Adrian to wonder if he should consider asking her. Instead, he turned his attention to the window and noticed the weather. “I am surprised to see you indoors on such a pleasant day. I would think a stroll in the gardens with the other ladies, no matter their condition this time of year, would be more to your liking.”

“I am here to watch my uncle, but perhaps afterwards I shall take your advice,” she said.

Maybe a small distraction would not cause too much harm, he thought. “Would you care –”

“Excuse me, Lord de Courtenay,” Lord Nicholas interrupted, giving Adrian a slight bump when he brushed up against him while moving to the same side of the table as his niece to continue his assessment of the balls left on the table.

“My apologies, Lord Nicholas,” he replied. Taking a step closer to Lady Celia, Adrian took her elbow to move her slightly out of the way. He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “We must not distract your uncle from his game. We would not want him to lose now, would we?”

“Of course not,” Lady Celia murmured. As she raised her face to his, Adrian was momentarily startled. She was too innocent to know she revealed her emotions with just one glance in his direction with her lovesick eyes. This may have been only a game to set her uncle’s nerves on edge, but he was not one to dabble with the affections of a young impressionable woman still in the school room. No, best not to encourage her. His early thought of escorting her outside, vanished for he did not wish to hurt her feelings.

Just as he was beginning to wonder how he would get himself out of the situation he put himself in, Grace solved his dilemma by entering the room.

Lord Nicholas was too preoccupied with lining up his shot to notice Grace was present. Adrian smirked, knowingly. Just as the man drew back his arm to make his play, Adrian called out loudly. “There you are at last, Gracie darling.” He watched in satisfaction as Lord Nicholas completely missed the cue ball. “Will you excuse me, Lady Celia?” he whispered for her ears alone.

Adrian made his way to his sister, gave her what would appear as an affectionate kiss on her cheek, and then proceeded to drape his arm around her shoulder pulling her close.

“Whatever are you up to, Adrian,” Grace said quietly, “as if I could not guess, considering who is here?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, my dear,” he replied stiffly, watching Lord Nicholas who now was talking with his nieces. He looked none too happy with the young lady Adrian had just left whilst Celia continued to stare in his direction. “It is hardly my fault Lord Nicholas missed his shot.”

“I am not necessarily talking about the tournament, Adrian, and you very well know it. What are you doing looking all moon eyed over his niece,” she all but hissed, taking him up task. “She is far too young for you.”

Regret for the small part he played in furthering Lady Celia’s infatuation with him, he took Grace’s elbow and went to the farthest corner of the room. “I was only having a bit of fun with your beau, Gracie.”

“He is not my beau,” she hissed, even as Adrian put an arm up against the wall all but capturing her in the corner. Such a gesture gave the impression of an intimate conversation between them. “Stop it, Adrian.”

“Why should I?” he asked. “If Lord Nicholas is a fool to think we are married then let him see we are a happy couple. It will make for such an entertaining event when he finally learns the truth.”

“You are horrible to tease him but what is even worse is for you to be giving any form of attention to that poor young girl who clearly thinks she is in love with you!”

Adrian whirled around. Sure enough, Celia’s face registered her disappointment and confusion whilst she continued to watch him before her uncle escorted her from the room. “Very well, Grace. I shall concede your point about Lady Celia by no longer encouraging her attention, but be warned. Lord Nicholas is still fare game.”

It would be several years before Adrian’s path would cross again with Lady Celia Lacey.

Adrian de Courtenay and Lady Celia Lacey are secondary characters in Sherry Ewing’s novella, A Kiss for Charity which is part of Holly and Hopeful Hearts, a Bluestocking Belles Collection. 25% of the sales benefit the Belles’ mutual charity, the Malala Fund.

A KISS FOR CHARITY ~ Young widow, Grace, Lady de Courtenay, is more concerned with improving her mind than finding another husband. But how was she to know that a close encounter with a rake at a masquerade ball would spark her interest and make her yearn for love again?

Lord Nicholas Lacey has been on his own for far too long after losing his wife in a tragic accident. After a rare trip to a masquerade, his attention is captivated by a lovely young woman. Considering the dubious company she keeps, perhaps she might be interested in becoming his mistress…

From the darkened paths of Vauxhall Gardens to a countryside estate called Hollystone Hall, Nicholas and Grace must set aside their differences in order to let love into their hearts. It will take more than a dose of holiday cheer to see these two on the road to finding their happily-ever-after and a kiss for charity may just be what they both need.

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The Lascivious Duchess

By Caroline Warfield

On February 11, 2017

In Bluestocking Belles, Caroline Warfield, Teatime Tattler

The Hare and Ewe Public House, Wheatton

July 1834

Rob Wilkens came in acting like a bug on the edge of a hot kettle the morning the duke left the Hall. We all knew it would be thus and had warned him, but he would insist on taking a job in the big old barn that is Eversham Hall. Fancied the footman’s livery, he did.

“His Grace always leaves as soon as he gets wind the duchess is coming back,” we warned him. I warned him. Warren the blacksmith warned him. Peck from up at the Hall warned him. Hell, even his mother warned him. The Duchess of Murnane is a harpy and that’s a fact.

“She left with some Italian count this time,” he had answered, fool that he was. “Maybe she won’t come back. Italy is so far from Wiltshire, she may as be going to the moon,” he said.

That were two years ago, when the duke came back and his cousin Rand married the Indian woman before they returned to Canada. Lots o’ folks took work at the Hall. His Grace always fills the jobs after she leaves, not that he has to. There are always them that are stupid enough to take her coin until she works ’em half to death, gives ’em the sharp edge of her tongue one time too many, or poisons ’em with her lies.

In the case of comely lads like Rob, she does worse, at least worse for the innocent ones. Some of ’em take what she offers and laugh behind her back, strutting around yard like roosters who got one over on their fellows. Danny Sullivan, though, he fancied himself in love with the woman. When she used him and moved on, she fired him for complaining. His father claimed the gun that killed him was an accident from cleaning the thing, but there were those who thought otherwise.

“What are you going to do?” Warren asked Rob that morning.

“What can I do? My mother needs the coin I send,” Rob said glumly. Danny’d been his friend. I hoped that made him think hard about working there.

“I can be wary, but—” he raised his hands looking helpless.

“What can she do if she comes after you and you say no?” One of the farmers asked him.

“She’ll fire him,” Peck said. “He may as well quit first.” Peck would know. Tough old bastard was too much gristle for the lady’s taste, so he stayed on during the comings and goings, trying to keep things up for the duke’s sake.

We all like the duke well enough, but the county could use his attention. Between the duchess’s outrages and his boy’s illness, he don’t pay much attention to the estate, much less the neighborhood. Even when he’s here he hares off to London often enough, with some government work. “Affairs of State,” Peck called it. It wasn’t like the old days when at least Miss Catherine, she who’s now a countess, lived over at Songbird Cottage and Squire Archer across the river.

“You in charge now?” I asked Peck.

“I can’t manage the books and such, but I keep the boys working,” Peck answered, “Them as stay on. His Grace hired another steward. Starts next week before she comes.”

We all stared into our ale for a while after that. She goes after the stewards first. We figured this one wouldn’t last a year.

“So,” Peck said to Rob, “Are you quitting or staying? Old Banks will help you duck out of her attention.” We all knew the butler, Banks, was useless against the duchess. Rob did too. Peck raised his tankard and gave Rob a sly look over the top before he took a sip. “You can just take what she offers. Some do.”

Rob shuddered. “Makes me feel dirty just thinking about being used like that.”

Ellen the barmaid snorted when she slammed down three tankards of ale on our table. “Now you know how the lasses feel when you sniff under their skirts.” She sashayed away with her nose in the air, and Rob’s eyes followed her across the room.

I glanced at Ellen and back at him. “I can use a lad willing to work hard,” I said, though I didn’t know it until that very moment. “I can’t pay the Hall’s wages, but I’ll hire you.”

He stared into his drink a while, then gazed over at Ellen standing in the kitchen door. “Thank you kindly Mr. Doughty. I think I’ll take you up on that.”

___________________________________________________

The Duke of Murnane’s cousin Rand is the hero of Caroline Warfield’s The Renegade Wife. The duchess caused a rift between the two of them in their youth before moving on to other game. The duke appears in that book and also its sequel, The Reluctant Wife, coming in April 2017. The duchess does not, but her pernicious influence permeates both books.

About The Renegade Wife

Desperate and afraid, Meggy Blair will do whatever it takes to protect her children. She’d hoped to find sanctuary from her abusive husband with her Ojibwa grandmother, but can’t locate her. When her children fall ill, she seeks shelter in an isolated cabin in Upper Canada. But when the owner unexpectedly returns, he’s furious to find squatters disrupting his self-imposed solitude.

Reclusive businessman Rand Wheatly had good reason to put an ocean between himself and the cousin that betrayed him. He just wants the intrusive woman gone, but it isn’t long before Meggy and her little ones begin breaking down the defensive walls he’s built. But their fragile interlude is shattered when Meggy’s husband appears to claim his children, threatening to have Rand jailed.

The only way for Meggy to protect Rand is to leave him. But when her husband takes her and the children to England, Meggy discovers he’s far more than an abuser; what he’s involved in endangers all their lives. To rescue the woman who has stolen his heart, Rand must follow her and do what he swore he’d never do: reconcile with his aristocratic family and finally uncover the truth behind all the lies. But time is running out for them all.

Read it for FREE with Kindle Unlimited or buy a copy by clicking here.

A Rather Disappointing Wedding

By Caroline Warfield

On January 14, 2017

In Bluestocking Belles, Caroline Warfield, Teatime Tattler

We petitioned our contact in the neighborhood of Wheatton in Wiltshire for information about the wedding of Mr. Randolph Wheatly, cousin of the Duke of Murnane to his commoner bride from Canada. The personage, who chooses to remain anonymous, managed to obtain an invitation to both wedding and the wedding breakfast. Those hoping for some elements reminiscent of the American savage wilderness (reputed to be the home of the bride) will be disappointed, but our contact reports some on-dits of interest to those who follow the eccentric activities of the Landrum/Wheatly family.
________________________________________________

After a standard Church of England ceremony, conducted I must say with Little Elegance, but blessedly no Whiff of Papist Nonsense, we retired to Eversham Hall for a breakfast provided by the Duke. The fare rated Tolerable at best, with the meal more than adequate but the cakes being of little distinction. The entertainment was flawed by Running Herds of small children. One might have expected better in a home of this station, but one would have been disappointed. This Sad Fact owes itself, perhaps, to the absence of the duchess. His Grace, being a Man, did his best no doubt, but he is rarely home long enough to ensure a well-run household.

The newlyweds slunk off indecently early to spend an extended honeymoon in the groom’s childhood home, Songbird Cottage, amid a flood of Sickening Sentimentality. Neighbors expressed surprise that a man of Wheatly’s means did not take his bride to Paris or one of the Better European spas, but the woman professed herself more comfortable in the Wretched Cottage, a preference that reveals much about her Common Origins, and more than she might like about her Taste.

The Earl and Countess of Chadbourn have elected to linger with his nephew, the duke, and Eversham Hall will be overrun with children for some days as a result. The earl has ever doted on his brothers-in-law and his nephew, whom he refers to as “the boys,” as if he were their father. A father’s love, as they say, is blind, which appears to be true in this case.

We neither saw nor heard anything about the Countess’s other brother, Mr. Frederick Wheatly, One is given to understand that he remains with the East India Company forces in Bengal, but one hears no sign of any Distinction or Honors associated with such service. A persistent rumor would have it that he fled from a posting in Cambridgeshire, taking the appointment to Bengal to get out of some sort of trouble.

I feel compelled to add a note about the Duke and Duchess of Murnane who rarely reside in the same place at the same time. The duke appears to prefer London and visits his estate only when the duchess is on one of her Extended Holidays, generally accompanied by an Italian count or Polish princeling. When she is at home it becomes obvious why mothers in the neighborhood discourage their sons from taking positions as groom or footman at Eversham Hall. The woman is shameless. One pities the duke, particularly because he has sole care of the boy who appears more sickly whenever one lays eyes on him. The entire situation is unnatural.

Be that as it may, His Grace hosted the wedding celebration. It carried on much of the afternoon with neither brother nor duchess in appearance, becoming commoner and commoner as the hours stretched and wine bottles emptied.
____________________________________________________
Rand, Fred, and Charles Wheatly, the boys of A Dangerous Nativity, are the heroes of Caroline Warfield‘s Children of Empire Series. This wedding takes place in the first book of the series, The Renegade Wife

About the Book

Reclusive businessman Rand Wheatly had good reason to put an ocean between himself and the family that deceived him. He just wants the intrusive woman gone, but it isn’t long before Meggy and the start breaking down the defensive walls he’s built. But their fragile interlude is shattered when Meggy’s husband appears to claim his children, threatening to have Rand jailed.

Read for free with Kindle Unlimited or buy a copy on Amazon.

Miranda makes her move!

By Sherry Ewing

On December 24, 2016

In Jude Knight, Sherry Ewing, Teatime Tattler

A Lady Correspondent had not intended to eavesdrop. Truly. She was just sitting in an alcove catching her breath and, it must be admitted, admiring the two Grenford brothers who were leaning on a pillar just in front of her. She could not help but see Miss de C accost them. She could not help but overhear all that transpired. At one point, she nearly spoke up, as horrified as the target of the brothers’ focused attention, but no. Surely Miss de C would be most embarrassed to know anyone else had witnessed her humiliation. She sank back into the shadows. But was she not planning to write the story for the Teatime Tattler? No. No she was not. However she disguised the name and circumstances, everyone here tonight would recognize the event to which she referred. The brothers had been careful of the silly girl’s reputation. She could not destroy it.

Miss Miranda de Courtenay took one last look into the mirror, adjusted her domino mask, and left her room. There was no turning back now. Her mind made up, she prayed her brother Adrian would not remove her from the ball the moment he set eyes upon her scandalous costume of a Greek goddess. If she were to win her bet with her sister Grace, she needed to make an impression on the man whom she had chosen as her target. She had no desire to lose that wonderful bonnet her brother had brought her from Paris and she already looked forward to winning the bottle of perfume from her sister.

Entering the ballroom, she had a moment of hesitation as her eyes quickly scanned the occupants of the already overflowing room. She took a deep breath, wondering if she could truly pull off an outside appearance of confidence when deep inside she was a nervous wreck. I can do this and must remember my purpose, she thought, whilst her gaze continued to flit across the crowd. Ah ha! There he is. There was no mistaking the handsome form of none other than the Marquis of Aldridge, along with his brother, the equally devastating Lord Jonathan. ‘Gren’, he had asked her to call him, and surely such an intimacy must mean he intended to propose?

She shrugged. Either man would do. She pushed back her shoulders and began advancing toward the two gentlemen, one of whom was leaning upon a pillar looking utterly divine. Neither man had a costume other than their evening attire and the masks placed upon their handsome faces; one white, the other black. Perhaps this is what set these two gentlemen apart from any other within the room, for they needed no other enhancement to draw attention to themselves. She had chosen wisely when she set her cap. Inwardly she sighed, wondering how she would feel once she actually received a proposal of marriage from the man known as the Merry Marquis.

Grace’s warning that she should stay far away from this man in particular flashed through her mind, but she ignored it. She dropped down into a proper curtsey, hoping against hope that the men found her attractive as she knew she appeared.

“Good evening, my lords,” she purred. “Were you perhaps looking for me?” She was unprepared for the smile that made her insides churn in a wave of nervous jitters. Being on the receiving end of the Marquis’s charm was deeply disturbing.

His voice was pitched to carry just as far as her ears. “Why, Miss de Courtenay, how delightful you look. Aphrodite herself come to enthrall us with her beauty.”

Her cheeks flushed with heat causing her to question her own stupidity for wearing such a daring gown. But it obviously had the desired effect and could only serve as one step closer to winning her bet. “You are too kind, my lord,” she said offering her hand.

Gren leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “What a charming blush. I would love to see how much of you it covers, my dear.”

A gasp escaped her. How could it not? For all she pretended to act as if she knew all there was to know about men, she was an innocent at only twenty years of age. Miranda instantly became aware that Grace may have been correct when she warned her about this pair. She could feel the warmth of the man’s breath as he lingered near her ear.

She glanced down at her gown and was shocked at how much of her cleavage was there for his viewing pleasure since he towered above her. Good heavens, she really was a fool to have chosen this costume but the die was cast and she had no one else to pursue in her attempts to win what she was now thinking a silly and foolish bet.

Raising her chin, she took hold of her fan and playfully slapped the gentleman’s arm. “My you are a bold one, are you not?” she teased, all the while wondering how she was going to get herself out of this mess she was in and still save face with her sister.

“As are you, my sweet,” Gren said. “And I admire boldness. Do not you, Aldridge?”

“Indeed. Boldness in a woman is highly desirable,” Aldridge agreed, his lids half closed, his voice husky. “Exactly how bold is she, Gren, do you think?”

Miranda glanced between the pair. This was not exactly how she thought this conversation would be leading. Perhaps, if she could just get the marquis alone for a moment, she might still be able to get him to offer for her. Surely he would be swept away by her beauty and propose on bended knee in no time at all.

She turned her full attention to the gentleman, all but ignoring his brother. Rude, perhaps, but this was a matter of grave importance. “My Lord Aldridge, perhaps you could spare me a moment to have a private word with you, just there, by the alcove?”

“Oh no, my dear,” Aldridge said, lifting one aristocratic eyebrow over twinkling eyes. “We must be more careful of your reputation. I would not for the world risk your good name ─ or your brother’s good health.”

“Fie, Aldridge,” Gren scolded. “How would the child know the way these things are done? She is very young still.”

“It will be my pleasure to school her,” Aldridge murmured, his words for his brother, but his eyes captivating Miranda’s and not letting them go. “Very much my pleasure. And hers, too, of course.”

Eyes wide and turning scarlet, she could barely breathe at the implication of his words. Right here, of all places, on the sideline of the ballroom for any and all to hear. Good heavens!

“My Lord, I─” Her lips snapped shut. Any further response was beyond her, as she felt, not just Aldridge, but his brother as well step closer, one to each side of her. When had this situation become completely out of her control?

“But you will share, Aldridge, will you not?” Gren asked. “After all, Miss de Courtenay’s lures have been as much for me as for you. And we have shared a mistress before”

Aldridge nodded. “It is only fair to the lady. The duties of the duchy will prevent me from giving her the devoted attention I used to be able to pay my lovers.”

Miranda’s head swiveled between the pair of brothers. She opened and closed her mouth several times before she was at last able to squeak out some form of a response. “Sh-share?” she stammered. Her hand rose to her throat as if that would cover her embarrassment and heaving bosom.

“I assure you, good sirs, that I am not yours to be,” she quickly looked around so she was not overheard and whispered, “shared between you.”

“Aldridge has grown stuffy,” Gren assured her. “If you were our mistress, my love, I would make sure you never felt neglected.”

“Mistress? Between you?” she cried out in alarm. All thought of trying to squeeze a marriage proposal out of either man was gone as she tried to wrap her thoughts around their outrageous proposition.

Both men frowned, straight eyebrows drawn down over identical hazel eyes. “You would prefer just one of us?” Aldridge asked.

“I suppose that’s fair,” Gren said to his brother. “I dare say she is still an innocent, despite the way she has been pursuing us. She might struggle to meet the needs of us both.” He turned back to the gasping maiden. “You choose then, Miss de Courtenay. Whose mistress would you like to be?”

“I will not be any man’s mistress but a wife,” she huffed, stamping her foot as though that would drive her point home. She looked between the pair and still could not believe they would offer such a proposition as to actually be their mistress. What a fool she had been!

“Grace was right about you,” she whispered gazing directly at Aldridge, as if he were the root of all her problems. She hated to admit she had knowingly brought this whole ghastly situation upon herself with her own sense of arrogance and pride. Humiliation consumed her even as tears welled up in her eyes, both from embarrassment and frustration that she had lost the stupid bet with her sister. At least she still had her virginity intact. God help her if she stayed any longer with this dangerous pair before her.

With tears rushing down her face, she mumbled an apology and dashed from the room, barely even acknowledging Grace when she entered the ballroom. She would have been appalled if she had witnessed her sister’s silent toast with her glass of wine to the gentlemen she had just left.

Aldridge and Gren returned Grace’s salute with a nod and a smile, but Gren’s eyes are clouded. “Poor innocent,” he commented. “I didn’t expect it to upset her so much.”

Aldridge pursed his lips. “She might act like a vixen on the hunt, but she is no more than a foolish kitten. Our agreement with her sister had us honour-bound to offend but not injure.”

Gren grinned. “I kept to my lines, Mr. Propriety. The frown returned to crease his brow. “But I am sorry for the silly chit.”

“Better hurt feelings and pride than ruination,” Aldridge said. “If she’d tried her tricks in London some rogue would have had her out in the garden or off in some secluded library before her brother or sister knew she was on the loose. Yes, and flat on her back with her skirts up whether she wanted or not, with some of the people you and I both know. We have done her a favour, Gren.”

“We’ve won Grace her bet, that’s certain,” Gren concedes. “Though I imagine she is happier to have her sister safe than whatever fribbet they wagered.”

Mission accomplished, the two brothers begin to move through the ballroom, still talking. They were sons of the hostess, and Mama would expect them to mingle.

ABOUT HOLLY AND HOPEFUL HEARTS

When the Duchess of Haverford sends out invitations to a Yuletide house party and a New Year’s Eve ball at her country estate, Hollystone Hall, those who respond know that Her Grace intends to raise money for her favorite cause and promote whatever marriages she can. Eight assorted heroes and heroines set out with their pocketbooks firmly clutched and hearts in protective custody. Or are they?

Holly and Hopeful Hearts is a Bluestocking Belles Collection is on sale now through December for $0.99.
25% of the sales benefit the Belles’ mutual charity the Malala Fund!

Buy Links:
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This is an original piece by Bluestocking Belles Sherry Ewing and Jude Knight.

Miranda and the Grenford brothers can be found as secondary characters in the Bluestocking Belles’ 2016 holiday box set entitled, Holly and Hopeful Hearts. Miranda, in particular, is in A Kiss for Charity by Sherry Ewing. Aldridge and Gren are interwoven in several of the novellas and are written by Jude Knight. They also appear in Jude’s latest release, Revealed in Mist. You can learn more about Jude and Sherry and where to find their published work by clicking on their names on this website.

Stunning Crime Thwarted by Duke’s Grandson on Marlborough Street

By Aunt Augusta

On December 21, 2016

In Guest author, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

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This reporter is in shock today after witnessing the attempted heinous crime in our dear city of London, this day, the 23rd of December, in the year of our Lord 1822. The criminal acted with deplorable boldness when he attempted to snatch the reticule of the ton’s beloved Lady Delia Witherspoon whilst the lady frequented the elegant shops of Marlborough Street. This reporter is appalled at the criminal’s audacity to commit such fiendish acts, but it is with a gleeful pen I report the criminal’s even more magnificent downfall.

It happened thus –

Lady Witherspoon had just alighted from her carriage in front of the esteemed establishment of Rugbottom’s Books on Marlborough Street at the stroke of two o’clock. The lady was, of course, escorted by her charming companion, one Miss Penelope Paiget. Lady Witherspoon was intent on procuring one or two more items for the loved ones on her Christmas list when she thought to peruse the offerings of Rugbottom’s. But no more had she stepped from the carriage than the assailant attacked, slicing the strings of her reticule with wicked accuracy as he made off with his purloined treasures. Lady Witherspoon promptly and properly executed a trembling scream of outrage so sharp it was heard by this reporter from across the thoroughfare.

This reporter had only seconds to follow the ill-fated attempt of the criminal to flee when the intrepid Mr. Samuel Black, whom our dear readers will know as the handsome grandson of the popular Duke of Lofton, leaped into action with breathtaking cunning. With moves this reporter is unable to capture with proper articulation, Mr. Black apprehended the criminal and returned the offended reticule to Lady Witherspoon. But while Mr. Black’s capture of the thug was earthshattering, it pales in comparison to the explosion of heat that erupted when our dear Mr. Black laid eyes on the lovely Miss Paiget.

Will this reporter be writing of the sounds of wedding bells for our Mr. Black and Miss Paiget? Perhaps next time on the Tattler.

To Be a Spy: A Christmas Spy Series Short Story

by Jessie Clever

Samuel Black must make a decision: to be a spy like his father or follow his heart.

Either is likely to give his mother chest pains.

For Samuel is no longer a lad with the ambitious and noble wish of being a lamplighter to keep the seedy streets of London safe. About to embark on university, his mind stirs with the thoughts of creating a policing force in London to safeguard its citizens. Held back by his family’s legacy as spies, Samuel does not make his ideas known.

But when he stops a would-be purse-snatcher, his path unexpectedly veers into that of one Miss Penelope Paiget, and suddenly, Samuel must make a choice.

The short stories in the Spy Series:
1. To Be a Spy
2. To Be a Duke
3. To Be a Lady
4. To Be a Debutante

The Spy Series short stories take place after the conclusion of the Spy Series.

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Excerpt

London, 1822

It happened on Marlborough Street a little past two o’clock two days before Christmas.

Samuel had just returned from Eton the day before as his Greek studies had compelled him to stay longer than the rest of the students. It all sounded rather dull, but honestly, it was quite thrilling as one of his tutors believed he had stumbled upon an undiscovered Biblical text. The ramifications could be enormous, and so when asked to assist him in analyzing the text, Samuel had stayed on, of course. It wasn’t as if he would miss the opportunity.

And thus two days before Christmas, he found himself on Marlborough trying desperately to find a present for Jane and Elizabeth. He wondered briefly if any other man of ten and eighteen was stricken with not just one headstrong sister but two for whom to shop, and if those sisters were raised by an equally headstrong mother. All three of them would not settle for the customary ribbons or baubles or fabrics that other ladies would surely drool over. If it were anything less than divine, the Black women would not find it at all appealing.

Samuel stared in one window after another hoping inspiration would strike. It was while waiting for inspiration that the crime was committed.

He was standing innocently enough outside of Rugbottom’s Books admiring a particularly ornate illustration of Shakespeare’s sonnets when the commotion began behind him. Having been raised in less than ordinary circumstances, the time that lapsed between when the commotion began and when Samuel noticed it was rather exaggerated. But commotions were quite common in the Black family, and he thought nothing of it.

Until Lady Delia Witherspoon screamed.

“He’s stolen my reticule!”

Samuel turned at this in time to see Lady Witherspoon pointing at a fleeing figure clutching the offended reticule under his arm.

And then Lady Witherspoon screamed again.

“That man! He’s stolen my reticule!”

The fleeing man charged at Samuel directly, as it was previously noted, Samuel merely stood in the middle of the pavement staring into a window. He was obviously ripe for any interaction with a passerby on the pavement, even should that passerby be a thief.

As he watched the thief approach, Samuel’s mind took that opportunity to think on matters. He wondered briefly if other gentlemen stepped out of the way of fleeing criminals or if they advanced. He wondered if they cowered at the thought of getting their waistcoat ruined. And then he wondered what the wives of said gentlemen would think if their noble husbands did not act to avenge the slight against a lady.

Samuel thought none of that likely as the gentlemen of the ton that he had had the pleasure of meeting were all sopping idiots. The apprehension of criminals was not something that suited such personalities.

And then Samuel sighed.

He sighed because he quite liked his waistcoat. It was a fine cranberry color that went well with his breeches, and if he had learned anything from his Uncle Alec, it was that a man who showed care for his dress showed care in every aspect of his life. And that was why Samuel was rather despondent to put his cranberry waistcoat in danger.

About Jessie Clever

Jessie decided to be a writer because the job of Indiana Jones was already filled.

Taking her history degree dangerously, Jessie tells the stories of courageous heroines, the men who dared to love them, and the world that tried to defeat them.

Jessie makes her home in the great state of New Hampshire where she lives with her husband and two very opinionated Basset Hounds. For more, visit her website at jessieclever.com.

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