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A Mysterious Disappearance

May 10th, 1818

My Dearest Emily,

I cannot begin to tell you of the accusations and ferment roiling among the district families.  I’m at my wit’s end, I truly am.  My truest friend in the world, Victoria Covington, has gone missing.  No warning nor suspicions were raised beforehand.  I visited her on the morning of May 4th, though her uncle’s many house guests were everywhere.  As mistress of Belton Park, she felt the demands keenly.  Then, shortly after I bid her goodbye, she simply vanished.  Disappeared.  Gone.

No one saw her leave or spoke to her after I left.  I cannot understand it.  If she had a beau or planned to elope, she would have told me.  Regardless, that is not possible as all her clothes were undisturbed.

Tory would never have left her beloved Park willingly, she loved it so.  She must have been abducted, but who would do such a thing?  All the guests were accounted for and because of the large number of guests out enjoying the spring weather, no one could have entered the house and left with her without being seen.  And stranger still are the items which went missing with her.

I ask you to write to me of any strange doings you might hear of in Petworth and around the district.  Any information may be of help.  I have enclosed the newspaper notice with the details.  I must go.  I hear a search party returning to Belton Park, where I am at the moment attempting to help.

Your loving cousin,

Kitty.

                                        MISSING

Lord Reginald Covington has reported his niece missing to the District Magistrate at Horsham, Sussex.  Miss Victoria Covington has not been seen since Monday last.  Baron Covington and she were hosting a large house party at his estate, Belton Park, Sussex, near Petworth, with many notables attending.  Miss Covington had been well received in London during her first Season last spring. Lord Covington is said to be distraught over her disappearance.

The unusual circumstances surrounding the disappearance are numerous. Miss Covington went missing among a house full of guests, many enjoying the surrounding grounds at the time, but no one witnessed her departure.  Guests reported seeing her enter the family music room with a new volume of poetry, which cannot be located. A family friend places her there before noon time.  Also missing was a family heirloom, a Queen Anne love seat.  However, her personal effects were not disturbed.  She is 5 feet, 3 inches tall, with blonde hair.  When last seen she was wearing a blue morning dress. The Baron is offering a reward of £200 for any information concerning her whereabouts.  Contact Sir Terrance Aperton, District Magistrate, Coarse Lane, Horsham with the particulars.

Except from Touching Time:

Her smile turned to a frown. She used to enjoy the company of men, not avoid it, but since her coming out, the only interest they displayed was for her sizable dowry. Apparently, her oft-heralded beauty only made her more bankable.

“Oh, Kitty, my uncle, as kind as he is, also views me as income. The interest from my dowry is what keeps the Covington finances from a reckoning with the wolves. As he can’t touch my dowry or live without the interest, I have to receive a marriage offer from someone wealthy—very wealthy—if I am to obtain his blessing.” She gave a shrug at Kitty’s shocked expression. “Of course, he will negotiate the marriage settlement to make himself the trustee of any jointure I obtained.”

“I had no idea. It is beyond awful! What can you do?”

“I don’t know.” Neither her uncle nor her many admirers were interested in her, Miss Victoria Ann Covington. “Do you think there exists a man who could appreciate me for myself?”

Kitty sagely nodded at the question, but after a moment’s reflection said, “It is a shame, but I am quite certain men are hardly ever interested in women that way.”

Love exploring history, writing and Romance?

Visit B.W. Haggart’s website:  www.bwhaggart.com

Victoria Covington is mysteriously propelled two hundred years into the future. She must not only learn to live in the 21st century, but also keep her beloved Belton Park from being sold to a handsome, but ungentlemanly American, who simply wants the estate to further his own business plans.

Start reading Touching Time!

https://www.amazon.com/Touching-Time-Romancing-Book-ebook/dp/B09HVF2C1B/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2YYNQODABGSTT  

Shackled and dressed in a neon orange jumpsuit, art thief Cassie Sinatore awaits extradition at Heathrow Airport.  An accident with a nearby experimental radar plane throws Cassie back in time, dumping her in a wooded countryside.  The rider who discovers her is charismatic, more compelling than any man she has ever met.  She chalks up the man’s Regency outfit and odd behavior to the eccentricity of the rich. Or maybe he is just a nutbar, but the man is offering a ride.

Start reading Stealing Time

https://www.amazon.com/Stealing-Time-B-W-Haggart-ebook/dp/B08BWZCL2H/ref=sr_1_3?dchild=1&keywords=stealing+time&qid=1632502969&s=books&sr=1-3

Both are available in kindleunlimited!

An Earl with Two Mistresses in the Same House?

Dearest Readers,

The Tattler is certainly no stranger to scandals and rumors, but this latest news from the countryside even brings a blush to our faces. A dear friend has just returned from a ball held at the Earl of Rothden’s country estate and reports that the earl had not one, but two mistresses present.

The earl has long been associated with a certain Lady M, whom our witness saw at the ball. However, our witness later spied the Earl sweeping an unknown miss into the shadows and come out looking quite flushed. Is it any wonder that he should act so scandalously with friends like Lord Twisden? You may recall, dear readers, that Lord Twisden was in the Tattler just last week when he was caught indecent with Major Waler’s wife!

Rumors have circulated for the last few months that the Earl broke his arrangement with Lady M. Yet we must wonder if those rumors are true with her attendance at the ball. Even if they are true, who is the mysterious young miss the Earl was spotted with? Be assured that The Tattler will not rest until her identity is discovered.

The Earl’s Timely Wallflower

Never let destiny meddle in your romantic affairs…

When Lily Bennett became the caretaker of her teenage sister, it came at the expense of her hopes, dreams, and the home she grew up in. Now that her sister is grown and on her own, Lily struggles to find a place to call home. She wants to feel part of a family again and intends to mend the broken relationships with her siblings. That is, until she discovers an unusual timepiece that lands her in Regency England. And at the feet of one of the most eligible men in society. Unfortunately, he believes that she’s crazy. Any attraction Lily feels for the stubborn man is clearly one-sided. Too bad she’s stuck with him until she can figure out how to get home.

Gabriel Hawthorne, Earl of Rothden, has decided to host one last house party before returning to London for the dreaded season where every simpering chit and money-hungry mother will hover around him like flies. Add to that his sister’s hunt for a husband and Gabriel would rather shoot himself than a grouse. Still, it’s his duty to find his sister a suitable match, which he’ll do after one last bit of respite to shore up his defenses. A respite interrupted when a pretty little wallflower in scandalous clothes lands at his feet claiming to be from the future. He’d turn her over to doctors if she weren’t so damn intriguing. Suddenly, all thoughts of London, responsibilities, and simpering debutantes don’t seem half as hard as getting Lily to stay with him.

But when his ex-mistress arrives unannounced at the house party, she makes every effort to drive a wedge between the fragile bond Gabriel and Lily have forged. If she succeeds, he could lose Lily forever. And if Lily finds a way back to her time, he may have to follow her.

Because the Earl of Rothden always gets what he wants. Even when it’s a wallflower from the future.

Purchase Link: https://amzn.to/3lYSzNm

(also available in KU)

Excerpt: Gabriel finds Lily in the library late one night…

“What about a family of your own? A husband and children?” His stomach tightened unaccountably at the thought.

“Some future dream, I suppose.”

“Any other future dreams?”

Lily chewed her lip. “There should be.”

“Perhaps it is time to think about the things that you want, Lily.”

“Maybe. Right now, I want to find a clock maker. All I found was a book on the theory of trade in the world.”

“Excellent choice. That book should put you right to sleep.”

“Would you like one for yourself?” Lily handed him the book. Her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled.

“Ah, no. I was hoping for something even more dull. The General View of Agriculture perhaps.”

“At home, I read every night in bed. It helped settle my mind so that I could sleep.”

“What did you read?”

“Romance. I only read romances.”

His Lily was a romantic. Did she read them and dream of a great romance of her own?

“I don’t suppose you have any?” she asked, although by her tone, she thought he wouldn’t.

His lips tugged up. “Violet snuck a few romances into the library, hoping that I wouldn’t notice.” He reached behind her, pressing himself that much closer, to run a finger over the leather spines.

She sucked in a breath.

The air changed between them, like the charge before a lightning strike. Heady and breathless. Something about this woman drew him. The more he learned about her, the more he desired her. Her strength and intelligence shone through every conversation, and Gabriel found himself deeply attracted to that combination.

Gabriel rested his other hand on the bookshelf, caging her in. He looked down into her eyes, illuminated only by the candle flame. The darkness wrapped around them, cocooning them in shadows. A branch brushed the window outside, and the house creaked. The silence of the night cast a spell, weaving between them, tugging them closer. It was as if they’d slipped into the land of dreams, where nothing felt real.

Lily pressed her hands to his chest. She didn’t push him away.

He wanted to feel her soft hands against his bare skin, but his dressing gown and sleep shirt were in the way. She stroked over his chest, then dipped her fingers under the edge of his velvet robe.

Closer to where he wanted her hands.

He dipped his head and traced his nose along her hairline, breathing her in. She arched into him, brushing her hips against his.

Her eyes widened when she felt his hard cock, and a shuddering breath left her lips.

“You fit against me perfectly,” he whispered. “When we danced, this is what I imagined.”

 

 

Bio and Social Media Links:

Aurrora St. James writes sexy historical and paranormal/fantasy romances featuring tough heroes, strong women, quirky characters, and a touch of humor added in for spice. She loves coffee, making her own journals, old B, C, and D-movies, and the magic of a happily ever after.

Newsletter: https://www.aurrorastjames.com/newsletter (Get a free paranormal romance)

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The Wise Bet Is the Duke Is Dead.

A man can learn a lot sitting in the shadows outside the gentlemen’s clubs that line Saint James Street. On a recent night an argument among three particularly drunken pinks of the ton raised some interesting questions. They were discussing a certain duke who had been most conspicuous for his absence during the previous season. Well into the summer no sign of him had been found in any of the usual chains of gossip. It was as I he had disappeared.

One gentleman, an Honorable, if ‘honorable” actually applies to such a man, held forth at some length his belief that the duke had merely decamped to an inn in an obscure village in Nottinghamshire—Ashwell or Ashburn, or something—and was in the process of drinking himself to death. He swore he’d seen him there the previous spring.

The other two argued mightily no one simply walked away from a dukedom. They questioned whether the duke had been kidnapped, set upon by robbers, or met with some other misadventure. The baronet among them held out for death at the hands of brigand. The other argued for drowning and a hint of suicid

A foray among the rear doors of the clubs, discrete questions to servants, and a survey of some of the less savory gambling dens frequented by gentlemen brought the picture into focus to your reporter. Consensus among the fashionable of London is that the duke has met with a grisly end, and I must say that the stories became more gruesome with the telling. Many believe he has done away with himself, and the betting has shifted to how he died and where. Suicide is the leading bet. Some are even scouting the Thames for sign of a body but none has been found so far.

In summary, the Duke of Glenmoor is dead. He must be, for as the gentleman said, no one walks away from a dukedom.

About the Book:

Duke in All But Name, the Entitled Gentlemen Book 1

Is he the bastard or the duke?

Gideon Kendrick grew up as the despised bastard son of the Duke of Glenmoor. Exiled to the mines by his father, he has not only survived but thrived and prospered. He lives apart, wanting nothing to do with the duke, the estate—or anything in his past, except his younger brother Phillip, the new duke.

When Phillip disappears, leaving behind a letter asking his brother to care for his affairs, Gideon can’t refuse. Armed with authority making him the duke in all but name, he returns to the scene of his worst memories, facing vicious rumors and his family’s past. He also finds a grasping would-be heir, a steward with secrets, and a woman who stirs in him a desire he thought buried with his beloved wife.

Mia Selwyn lives in the shadows, an unwanted poor relation in the house of her viscount uncle. When her cousin’s hoydenish attempt to meet the supposed heir sees her drenched, ill, and in need of nursing, Mia is sent to care for her. Though warned to stay clear of the despised Kendrick, she is drawn into the dark undercurrents among the mismatched collection of residents and enthralled by the enigmatic Mr. Kendrick.

She quickly realizes he is not the monster he is rumored to be, twisted in body and mind. Instead, he is a resilient resourceful man with a deep love of family. As family, household servants, and villagers take sides on whether Gideon is the source of all the estate’s problems or its salvation, Mia and Gideon forge a partnership.

Together they struggle to unravel secrets and the tangle Phillip left behind, and in the process, find a future for themselves.

Read Free in Kindle Unlimited or purchase here: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BJS3GDN7/

The duke is dead! Or is he? Watch for Phillip’s story, Book 2, Duke in Name Only this spring.

The Entitled Gentlemen Series

New Scandal Sheets take up ‘Sensitive’ Matters! Beware!

Dearest Readers,

Readers of this regular missive are certainly aware of other purveyors of news related to the Bon Ton. The Lady’s Newspaper and Pictorial Times, for example, or Fraser’s Magazine for Town and Country. Those of genteel breeding, however, may not be aware of the existence of single-sheet items printed hurriedly and sold on the streets cheaply for a penny or halfpenny, perhaps because they deal with issues of politics that many ladies do not concern themselves with.

However, a rumor has arisen that a member of the gentry may be behind one of these scandalous sheets. This man calls himself Janner, which is a name for an English person born within ten miles of the sea, and though his ideas may be controversial his language and ability to express himself reveals that he is a man of great education, perhaps a graduate of one of our finest universities.

Janner takes up a variety of causes, from the support of bills in Parliament governing the labor of women and children in factories to the plight of boys who work delivering goods to our very homes from vendors we might otherwise hold in esteem.

His fervor is that of a young man, and enquiring minds are curious to see if he can be matched to anyone from a seaside background with an excellent education. Certain names have arisen, most specifically Lord Tyne and Lord Therkenwell, who both hail from Cornwall.

Those who encountered Lord Tyne during his sister’s season may have reason to doubt his ability to form such elegant sentences. Which leaves Lord Therkenwell, who shares a dwelling in Eaton Square with a gentleman employed by the French embassy. This somewhat louche arrangement results in two eligible bachelors who are rarely seen in the company of women.

These particulars, as well as the fact that Therkenwell has taken a more public stance on issues now that his father, Earl Badgely, is less active in the House of Lords, leads your correspondent to make a connection between Janner and the Cornish lord.

How does this relate to the readers of this publication? Recently Janner has taken a position on the pay and working conditions of household staff! And that should concern any lady who wishes to maintain a proper home—especially on a budget. We shall keep abreast of these issues in the future, and whether we can expose Lord Therkenwell as the author of these missives.

***

Janner Excerpt,  The Lord and the Gentleman

Ahead of him he spotted a young boy selling broadsides. He hurried closer to see if it was the latest Janner. And indeed as the boy called out the headline, he recognized it. He felt warm inside—until a portly man in a heavy overcoat grabbed one of the pages from the boy without paying.

“Here, mister, that’s a penny,” the boy said.

The man glanced at the headline. “I don’t pay for trash!” he said.

When the boy grabbed for the paper, the man pushed him, and John felt obliged to step in. “It is theft to take something without paying for it,” John said. “Either return that page to the boy or pay him, or I will call the bobbies on you!”

The man turned on him, his mouth a snarl. Then his eyes opened. He looked at John, taking in the cut of his topcoat, the ruffled sleeve that stretched over his wrist. “A molly, are you?”

“Even I were, I would have no interest in such as you,” John said coldly. “A pork pie stuffed in a sausage casing, and a thief to boot. I reiterate, sirrah. Give the boy his coin or his paper.”

Huffing, the main pulled a coin from his pocket and handed it to the boy. He folded the paper under his arm. 

John tipped his hat and said, “Good day.” Then he turned and began to stride back toward Russell Square, his heart beating rapidly. The nerve of the man, a commoner in cheap clothing, to insult him, a member of the gentry. Usually his outrage led him to write as Janner, so when he got home, he pulled down an empty notebook from his shelf and wrote out the incident, indicating, time, place and what the man was wearing. Those details would be useful at some point, he was sure.

As he closed the book and put it back on the shelf, he wondered if other boys suffer the same conduct when selling his work? The idea remained with him, and became the substance of the next Janner broadside, about the value of work. Regardless what readers might think of broadsides, they were the result of work by writers, editors, printers and salesboys, and each of them deserved to be compensated. To snatch away a page, as the man had done, was a theft against all involved in the production.

He worked all week on this essay, taking quick trips out to spy on the salesboys and see if anyone else tried to take advantage of them. He witnessed hectoring and even one man who spit, and he used those examples as well. 

By the time Saturday night arrived, when he had an invitation to a soirée at the home of Lord Dawson and the man he shared a house with, Toby Marsh, he was tired. He was still angry about the injustices perpetrated against the salesboys, and unhappy over his father’s demand that he head to Shorecliff.

“I don’t know if I shall go out tonight,” he said to Beller as evening darkened. 

“You have worked hard this whole long week, my lord,” Beller said. “See how ink-stained your fingertips are? They are a mark of your industry. Whether you go out or not you must let me work on them.”

John sat at the small table in his kitchen. Beller sat across from him with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a worn cloth, and John stretched out his right hand. Beller grasped it with one hand and used the other to brush aggressively against the ink stains. 

“You take very good care of me, Beller,” John said, even as his fingertips stung against the abrasion.

“God calls every Christian to glorify him in our work,” Beller said. “According to Saint Luke’s account in the Bible, Mary Magdalen washed the feet of Christ with her tears at a banquet in the House of Simon.” He looked up at John with the hint of a smile. “At least I may use rubbing alcohol instead of my tears.”

John laughed. “You are a rogue, Beller,” he said. “And that is why I enjoy your company so much.”

“And I yours, my lord.” When he finished cleaning John’s fingers, he said, “and now, are you ready to reward your hard work with some entertainment?”

John smiled. “I am, my good man. Thank you. Shall I wear the tweed suit?”

“I think it is appropriate for the January cold,” Beller said. “With a wool scarf and top hat, and your greatcoat over it.” 

Once Beller had completed John’s ensemble, John struck out for the walk to Ormond Yard. The night was chilly but clear—or as clear as sooty London could be. He even managed to spot the North Star above him, though it was quickly eclipsed by wafts of smoke coming from chimneys he passed.

Cornwall in February would be quite dreary, he thought, as he turned onto Great Russell Street, past the enormous pile of the British Museum. It was closed, of course, but he gave a nod toward the Egyptian sculpture gallery, one of his favorites. When he came down to London occasionally from Cambridge, he had often strolled through those galleries, peering at the Rosetta Stone as if it could decipher his future for him.

He had so much good fortune in his life, he thought. An allowance from his father that enabled him to live in comfort, his writings as Janner that gave him a purpose. He had Beller for companionship and service. Though he longed for a male companion he had to resolve to continue until such a man arrived in his life.

Two elderly men passed him, one holding the other by the belt so he would not topple, and John tipped his cap at them and wished them good evening. Seeing their connection made him smile all the way to Ormond Yard.

***

The Lord and the Frenchman, blurb

Two wounded men discover true love and a found family in Victorian England

In the opulent courts of Victorian England, John Seales, Lord Therkenwell, is a man of wealth and privilege, expected to marry a woman of his own social standing and produce an heir. But when he meets dashing French diplomat Raoul Desjardins at a soirée arranged by a politically-connected gay couple, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to the man despite the risks of their forbidden love.

John and Raoul struggle to keep their feelings for each other hidden while becoming ensnared in a web of international intrigue that threatens to ruin their careers and endanger their lives. As they navigate the dangerous political landscape of the time, they must also confront their own demons and make a choice: follow the expectations of society or follow their hearts. Set against the backdrop of a tumultuous era, “The Lord and the Frenchman” is a passionate and romantic tale of love that knows no bounds.

Genre: MM Romance

Length: 81,000 words

Publisher: Samwise Books

All formats available

Release date: February 14, 2023

https://www.amazon.com/Lord-Frenchman-Ormond-Romantic-Adventures-ebook/dp/B0BSH6ZL4N/

https://amzn.to/3XNKHMm 

https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-lord-and-the-frenchman/id6445491482

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-lord-and-the-frenchman

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-lord-and-the-frenchman-neil-s-plakcy/1142969348?ean=2940167013803

https://books2read.com/u/4DJyJe 

Neil Plakcy, author bio

Neil Plakcy is living his own happily ever after with his husband and two rambunctious golden retrievers in South Florida, where he is a professor of English at Broward College. He has been a construction manager, a computer game producer, and a web developer – all experiences he uses in his fiction.

He has written or edited over fifty novels and short stories in gay romance, gay mystery, cozy mystery and erotica. His research has taken him from the FBI’s sixteen-week citizen’s academy, where he practiced at a shooting range, to visiting numerous gay bars in Miami Beach and Fort Lauderdale. (Seriously, it was research.) 

His website is www.mahubooks.com

A Lady Deserts her Books…to seek a Scoundrel?

My very good Lady P!  I feel I must write and utterly and completely refute a nefarious rumor that has come to my hearing about my dear sister Lady Caroline Blacknall.  It has been said she left her home, her friends, and her studies to seek out the reclusive, formerly villainous Sir Grant Dunmore on his distant Irish island.  This could not possibly be true!  Lady C would never leave her books for such a length of time, and she grows seasick on boats.  She is a respectable widow!

It could be true that Sir G is in possession of a medieval manuscript that might be of use to her.  But surely after the Great Scandal where Sir G treated Lady C abominably, and was injured and scarred rescuing her, she would never wish to see him again.  And as for tales that the island is haunted—I could not possibly say…

I hope, my dears, this clears up any scurrilous rumors about my sister’s whereabouts

Yours, Anna, Duchess of Adair

Lady of Seduction Book 3 of The Daughters of Erin

It’s a mad, ill-advised journey that leads the usually sensible Lady Caroline Blacknall to the legendary isle of Muirin Inish, off the windswept coast of Ireland. Even so, she doesn’t expect to find herself shipwrecked and then rescued by a man she believed she would never see again. A man who, long ago, held her life in his hands . . . and with it, her heart.

Reformed rake Sir Grant Dunmore knew he could never forget the beautiful woman he once endangered nor will he ever forgive himself. But history seems doomed to repeat itself, for as long as Caroline stays on the island, she is trapped in a secret plot that could forever free Ireland-or turn deadly for all. And yet, now that she is in his arms again, how can he dream of ever letting her go? 

https://www.amazon.com/Lady-Seduction-Daughters-Erin-Book-ebook/dp/B0B5YPY64X/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1TSJAKSXMQACN&keywords=mccabe+lady+of+seduction&qid=1675718713&sprefix=mccabe+lady+of+seduction%2Caps%2C165&sr=8-1

The author: Amanda McCabe wrote her first romance at the age of sixteen—a vast historical epic starring all her friends as the characters, written secretly during algebra class (and her parents wondered why math was not her strongest subject…).

She’s never since used algebra, but her books have been nominated for many awards, including the RITA Award, the Romantic Times BOOKReviews Reviewers’ Choice Award, the Booksellers Best, the National Readers Choice Award, and the Holt Medallion.  She lives in Santa Fe with two rescue dogs, a wonderful husband, and a very and far too many books and royal memorabilia collections.

When not writing or reading, she loves taking dance classes, collecting cheesy travel souvenirs, and watching the Food Network–even though she doesn’t cook.

Visit her at ammandamccabe.com

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