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Servants’ Natter

Beloved readers of The Teatime Tattler,

When last I wrote, I related the servants’ natter I overheard regarding the Marquess of Castlereigh and his Irish mistress, and the Duchess of Wiltshire’s new ward, her recently departed fourth cousin’s daughter, Lady Maris.

Servants' Gossip

Lately the servants’ gossip has not been much more interesting then the boring gossip overheard at every ladies’ tea in London. But I have gathered a few more details on both accounts.
One of our number, who shall not be named, was overheard in one of the more notorious gaming hells rambling on about the aforementioned Marquess of Castlereigh. It seems this habitually drunken earl had the occasion to meet the previously mentioned Irish mistress while in Ireland.
According to my source, who is a servant in the household of one of the others in attendance that night at the gaming hell, the earl claimed the Irish woman, though common, to be a raven-tressed sorceress, whose beauty bewitched and beguiled the marquess so thoroughly that he humiliated a perpetually drunken earl’s daughter at a harvest ball by choosing to waltz with the beauty instead.
That is all this maid could relay, as it seems her employer was much in his cups himself that evening. For my part, I must admit to being entirely beside myself with curiosity and hope beyond hope Lord Castlereagh brings a dash of scandal to this Season.
As for young Lady Maris, she was seen recently being escorted to the seamstress’ shop by her dutiful cousin Lord Wellesley. Being that Lord Wellesley’s relation to Lady Maris is quite distant, and it being said he is overly protective of her, I had thought perhaps the two might make the Season interesting.
Sadly, Lady Maris showed up on the arm of that scoundrel Archibald, the current Duke of Wiltshire, Friday evening past, dashing my plans to have news far more entertaining for you.
It seems the marriage between Lord Wellesley and Lady Twila is still to be expected before this year closes
Let us all pray Lady Maris finds a more worthy suitor than the duke.
Yrs. Truly,Lady Doe

About the Book

THE LOCKET, Aidan, Marquess of Wellesley, and Maris’s story, which was to be released early summer 2020, has been pushed back too late summer/early fall 2020.

The author’s previous book, THE BRIAR AND THE ROSE, is available as an ebook. 

THE BRIAR…One moment Raven is alone in the world and working as a maid in the gardens of a grand estate in Ireland; the next she finds herself handed the life of a lady by the dark and handsome Marquess of Castlereagh. Devan insists his intentions are honorable, and that he only wishes to help reunite her with her family. But Raven finds herself in a constant struggle to deny the smoldering attraction between them, and in her secret heart, wishes he wanted more.

THE ROSE…Devan, Marquess of Castlereagh, is tormented by his past and determined to live out his days in quiet solitude at his Ireland estate. That is until Raven enters his life. With the face of an angel, the body of Aphrodite, and the tongue of a drunken Irishman, he’s never met any woman so infuriating… so seductive… so… his match.

THE LEGEND…From historical Ireland and its mystical legends to the elegant ballrooms of Regency London, together Devan and Raven discover the truth of the past and a love so strong it cannot be denied.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07X3747H6/

About the Author

Laura Mills-Alcott spent the first two months of 2020 with pneumonia and two flus, thanks to her beautiful grandchildren. In March, after Ohio locked down, she went through four quarantines back to back, having been exposed to three active Covid-19 cases and one employee whose wife had come down with the virus. With her husband using her computer so he could work remotely, and not being able to use it herself for fear she may have contracted the virus, she opted to stay at the house they moved from and take on a full remodel in the hopes of eventually renting or selling it.

Just for entertainment, because things get boring living in a house all by one’s self without books, a computer, or Wi-Fi, Laura put the house on Zillow for sale or rent, not expecting much interest as the pictures showed it torn apart and in the throes of a major remodel. As fate would have it, in early April, a couple 1500 miles away landed on the ad, toured the house via Facebook video call, and believed her when she bragged about all she planned to single-handedly do to the house. They signed a rent-to-own contract the same day. Then Laura found herself in the unenviable position of having to make good on her bragging. The couple moves in May 31st and she is still living on the job site, determined to get the house finished on time.

Laura recently learned she has the coronavirus antibodies and actually had the virus in January when she thought she had pneumonia, which explains why she was so sick for so long, and why since March she has not caught the virus even though she was exposed to it numerous times.
Laura looks forward to using her computer soon and having WiFi, and getting back to writing on something other than her smart phone.

It should come as no surprise that her second book, THE LOCKET, Aidan, Marquess of Wellesley, and Maris’s story, which was to be released early summer 2020, has been pushed back too late summer/early fall 2020.

The Caricaturist Strikes

It was clearly my duty to visit my friend, Mr. Charles. I knew he would be most distressed when he sees this morning’s newssheet, for prints by Corvus, London’s most scandalous caricaturist, bring him a good deal of revenue. They also provide fodder for the Teatime Tattler.

Soon we were cozily ensconced in his office at B.P. Charles and Co, Stationers, in the Strand, tea and plum cake before us. I pulled the offending newssheet from my bag. “Look at this. How ghastly!”

caricaturist

Corvus mocks the cream of English society—most recently, Lady Rosamund Phipps. The headline read: At all costs, Corvus must be unmasked!

Was he distressed? “Not at all, my dear girl. This is excellent publicity,” Mr. Charles said.  

“In what possible way?” Everyone longs to unmask Corvus, but how dreadful if it meant he could no longer produce such scandalous caricatures. In his latest, he well-nigh accused Lady Rosamund of murdering her footman, suggesting that the poor man had refused to take her husband’s place in her bed. “If his identity were disclosed, he would no longer have access to the scandalous doings of the beau monde,” I said. “If he is a gentleman, society would shun him; if a servant, he would be thrashed.”

“He won’t be unmasked,” Mr. Charles said smugly. “If I, who receive his drawings regularly, have not yet learned his identity, who is likely to do so?”

I eyed him narrowly. “Have you tried to unmask him?”

He bristled. “No, for he wishes to remain anonymous, and I respect that.”

More likely, he respects the amount of money he makes from selling the prints. I gave him a Look.

He chuckled, but then we were interrupted by his assistant. “Mr. McBrae to see you, sir.”

“Show him in,” Mr. Charles said, “and bring another cup and plate.”

A dark-haired gentleman of medium height appeared, and we were duly introduced. “Mr. McBrae does etchings for me,” Mr. Charles said, showing him the newssheet. “You’ll find this nonsense amusing.”

caricaturist

“Aye, I saw that claptrap.” Mr. McBrae helped himself to a slice of plum cake. “Lady Rosamund won’t be arrested for murder. She’s the daughter of an earl.”

“Perhaps not,” I said, “but how unkind of Corvus to mock her. She can’t help it if her husband is unfaithful.” I paused. “Although it is rather strange that she is bosom friends with his mistress—but such a situation is not unprecedented in the ton. Perhaps it is her attempt to pretend nothing is wrong, poor thing.”

Mr. McBrae snorted. “No need to feel sorry for her. She found the caricature amusing.”

“How do you know this?” Excitement gripped me. “Have you met Lady Rosamund?”

“We were introduced.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s far above my touch.”

Evidently so, for although he spoke like a gentleman, he must be poor indeed if he scrapes a living from doing etchings. But how thrilling to meet the daughter of an earl! “What is she like?”

He shrugged. “Well-mannered, but aware of her own worth.”

That was only to be expected—and not the least bit scandal-worthy. “Tell me, Mr. McBrae—do you think she pushed the footman down the stairs?”

“Not at all,” he scoffed. “If she wanted to get rid of a footman, she would merely dismiss him.”

“But in a fit of temper…?” I suggested. Aristocrats are notoriously capricious.

“I doubt she would have found the caricature amusing if she actually were guilty.”

I sighed. Not that I wished Lady Rosamund to be a murderess, but scandal is the lifeblood of the Tattler.

“Just wait till you see his next effort,” Mr. Charles said with a twinkle.

Mr. McBrae cocked his head. “What has he pulled out of his sleeve now?”

Mr. Charles grinned. “That would be telling.”

Surprised, I asked Mr. McBrae, “Do you not do etchings of Corvus’ drawings?”

He shook his head. “No, for I work at my lodgings. Once drawings by Corvus are in Mr. Charles’s hands, he keeps them very close indeed. Attempts have been made to steal them, most likely by another printer.”

“Heavens!” I assumed on my coyest expression. “Dear Mr. Charles, pray give me some small clue about the new caricature?”

“It will embarrass Lady Rosamund,” he said.

I huffed. “That’s not a clue. His caricatures always embarrass someone.”  

“Yes, but I fear she will find this one particularly upsetting.”

Odious man, to tease me so! “Fine, but is what he depicted true?”

“How should I know?” Mr. Charles said. “By what I have heard, her maid is impervious to bribes, and I expect the other lady’s maid is—” He coughed. “How indiscreet of me.”

“Which other lady?” I cried.

But he wouldn’t say another word, and although Mr. McBrae sent me a sympathetic glance, he knew nothing useful.

Well! I am no fool. Mr. Charles was indiscreet on purpose. He expects me use what little he said to drop several improper hints in the Tattler. So I shall—whilst hoping that no one unmasks Corvus!

About the Book

Lady Rosamund and the Poisoned Pen

Lady Rosamund Phipps, daughter of an earl, has a secret. Well, more than one. Such as the fact that she’s so uninterested in sex that she married a man who promised to leave her alone and stick to his mistress. And a secret only her family knows—the mortifying compulsion to check things over and over. Society condemns people like her to asylums. But when she discovers the dead body of a footman on the stairs, everything she’s tried to hide for years may be spilled out in broad daylight.

First the anonymous caricaturist, Corvus, implicates Lady Rosamund in a series of scandalous prints. Worse, though, are the poison pen letters that indicate someone knows the shameful secret of her compulsions. She cannot do detective work on her own without seeming odder than she already is, but she has no choice if she is to unmask both Corvus and the poison pen.

Will Corvus prove to be an ally or an enemy? With the anonymous poison pen still out there, her sanity—and her life—are at stake.

Buy links:

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B087BBLLNL/

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B087BBLLNL/

Amazon Canada: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B087BBLLNL/

Amazon Australia: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B087BBLLNL/

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lady-rosamund-and-the-poison-pen-barbara-monajem/1136829963

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/lady-rosamund-and-the-poison-pen Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/lady-rosamund-and-the-poison-pen/id1507264864

About the Author

Rumor has it that Barbara Monajem is descended from English aristocrats. If one keeps to verifiable claims, however, her ancestors include London shopkeepers and hardy Canadian pioneers. As far as personal attributes go, she suffers from an annoying tendency to check and recheck anything and everything, usually for no good reason. Hopefully all this helps to explain her decision to write from the point of view of a compulsive English lady with a lot to learn about how the other ninety-nine percent lived in 1811 or so.

As for qualifications, Barbara is the author of over twenty historical romances and a few mysteries, for which she has won several awards. On the other hand, she has no artistic talent and therefore is really stretching it to write about an artist who draws wickedly good caricatures. But she’s doing it anyway, because he’s irresistible. To her, anyway. Not so much to the aristocratic lady. Or at least not yet.

Social media links:

Website: http://www.BarbaraMonajem.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/barbara.monajem

Twitter: http://twitter.com/BarbaraMonajem

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3270624.Barbara_Monajem

Family Secrets and Ghastly Deeds

To the editor, Teatime Tattler,

Dear Honoured Sir,

Though it is not in my gentle nature to speak ill of those in the highest of society’s ranks, I feel it my duty to report a most shocking miscarriage of justice. The Amesbury family, those who are relations of my lord, the Earl of Tarrington, may not be all they seem. In fact, they are, in fact, secretly villains. You see, good sir, I have information, nay, verily proof, that while they appear all that is proper and noble, with two of the family’s sons serving His Majesty’s’ army and navy, scandal and danger follow in their wake.
You see, sir, I know for a fact that the current earl married his wife under false pretenses almost too shocking to utter. Although they seem blissfully wedded now, they had most unbecoming beginnings including a false identity. Is their marriage even valid? Is their infant son a legitimate heir?

As far as the second son, it’s a well-known fact that he served as a privateer during the war. However, I have it on good authority that he was, in truth, a pirate! He was captured by His Majesty’s Navy, stood trial, and nearly met his doom at the gallows. Oh, he used an assumed name—that seems to be a family trait—but I know it was him.

The third son, alas, has always been the black sheep. He shuns society, snubbing conventions, and wearing shockingly low apparel. But this is not all; he even works—works!—with the Bow Street officers to solve cases that are best left to those of the working class. To be fair, he has saved lives, but has also taken a good many under the excuse that it was all in the line of duty. But does that include shooting peers without trial?

Though hailed as society’s golden child, the youngest Amesbury son, who most closely resembles the late earl, has the most shocking secret of all. He not only may have participated in arranging the death of a peer with the help of his brothers, but more shocking still, he even married the widow within mere weeks of the ghastly deed.

Now, I ask you, does this not bear further inquiry into the Amesbury family? Do we demand that this family answer to the laws of justice or do we let them live above the law?

The Amesbury sisters, it seems, are perfectly respectable, although one is estranged from her husband, and the other, a bluestocking spinster. This suggests that something went terribly wrong in their upbringing, does it not?

With regards to the men (I refuse to use the word “gentlemen”) of this family, I beseech you to consider my words. Since Bow Street has discounted my concerns—likely due to their familiarity with the aforementioned brother who works with Bow Street—perhaps this public revelation will put pressure on the law to do the right thing. If nothing else, the opinion of society may deliver its own form of justice.

Sincerely yours,

A concerned neighbor

About the Book

The Stranger She Married

When her parents and only brother die within weeks of each other, Alicia and her younger sister are left in the hands of an uncle who has brought them all to financial and social ruin. Desperate to save her family from debtor’s prison, Alicia vows to marry the first wealthy man to propose. She meets the dashing Lord Amesbury, and her heart whispers that this is the man she is destined to love, but his tainted past may forever stand in their way. Her choices in potential husbands narrow to either a scarred cripple with the heart of a poet or a handsome rake with a deadly secret.

Cole Amesbury is tormented by his own ghosts and believes he is beyond redemption, yet he cannot deny his attraction for the girl whose genuine goodness touches the heart he’d thought long dead. He fears the scars in his soul cut so deeply that he may never be able to offer Alicia a love that is true. When yet another bizarre mishap threatens her life, Alicia suspects the seemingly unrelated accidents that have plagued her loved ones are actually a killer’s attempt to exterminate every member of her family. Despite the threat looming over her, learning to love the stranger she married may pose the greatest danger of all, a danger to her heart.

Excerpt:

As Cole looked down into Alicia Palmer’s face, he knew of a surety she was worth any risk. She touched him in a place he’d thought long dead.

A younger man wearing a saucy grin approached Miss Palmer. “Did you save me a dance, Lissie?”

Cole’s initial irritation for the man’s cheekiness faded to puzzlement. He knew him from somewhere. A vague unease arose.

When the young man’s gaze moved to Cole, he paled visibly. “You!”

Miss Palmer gasped. “Robert Palmer, where are your manners?”

Of course. Robert Palmer. From London. Cold dread trickled  across  his  heart  as  he  considered  the ramifications.

 Palmer pinned him with a dangerous glare. “Stay away from my cousin.”

“Your cousin?” Cole looked from him to the lovely Miss Palmer and understanding dawned. He cursed under his breath. He hadn’t been aware Armand Palmer had a sister. Not that he’d bothered to find out. The possible ramifications took a more serious turn.

Miss Palmer sent Cole a look of apology and turned to her cousin. “Robert, explain yourself.”

In a cold sweat, Cole waited for her condemning stare.

Palmer trembled in rage. He spoke quietly, but each word shot through Cole like bullets fired at close range. “He’s the scoundrel who shot your twin.”

About the Author

Multi-award-winning author of more than twenty best-selling Regency Historical Romances, Donna Hatch is a hopeful romantic and an adventurer at heart. Each book she writes is filled with wit and heart and plenty of swoon-worthy romance. Donna sings, plays the harp, and loves to ballroom dance. Her family, including six children and two cats, recently left their native Arizona for the US Pacific coast. No matter where they live, she and her husband of over twenty years are proof that there truly is a happily ever after.

To find out more about this author and her books, visit her at:

Website: www.donnahatch.com

Blog: www.donnahatch.com/blog

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Donna-Hatch/e/B002BMG9KK/

Facebook: www.facebook.com/RomanceAuthorDonnaHatch

Book Bub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/donna-hatch

Twitter: https://twitter.com/donnahatch

Pinterest : https://www.pinterest.com/donnahatch29/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/donnahatch.author/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2072970.Donna_HatchAmazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Donna-Hatch/e/B002BMG9KK

Scandalous Doings in San Francisco

Dateline June 1870: Dear readers, we received the following from our correspondent in the former colonies. What follows is from the pen of a lady and world traveler who has never yet led The Tattler and its readers astray.

Dear Mr. Clemens,

It has been my pleasure these past few weeks to record my experience of the first railway journey from Boston to the San Francisco Bay. I most sincerely hope to publish those records as a part of the Teatime Tattler Traveler’s Compendium in the not too distant future. However, there is one tidbit too salacious to be held back for later publication.

Miss Edith Alden

During my excursion of less than a week to California, I shared passage with a wide variety of persons. One of the most intriguing was a Miss Edith Alden of the Boston Aldens. (No relation to the distinguished family of the Marquess of Alden.) Miss Alden claimed to be traveling to San Francisco to bring her sister home to visit with their ailing grandfather. Little did I know at the time that the sister was already notorious in San Francisco and that Miss Edith Alden would soon be almost more disreputable.

I joined her in the dining car for a late tea one afternoon, as she was perusing some papers. She hurriedly folded the papers and laid them out of sight beneath her reticule. After several minutes of lively conversation, Miss Alden excused herself for a few moments, asking me if I would keep watch on her things until she returned. I of course agreed. I’d been wondering since I sat down what was in those papers that she found every excuse not to discuss. She was gone long enough that I was able to read and thoroughly memorize (being blessed with that useful talent from birth) one of the papers which was a article recently found in a Boston newspaper dated early June 1870, and I quote:

In San Francisco, given enough money, any item can be bought and any crime hidden. The photograph above, smuggled out by a resident, shows the depravity of fallen women that runs rampant through the city, even at elegant addresses like that of Madame Cerise Duval. In a peculiar twist of fate, the photographer is rumored to have been murdered by one of the residents of the house. An unidentified blonde woman, with a distinctive scar on her left temple, is said to have killed Mr. F. Lyn Whitson and absconded with the man’s photographic equipment. The woman is believed to be somewhere in the San Francisco area and is being sought for questioning.

Person in this picture is reputed to be Miss Edith Alden
during her brief stay at Madam Cerise Duval’s bordello.

I returned the newsprint to its original position beneath Miss Alden’s reticule and proceeded to carefully question her–using a technique I call misdirection–about her sister. It became very clear in little time that the woman wanted for murder of the photographer was none other than the sister, with whom Miss Alden claimed to be traveling to San Francico.

I, of course, resolved to have nothing more to do with Miss Alden, although I did learn more of her from the papers during our subsequent weeks in San Francisco. I give you the following headlines from papers much like the Teatime Tattler.

“Businessman, Dutch Trahern wins right to deflower a Boston Virgin during an auction at the Bordello of Madam Cerise Duval.”

The drawing (see 1st image above) which accompanied this startling piece of news resembles Miss Alden to a Tee. In subsequent issues of the same periodical these headlines bear testament to the lax moral character of Miss Alden and her family.

“Formerly respected businessman, Dutch Trahern is discovered living in sin with the Boston Prostitute whose supposed virginity Mr. Trahern won in a bordello auction.”

A week later the following headline appeared. “Mr. Smiley of Trahern & Smiley Import & Export breaks with partner. Threatens to sue Trahern over issues of immorality.”

Sadly, Mr. Clemens, I was compelled to leave San Francisco on my way to Hong Kong by ship before the entire tale of scandal and salacious behavior could be told. It is my hope to be able, at some point to pick up the thread of Miss Alden’s adventures. Though I most sincerely doubt, despite rumors of her marriage, the young woman has much claim to even so modest and honorific as ‘Miss.’

Submitted with my kind regards

Your traveling correspondent.,

About the Book: One Moment’s Pleasure will become a lifetime’s passion when spinster, Edith Alden, embarks on a search for her missing sister.  Pretending to be a rich bored woman looking for an interlude with an anonymous male Edith enters the San Francisco bordello where her sister was last seen. She escapes the bordello almost too easily, but she can’t escape the passion ignited by a stranger’s kiss. 

Born and raised in the brothels of the California gold rush, Dutch Trahern worked for years to erase a childhood spent committing petty crimes and worse in order to survive. That past comes back to haunt him in the form of a woman he rescues from prostitution. Now his hard won respectability is threatened by an irresistible desire for a woman he shouldn’t want.

Available NOW for pre-order, release date Monday April 20,2020

About Rue Allyn: Author of historical and contemporary romances, I fell in love with happily ever after the day I heard my first story. (Yes, I was a precocious little brat who read at the age of two, but I could hear much earlier than that.) I studied literature for far too many years before discovering that writing stories was much more fun than writing about them. Heck, as an author, I get to read the story before anyone else. I am happily married to my sweetheart of many, many years. Insatiably curious, an avid reader and traveler I love to hear from readers about your favorite books and real-life adventures. Crazy Cat stories are especially welcome. You can send me your words of wisdom . . . Don’t shake your head at me; all words are wise in one context or another. You can trust me on this; I’m an author. As I was saying, you can send your words of wisdom, humor, and friendship to me at Rue@RueAllyn.com. Can’t wait to hear from you. Keep up with Rue Allyn by subscribing to her newsletter and get a free copy of Knight Protector when you do.

Find Rue Allyn On Line: Website Facebook Twitter Amazon Goodreads Pinterest

Scandal in the Church

While perusing the dusty records of St. Ignatius All Angels Church, our humble reporter, discovered a pair of cryptic letters between the parish vicar and a benighted parishioner. If only we knew the story behind these letters. What a tale that would be!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

15 November 1816

The Reverend Albion Stern, St. Ignatius All Angels Church, 18 Clappersgate, Oxford

Dearest Mr. Stern,

As a constituent of your parish in good standing with God Almighty and the Church of England, I feel it my duty, nay, my righteous obligation to inform you of a most unseemly affair involving two misguided members of your flock. I wish not to gossip, but my conscience compels me to share the sordid details if only to protect the tender sensibilities of our impressionable youth.

As you know, the families of Mr. Adam Ashford and Miss Jane Hancock have been engaged in a distasteful feud for nigh on seven decades. Some two months ago, both families fell under a financial cloud that drew them to the brink of shameful bankruptcy. Rather than facing the appropriate consequences, Mr. Ashford and Miss Hancock absconded on a fool’s errand to the nether realms of England – together, and with only the merest of chaperones. While this news is indeed shocking, the events of their subsequent journey serve to mortify.

I have it on good faith from a reputable source that while gallivanting about the country these foolish youngsters fell into the company of sailors, drunks, rabble, poets, lawyers, and all other manner of low folk. They rode swine wagons in one another’s company, broke into a garrisoned fortress through subterfuge, and communed with druids. They slept on floors, in fields, and in public places as if common vagrants. They traipsed through church graveyards with fanciful tales of giants and no respect for the dead. They dug through any number of ruins, hollows, and holes in the ground in search of unholy treasure. It was said even that they walked with Beelzebub. All the while, they engaged in very public acts of congress, including the holding of hands and, yes, the impassioned locking of lips.

As a humble parishioner, I believe it only appropriate to bring this ignoble matter to your venerable attention. These events leave me deeply disturbed. Your swift condemnation of Mr. Ashford and Miss Hancock would put my heart at ease and my soul at rest.

Sincerely,

Phineas T. Lilywhite

Scandal in the Church

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

19 November 1816

Mr. Phineas T. Lilywhite, Number 5 Grapevine Way, Oxford

Dear Mr. Lilywhite,

You have my deepest gratitude for bringing this matter to my attention. I wholeheartedly agree. You are indeed deeply disturbed. For this malady, I will offer heartfelt prayers of intercession on your behalf.

Regarding the rumors, I can confirm their veracity. Your source relayed the events of the affair between Mr. Ashford and Miss Hancock with a commendable degree of accuracy and detail. However, as your vicar, I consider it my obligation to instruct you spiritually in this matter. I will do so by referencing two holy scriptures. First, consider Matthew 5:44, where the Good Lord admonishes us to love our enemies. Mr. Ashford and Miss Hancock have practiced this particular teaching far beyond anything I have witnessed before. My heart swells with pride.

Second, consider Proverbs 26:3 – “You must whip a horse, you must bridle a mule, and you must beat a fool.” For the sake of your physical health, I pray that you will take less interest in the affairs of others and more interest in maintaining open eyelids during my sermons. Perhaps then you would have heard my reading of the banns these past two Sundays and recognized the names of a particular young couple. Furthermore, you would have known that Beelzebub will be in attendance at the wedding and that you should therefore take appropriate precautions.

Grace and Peace to You, sir, and give my regards to your poor, miserable wife.

Sincerely,

Mr. Albion Stern, St. Ignatius All Angels Church

Scandal in the Church

About the Book

The Hancocks and Ashfords have had a long-standing feud between their families long before Miss Jane Hancock couldn’t stand the sight of gentleman farmer Adam Ashford. But after both families fall on hard times and an unscrupulous creditor forces Jane and Adam to sign a devil’s bargain, they’ll finally understand the true meaning of keeping your enemies close at hand.

The terms of this bargain? Locate a lost treasure shrouded in deception and mystery.

The catch? Only one can claim it to win…the loser is left to ruin.

As Jane and Adam embark on a trek throughout England they plan to hate their adversary, no matter how attractive, generous, and kind they are.

Sometimes, plans change…

About the Author

After self-publishing science fiction novels over a period of years, I made the truly odd move into historical romance. Although romance is a strong thread in nearly all my works, I came to straight-up, nothing-but-romance only after turning fifty. Since then, I am plagued by the question, “What took me so long?” My awakening began rather innocuously when I casually watched the 2015 version of Poldark. Before I knew, I was falling headlong into the abyss of historical romance and read fifteen such novels over a three-month span. However, no number could sufficiently scratch my itch for more, so I did what any writer would do and began constructing stories of my own. In April of 2019, I received my first contract with Entangled Publishing.

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