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Scandal in the Ballroom?

Dear Mr Clemens, if you were not present yourself at the splendid ball held in the Hanover Square rooms last night, you may have missed one of the juiciest tidbits of gossip that any worthy correspondent could possibly pass along to you this week. Imagine the sight of two earls’ daughters facing off in the middle of Lady Newsham’s grand event! Yes, society’s darling, the beautiful Lady G. M., approached a relative newcomer to the London social scene, Lady H. deR., and unexpectedly and rather scandalously was treated to an earful by that rather intrepid young lady (who some say is merely hoydenish and quite improper). 

Some expected their exchange to end with fists flying, but I must report it did not come to that, to the disappointment of many, I am sure. What a shocking spectacle that would have been! And the cause of this incident? A man, of course. But you may be astonished to hear that the fellow in question is a commoner, a baronet’s son, Mr. C.H., the very one Lady G. M. threw over last season on account of his being exposed as a fortune hunter! Apparently there is no limit to what trouble a handsome face may cause.  Yours truly, Lady M. in Portman Square

My Dear Lady M: Lacking said anticipated scandalous spectacle of fisticuffs, I must assure you that a heated conversation between two noble ladies in the middle of a ball does NOT constitute one of the “juiciest tidbits of gossip” I have come across, but as the ton has been unusually devoid of greater scandals this week, I thank you for the report! It is entirely too bad that you were not near enough to actually overhear the exchange between the ladies. Now, THAT might have been juicy. But I have now learned on good authority from someone who was close by that Lady G.M. started it with the best intentions of cautioning Lady H. deR. about said gentleman, and that young lady responded with a vigorous defense on his behalf, audaciously calling Lady G. M.’s own actions and beliefs into question. 

Ah, such innocence! It seems both Lady H. deR and the gentleman in question were recently in the wilds of Derbyshire, where they were among the guests attending the nuptials of Lord F. and his bride, Miss T., in the village of Little Macclow. One imagines Lady H. deR. had plenty of opportunity to fall under the spell of said handsome if questionable fellow. We can only wish her well and hope she will not come to regret her actions. —Yours sincerely, Samuel Clemmens, editor, The Teatime Tattler

Her Perfect Gentleman 

(Book Three, Tales of Little Macclow Regency Romance Series)

She is the worst thing that could happen to him. He might be the best thing that could happen to her. How will two hearts on such opposite tracks find their way to true love?

The last thing Christopher Haslitt needs or wants is another involvement with a wealthy, high-ranking, unmarried young lady. He is still trying to repair both his heart and his reputation after last season’s disaster left him branded as a fortune hunter. Five days in Little Macclow for his best friend’s wedding should be only a brief delay on his path to redemption. But he hasn’t counted on spending it with five unmarried daughters of earls, one of whom has her sights set firmly on him!

Lady Honoria deRaymond finds Mr. Haslitt more attractive and charming than any other gentleman of her acquaintance. What’s more, his perfect manners include overlooking her tendency to be impulsive and not always quite proper. She knows the rules; she just has trouble sticking to them. Marriage to a high-ranking peer, as her family expects for her, will mean a highly visible life of constant pressure to conform and behave properly. Could Mr. Haslitt, a baronet’s son, be her means to escape such a fate? Can she possibly win his heart in just five days? When she returns to London, her one chance to forge a different future may be gone.

Sweet with a little sizzle, the Tales of Little Macclow are linked by their shared setting in scenic Derbyshire and recurring characters. They follow a shared chronology and, while best read in order, they are complete stand alone romances with happy endings that will warm your heart.

Little Macclow—a village tucked away and maybe touched by magic…at least the magic of love.

Universal link:  https://books2read.com/u/bwrPAa 

Amazon direct link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BMLQCLSW 

https://www.bookbub.com/books/her-perfect-gentleman-regency-romance-tales-of-little-macclow-small-village-sweet-regency-romances-book-3-by-gail-eastwood 

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/63623044-her-perfect-gentleman

Excerpt: 

She straightened and stepped towards him. “I should check your arms. It will only take a few moments. We can do it here, right now.”

He scowled. “No, absolutely not. It would be highly improper.”

“Because I am a lady?”

“Yes, of course because you are a lady! And an unmarried one, even worse. I would have to partially disrobe. You should not see a man in his shirt sleeves unless he is your husband!”

“I have already seen you in your shirt sleeves—bloodied ones at that! And I have seen arms before. Must I remind you that I do have a brother?”

“Yes, one who would flay me alive if he were to learn I allowed this to happen.”

“If I see how your scratches are healing I will know if you need to continue to use the salve. I am trying to help you. It is for a medical purpose.”

“This is not an emergency. With Jennie on Wednesday, I felt the situation was.”

“This could become one if you do not heal properly.” She crossed her arms, tapping her foot. “Little Macclow is too small to have a doctor, or even an apothecary. We are in the stillroom, a place where medicines are prepared. We are alone here, and no one will see. We can do it very quickly. You needn’t even remove your waistcoat. You are teetering into the brotherhood of the narrow-minded again!”

“No. I am trying to protect your reputation—and mine. If someone should come along and see—especially given what some are already thinking….” 

The panic in his eyes hurt her heart. Did he think she was trying to entrap him? “No one will. But if they should, we can simply explain. Everyone here knows you were injured rescuing Jennie. Most know I have been making salve to help you heal.”

If only she had a salve that could heal his heart. “Do not try to pretend that no woman besides your mother has ever seen you in your linen. We both know that isn’t true. Please, take off your coat.”

*  *  *

Of course women besides his mother had seen him in his linen. Beautiful women, willing women, women whose whole intent had been to see him out of his linen. Not respectable, innocent women like Lady Honoria. Not a woman who tempted him against all good sense. 

Truly, she had no idea what she was asking of him. Keeping tight control over his reactions to her was difficult enough under the most ordinary of circumstances. How was he supposed to manage it half-dressed and with her undoubtedly touching and inspecting him?

The noises from the kitchen continued unabated, reminding him of just how nearby other people were. Could her wish possibly be accomplished quickly enough to avoid anyone catching them at it? 

She still stood there waiting, chin up, arms crossed and toe tapping impatiently. She looked adorable, magnificent, irresistible. “You are making propriety more important than your health, Mr. Haslitt. You will not convince me that such a priority isn’t absurd. What do you think will happen if we break the rules?”

Loss of control. Emergence of baser instincts. Her discovery that he did not always want to be the perfect gentleman. “Oh, the total disintegration of society, of course.” At this moment everything in him argued in favor of such a result. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. She was far too trusting.

Of course, she laughed. “There you have it. I’m glad you see you are being ridiculous.” 

With a sigh, he surrendered. Best just be quick, for every reason. 

About the author:

Award-winning author Gail Eastwood started writing stories as soon as she learned to string words together on paper, and blames Beatrix Potter and A.A. Milne for making her a devoted Anglophile at a very early age. After detours into journalism and rare books, she finally found her path writing Signet Regencies acclaimed for their emotional depth and innovative plots. Twice nominated for RomanticTimes Magazine’s Career Achievement award, a Golden Leaf winner and twice a Holt Medallion finalist, Gail had to put writing on hold to deal with family health issues for almost 16 years. But now she’s back doing what she loves best and offering readers a new, heart-warming Regency series set in a small village possibly touched by magic (or it is just the power of Love?), Tales of Little Macclow. 

“One of the genre’s most imaginative storytellers, a master at painting pictures of Regency life,” 

—Romantic Times Magazine

Website www.gaileastwoodauthor.com
Blog www.riskyregencies.com/
Twitter https://twitter.com/geastwoodauthor
Facebook (profile): https://www.facebook.com/gail.eastwoodauthor.7
Facebook (page): https://www.facebook.com/gaileastwoodauthor/
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/gaileastwoodauthor
BookBub https://www.bookbub.com/authors/gail-eastwood
Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001KDU86M
Join Gail Eastwood’s email newsletter and get a free short story: http://eepurl.com/gbknuH 

An unexpected death of a fine man raises eyebrows and questions!

It has come to this editor of this newspaper’s attention that the young Mr. Ingleby, a clergyman who promised to be such a patron of all that is good and Christian in Hertfordshire society, has died.

Mr. Ingleby, a young graduate of Oxbridge, who had lately taken orders, came to Hertford to temporarily stand in at the pulpit for Mr. Greene, who was called away to attend the bedside of a sick relative. From all accounts, Mr. Ingleby’s goodwill toward others and charming manners did him good stead with his neighbours, and he proved to be a popular dinner companion amongst the parishioners.

But alas, trouble has befallen the town of Hertford, for at the very day of a local baking competition, Mr. Ingleby had no sooner bit into a baked tart produced by Mrs. Greene, the wife of the former reverend, than did he suffer choking pains and collapsed, never to rise again. Even worse, the money raised by the competition to support the repairs for the church roof, has disappeared.

With a theft, a death, and eight bakers suspected of having done away with the charming Mr. Ingleby, who can say if this was simply a culinary accident or murder? Rumour has it that the young clergyman was kind and generous toward his neighbours, but consistently spoke ill of his hostesses, Mrs. Greene and her niece, Miss Poppy Morton. Could these two women have decided to give the gossiping Mr. Ingleby a taste of his own medicine?

Should any readers have information which may provide useful in this investigation, please write to the editor or speak with Constable Henry Dyngley.

Title of book: The Poisoned Clergyman
Book blurb: Poppy adores Constable Dyngley, but he is engaged. When his fiancée hires Poppy to clear her name, can Poppy put her jealousy aside?
Welcome to book two in the exciting new series The Perfect Poison Murders from bestselling author E.L. Johnson!

When Poppy’s uncle is called away, in his place arrives Mr. Ingleby, a pretentious clergyman with a passion for pies, a penchant for puddings, and a distaste for poor and sick parishioners. It’s not long before Poppy wishes he was gone, especially when she learns he has been gossiping to the neighborhood about the humble fare served by her and her aunt.
But when the tart-loving clergyman dies at a local baking competition, it is clear that Mr. Ingleby has been poisoned by one of the bakers present. But who?

Poppy and her favorite constable, Henry Dyngley, must work together to find the poisoner among the bakers. But her romantic hopes for their future are dashed when he introduces her to his fiancee, who begs for Poppy’s help to clear her name as a murder suspect.

Can Poppy and Dyngley find the true poisoner, or will the murderous baker pull off a sweet crime? Can Poppy overlook her jealousy to save Dyngley’s fiancée, at the risk of losing the man she adores? It is a bittersweet feeling to know you may do the right thing, only for someone else to reap the benefit.

Find out in a new historical mystery from bestselling author E.L. Johnson. This is the second in the Perfect Poison series, starring Poppy Morton and Constable Henry Dyngley. 

Author bio:
E. L. Johnson writes historical mysteries. A Boston native, she gave up clam chowder and lobster rolls for tea and scones when she moved across the pond to London, where she studied medieval magic at UCL and medieval remedies at Birkbeck College. Now based in Hertfordshire, she is a member of the Hertford Writers’ Circle and the founder of the London Seasonal Book Club.

What kind of match for a noted lady?

 

The Teatime Tattler has just confirmed that Lady Nanette de Chappell, the Comtesse de Moyne has gone on a mission for her grand mere. We all love her grand mere and ache in our hearts that she is infirmed. Who can deny the woman, certainly not her granddaughter. We all would like to see the vibrant and beautiful belle settled with a family of her own, but alas, young women today have these ideas about marriage. Lady Nanette is no different. I have it on good advice that she has taken on the quest to avoid being matched to someone for whom she doesn’t care. She longs for a love match. Really. Don’t we all. 

There was a time when this writer thought she had found it in Lord Morgan Fitzhugh before he left to serve the king. We all mourned the loss of his father and older brother, lost at sea on their trading ship. The reluctant lord has his demons to bear that resulted in his declaration of remaining a bachelor.

My news today is about the unsuspecting couple. Lady Nanette and Lord Fitzhugh have been stranded in a snowstorm. No has been able to reach them. As you know, Sommer by the Sea is experiencing the worst snowstorm in years. While many have settled into the safety of their homes, Lady Nanette struck out for her grand mere’s closed castle in the center of Lord Fitzhugh estate to retrieve a prized possession for her grand mere. She wants to hold it once again before she passes.

I have it on good authority that Lord Fitzhugh hasn’t let her go alone. Fighting through an avalanche and tunnel cave in, they must depend on each other to escape. In the process, they both have the potential of finding something they’ve been searching for. If only they will open their eyes. 

 The Duke’s Lost Love

Lady Nanette de Chappell, the Comtesse de Moyne and Lord Morgan Fitzhugh, the reluctant 5th Duke of Preswick grew up near each other in Sommer by the Sea, Nanette at her grandparent’s now closed down Dunamara Castle and Fitzhugh at Preswick Hall. 

Fitzhugh is with his three closest friends. Each of them suffers a form of feminine defeat. After a night of drinking, they decide to swear off the company of women for three years and instead study chivalrous love. 

The following morning, Nanette and her three ladies arrive at Fitzhugh’s doorstep in a broken carriage. She is on her way to Dunamara for two reasons, retrieve an item for her ill grandmother and to avoid a dinner party to meet yet another suitor she will find lacking. She seeks the solitude of Dunamara to determine if her ideal is realistic or a dream no man can fulfill. 

Fitzhugh takes her to Dunamara. A freak snowstorm strands them at the castle. Fighting through an avalanche and tunnel cave in, they must depend on each other to escape. In the process, they both have the potential of finding something they’ve been searching for. If only they will open their eyes. 

Available at Amazon Kindle Unlimited

Excerpt:

“It’s because of you that I acted.” Her voice was low and composed.

Her statement caught him off-guard. For a moment, he thought he had misunderstood until he peered at her. “Me?” He quickly moved from embarrassment to confusion. He didn’t take his eyes off her.

“I’ve witnessed situations where people willfully rejected taking action. They looked on as if the situation was an entertainment. It’s much the same amongst the ton. Along with too many insulting innuendoes and uncaring, hurtful, and yes, intentional acts of total disregard at the expense of someone.

“But not you. I took notice of you all those years ago. The example you set. You didn’t walk away from others when they needed assistance. I made a pledge to myself I would never be, nor be associated with, that type of person.

“No. I am not brave. I am a thinking, feeling person who doesn’t define acts of kindness as a weakness, but rather as a strength. I have learned your lesson well.”

“Don’t make me out to be something I am not. There are many more like me, better than me.” He closed his saddlebag.

“So you may think. But if you looked, I mean more than a passing glance, you would see the truth. At least that has been my plight. I haven’t met anyone who can meet my standard. ”

He returned to her.

“And I will not accept anyone less.” She added before he said anything.

They were both searching for something. He hoped with all his heart Nanette would find it. She’d grown to be a beauty one any man would be proud to have as a wife. He tilted his head as his gaze travelled over her face and searched her eyes.

His body heated as he caught a glimpse of her, the real Nanette. Aware of her intelligence and independent spirt, now he found her banter warm and enchanting. He admired her fire, her ice. Deep down, he wanted to find out more about her warmth.

 

A Letter found, revealed and a scandal too!

Enclosed is a private correspondence found in the F. Carter family secretary in 1871. The letter, originally from Mrs. Mary Westmore (né Reynolds) addressed to Mrs. Lavinia Fitzroy (né Lawton) in Bath, England dated December 4th, 1839, has been faithfully copied below.

My Dearest Lavinia,

You may perhaps recall that my beloved niece, Ellen, is to be married in the new year? We are all beyond pleased that she has captured the heart of one of the Carter boys and will be moving here to Weymouth! There is a fly in the ointment of our happiness, however. My brother. 

Rafe has called upon me to assist Ellen with her wedding preparations, but during my recent visit to Cherrybrook, I was reminded forcefully that, for someone so ruled by schedules, he shows surprisingly little aptitude for managing his personal affairs. My niece quite runs the household (all but my brother’s dogs, who are wholly without manners), but she is so efficient and indulgent that I fear Rafe cannot see how bereft he will be without her! 

Ellen confided in me that she will not be easy unless her father remarries, so together we have hatched a plan. This is where you come in, dear friend. Several of our friends credit you with having made worthy matches under your watchful eye, and so I implore you… would you apply your matchmaking talents to Rafe’s situation?

I have enclosed a list of qualities he demands in a wife. Please make of it what you will. 

Do apprise me of your answer as soon as you are able, for I do not expect my brother’s agreeability to last long. His stubbornness grows by the day. I wonder if you will find him much altered from the boy you once knew?

Affectionately yours,

Mary

The book: Matchmaking Gone Wrong

The clock is ticking! Widowed Dr. Rafe Reynolds will soon be left alone when Ellen, his daughter and favourite backgammon opponent, weds.  

Shortly before the Christmas holidays, Ellen and his meddling sister Mary, convince Rafe to let them find him a suitable wife. Rafe reluctantly agrees, but he insists that love doesn’t matter at his age, and ladies who are loud and demanding need not apply. 

Mrs. Lavinia Fitzroy, exuberant widow and old friend, is bold, well-connected and entirely uninterested in marriage for herself. She is just the woman to help find the gruff doctor a wife, but finding the perfect match for Rafe proves to be as thorny as winter holly. One minute everything is going as smoothly as clockwork, and the next, it’s gone to the dogs!

Will Lavinia discover the perfect bride…one who ticks all the boxes for the doctor?  Only time will tell!

Book Four in the Cherrybrook year, “Time Will Tell” may be read alone. With older protagonists, it’s a later-in-life romance (kisses only)!

BOOK LINKS:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BJ7ZJYTX

https://www.charlottebrothersauthor.com/time-will-tell

(The rest of the series is wide, but I’m keeping this exclusive to Amazon for the first few months)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Charlotte Brothers

I grew up with an emotional support book. You know, the girl who never leaves home without one tucked under her arm “in case”?

For me, this was usually an English classic or high fantasy YA with a strong romantic subplot. When I finally read my first genre romance novel at the gentle age of forty, I was happily swept away! Once reading romances became a beloved habit, penning my own quickly followed. 

Currently, I live in Michigan, USA, with my delightful family, beloved pets, and a busy bird feeder. I do my utmost to write heartfelt stories about memorable characters with a dash of humor and playful prose. If you’re a Jane Austen, Elizabeth Gaskell, Georgette Heyer, or (actor) Richard Armitage fan, you’re my kind of book friend!A

A Scandalous Incident in Drury Lane!

A certain lonely lord was seen leaving Drury Lane early – entirely missing the final act of Miss Ryan’s divine Duchess of Malfi. He’s seen her play before, no doubt. It’s said he’s present in his brother’s box for every show so what dreadful occurrence might interrupt such dedication? The gentleman in question is a known connoisseur of theatre – and actresses. He left early, stepped into a hack with a footman-type, and wasn’t seen again that evening. One can only pity the actress concerned – because rumour has it that something scandalous occurred last night at Carlton House…

Whatever has happened, the incident appears serious. The Prime Minister could not be reached this morning. It’s said he’s unwell, though lights burned late in Westminster last night. The matter is top secret, but it’s certain at least one known rake was seen leaving the Regent’s private rooms at an unearthly hour – and the Prime Minister’s private secretary was spotted using the tradesman’s entrance twice. One doesn’t like to spread gossip regarding the higher echelons of government, but one can hardly help it in this case. Only one other thing seems certain – this secret incident doesn’t seem to involve any ladies, which is both a comfort to society, and a disappointment to this writer. If all that’s at risk is the reputation of a certain London actress, our debutantes may sleep soundly in Mayfair.

About the Book: The Case of the Black Diamond (Part I)

AVAILABLE ON LIMITED RELEASE:  https://amzn.to/3AU941L

The Case of the Black Diamond Part I
Nicknamed ‘the lonely lord’, Alexander Lindsey has spent a decade spying for the King and believes himself immune to surprises – until he meets Miss Ryan. Claire Ryan doesn’t swoon, and doesn’t blush – but when the Regent’s jewel is stolen, Lord Lindsey turns up at The Soho Club, asking questions. Soon, Claire and Alexander are investigating each other.

This is the first of a five part series. Part II is already available.

Release Date: 22 November 2022

Excerpt from The Case of the Black Diamond, by Clyve Rose:

Outside The Soho Club, dark clouds gathered in the afternoon sky. The air thickened, closely heavy in the prelude to a drenching. Claire shivered at the change in temperature, the tensing of mood. She sipped her coffee, watching Xander Lindsey, watching her. His gaze seemed focused rather closely on the rim of her cup, specifically where the fine china met her lips. 

She sipped her brew again. “If you’re intent on seduction, you should know I am not my sister.”

His gaze lifted to her face, steady, focused, powerfully intent. “I have never seduced your sister. I am no rake, Claire.” His voice remained sure, strong, and deeply tempting.

“So it’s a ruse?” She guessed.

He inclined his head, his “mmmm,” resonating low in his throat, like a throb. “We can’t all mask our clandestine activities with scent.” His tone turned husky, intensity sharpening like a honed blade.

“I am not in the habit of short term liaisons,” Claire spoke carefully. “I am not in the habit of being seduced, either.”

“There’s a remedy for that,” he said quietly, suggestively. Did his voice deepen further? How deep does he—stop it.

As though he’d heard her, Xander set down his cup. He walked slowly towards her, the way one might approach a rare and dangerous object.

“Tell me, Claire Ryan, are you armed?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I should like to kiss you. If I halt here, you may blade my heart open instead,” he stopped halfway across the chequered floor, arms by his sides like a supplicant. A supplicant with warm brown eyes, and a devastating dimple.

Claire affected a study of the distance between them, lifted her head, locking her gaze to his.

“Three steps back gives you a sporting chance, Xander Lindsey.”

“Indeed?” The resonance from his baritone rippled through her. Nevertheless, he held his ground and Claire lifted a brow, gaze travelling brazenly over his planed face. He stared right back, smiling, offering that dimple where she lingered before studying the cleft in his chin, his corded neck muscles, those powerful shoulders of defined shape. Her gaze dropped lower, taking in his broad torso, narrow waist, and the shapely front of his trousers. She smiled then, wide and joyous, walking slowly towards him, slower than ever, as though she may never reach him, never touch him. Time stretched out, thinning, heating, bringing her closer to the heft of breath beneath flesh, her pulse beating faster with each step until her skin throbbed with the thought of his lips beneath hers, his surrender within her body. 

“Something to savour,” she murmured, watching his answering smile. His tongue darted out, licking his lips and she let out a small laugh, not blinking at all. Not missing a moment of Xander Lindsey standing before her, arms at his sides, gaze locked on hers with an impulse she felt in every nerve and muscle. Claire touched his cheek, stroking him gently before leaning forward, lips positioned inches from his. Reaching up, she slipped her other hand beneath his jacket, sliding her palm over his shirt, feeling his breath shorten, his weight shift…until she located his hidden jacket seam. Keeping her gaze on his, she extracted his pistol as smoothly as possible, stroking the barrel along firm muscle as she withdrew. She kept his barrel there, smoothing it lightly back and forth against his shirt, teasing him with danger, with steel, with her unbroken gaze.

“Is it cocked, my lord?”

Author Bio:  Clyve Rose is an award-winning author of historical fiction in Australia and the US. She has been writing historical romance for the best part of two decades, and has three bestsellers to her credit. She believes that love is the highest and strongest force known in the world, and that it only manifests when we are our best and truest selves. She’ll continue writing about love in all its various, glorious forms, and that one day her epitaph will read Just one more read-through.

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