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Another Sunrise, Another Scandal at Rosachron Manor

Dear Readers,

Rosachron Manor is once again the cynosure of all eyes!

The Winterose family’s disregard for Polite Society is already well‑known — refusal to observe mourning, casual time‑hopping through centuries, and the shocking elopement of the youngest daughter.

But now the situation has grown even more alarming.

Miss Katherine (called Kitty) has taken to wandering the countryside alone at dawn, returning flushed and feverish, yet insisting these rambles are “good for her health.” A curious claim, given the hour.

And now, dear readers, she has gone too far.

On one such sunrise excursion, Miss Kitty returned with a man — a completely unknown, oddly dressed gentleman who claims to be a physician. He was brought straight into the household like a stray puppy and shows no sign of leaving Rosachron Manor.

Has Miss Kitty Winterose met her match? Or is she destined to follow the scandalous path of young Miss Lydia?

Rest assured: the Tattler will report all!

A Rose at Dawn – Book Three of Roses of Longbourn

A time‑twisted Regency tale of healing, hope, and the courage to begin again.

Kitty Winterose has lived in the shadows for far too long — those cast by her portrayal as spineless Kitty Bennet, her sisters’ bolder personalities, and the chronic cough she fears may portend a far more deadly inheritance.

Kitty vows that her sojourn in the spa town of Buxton will be her new dawn — time and space to think, to grow, and to discover who she might be apart from her family and childhood home at Rosachron Manor, where time behaves so strangely.

Returning home, Kitty carries her new steadiness with her, never dreaming how Rosachron’s temporal anomalies are about to change her world.

With the arrival of Dr. Jamison Hartwell, a physician from the twenty‑first century — unexpected, impossible, and thoroughly unsettling — Kitty begins to feel seen in ways she never has before. Jamison’s modern insight, quiet humor, and attentive kindness challenge everything she believed about her illness, her future, and her worth.

As the Manor’s portal puzzle continues its slow unfolding and echoes of other travelers through time reverberate, Kitty finds herself standing at the edge of a future she never imagined — one shaped not by fear, but by hope, courage, and the possibility of love.

A Rose at Dawn invites you to believe in second chances, soft miracles, and love that arrives exactly when it should.

Purchase A Rose at Dawn in paperback or ebook format on Amazon or read in Kindle Unlimited: https://a.co/d/01NChin8

The Roses of Longbourn series:

A Rose Out of Time – Book 1

A Rose in Winter – Book 2

Mrs. Christie and the Misplaced Rose (A Short Story)

A Golden-Hearted Rose (A Short Story)

A Rake Redeemed, or The Gretna Rose (A Novella)

Truths and Roses (A Short Story)

Coming Soon:

A Rose After Rain – Book 4

Cornwall Chronicles:

Nevermore Castle

About the Author

KELLY BOGGS writes seasoned not spiced atmospheric fiction that blends historical charm, a touch of mystery, and warm, character driven storytelling. Whether her books wander through Cornwall’s windswept cliffs or the quiet corners of the Regency, she builds worlds where emotion, place, and personality intertwine. Her stories offer immersive escapes threaded with wit, whimsy, and a distinctly human heart.

Links:

Website: kellyboggsauthor.com

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/kellyboggs

Goodreads: Kelly Boggs (Author of A Rose Out of Time) | Goodreads

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kellyboggsauthor

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

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/KellyBoggsAuthor

 

Excerpts from A Rose at Dawn

Mistenmere wore an entirely different aspect in the morning, just as Jamison had hoped. The mist drifted in slow, shifting veils across the water, lending the whole scene an otherworldly cast and making the stone arch seem larger, darker, and colder.

He walked down to the water’s edge again, letting his hand rest on the back of the ancient bench. In the misty solitude, he fancied he could almost hear the echoes of other lives lived in this strange place. The thought brought back the musical laughter of the girl from his dream, and a pang went through him—loneliness, and a wistful longing for something he had never known.

Love, he supposed, shaking his head. He’d never had time to go looking for it, and he wasn’t sure when he ever would. Yet for all that he had come here craving solitude, he found himself wishing someone special were beside him to share the moment.

***

Kitty put her musings aside the moment the door opened, her eyes drawn instantly to the young doctor—so much for all her hard-won self-discipline. She had spent the hours since yesterday reminding herself that he was not for her. Now he looked well, she thought, ruthlessly suppressing the word handsome.

She was smiling to herself when their eyes met. All at once, she felt breathless. Kitty knew she was young and lacked experience of the world, but she did not think she was mistaken in what she read in Jamison’s gaze. It was the exact reflection of her own unwilling yearning. He felt it, too.

Jamison was dimly aware that Remington was attempting to introduce him properly, and that he was behaving very badly. But once he had allowed his eyes to search for Kitty—and their gazes had locked— his mind could not convince his heart to look away. She was beautiful, she was kind—she was everything he had ever hoped to find. And she belonged to a century he had no desire to inhabit.

The introductions then proceeded in form, and Kitty and Jamison each dared to imagine that their moment of silent connection had gone unremarked. But in truth, every person in that room had not only noticed, but developed an opinion on what had passed between the two.

Mary, for one, living in a perpetual glow of love and wedding plans, decided at once that Something Must Be Done. She had seen Kitty’s increasing loneliness and sincerely wished for her happiness. The more she saw and heard of the doctor, the more convinced she became that he was the ideal match for her sister.

The Outrageous Literary Scandal of the Season

In which an enigmatic writer, a reluctant duke, and a lady of iron resolve overturn all expectations.

 Dear Reader:

Who, we ask, is the mysterious new author styling himself Remington J. Force, who has burst upon the literary scene from absolutely nowhere and is now enjoying the favor of the Prince Regent?

Force is a man with no title, no history, no lineage—yet he bears an uncanny resemblance to the Duke of R., a gentleman with a hitherto spotless reputation, who is now sponsoring the career of this aspiring author. Surely there is some blood tie there, even if not acknowledged.

The intrigue does not stop with Force’s own mysterious origin. Indeed, speculation is rife about the hero of his tale, A Beau Out of Time. The overabundantly named Augustus Remiel Josias Evander Montague is portrayed as a man about town, arbiter of fashion, and bon vivant. Some even call him a rake.

His name is clearly borrowed from both His Royal Highness and Remington Josiah Force. What, then, of his character? Is it a similar amalgamation—or barefaced flattery of the Prince to sell books? Whichever it is, it is succeeding, for Force has now been styled Publisher to the Crown.

But, my dear Reader, that is not all.

While I have not read the shocking novel myself, it has been hinted that this admirable gentleman, this pink of the ton, this Beau Montague, meets a fate worse than death. In short, after traveling two centuries into the future, he is tamed by a woman! An unnatural, domineering, matchmaking woman.

I can scarcely believe such a thing could be permitted to sully the page, but alas—Force is both author and publisher of his own scandalous tale. Yet one might have expected the Duke of R., who lent his support to the enterprise, to have advocated for decency.

It has also been reported by our correspondent in Hertfordshire that Force himself was recently betrothed to a woman unknown to society, which raises a host of additional questions about what manner of female he would choose to be his bride. Or whether he was the one to do the choosing at all.

There are even rumors that Force’s unknown lady was herself presented in a most unflattering light in a well‑known novel written by some anonymous female. We have not been able to confirm this last speculation, however.

Stop Press: It has been brought to our attention that the lady in question has stolen her betrothed’s characters—Mr. Montague and Miss Capell—and written her own story, undoing all of Mr. Force’s hard work. I do not believe we need speculate any longer on just what type of female she is.

A Rose in Winter

Return to Rosachron Manor for another tale of love that spans centuries.

When historical researcher Remington J. Force travels to Hertfordshire to investigate the disappearance of author Hannah Ridley, he’s swept through the same hidden portal into 1814. There he meets gentle, earnest Mary Winterose, and together they begin unraveling the disappearance of a missing heir. As secrets come to light, a tender romance blooms—one that may prove strong enough to defy time itself.

In 1985, folk singer Garnet Wildwood becomes captivated by the verses of the enigmatic poet P. K. Neville. Her search for his true identity draws her deeper into the tangled history of Rosachron Manor and the echoes of a love she can’t explain.

Meanwhile, Lord Peregrine Neville longs only to write his poems and wander the Peak District, free from the crushing expectations of a dukedom. How far will he go to claim a life of his own choosing—and what will it cost him?

Follow two pairs of lovers across intertwined timelines as they seek the truth behind Rosachron Manor’s mysteries and discover whether love can truly transcend the boundaries of time.

A Rose in Winter is the second enchanting installment in the Roses of Longbourn series.

Purchase A Rose in Winter and A Rake Redeemed, or the Gretna Rose on Amazon or read in Kindle Unlimited

https://a.co/d/05P7JBci

https://a.co/d/00hTdZ0K

The Roses of Longbourn series:

A Rose Out of Time – Book 1

A Rose in Winter – Book 2

Mrs. Christie and the Misplaced Rose (A Short Story)

A Golden-Hearted Rose (A Short Story)

A Rake Redeemed, or The Gretna Rose (A Novella)

Coming Soon:

A Rose at Dawn – Book 3

A Rose After Rain – Book 4

About the Author

Kelly Boggs is a writer who happily wanders between centuries on the page. She draws inspiration from Austen, quiet English estates, and the small wonders of everyday life—including the antics of her two dachshunds, who consider themselves indispensable to her creative routine. She lives in Ohio with her family and far too many books.

Links:

Website: kellyboggsauthor.com

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/kellyboggs

Goodreads: Kelly Boggs (Author of A Rose Out of Time) | Goodreads

Excerpt from A Rose in Winter

An excerpt from the book within the book, which is only a small part of the tale:

From A Beau Out of Time, by Remington J. Force

The moment they were pronounced husband and wife, Valentina seized Augustus by the wrist with the brisk efficiency of a general reclaiming a stray recruit.

“Smile,” she ordered under her breath as she propelled him toward the waiting crowd. “Not the anxious one. The one that suggests reliability and mild romantic promise.”

“I have a smile like that?”

“You will in approximately three seconds.”

She paused only long enough to adjust his cravat—an adjustment that felt suspiciously like throttling—then resumed towing him toward the waiting portrait taker. Augustus had never entirely agreed to be the face of her matchmaking enterprise, Swooning for Swains, but he had also not disagreed quickly enough, which Valentina had interpreted as enthusiastic consent.

Before he could protest, she arranged his arm around her waist, angled him toward the onlookers, and beamed with triumphant satisfaction.

“Perfect,” she declared. “You look trustworthy, devoted, and only slightly bewildered. And devastatingly handsome, of course. Exactly what my clients want in a husband.”

“Your clients?”

“Our clients,” she corrected, patting his hand as though he were a promising but occasionally wayward puppy. “You are the living proof that my methods work. Do try not to look as though you were captured.”

“I was,” he murmured.

“Yes, but happily so.”

And with that, the new Mrs. Augustus Remiel Josias Evander Montague —matchmaker, strategist, and newly minted commander of one very obliging husband—swept him forward to greet their guests, already planning the next ten years of his public image.

Augustus followed, smiling the smile she had assigned him, and thinking that surrender had never felt so oddly delightful.

Excerpt from A Rake Redeemed, or The Gretna Rose

And because there are at least two sides to every tale, we present the alternative story, as told by Remington’s “dreadful” fiancée, Mary:

In truth, Mary had been more than a little shocked when Remington had written his hero as a rake, but there was no denying it had helped to win the Prince Regent’s endorsement. And naturally, in the tradition of all heroic rakes, he must be reformed by the love of a good woman. Or even a morally dubious one.

Miss Valentina Capell was a woman who knew her own mind. And a most superior mind it was. Unlike many of the fair sex, she did not let such small matters as humility or ladylike decorum stand in her way. She looked about, decided what she wanted, and then devised a capable and intelligent plan to obtain it. Valentina could see no reason why the procurement of a husband should proceed any differently.

When Valentina met Mr. Augustus Remiel Josias Evander Montague, she took one long, exceedingly thorough look at his manly physique, his handsome face, and his cravat—which was a work of art—and made two important decisions. She would have him for her own, and she would convince him that two names were quite enough.

Valentina had no idea what sort of man Augustus was on the inside, but no matter. His outside was most pleasing, and she had no doubt she could work with whatever talents he possessed to fashion him into an ideal husband.

Mr. Montague of the five‑named fame was equally thorough in his visual assessment of the lovely Valentina, letting his eyes linger on her more obvious charms in a way that was scarcely gentlemanly. For Augustus was a rake—a connoisseur of womanly beauty who never restrained himself with any notions of honour or propriety. Or rather, he had his own code of honour, which was amazingly flexible and generally allowed him to do anything he pleased.

Valentina, though properly brought up and unfailingly chaste in her own conduct, was not such an innocent as to be deceived for one moment about what Augustus was thinking when he looked at her. Very well—let the hook be firmly planted before she reeled him in like a slightly befuddled fish. She could see already that his intellect was no match for her own, and that was all to the good.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A new woman seeks to marry from an advert! She shall not have him!

I write to you today, dear Tattler, to tell of an outrage in my village. What do you say to a lady who sails all the way from London to the south shore of Wales, all to get a husband?

And to take one who has advertised to get you to come hither?

Is that not a ridiculous venture?

Sight unseen to agree to travel hundreds of miles to a sordid little town and devilihs house like the tumbledown Rambles of the barons of Rhouse and Gary? This is a sprawling, ugly monstrosity built by Normans, kept by men who made their living stealing what bounty floated up from the shores.

A wicked house it is too. Filled with wicked men who take women for their money and their land. Hollow men who fill themselves up with the dowries of naive girls and who ravaged them…and any others they wish.

The barons of this house and this lineage are thieves and charlatans. What woman would want such a man as husband? 

I didn’t. Yet I had to. My father demanded it of me and where else was I to go, sicne my fiance’s father had already defiled me, eh?

Now this girl comes. Silly thing. She will not have this new baron to wed.  I will see to it.

Warn your female readers not to accept a man’s hand if they know him not. It is not wise. It is not safe.

I warn you. Do not answer an advert to become a wife of a Welsh baron. He had only danger and heartache in store for you.

Sincerely,

~ Desperate Lady

*****

When a young widow wishes to marry again, will the man she grows to love ask more than she can give?

Mrs. Tynley Wallingford yearns for a quiet, comforting marriage to a man whom she can respect. She’ll go to any lengths to find the best candidate who can respect her, in turn. Even correspond with one fellow at length before she agrees that Kendryck Hollens is the man whose words awaken her desire for a husband she might grow to love.

Tynley takes a risk and sails to Wales with the best intentions. She finds in Kendryck a man with a noble ambition—and a family filled with age-old conflict and despair.

Kendryck Hollens returns home to Wales after fifteen years abroad, a stranger to his cantankerous family. He assumes his rightful title as baron of the legendary house of Strade and attempts to change the dastardly reputation of his ancestors, and put his siblings on the right path to a purposeful life.

Thrilled that Tynley has come to his home, he notices that her presence creates challenges among those in his family. But he feels assured she can help him obtain what he wants most in this world.

When a tragedy threatens to ruin his ambition and his family, he fears the price of endurance will ruin Tynley’s personal objective too—and drive her from him.

How much can one ask of one whom they love? Are any prices too high?

*****

Excerpt YOU MADE ME LOVE YOU, All rights reserved. Copyright 2023. Cerise DeLand.

Kendryck put his two hands to her cheeks. “I told myself I would not take you like a villain.”

“Hmmm,” Tynely said as she considered that with a tip of her head this way and that. Then she pulled at the end of his beautifully tied cravat and said, “You aren’t.”

He took her by the shoulders. “Not against the stables, not in a carriage. We must be in a bed.”

“I do agree.” She sank to lick the skin of his corded neck. “But one must have a few bites of bliss before the main course.” She undid the button of his soft linen shirt and kissed the hollow of his throat. “Otherwise, one’s appetite is not prepared.”

He laughed, he groaned, then he pressed her flush to his chest. “You should have told me you were a tease.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why? Isn’t this more fun?”

He hooted. His grip on her was mighty and seductive. “What should I know, my darling?”

“About…?”

“Making love to you.”

She bent to his mouth and licked his bottom lip. “That I will be as needy as you.”

“Thank God.”

“That I will want all of you as mine.”

“I rejoice at it. And? Anything else?”

“That I am yours completely and you may have me at your will,” she whispered and took one of his fingers and nipped the end, “as long as I may have you at mine.”

BUY LINK:     https://books2read.com/u/4jBX90

Cerise DeLand is the USA TODAY Bestselling Author who believes love brings rich rewards from a life lived with honesty, valor—and a functioning funnybone. 

Known for her poetic elegance and accuracy of detail, she’s won awards for many of the more than 70 novels she’s written.

Her work has been nearly life-long! First published in 1991 by Kensington, then Pocket Books, St. Martin’s Press and independent presses, she is now published by DRAGONBLADE PUBLISHING. Plus her books have been monthly selections of the Doubleday Book Club and the Mystery Guild. 

To research, she’s dived into the oldest texts and dustiest library shelves. She travels abroad taking good walking shoes, big notebooks, trusty pens and a camera! She visits chateaux and country homes she loves to people with her own imaginary characters. 

And at home every day? She cooks. (Every night.) Never dusts. (That can be a problem.) She goes swimming or pumps iron once a week and tries (desperately) to grow vegetables in her arid backyard in south Texas!

Website: 

https://www.cerisedeland.com

AMAZON: https://www.amazon.com/Cerise-DeLand/e/B0089DS2N2/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cerise.deland/

Blog:  https://cerisedeland.blogspot.com/

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

A LADY WHO SEEKS A HUSBAND IN NAME ONLY? How can he forgive her?

Edward Lamson Henry (1841-1919)

Dear Sir,

I come to you to day to object to the most absurd marriage agreement I’ve ever heard! To wit, a lady—a widow of a noted cavlary officer—seeks a husband who will permit her to live with him as his friend only.

Who dare ask for such a thing?

I have it on good authority that this lady, who has done her duty by her deceased husband, is now in the marriage mart looking for a man of some station and wealth to support her.

Who could even consider it?

I have heard one man does. One man who knows the lady well and who, though he has inherited a grand estate and title, seeks nothing from her but…companionship.

Absurd!

And yet, he will do it! Marry her!

I tell you if all our young ladies—and widows, too—begin to seek such silly promises from our good men in this country, why we shall all perish! Perish as a society!

Good friends, encourage your daughters to do their duty. PLEASE!

      Yours truly, A friend of all fine British gentlemen

The Lyon’s Share

She’d spend every last penny to marry again for security, comfort—or even friendship.

He’d win her wager, possess her, keep her for himself—even if he’d never win her love.

Adriana, Lady Benton, has many regrets—and one hope. To wed a good man to gain a life to which she is entitled. One free of sorrow, penury and ridicule. Appealing to Mrs. Dove-Lyon, Adriana hopes to attract one man who may appreciate her assets. But never need her love.

Colonel Sidney Wolf, once hailed as the ruthless ‘Hound of the Horse Guards’, vows to end Adriana’s hardships. He’s home from the wars and faces the daunting task of filling his father’s role as the Earl of Middlethorpe. Believing only Adriana will do as his helpmate, he strikes a deal with Dove-Lyon that brings him the one woman he admires. The one woman he tells himself he can live with—and never touch.

But the nearness of his funny, charming, beautiful bride drives him mad. Knowing she will never love other than her first husband, can he keep his hands—and his heart to himself?

And if he doesn’t, can she ever forgive him?

Buy Link:   https://amzn.to/3bc6ri3

(Their wedding night in London.)

Excerpt, All rights reserved. Copyright Cerise DeLand 2022.

That night in the upstairs hall, she squeezed his hand and thanked him once more for the peace and comfort of their wedding day. With a tender smile borne of hours in companionship walking the appointments of the house, meeting the remaining staff and sharing the light supper, Sidney told her to sleep well. “I have two surprises for you tomorrow. You’ll need your rest.”

Tumbling though her ran a wild impulse to kiss his cheek. “Marvelous! I do love surprises. What are they?”

He shook his head. “They are not for the telling!”

She chuckled. “Shall I arise early? Dawn? Noon? Are we here at home? And what do I wear?”

“Take your leisure at it all. I will adjust to you, my dear.”

She liked how he slipped into the small endearments that made them seem like a normal couple who were meant for more than the mere illusion of intimacy.

“Wonderful. I will be up at dawn!”

He stood before her, his brown-black eyes flashing in the light of candles in the sconces—but he stepped back. “Good night then.”

She smiled and quickly turned away to thrust open her door. She closed it swiftly and fell back against it. Before her was her sitting room and bedroom. Beyond was her dressing room and boudoir. All hers, more than she’d ever expected to acquire or enjoy. All were so well appointed, but even at that, as Sidney had told her, they were furnished in fashions decades old.

“Change them all,” he’d encouraged her hours earlier on his tour. “Whatever you like. The rooms were last done when my mother was alive and much is frayed and dusty. Cost is not a matter of concern. You need not rush as we shall not entertain here for months.”

“I will begin by choosing fabrics. Planning other elements. When do you think we will return?”

“I have so much to do at the estate that I doubt we will come back until spring. Does that suit you?”

A question of whether her little house would be sold soon flashed through her. She would have to come to town to pay Dove-Lyon. “It does.”

“Good. I want you to be comfortable and happy.” He had caught her sudden reticence. “Something concerns you. What is it?”

“The house in West Drayton. I hope it will be sold by spring.” The sooner I pay Mrs. Dove-Lyon the remainder of her fee, the better.

“It’s charming. I’m sure it will sell soon.”

His assurance soothed her worry and so, for a countless time, she thanked him for his largesse. Scrimping was what she did well. Practice had made perfect. With little, she had kept her tiny house clean and bright. With copper pots she scrubbed and numerous shawls and coverlets she knit, she’d dressed up the kitchen and the small parlor. She’d changed Paul’s lap blanket every day. A new color to keep him appraised of the day of the week. A little reminder that today was a new day, another day that he lived. Little had he cared, but she had. She had. Because to give in to his brown study was to follow him into the hole he preferred and she dare not give up on herself, lest they both die of despair.

She inhaled. That was yesterday. Gone, now. And in the place of that, my girl, you have this. This time. This redemption. This man.

This house.

And his generosity.

In studied deliberation, she gazed upon the heavy sky blue damask draperies, the Alençon lace curtains beneath, the fine mahogany deal tables, the plush settees and Axminster carpet. They were all accommodations that he had so sweetly given her, and even agreed to all her stipulations, too. She clutched her arms as, like an avalanche, she felt the freefall of all the deprivations she had not given him. She was happy, very much so—and he, virile man that he was, had so many reasons not to be.

She was selfish, unable to be a proper wife.

He went to his bedchamber alone. A bridegroom. Gallant, determined, daring. A leader of men. A legend in his own time. A man robust, hearty and…alive.

In that moment of self-criticism when she knew what she owed him, what he should have and what she had forbidden him to have of her, she ached to be his good and willing wife.

She went to bed alone. It was what she had planned.

Author of THE LYON’S SHARE, Cerise DeLand

Cerise has spent nearly 40 years writing romances. She loves a conflicted hero and a sassy heroine. Do read her Regency, Victorian and Edwardian historical romances!

Website: http://cerisedeland.com

 

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