Tag: Regency romance Page 42 of 47

Only Foolish Servants Gossip

On September 23, 2016

In Bluestocking Belles, Caroline Warfield, Teatime Tattler

HonoredReaders,

Mrs. Mulligan of Pudding Lane came to our offices this very morning with a most intriguing document. Knowing our readers’ avid interest in the activities of the Grenford family, we agreed to her rather ambitious price to obtain the missive. We hereby print the document in its entirety (with some discrete corrections to spelling and grammar, which were greatly needed) and sincerely hope Miss Maud Mulligan, upstairs maid for the Duchess of Haverford at Hollystone Hall, doesn’t find her career as a servant cut short by her willingness to report on the doings her betters, at least until another such missive may come into our possession.

S. Clemens

Maud Mulligan

Dearest Mother,
You said as how you wanted to know how I got on in this big house and what the toffs and their ladies get up to for three weeks running. It would take more time than that the Stanley woman might give me and more paper than I can afford to tell you all I’ve seen and heard. Most of my stories will have to wait until I see you, if I’m ever free to visit.

Right off I was assigned as maid to Miss Dinah Baumann, a spinster lady of some years. I worried, me not knowing anything about hair and clothes and such, but turns out the lady mostly kept to her bed and had me fetching and carrying for her and the little grey kitten that wiggled its way into her bed one afternoon.

Besides getting up early, starting the fire, fetching the lady’s chocolate, and general cleaning, I go up and down the servants’ stairs once or twice an hour, between Miss Baumann’s demands, the cat making disagreeable messes, and Mrs. Stanley sending me off on one errand and another every time she claps eyes on me, there being so many guests and so few maids. The house fairly buzzes with stories, I can tell you.

Esther Baumann

Miss Baumann—Miss Esther, the young one, not the old lady—is ever so kind. She brought her own maid and told Reba—that’s the maid—to look after me a bit so I don’t get behind. I wouldn’t say an unkind word about the Misses Baumann for all some in this house, ignorant all, think a Jewish Banker’s daughter ought not to be here. A perfect lady is Miss Esther Baumann, dressed as smart as they come and refined as need be. I won’t hear a word against her and so I said over servants’ tea to the ruffian who tends the spit. Young is no excuse for stupid. That’s what Mr. Fournier, (he be the French cook) said. No excuse for stupid. I know better. Remember Mr. Cohn the baker? Most honest baker in the city and his cakes are heavenly.

I was ever so surprised though when that gentleman of Miss Esther arrived with no invitation and still dirty from the road on Christmas morning. Some said as how it showed disrespect, but the duchess didn’t mind. I heard she welcomed him like a long lost friend. When I helped fetch hot water up to the room he shared with Lord Elfingham—beggars not being choosers—he seemed gentleman enough to me. He put me in mind of Mr. Cohn’s son Havel.

Adam Halevy

I should say I believe Mr. Halevy is Miss Esther’s gentlemen, but I’m not sure. She certainly follows him with her eyes when he’s around, or, so a footman told me, but she told her aunt that she never wanted to talk to him. Ever.

But that isn’t the end of it. This is why I took pen to paper tonight. The servant’s hall went all abuzz when the duchess asked Miss Esther and Mr. Halevy to say their Sabbath blessings with the company. I know I shouldn’t have, but I slipped upstairs and into the room where they had set up the table. No one saw me back by the draperies, but I watched it all. I heard that crab, Lady Stanton whisper some horrid things, but most of them looked so interested I think they prayed along. The look on Mr. Halevy’s face when he said the last blessing and she said “Amen,” would have melted any woman’s heart. Maybe the rumor I heard later about Miss Esther going out to the barn with Lord Jonathon Grenford wasn’t true.

Oh my! I’ve gone on too long. The house is in an uproar about the costume ball, and I should be working. Maybe costumes and candlelight and such will make magic for Miss Esther and her gent. I hope so.

Your daughter,
Maud

PS When you go for bread, tell Havel Cohn I asked after him.

__________________________________________________

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?

Adam Halevy prospered under the tutelage of his distant cousin, powerful banker Nathaniel Baumann. He’s ready to find a suitable wife, someone who understands a woman’s role, and will make a traditional home. Why is Baumann’s outspoken, independent daughter the one woman who haunts his nights?

You’ll find it in Holly and Hopeful Hearts, the 2106 Bluestocking Belles’ holiday anthology, available now for pre-order. 25% of all proceeds will go to the Malala Fund. The education of women and girls is the favorite charity of the Duchess of Haverford and the Bluestocking Belles. Scroll to the bottom for links.

An excerpt:

Her restless gaze found Adam standing with the Belvoir ladies and their brother. He smiled down at Felicity Belvoir, who looked utterly rapt.

Esther knew she should move. All afternoon she had avoided him, but at that moment, she could not make her feet move. What has Felicity so fascinated? Is he telling her about Spain? Did he actually meet Wellington? What of his perilous journey? Longing to know kept her fixed in place even as her stubbornness urged her to move away before someone noticed she stared. Too late! Hythe glanced up, saw her, and smiled.

Hythe bowed over her hand and said, “Your friend has had quite an epic adventure.”

“Is that what he’s telling Felicity?” she asked with a haughty shake of her head.

Hythe’s lips twitched, and she felt her cheeks heat. When he offered his arm, panic set in. Does he mean to walk me back to his sisters? Adam is there, the wretch!

Hythe followed the direction of her eyes. “Shall we take a turn about the room, Miss Baumann?” he asked. When she laid a shaking hand on his and nodded, he patted her it with his gloved one, changed the topic of conversation to riding mishaps at the hunt, and soon had her laughing.

An hour later, Esther, relieved to have passed the afternoon without being cornered, she felt composed and less shaken. If Mr. Halevy wishes to speak with me, I’ll permit it. It is foolish to allow him to discomfort me. I’ll be all that is cool and in control.

When she spied him across the room speaking with one of the Duke of Ashbury’s daughters, he looked at her across the expanse of room and smiled with such sweetness that her heart skipped two beats.

hhh-meme

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A Widow Up To Her Old Tricks

By Caroline Warfield

On September 21, 2016

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

We wish to alert our readers that Lady Claudia Akford has stormed back into London after years in seclusion following her grand scandal. As Teatime Tattler readers know, she departed society some years ago after being compromised by Lord Luvington. As the scandal broke, Lady Claudia married Lord Akford in a hasty ceremony and retreated to the country side. Most of London’s elite suspected they had seen the last of her. That the lady would remain hidden from society for the rest of her years as she rightly should after being so thoroughly compromised. Alas, she returned to society setting every tongue in ton wagging.

edmund_blair_leighton_-_the_request Now after less than a fortnight back in society it seems the scandalous lady is proving nothing has changed. The ton’s matrons had hoped Lady Claudia would redeem herself. A few brave ladies even took a chance by allowing her into their drawing rooms. The ton’s hopes where quickly dashed when Lord Shillington was spotted at Lady Claudia’s door, without a chaperon. Can you imagine?

The dowager Countess Bradford happened down St James Square late last evening. She received more than a quiet carriage ride home when much to her shock, she witnessed Lord Shillington entering Lady Claudia’s newly purchased home. Lady Bradford reported seeing Lord Shillington quickly enter the home at a late hour. No one else was with him and we have it on good authority that no societal event was taking place. Lady Claudia is a widow and lives alone.

There is no need to spell out the inappropriate nature of Lord Shillington’s late night visit or the scandalous nature of Lady Claudia’s having admitted him to her home. It would seem Lady Claudia has set her sights on ruining one of London’s most respected lords. Or, mayhap, Lord Shillington has simply fooled the ton into believing him honorable.

Will the pair set things to right? Can London expect another hasty wedding from the tarnished lady? Only time will tell, but you can be assured we will keep you abreast of the situation.

About the Book

She never wanted him…
Ruined by scandal, Claudia Akford survived years of marriage to a cruel brute. Widowed, she is determined to regain her standing in society, but Lord Shillington personifies temptation. Kind and gentle, yet masculine and sinfully handsome, he would make the perfect lover, but he wants more than she is willing to give.

He needed her…
While Henry Shillington knows a little of the beautiful but notorious Lady Claudia Akford, he is struck by her kindhearted, accomplished, and witty demeanor. The more time he spends in her company, the more he dreams of a future with her. But the lady resists his honorable overtures, and a mistress will never do for him.

Can two wary people overcome past hurts, an old scandal, and social strictures to embrace true love?

Buy it here.

About the Author

Bestselling, Amazon All Star author Amanda Mariel dreams of days gone by when life moved at a slower pace. She enjoys taking pen to paper and exploring historical time periods through her imagination and the written word. When she is not writing she can be found reading, crocheting, traveling, practicing her photography skills, or spending time with her family.

Author links:

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/#!/AuthorAmandaMarie1
Twitter www.twitter.com/AmandaMarieAuth
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10209362.Amanda_Marie
Website: www.amandamariel.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bQgkbr

More By the Author

howtokissarogue_600x900 captivated-by-the-captain enchanted-by-the-earl-final

Holly and Hopeful Hearts

By Bluestocking Belles

On September 16, 2016

In Teatime Tattler

Your proprietor, as is well known, is proof against the arrows of the mischievous son of Aphrodite, but sympathetic to those who fall subject to the god’s shafts. Especially when their love seems doomed to disappointment, for who does not like a happy ending against the odds? Today, on behalf of the proprietors, The Teatime Tattler is publishing a special edition to announce a new book from the Bluestocking Belles; one in which no fewer than eight couples are surprised by Cupid’s attentions.

Without further ado, allow your humble servant, Mr. Samuel Clemens, Editor, to present:

hollyhopefulhearts

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?

Read about all eight novellas, and find pre-order links, on the Bluestocking Belles Holly & Hopeful Hearts page.

In between the seven main stories in the box set, one chapter at a time, we tell the story of the duchess’s companion, and her search for a meaningful future. Can it be possible for a poor relation to find a suitable husband?

a-suitable-husband-fb

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. Perhaps among the gentlemen gathered for the duchess’s house party, she will find a suitable husband?

Marcel Fournier has only one ambition: to save enough from his fees serving in as chef in the houses of the ton to become the proprietor of his own fine restaurant. An affair with the duchess’s dependent would be dangerous. Anything else is impossible. Isn’t it?

An extract from A Suitable Husband

Marcel had disguised himself in a costume found in the attics

Mademoiselle Grenford looked up as he approached, tipping her head a little to one side as she waited for him to speak.

“May I have the honor of this dance, fair shepherdess?” he asked.

She furrowed her brows for the briefest of seconds. “I do not dance, sir, but I will find you a partner—”

“Not dance? When your costume is made to swirl on the dance floor, and the music begs—nay, demand—for you to pay homage?” A slip there. He had pronounced homage in the French way.

Her eyes widened, but she said nothing, merely—oh joy—placed her gloved hand in his and allowed herself to be conducted through the doors to join the waltz.

They began slowly, his hands resting tentatively just above her waist, and hers placed lightly on his shoulders. He honoured the respectable distance due to a maiden, but as they began to circle one another in the dance, his legs shifted past hers and could not avoid repeated touching.

Turn, turn, and turn again. The candles of the chandeliers seemed to whirl above them, the other dancers disappeared, and he and Mademoiselle Grenford were alone in the ballroom. She swayed and dipped and twirled with him, light as a feather but far more substantial, a delight to his hands, his arms, and his legs.

Her eyes fixed on his, her face flushed, she murmured, “Monsieur Fournier, what are you doing here?”

It was a dose of cold water, jerking him back to reality. Would she rebuke him? Tell the duchess?

Only Marcel saw beyond the spectacles and the tightly controlled hair.

“One dance,” he managed, almost begged. “I promised not to importune you, mademoiselle, but I thought… In costume, no one would know if I stole one dance.”

Somehow, his feet kept moving, they kept dancing, round and round and round, their legs shifting past each other’s again and again, their eyes still locked.

She smiled, a benison beyond his deserving. “This dance is not a theft, monsieur, when I give it willingly.”

“Give?”

He was in heaven. He was no longer dancing; he was floating several inches about the ballroom floor. She knows me even in my disguise. She dances with me willingly.

His heart was too full for speech, and she said nothing more as they continued around the floor, oblivious to everything except the music and one another.

Marcel stepped back when the music ended, dropping his hands from her waist to her hands, unable to resist touching her for a moment more. “Thank you, mademoiselle. Thank you more than I can say. I will leave now, but you have given me food for many happy dreams.”

“No.” Mademoiselle Grenford folded her fingers around his and tugged him to follow her. By chance, they had stopped at the most poorly lit end of the ballroom, close to the corner where a door let on to a servant’s passage, and it was to this she marched determinedly, with Marcel bobbing after in her wake.

No. Not that door. She was opening a door onto the terrace, and in moments, they were outside.

“I do not want it to end,” she said. “Will you not consent to sit and talk with me for a little?”

Consent? Did she not know he would consent to the guillotine for her sake?

He would return to his kitchen to dream of that one perfect dance.

For more of our stories, see our individual blogs:

Valuing Vanessa, by Susana Ellis

A Kiss for Charity, by Sherry Ewing

Artemis, by Jessica Cale

The Bluestocking and the Barbarian, by Jude Knight

Christmas Kisses, by Nicole Zoltack

An Open Heart, by Caroline Warfield

Dashing Through the Snow, by Amy Rose Bennett

Scandal in the wake of the Delphine

By Bluestocking Belles

On September 7, 2016

In Guest author

Shipwreck All of London has read about the HMS Delphine, the naval ship grounded off the coast of Cornwall a few weeks ago carrying the contract for steel from France. The Delphine’s captain James Dunham is currently under investigation for the ship’s loss, the proceedings have entertained all since the inquiry started.

Such a vital income needed to help recover the country’s finances after the war with Napoleon going missing is a disaster. He claims it was the navigator’s fault, of course. Since none of the officers survived the night after most the crew left in the nighttime grounding, it’s only his word, of course. Being found on the shore stabbed is all that has saved him so far.

The scandal rushing through London of late is nothing to the real story. I have it on the best authority from the captain’s own aunt, Mrs. Belle Quinn, the most well-known of matchmakers in London, there for a house party. The gossip running through the house in the midst of Captain Dunham fighting for his good name and career is he was forced to marry Miss Balaton who saved him from the sea. They were caught in the most delicate of positions which, of course, meant he was unable to form an attachment to any of the other ladies of the house party who were far more suitable.

What else would a shopkeepers’ daughter on St. Michael’s Mount do when presented with a ship’s captain on her front door? Despite the captains’ good friend Mr. Sinclair arriving with his wife and they became such good friends, Mrs. Quinn is certain he regrets the marriage. Why else would he throw Mrs. Quinn out of the house?

Granted, another rumor leaving the house in the last few days is Mr. Sinclair is actually the Duke of Cairnmuir traveling incognito as he visited his friend to try and fix the court martial proceedings. After all, he was the one that secured the contract with the French and sent Captain Dunham back with it to England as he finished his honeymoon to the charming Mrs. Rose Beaufort, as she was. As it was a secret mission, there might be far more politics involved than marriage mart gossip, Mrs. Quinn intimates.

Captain Dunham is after all a well decorated naval officer, running with Cochrane in his impressive haul of ships as well as several on his own merits. The Captain made a fortune in his career up until he washed up on the shore of Cornwall.

Overheard at the house party…

“Could I ask you to introduce us?” Mrs. Quinn asked almost immediately. “It seems that my nephew invited a great many people to the ball without asking my opinion on the matter.”

Without asking her opinion in his house. “Mrs. Sinclair, this is Captain Dunham’s aunt, Mrs. Quinn. Mr. Sinclair is an old friend of the Captains.”

Mrs. Quinn fanned herself hastily. “You’re here for a long visit? James hadn’t mentioned you coming.”

“No, we heard he was in London, but he left town before we could see him. He couldn’t imagine us leaving with a ball so soon. Edward sees him so little what with us up in Scotland. We’ve invited them north to stay with us this fall.”

Mrs. Quinn puffed up. “You’ve become great friends in so short a time, Mrs. Sinclair.” She said. Something in the tone spoke everything. Her friendship was put in the wrong person and she knew nothing of her other than gossip.

“Why, Mrs. Quinn, I should not be embarrassed to introduce her to the Duchess of Cairnmuir herself. The Duchess prefers friends who can hold a thought in their heads. Money can’t buy that.”

“You know a Duchess?” Mrs. Quinn gaped.

“Heavens, the Sinclair’s are related to half of the nobility in Scotland. But that birth doesn’t mean they can hold a good conversation.”

Mrs. Quinn turned red and trounced off. It took a moment, but finally Mrs. Sinclair laughed out loud.

“And they say I have a tongue on me. You’re just wicked.” Tanley murmured and Mrs. Sinclair only laughed harder. It wasn’t hard to notice that the woman steered them further out from the house. They were well in the center of the lawn where no one could jump out from any hedges there.

The Sailor’s Wife

The Sailor's Wife Tanley’s boring life on Saint Michael’s Mount gets a lot more complicated when a man is washed up on the beach. With her father dead, the neighbor smuggling, and a knife wound in the man’s shoulder she’s all alone with a whole lot of trouble.

At least she’s not stuck getting rid of a body when he wakes up at long last, but delivering papers for the government to help pay the debt after the war with Napoleon makes the stakes higher than just a little smuggling. Alone with James, though, temptation is hard to resist, if only getting caught didn’t bring up a whole new set of problems.

Buy on Amazon

Meet Jennifer Mueller

As a Peace Corps volunteer in Kenya a few years back, I traveled quite a bit and now I just wish I was. A lot of the places I’ve written about I’ve been to, a lot of them I haven’t. Rafting on the Nile in Uganda, living in a Montana ghost town, African safaris, European youth hostels, the Black Hills of South Dakota all fill my scrapbooks. Now a daughter takes up most of those pages, but I still travel in my head every time I write.

For more by this author visit

http://www.jennifermuellerbooks.com

Wedding bells? Or something worse?

By Guest author

On August 31, 2016

In Guest author, Teatime Tattler

7a275d8dc14811af603247b8bfc01daa Sister,
I trust you are well and the boys have recovered from the fever they acquired at Lady Slone’s house party. I was pleased to hear it was nothing more serious. The Slone’s governess should be put out on the street for allowing the children to play when she knew their little Fredrick felt ill. Disgusting the quality of help these days.

Father has some news, but I must address my news first, as it is of much more import.

You may have already heard that Lady Harrington left London recently with an unknown Frenchman much her junior. Well, I have discovered he is not her consort as suspected, but a friend of her daughter’s, lately in Paris. Lady Mallory has returned from France all a-flutter. Seems Miss Adella Harrington left her care in the middle of the night without notice or explanation. As you know, Lady Mallory is my particular friend and I share this news with you in complete confidence as she shared it with me.

The Frenchman has been identified as Duc François Armistead, a finely dressed gentleman who is close friends with you-know-who. He courted Miss H. for much of their trip and it was thought he would propose marriage. He was suddenly whisked away to the country by his father. When he returned to Paris, he was livid at Miss H.’s absence and followed her to England, for the purpose we suppose to ask for her hand. Meanwhile, Lord Harrington seems to have received Miss Adella at his country estate in Northumberland and calls for Lady Mallory’s head.

Lord Harrington’s manservant of the worst kind accosted her first in the streets of Paris and now in London to demand she answer to Lord Harrington’s claims she left his sister unchaperoned and “in peril” despite her promise to keep her safe. You should have seen Lady Mallory’s pallor when I asked what she supposed Lord Harrington would do to her if Adella had come to harm. She gripped my arm and stared into my eyes as if taken over by some sort of demon.

“I don’t know!” she cried. “I fear the worst.” And then she bid me go so she could retire, her headache coming on with a vengeance.

So I ask you sister, who is this Duc Armistead to Miss Harrington. Are we to hear wedding bells soon, or is it as Lady Mallory intimated…something much worse? And as far as Lord Harrington, do you believe him the devil Lady Mallory fears? Have you ever happened to meet him? I have not had the pleasure, but then I suppose he can’t be any better than his late father.

Speaking of fathers, ours is begging me to relay his gout has come on quite bad and we shall be leaving for Bath by Sunday at latest. Do write me there, you know the address, and please find out whatever you can about this dark Lord Harrington. Is he as grumpy as we are told, or is he just as silly as any of these serious men?

With love to the family,

Your sister.

Find out if Lord Harrington is as evil as Lady Mallory thinks in Lord Harrington’s Lost Doe by Emmy Z. Madrigal.

Lord Harrington’s Lost Doe

Lord Alexander Harrington’s life is rather tame until a shoeless, coatless waif is found wandering his estate with no memory of who she is. Despite his stoicism, Lord Harrington finds himself drawn to the lost girl who he compares to a scared doe. Caring for her illness despite speculation of her mental state, he develops feelings for her.

Is she an escaped lunatic, or simply a lost woman desperately in need of his help? A revelation about his own family’s history with the mental asylum down the road causes him to question his feelings. When a massive fire breaks out on estate grounds, will he lose her forever?

Available now on Amazon.com

Emmy Z. Madrigal is the author of the contemporary romance series Sweet Dreams and the Anime Girl Series. She also writes horror under Emerian Rich. Lord Harrington’s Lost Doe is her first Regency Romance. Find out more at: EmmyZMadrigal.com