Home of the Bluestocking Belles

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Accident or Murder

Mr. Gervase Hastings, Deceased

Readers, The Teatime Tattler has unearthed serious questions about the recent passing of Mr. Gervase Hastings, cousin by marriage to Lady Enid MacShennan, widowed daughter-in-law to His Grace, the Duke of Cowal. The announcement was made two Mondays past, that Mr. Hastings passed away suddenly after an accident at the Duke’s Scottish seat MacShennan Ruith. No details were given in the announcement.

That in and of itself is unsurprising for a well connected yet impecunious gentleman such as Mr. Hastings. However disturbing rumors have arisen that the circumstances of Mr. Hastings’ passing might not be as simple as the lack of detail makes them appear.

First, and most peculiar, Hastings’ funeral service and burial occurred within a day of his death. This short amount of time is only noteworthy, if one accepts that in chilly Scotland a three day lying in repose is the norm. In addition, the interment occurred at night, a privilege usually reserved for noblemen of high degree and wealth (due to the cost of lights to guide the procession and extra fees due to the clergy).

Miss Esmeralda Crobbin

Next, we sent our reporter to the ducal seat, and she discovered not all in residence were content with the story of an accidental death caused, it was presumed, by intoxication. Upon arrival, our reporter learned the laundresses of MacShennan Ruith were occupied in removing bloodstains from a carpet, which formerly occupied space on the floor in the chambers of Miss E. Crobbin, a guest of the Duke. No one would confirm that the blood belonged to Mr. Hastings, or that he died in Miss Crobbin’s chambers. However, several servants related seeing Miss Crobbin in heated discussions with Mr. Hastings. One employee recalled a picnic attended by all the guests at which Miss Crobbin—perhaps unwisely, or perhaps with intent—went apart from the company and was followed within moments by Mr. Hastings. Even more disturbing, the guests and their hosts, save for the duke’s heir, Viscount Cairndow, departed the site before Miss Crobbin and Mr. Hastings returned. Miss Crobbin did eventually return late in the afternoon. The Viscount followed within an hour. Hastings was not seen until the next day and it is not known when he returned.

Last our reported learned that the evening on which Mr. Hasting’s purported accident occurred, the duke held

Viscount Cairndow

an impromptu dance for his guests. Hasting’s is reported to have been drinking copiously, but leaving the event early. Much attention was given at the event to the necklace worn by Miss Crobbin. The jewelry is a collection of emeralds and turquoises in an antique setting. This piece is well known to belong to the Duke of Cowal as his bride, and the bride of his brother, Countess Beresford, each wore the piece when their engagements were announced as well as several later occasions. Further, a disturbance occurred later in the evening, just before Miss Crobbin discovered Hasting’s body. Our reporter has not yet discovered the nature of the disturbance, or why Miss Crobbin might have been with Hastings alone just prior to his death.

Dear readers, given all of these odd incidents, one can only wonder what might truly have caused Mr. Hastings’ untimely passing. You can be certain that The Teatime Tattler will continue to investigate and keep you apprised of any developments.

About The Pirate Duchess:  They meet during a brawl!

Esmeralda Crobbin first encounters Brandon Gilroy during a brawl. Once their opponents are vanquished, she admires the man’s skill with his fists, his intelligence, and a number of other attributes until she learns that he is a British Naval Officer. He would be eager to see her hang, if he knew she was the American privateer, Irish Red. Can sworn enemies become lovers? Find out. Get your copy of The Pirate Duchess today. Amazon   Other Retailers

About Rue Allyn:  Author of historical and contemporary romances, Rue Allyn fell in love with happily ever after the day she heard her first story. (She claims she was a precocious little brat who read at the age of two but could hear much earlier than that.) She studied literature for far too many years before discovering that writing stories was much more fun than writing about them. One of her greatest pleasures as an author is being able to read the story before anyone else. Rue is happily married to her sweetheart of many, many years. Insatiably curious, an avid reader and traveler, she loves to hear from readers about their favorite books and real-life adventures. Crazy Cat stories are especially welcome. You may contact her at Rue@RueAllyn.com. She can’t wait to hear from you.

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.

Oh, those Scots!

Dear Reader,

The New Year is almost upon us, and how appropriate that I have another story to offer you from the northern climes where this day is known as Hogmanay. (A most wretched name for a holiday, is it not?)

Some time ago I shared last year’s scandalous report of a Duke from the northern climes who married his housekeeper!

Suffice to say that, in the normal course of things, the Lady (for as it turned out, she was always a Lady) has done her duty, and the Duke has assured the succession of the title with a healthy male sprout.

Ah, but there is more, revealed to the Teatime Tattler by a gentleman guest of the Duke and Duchess, a direct witness. (Though, as he was in his cups when the story was revealed, we may not be entirely certain of the veracity of all the details.) However, the principle facts I have verified from a source close to an outstanding member of the London medical community.

As it happened, the Duke insisted his Duchess be attended by a physician, and it seems that only a particular doctor would do, a man of humble origins, a recent graduate of Edinburgh’s medical college, who needs must hurried north from his new practice in our fair capital–for who doesn’t obey a Duke’s command?!

Dear Reader, this promising young man had hoped for fame and fortune, and dare I say, romance in London, but instead was called north only to find…

Here is where the details become a trifle uncertain. I won’t say more, except to tell you that the young doctor’s story includes a trap laid by a wealthy heiress (rumored to be the doctor’s former amour), a loathsome nabob, fortune-hunting noblemen, rowdy peasants, and a surprise bequest.

Will our young hero find his wished-for fame, fortune and romance in the Highlands? Your intrepid reporter will endeavor to find out for you!

The Nabob’s Designing Daughter

Book 4, The Upstart Christmas Brides

Blurb:

A wealthy nabob’s daughter has designs on a handsome young doctor, but not the romantic sort, despite the one kiss he stole from her ages ago. The poor crofters she’s been tending behind her father’s back need more than a rich miss’s potions, they need a real doctor. And fortunately, she has the leverage to provide one.

Ripped from his prestigious London practice to deliver a Highland duke’s heir, a young doctor finds there are more snares awaiting than a risky birth, including a surprise—and worthless—bequest. There’s also his best friend’s cousin, who’s blossomed from mousey to heart-stirringly beautiful, with enough wiles to convince an ambitious man that his heart belongs in the Highlands.

Excerpt

They handed over their outer garments and entered a grand room, the fireplace at one end almost the size of the bedchamber he’d shared with his father’s man-of-all-work. Stag heads lined the walls, along with ancient weapons and tapestries. In the far corner, near the blazing fire, a woman rose from her chair, and hurried toward them, the man with her rising and following.

Attractive and dark-haired, she was heavy with child, but rosy-cheeked and smiling. Other than an awkward gait—to be expected—she moved swiftly and caught Mrs. MacDonal, in an embrace.

Introductions were made. Andrew MacDonal, Duke of Kinmarty was a well-formed man of about thirty, he would guess, his wife not quite that age, yet older than one might expect of a duke’s wife bearing his first child. Most noblemen married young women, anxious for as many years as required to produce a male heir.

“So, you’re the physician.” The duke scanned him from head to toe and back up again. “You might wish to know that my lady—”

“No, Andrew.” The duchess touched her husband’s arm. “Dr. Robillard has only just arrived. There is no urgency. We must let him rest before we get down to business.”

Her calm demeanor put him at ease. Demme, but he was nervous, and that wouldn’t do. “Your grace, if it is your time, I am ready now.”

The duke sent her a smug look. “You see, Fil. We men of action are always ready.”

Minny or Fil. What was the duchess’s Christian name?

The duke nodded to him, as if they were equals, and his confidence rose. “If there’s something you wish to tell me about your condition, your grace,” Errol said, “I’d most assuredly like to hear it.”

“Are you having false labor, Minnie?” Mrs. MacDonal appeared beside him and handed him a glass of whisky. “The Kinmarty brew. Quite good, and it will settle your nerves for the night ahead, if it is indeed Minnie’s time.”

“Enough talk of my upcoming ordeal. Edme, Dr. Robillard, we welcome you to our Yuletide celebration. Andrew and I grew up in England and at least where Christmas is concerned, we’ve brought our English ways.” She smiled. “Come the New Year, we’ll celebrate Hogmanay the Scottish way. Now, you must refresh yourself, Doctor Robillard. Come closer to the fire.” She nudged her cousin aside and led Errol to the hearth, whispering. “My husband is apprehensive.”

“And you, Duchess?”

“No.” She shivered. “Or, yes, in fact. My first, and at the advanced age of eight and twenty.”

Nerves were normal, but it wouldn’t do to encourage them. “You will do well, your grace.”

The great door knocker pounded again, and they both looked toward the hall. “More visitors have arrived.” She smiled up at him, and he saw the strain around her eyes.

“Are you in pain?”

“As my cousin said, it is likely false labor,” she whispered. “It comes and goes.”

“When did it start?”

“A few days ago, I had a spell.”

“And now?”

“Now I have a bit of a backache. Please. Sit. I’ll go greet our next arrivals.”

He set down his untouched glass, reached for her hand and placed it over his arm. “I’ll escort you. And after greeting the new arrivals, perhaps you will retire, and I might examine you?”

She laughed. “Men of action, indeed.”

A large, well-tailored, but otherwise lumpy man with white hair and a ruddy complexion entered. The girl next to him wore an equally stylish blue gown that brought out the peaches and cream of her perfect complexion. Errol’s heart stuttered.

Ann Strachney was here, looking as elegant as some of the ladies he’d seen shopping on Bond Street.

He straightened his spine. Why the devil was his heart racing? He’d had more than his share of women, but his heart only raced in the laboratory, or the clinic, or over a particularly well-researched journal article. Never over a girl, and certainly not over a lass who’d asked him for scientific studies and then never answered his letter. True, he’d been glad for the excuse to dispense with the promise to write, but the snub had still rankled.

Buy Links

Amazon   https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BPMXYLFJ

Kobo  https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-nabob-s-designing-daughter

Barnes & Noble    https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-nabobs-designing-daughter-alina-k-field/1142820461?ean=2940185741528

Apple Books  https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-nabobs-designing-daughter/id6445051918?ls=1

Universal Link https://books2read.com/u/3yVl6J

Alina K. FieldAbout the Author

Award winning and USA Today bestselling author Alina K. Field earned a Bachelor of Arts Degree in English and German literature, but prefers the much happier world of romance fiction. Though her roots are in the Midwestern U.S., after six very, very, very cold years in Chicago, she moved to Southern California, where she shares a midcentury home with a spunky, blond rescued terrier and a good-natured rescued chihuahua. She is the author of several Regency romances, including the 2014 Book Buyer’s Best winner, Rosalyn’s Ring. Though hard at work on her next series of romantic adventures, she loves to hear from readers!

Find her at: 

Website: https://alinakfield.com/

Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Alina-K.-Field/e/B00DZHWOKY

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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.

 

On a mission…

Abigail Danvers watched the dancing with a frown. On a mission to find any sort of possible gossip for the Teatime Tattler, she had become frustrated that time to find anything newsworthy was passing her by. But that was only the start of the problem. Abigail had begun to wonder if her life wasn’t also becoming meaningless. An anonymous reporter for Mr. Clemens wasn’t going to provide her with a husband and children to fill her home.

“Stop scowling, sister, or you’ll scare away any gentleman who even remotely has the thought of asking you to dance,” Prudence whispered in her ear. “Who are you watching, anyway?”

Her attention on a couple only caused her displeasure to deepen. “Sophie Templeton with the Earl of Wilmott,” she said with clenched teeth. “She’s younger than I am and it looks as though those two will be engaged by Christmas if I read all the signs right.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Prudence asked.

“Just another titled gentleman who will be off the market. I thought by coming here to the country we might find husbands of our own or at the very least something noteworthy to send to Clemens.” Abigail shook her head to clear her melancholy mood.

“Maybe it’s time to start looking out for ourselves instead and not be so determined to provide Mr. Clemens with the latest gossip,” Prudence replied with a small smile. “I say we wish Miss Templeton and her earl the very best and start looking out for our own interests instead.”

“Perhaps you’re right, sister,” Abigail proclaimed.

She looked once again at the couple and nodded. They looked so happy gliding across the dance floor to a waltz and Abigail could only wish to find her own happiness someday, too. As two gentlemen began to head toward her and her sister, Abigail smiled. Clemens could find his own gossip to report in his morning rag. She had a new quest in mind and this could be the start of her own happily-ever-after!


This is a short original piece by Bluestocking Belle Sherry Ewing. It refers to Sherry’s latest characters in her novelette, A Mistletoe Kiss in the Belles’ Christmas boxset Belles & Beaux. Read on for an excerpt from Sherry’s story and happy holidays, dearest readers!

Excerpt:

She began playing again. One tune after another until she grew bored with the keyboard. What difference did it make how well she played if Spencer wasn’t in the room to hear her? As if she conjured the man up with her thoughts, the men returned to the parlor causing Sophie to lose her breath when Spencer came to stand by her chair.

“I am sorry to cut our evening short, but I must return home. In my eagerness to visit with your family, I completely forgot that I had agreed to dinner with my parents,” Spencer stated looking a bit embarrassed. “I’ll have some explaining to do.”

“Let me get your coat and hat. I’ll inform a lad to bring your horses out to the front.”

She left the room, delivered her message to one of the staff, and then went to a closet to retrieve Spencer, and Lord Charville’s things. Taking hold of Spencer’s jacket, she held the fabric up to her nose and inhaled while the heavenly smell of spice filled her senses. She heard footsteps coming closer to the foyer and didn’t want to be found out, so she quickly retrieved the other coat and their hats.

Spencer came into view, took Evan’s things and handed them to the man who returned to the parlor to say his farewells.

His hand brushed hers when he reached for his coat. “Will you walk me out, Sophie?”

Her heart would never be able to stand being this close to him, but she would take the chance she might survive their brief moment of privacy. She took her own redingote from the closet but before she could slip her hands in the sleeves, Spencer took the garment from her.

“Allow me…”

He went behind her to assist her with putting on the garment, his hands briefly resting on her shoulders caused her to tremble. He then went to open the door giving her the opportunity to bow out if she felt so inclined. Nothing could be farther from her thoughts.

The night was cold, and Sophie could see her breath in the air as she exhaled. The clip clop of horses was getting closer causing her to realize that he would be leaving her soon. Plus, Lord Charville would be exiting the house at any moment. She didn’t have much time!

“Spencer… I—”

He took her hand this time bringing it to his lips. “Ah… there it is…”

“What?” she asked in confusion.

“The sound of my given name passing your lips as though you are happy to be alone with me,” he answered tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow. He began walking toward the road. “I have waited years to hear such a sound, if I am being perfectly honest.”

“You have?” she gasped out.

“Yes, I have. It’s been torture waiting for you to grow up,” he said caressing her hand.

She halted their progress to the road not believing he was speaking the truth. “You’ve been waiting for me?”

“Yes.” A simple answer with so many possibilities.

“Why me?” Her eyes widened when she realized she had spoken the words aloud.

He took his hands to caress her cheeks. Leaning down, he stared into her eyes. “Because you were worth waiting for, my dear.”

She closed her eyes hoping for her first kiss. But she was to be disappointed when the front door opened, and they broke apart.


Belles & Beaux: A Bluestocking Belles Collection
Available Now!

Just in time for Christmas 2022 comes this boxed set of eight charming stories of love, family, and miracles. Each Belle has contributed a tale set in the festive season–one just long enough to fit in between tasks at this busy time of the year. The tales are unrelated, except by the festive season.

Some have been written for this collection, some are made-to-order stories never before published, some have been used as fan giveaways. All are delightful.

Belle Sherry Ewing’s A Mistletoe Kiss Blurb:

All she wants for Christmas is a mistletoe kiss…

Miss Sophie Templeton has been waiting a lifetime for the one man who owns her heart, but he seems to court a different woman every Season. As Christmas approaches, Sophie’s one wish is a kiss from him beneath the mistletoe.

Spencer, Earl of Wilmott has quietly watched Sophie through the years, holding her in his heart, and biding his time until he can offer for her. He appeases his parents by being seen with a variety of eligible women. But Sophie is grown up now, and he must put aside his worries that she’ll find him too old and make his offer.

One chance encounter, one dance in which he all but claims her; can Spencer convince Sophie to make this a Christmas romance that will last a lifetime?

So order your copy now for the opportunity to pour the drink of your choice, find a favourite chair, and step into one of our worlds: https://books2read.com/BellesBeaux

About the author:

Sherry Ewing picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. An award-winning and bestselling author, she writes historical and time travel romances to awaken the soul one heart at a time. When not writing, she can be found in the San Francisco area at her day job as an Information Technology Specialist. You can learn more about Sherry and her books on her website where a new adventure awaits you on every page at www.SherryEwing.com.

 

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