Tag: Regency romance Page 41 of 47

Secrets and Lies

On December 14, 2016

December 23rd

An occasional correspondent has sent along information of a most interesting turn. lady-wallingford A widowed marchioness (we shall call her Lady W) has been seen in town this winter after an absence of several years. Instead of taking up residence in her son’s elegant townhouse, she is staying with a certain Lady J and her daughter, Miss J. Our correspondent reports rumors of an impending betrothal between the younger lady and Lady W’s son, the current marquess.

And it has also been supposed that the nuptials will be soon, as we have learned that Lord W has returned from a lengthy sojourn on the Continent. Though, in an interesting turn of events, he also is eschewing his noble abode and staying with friends, the very same Lord and Lady H to whom so much scandal attached a year ago! Yes, and this is the very same Lady H who has been in such a delicate way that the midwife was spotted arriving late yesterday.

Never fear, Dear Reader. We are sending out inquiries and will report on this curious story tomorrow!

December 28^th

Dear Reader, scant days ago we told you about a certain Lady W and her son’s expected nuptials with a certain Miss J. The festivities of the past few days have prevented us from reporting further on this matter, for which we apologize and presume to accept your forgiveness, for as it is, we have news of a most interesting turn that will not disappoint!

j-_t-_mitchell_-_elizabeth_mary_and_augustus_william_hillary_-_google_art_project-11 Lady W has decamped most abruptly from the home of Miss J, moving lodgings to the very residence where her son, Lord W, is staying. And, furthermore, she has been spotted in the park with two children, reported to be the twin daughters of Lady H’s midwife. And, most shockingly, Lord W was seen arriving at Lord H’s one morning, escorting the very same midwife, and has not been seen since. We have learned that Miss J and her parents have left London, some say to travel to their home estate, others say to visit Bath, others, the Continent.

Mark my word, Dear Reader, there is an interesting story here, and we at the Teatime Tattler will uncover it.

January 15

Dear Reader, several days ago we reported on the curious behavior of Lord W and his mother. We promised to get to the heart of this mystery, and we keep our promises! One of our intrepid correspondents has received news that Banns have been posted at Lord W’s home parish announcing the nuptials of Lord W and a bride who is most assuredly not Miss J!

We will have more news for you tomorrow on this story. You won’t want to miss it!

About the Book: The Marquess and the Midwife

Once upon a time, the younger brother of a marquess fell in love with his sister’s companion. He was sent off to war, and she was just sent off, and they both landed in very different worlds.

Now Virgil Radcliffe has returned from his self-imposed exile on the Continent to take up his late brother’s title and discover the whereabouts of the only woman he’s ever loved.

Abandoned by her lover and dismissed by her employer, Ameline Dawes has found a respectable identity as a Waterloo widow, a new life as a midwife, and a safe, secure home for her twin girls. Called to London at Christmas to attend her benefactress’s lying-in, she finds herself confronted by an unexpected house guest–a man determined to woo her anew and win her again.

But, is loving the new Marquess of Wallingford a mistake Ameline cannot afford to repeat?

The Marquess and the Midwife is specially priced at 99 cents through December 31, 2016

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~Excerpt~

Ye gods, but her ladyship needed more maids, and a couple more footmen with both arms and both legs, at least for this type of fetching and carrying.

Ameline chided herself for being insensitive and balanced the steaming bucket. She set down the lamp momentarily to gather her skirts, along with the lamp handle.

A pair of men’s boots moved into view and the lamp bobbled. Fine boots they were.

She sighed, gritting her teeth. Lord Hackwell’s visits had unnerved his lady, and Ameline had counseled him to leave.

Very well, she’d thrown him out, once almost literally. He would wonder what she was doing below stairs. He might send for the accoucheur he was mumbling about, and his lady would not like it.

“I’ve just popped down to the kitchen for a word with Alton, my lord,” she said. “All is going well, except he’s a bit short on staff.”

“We have noticed that.”

The skin on her back rippled and she shivered. This wasn’t Hackwell—it was him.

Panic flared in her and her hands and ankles began to tingle. He carried no light. She let her own lantern dip lower and stepped to one side. What was he doing on the servants’ staircase in the middle of the night?

If he saw her, he would remember her, but he would not want to, unless he would think to befriend her again. Heat flamed in her.

She took in a breath. “Let me pass, Lord Hackwell,” she said.

“Let me carry that bucket for you.”

“No.” She forced in another breath, willing herself to speak calmly. “That is, no thank you. I shall send a servant for you when it is time.”

Footsteps scurried on the stairs. “Mrs. Dawes?” Jenny called, breathless.

Her heart raced again. She’d tarried too long in the kitchen. “I’ll be right—”

Heat touched her hand as the bucket came out. The lantern, too, lifted higher, and she looked up into the face of Lord Virgil Radcliffe, now the latest Lord Wallenford.

“Mrs. Dawes?” His eyes widened and then narrowed, and his lips curved down.

Anger spiked in her. “Lord Wallenford.”

He moved down to the step below her, putting them at eye level, and crowded her against the hand rail.

“Give me the bucket, sir. I can manage quite well without your help.” Quite, quite well.

“Can you, indeed?” he drawled, sounding just like his brother the day he’d sacked her.

Blast him. Blast the Wallenfords. Blast the Hackwells. “Alton has a bottle set out. Best go and fetch it.”

His lips quirked.

She gritted her teeth. “Give me the blasted bucket, Virgil.”

About the Author

Award winning author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature, but her true passion is 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 her husband, her spunky, blonde, rescued terrier, and the blue-eyed cat who conned his way in for dinner one day and decided the food was too good to leave.

She is the author of the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner, Rosalyn’s Ring, a 2015 RONE Award finalist, Bella’s Band, and a 2016 National Reader’s Choice Award finalist, Liliana’s Letter, as well as her latest release, The Marquess and the Midwife. She is hard at work on her next series of Regency romances, but loves to hear from readers!

Visit her at:

http://alinakfield.com/
https://www.facebook.com/alinakfield
https://twitter.com/AlinaKField
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7173518.Alina_K_Field
https://www.pinterest.com/alinakf/
https://www.instagram.com/alinak

Swift Marriage Shocks the Ton

By Aunt Augusta

On December 7, 2016

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

armand_dore_der_kleine_liebling_1860 It is with considerable surprise that the Teatime Tattler has learned that Sebastian Hastings, Earl of Langford, has married Miss Sarah Martin.

To say that this is a surprise could well be considered an under-statement, given that Miss Martin has never been to London. Indeed, according to a reliable source, the Earl of Langford only met Miss Martin one week ago.

The motivation and speed of the nuptials gives this writer cause to ponder, particularly as the new Countess of Langford has both limited financial resources and physical attributes. Moreover, she has been noted walking without her maid and in a garb which cannot be considered in the height of fashion.

However, Lady Harrington, Lord Langford’s great aunt, approves of the marriage.

“She is an individual of considerable sense and I am not averse to the match,” Lady Harrington explains.

Again, this writer must question this conclusion. According to one of London’s most fashionable dressmakers, the Countess of Langford has several peculiar habits which hardly seem ‘sensible’. Naturally, I am averse to idle gossip, but it appears that the new Countess keeps numerous animals about her person and apartment. My source wasn’t certain whether the animals were mice, rats or rabbits but assured this writer that they are numerous in the extreme.

Of course, the Earl of Langford has not had a happy matrimonial history. Doubtless my readers will recall his first wife. Sadly, she lost her heart and left rather abruptly for Paris two years ago. Now, more recently, she also lost her head. As is well known, only the Earl of Langford’s daughter has returned to London. His son is still somewhere in France.

This writer and The Teatime Tattler, naturally, wish both the Earl of Langford and his new Countess every success and happiness. I know that London society will join with me in that regard and I certainly will do everything possible to keep my readership updated.

Married for His Convenience

Tainted by illegitimacy, plain Sarah Martin has no illusions of a grand marriage. So when the Earl of Langford makes her a proposal that will take her one step closer to finding her half sister, she can’t refuse!

Sebastian’s dreams of romance died with his late wife’s affair, so now he needs a convenient wife to act as governess for his silent daughter. Yet Sarah continues to surprise and challenge him, and soon Sebastian can’t deny the joy his new bride could bring to his life—and into his bed!

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Excerpt

Dramatic events never happened to her. Ever.

‘If I remove my hand, do you promise not to scream?’ The voice was male. Warm breath touched her ear.

Sarah nodded. The man loosened his hold. She turned.

Her eyes widened as she took in his size, the breadth of his shoulders and the midnight-black of his clothes.

‘Good God, you’re a woman,’ he said.

‘You’re…you’re a gentleman.’ For the cloth he wore was fine and not the roughened garb of a common thief.

She grabbed on to these details as though, through their analysis, she would make sense of the situation.

‘What was your purpose for spying on me?’ His gaze narrowed, his voice calm and without emotion.

‘Spying? I don’t even know you.’ The rabbit squirmed and she clutched it more tightly.

‘Then why are you hiding?’

‘I’m not. Even if I were, you have no reason to accost me.’

Her cheeks flushed with indignation as her fear lessened.
He dropped his hand, stepping back. ‘I apologise. I thought you were a burglar.’

‘We tend not to get many burglars in these parts. Who are you anyway?’

‘Sebastian Hastings, Earl of Langford, at your service.’

He made his bow. ‘And a guest at Eavensham.’

‘A guest? Then why are you in the kitchen garden?’

‘Taking the air,’ he said.

‘That usually doesn’t involve accosting one’s fellow man. You are lucky I am not of a hysterical disposition.’

‘Indeed.’

Briefly, she wondered if wry humour laced his voice, but his lips were straight and no twinkle softened his expression. In the fading light, the strong chin and cheekbones looked more akin to a statue than anything having the softness of flesh.

At this moment, the rabbit thrust its head free of the shawl.

‘Dinner is running late, I presume.’ Lord Langford’s eyes widened, but he spoke with an unnerving lack of any natural surprise.

‘The creature is hurt and I need to bandage him, except Mr. Hudson, the butler, is not fond of animals and I wanted to ensure his absence.’

‘The butler has my sympathies.’

Sarah opened her mouth to respond but the rabbit, suddenly spooked, kicked at her stomach as it clawed against the shawl. Sarah gasped, doubling over, instinctively whispering the reassurances offered by her mother after childhood nightmares.

‘You speak French?’

‘What?’

‘French? You are fluent?’

‘What? Yes, my mother spoke it—could we discuss my linguistic skills later?’ she gasped, so intent on holding the rabbit that she lost her footing and stumbled against the man. His hand shot out. She felt his touch and the strangely tingling pressure of his strong fingers splayed against her back.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes—um—I was momentarily thrown off balance.’

She straightened. They stood so close she heard the intake of his breath and felt its whisper.

‘Perhaps,’ she added, ‘you could see if the butler is in the kitchen? I do not know how long I can keep hold of this fellow.’

‘Of course.’ Lord Langford stepped towards the window as though spying on the servants were an everyday occurrence. ‘I can see the cook and several girls, scullery maids, I assume. I believe the butler is absent.’

‘Thank you. I am obliged.’

Tightening her hold on the rabbit, Sarah paused, briefly reluctant to curtail the surreal interlude. Then, with a nod of thanks, she stooped to pick up the valise.

‘Allow me,’ Lord Langford said, opening the door. ‘You seem to have your hands full.’

‘Er—thank you.’ She glanced up. The hallway’s flickering oil lamp cast interesting shadows across his face, emphasising the harsh line of his cheek and chin and the blackness of his hair.

She stepped inside and exhaled as the door swung shut, conscious of relief, regret and an unpleasant wobbliness in both her stomach and knees.

About Eleanor Webster

Eleanor Webster loves high-heels and sun, which is ironic as she lives in northern Canada, the land of snowhills and unflattering footwear. Various crafting experiences, including a nasty glue-gun episode, have proven that her creative soul is best expressed through the written word.

Eleanor is currently pursuing a doctoral degree in psychology and holds an undergraduate degree in history and creative writing. She loves to use her writing to explore her fascination with the past.

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Pinterest | Goodreads

Hoodwinked! Blackmail!

By Guest author

On November 23, 2016

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

Dear Mr. Clemens,

I am no one important, truly, but I do have a place in Society as the companion of the Marchioness of H—. Her sight is not up to snuff, as most know, and so I act as her eyes and report on the wardrobes, manners and activities of the guests at the events we attend.

henriettebrowne It is in this capacity that I have noticed something odd, sir, and I think that you and the readers of the Teatime Tattler deserve to know—that I believe the members of the ton are being hoodwinked!

I say this because I witnessed a strange occurrence at the theatre some weeks ago. The well-known debutante Miss P— was in attendance and arrived in the carriage just before ours. I saw a street urchin approach the young lady. An unusually long exchange occurred, one that did not sound at all convivial—and at the end Miss P— gave the audacious waif one of her earrings. Since Miss P—a is not known to be of a charitable bent, my employer and I speculate that the young lady had been blackmailed!

All well enough, although the young miss’s mother later denied it. But then I happened to catch a glimpse of . . . let me just say, someone who looks very like that street urchin—at Lady Dayle’s soiree! Well! And the plot thickened further when the urchin was introduced as a certain infamous earl’s betrothed—and it began to be noticed that Miss P— has been spending an inordinate amount of time around said earl—at a time when her own betrothed has been called to the country.

Such goings on! All very suspicious to both myself and my employer. You may rest assured that I will watch very closely this evening at Lady Feltham’s ball—and will report again if I notice anything untoward.

Ever Watchful

A concerned wallflower

Readers can sample that blackmail scene at my website: http://www.debmarlowe.com/the-earls-hired-bride.html

About The Earl’s Hired Bride

Because an unmarried Earl must be in want of a bride . . .

Every debutante in the ton wants to be the Countess of Hartford—and mistress of Hartsworth Castle. Never mind that Hart has no interest in marrying just yet, the young ladies hunt him as ruthlessly as a pack of hounds after the elusive fox. What he needs is a hired bride—one who is guaranteed to call it off at the end of the Season.

Because a girl with no prospects will do what she must to help her family . . .

Miss Emily Spencer must do something. Her mother’s health is failing and the notorious Duke of Danby is growing dangerously close. Why not hide in plain sight and pretend to be the Earl of Hartford’s betrothed? And getting paid for her troubles? It’s just what she needs to make her family comfortable again.

Because love comes when you least expect it . . .

Sparks fly when the two put their plan in motion—and deeper emotions grow. But how can they be together when the path they’ve forged only leads to their inevitable separation?

iBooks – http://apple.co/2dfSzDc
Amazon – http://amzn.to/2dqDDCQ
Nook – http://bit.ly/2dkeRmr
Kobo – http://bit.ly/2dKTQDn
Google Play – http://bit.ly/2dIBmnP

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author Deb Marlowe loves History, England and Men in Boots. Clearly she was meant to write Regency Historical Romance!

Deb grew up in Pennsylvania with her nose in a book. Luckily, she’d read enough romances to recognize the true modern hero she met at a college Halloween party—even though he wore a tuxedo t-shirt instead of breeches and tall boots. They married, settled in North Carolina and produced two handsome, intelligent and genuinely amusing boys. Though she spends much of her time with her nose in her laptop, for the sake of her family she does occasionally abandon her inner world for the domestic adventure of laundry, dinner and carpool. Despite her sacrifice, not one of the men in her family is yet willing to don breeches or tall boots. She’s working on it. Deb loves to hear from readers! You can contact her:

on FB at https://www.facebook.com/pages/DebMarlowe/70397149702
and
https://www.facebook.com/d.m.marlowe
on Twitter at https://twitter.com/DMMarlowewrites
and as @DebMarlowe
on her website at www.DebMarlowe.com
and
http://www.dmmarlowe.com
on Pinterest at https://www.pinterest.com/DebMarloweWrite/

Gossip from a Taproom Vagrant

By Caroline Warfield

On November 19, 2016

In Bluestocking Belles, Regency (19th century Britain), Teatime Tattler

jan_baptist_lambrechts_attr-_-_at_the_tavern I can only say that it is a good thing Mr. Clemens located a prime investigator inside the Duchess of Haverford’s Hopeful Hearts house party because I, intrepid reporter, find myself a marooned at a third rate inn along a road that has become impassible with mud and rutted beyond use. My post chaise broke an axel in the stuff. Here I sit. Tomorrow being Christmas I will go no further for now.

The ale here is poor but abundant, and, with naught else to do, I have stationed myself in the taproom to pick up what miserable crumbs I might. I have not come up empty handed.

I no more ordered my third pint when a horseman swept in, grimaced over a mug of rancid cider, and left. Folks on horseback may travel as they will, but carriage traffic has all but disappeared. I tried to hire a horse with the pittance Clemens gives me for expenses and could not. (More about that later) This man’s horse, a peculiar specimen, stood in the courtyard looking so cool I would have thought it a fresh mount, not one that had been given water and sent on its way again.

The innkeeper acted in awe of the man who stood well over the common height and possessed both dark skin as well as hair. Unlike the innkeeper, I knew the man: he who pretends to be Elfingham, heir in waiting to the Duke of Winshire. He chases the Belvoir chit no doubt, or her brother’s consequence rather, his own being not worth a pittance. Everyone knows he is after her in hopes to shore up the family’s pretense of legitimacy. He swept from the place like the furies pursued him, dark robe flapping in the wind.

Not three hours passed when a groom came in to say a carriage lumbered up the road putting a lie to everyone’s belief that none might make it through. The greedy publican hastened to the door and the rest of the room to the windows to see who had made it so far. I watched it go by with my own eyes, a top of the trees equipage if ever I saw one. I saw the ducal crest as well: The Duke of Haverford. I doubt the old duke bothered to attend his wife’s do. Aldridge, on the other hand, can never resist a party full of beautiful women. It was he, I am certain, and there will be delicious stories to uncover, if only I can get to the Hall and insinuate myself through the kitchen.

Just when the taproom began to settle for the night, yet another carriage arrived, this one less well fated, and obviously unable to go further. A frantic young man, a cit as I live and breathe and a Hebrew—one with a French accent at that— began to berate the innkeeper, obviously desperate to get to Hollystone Hall. Why, I don’t know. No young woman of gentle enough birth to attend a duchess’s house party would entertain such a one as a suitor. I did hear him mention Baumann, the banker. Perhaps he has business with the duchess or with Aldridge. That must be it. Our readers might like to know what.

Here is the odd part. He demanded a horse, and I knew well there were none. Had the innkeeper not refused to hire one out to me? Money talks. Horses were found. Before too long he left with two nags, one a miserable hack and the other, obviously a carriage horse, with his bags loaded on it. Off he went, while I, good Christian citizen of His Majesty’s fair land that I am, remained here with naught but a bench to sleep upon.

franz_adam_-_the_stable_lad

_______________________________________________________

What happened to these holiday travelers? Find out in Holly and Hopeful Hearts, available now from various retailers. 25% of proceeds will go to the Malala Fund.

About the Book

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?

About the Stories

A Suitable Husband, by Jude Knight

As the Duchess of Haverford’s companion, Cedrica Grenford is not treated as a poor relation and is encouraged to mingle with Her Grace’s guests. Surely she can find a suitable husband amongst the gentlemen gathered for the duchess’s house party. Above stairs or possibly below.

Valuing Vanessa, by Susana Ellis

Facing a dim future as a spinster under her mother’s thumb, Vanessa Sedgely makes a practical decision to attach an amiable gentleman who will not try to rule her life.

A Kiss for Charity, by Sherry Ewing

Young widow Grace, Lady de Courtenay, has no idea how a close encounter with a rake at a masquerade ball would make her yearn for love again. Can she learn to forgive Lord Nicholas Lacey and set aside their differences to let love into her heart?

Artemis, by Jessica Cale

Actress Charlotte Halfpenny is in trouble. Pregnant, abandoned by her lover, and out of a job, Charlotte faces eviction two weeks before Christmas. When the reclusive Earl of Somerton makes her an outrageous offer, she has no choice but to accept. Could he be the man of her dreams, or is the nightmare just beginning?

The Bluestocking and the Barbarian, by Jude Knight

James must marry to please his grandfather, the duke, and to win social acceptance for himself and his father’s other foreign-born children. But only Lady Sophia Belvoir makes his heart sing, and to win her he must invite himself to spend Christmas at the home of his father’s greatest enemy.

Christmas Kisses, by Nicole Zoltack

Louisa Wycliff, Dowager Countess of Exeter wants only for her darling daughter, Anna, to find a man she can love and marry. Appallingly, Anna has her sights on a scoundrel of a duke who chases after every skirt he sees. Anna truly thinks the dashing duke cares for her, but her mother has her doubts.

An Open Heart, by Caroline Warfield

Esther Baumann longs for a loving husband who will help her create a home where they will teach their children to value the traditions of their people, but she wants a man who is also open to new ideas and happy to make friends outside their narrow circle. Is it so unreasonable to ask for toe curling passion as well?

Dashing Through the Snow, by Amy Rose Bennett

Headstrong bluestocking, Miss Kate Woodville, never thought her Christmas would be spent racing across England with a viscount hell-bent on vengeance. She certainly never expected to find love…

BUY LINKS for HOLLY AND HOPEFUL HEARTS

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An Unabashed Marquess

By Caroline Warfield

On November 9, 2016

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

It is rather unusual for us at the Teatime Tattler to receive a missive directly from a marquess, but we find ourselves in possession of a rather revealing entry from Richard, Marquess of Devon. Why His Lordship chooses to reveal himself in so public a fashion we do not know. It appears to have something to do with his “author.” We are certain our readers will devour what he has to say with eager enthusiasm. His missive follows exactly as he—and apparently a young lady—wrote it.
S. Clemens

“This is a bit awkward for me since I’ve normally don’t do such a thing. I hope to tell you a bit about myself because my author insisted. She threatened to take away my happily ever after if I didn’t make this appearance, so here we are, old chap.

devon “First of all, I must tell you I never planned on having the type of marriage I ended up with. Who needs all the mess and entanglement of love? Well, it turned out I needed it. But my dear wife, Eugenia, went about it in such a bizarre way that we almost lost each other. You see, she found this little book that . . . . Well, maybe I should let her tell you about it.” (He smiles at Eugenia, gives her a little kiss and pushes her forward.)

eugenia “I would curtsy, but I don’t think any of you would see it, so I will merely say, hello, and I am happy to be here. I am Lady Devon—Eugenia to my friends. I won’t tell you what Devon calls me because my blush would burn up the page. Oh, dear, I mean burn up the website. So hard to keep track of all these things, don’t you think so, my dear?

“Yes, well as Devon said, I found this little book that surely opened my eyes to what I had been missing. You see, I was merely trying to keep Devon from finding another mistress when his mistress died so sadly in a carriage accident. All right, I will admit I did not cry extensively when she met her deserved fate. Oh, dear. Let me take that back. (Deep breath).

“Anyway, to get back to my book. You see I was merely wandering my local book store, where I’ve spent many a pleasant hour reading Miss Jane Austen, Mr. Percy Bysshe Shelley, Sir Walter Scott, Miss Susan Ferrier and Miss Maria Edgeworth. I took a book off the shelf and it caught on another book and pulled it out also. Well, I must tell you (leans in close and whispers) this was not a book like anything I had ever seen before. (Looks around to make sure no one heard that).

“I am sure you want to know all about my book and what I did with it. But, I’m afraid my time is up. Such a rushed time period you live in. (Shakes her head) Anyway, if you want to know more about Secrets of the Bedchamber (blush) you must read Seducing the Marquess. You will be very happy if you do.

“Now I must sign off, or whatever it is you call leaving a website. Devon is motioning to me, and he is carrying the book with a very devilish look on his face. (She fans herself). Off I go!”

So there you have it. Unusual is it not? Perhaps we should look for Seducing the Marquess and that other book. What was it again?

About the Book: Seducing the Marquess

Lord and Lady Devon have a perfectly proper and good ton marriage. Devon is satisfied. And Eugenia was. Until she found the book . . .

Richard, Marquess of Devon, and his wife, Eugenia, have been married five months. They have the perfect ton marriage. Respect and affection, with no messy entanglement such as love. Soon after Devon’s mistress dies, Eugenia stumbles onto a naughty book in a bookstore. A book that explains all the things proper ladies of the ton are unaware of, and would never consent to do with their husbands.

Once Eugenia acquires the book—scandalously—she begins a campaign to make sure her husband has no reason to replace his mistress.

Although Devon has continued to visit his paramour since his marriage, all they’ve done is play cards. Devon’s rigid upbringing impressed upon him that gentlemen slake their baser needs on a mistress, not their gently bred wives. However, once married, he was no longer comfortable bedding a woman other than Eugenia.

As bored matrons and eager widows toss him veiled invitations while he wrestles with this dilemma, his wife has begun to change. No longer the prim and proper woman he courted and married, her behavior leads him to an alarming conclusion…

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2eEBhkP
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Kobo: http://bit.ly/2ehKU4u
iBooks: http://apple.co/2eaJpWp

About the Author

Callie Hutton, USA Today bestselling author writes both Western Historical and Regency romance with “historic elements and sensory details” (The Romance Reviews).

Callie lives in Oklahoma with several rescue dogs, two adult children, a daughter-in-law, twin grandsons and her top cheerleader husband (although thankfully not all in the same home!). Living in the Midwest provides plenty of opportunities for Callie do pursue her interests: researching history, meeting readers, spending time with her adorable two year old twin grandsons, and discovering new adventures.

Callie loves to hear from readers and welcomes the opportunity to become friends, both in person or virtually. Find her online: www.calliehutton.com