You will have heard of the shocking acts of public disorder here in our quiet little corner of the world. Dear Mr Horner and I are horrified at the most recent event, when a large group, dressed as savages and armed with axes, invaded private property and destroyed more than nine hundred thousand pounds of goods and the chests those goods were stored in.
The protests in March were bad enough. One must regret the loss of life when the soldiers opened fire on the crowd, but beyond a doubt, the protesters started it when they threw snowballs at a guard outside the Custom House. I think (and Mr Horner agrees with me) that the soldiers in question deserve a strong reprimand for firing on the mob, though we agree that we were not present, and cannot understand how threatening the protestors appeared to the poor soldiers.
However, the protests have escalated, with rocks thrown through windows, printed death threats sent to upright citizens who were just going about their business, and people assaulted and beaten.
Politics have invaded even our drawing rooms and breakfast tables, with social shame awaiting those who dare to continue to imbibe their favourite beverage. One of my friends went so far as to suggest that we should no longer associate, as I refuse to give up a harmless drink to support treasonous mutterings against the rightful actions of government.
Then came the activities of last night. How can any right-thinking person think that a political disagreement justifies the destruction of private property? I shudder to think of the way the perpetrators of the heinous act menaced their way to dominance of the goods by their fearsome appearance and their numbers. The poor sailors on board that ship must have been in fear of their lives.
Of course, I support the right to freedom of speech, but rioting and looting cannot be supported, surely? So Mr Horner says, and I quite agree with him.
I have asked Mr Horner if we might return to London, dearest Agatha. So many people here, however upset they are with the destruction of property, are claiming that the anger behind the act is justified that I fear they may turn to even more violence.
Mr Horner disagrees. He believes that strong action from the government will ensure that everything settles down. He points out that even Mr Washington, who is a leader of the most vocal party of radicals, has spoken strongly against the most recent action, accusing the participants of madness. After all, nobody wants a revolution.
I can only hope that Mr Horner is correct.
I will keep you informed, my dear. Pray for me and for all of those loyal to our beloved Mother Country and the King.
Ever your loving sister
Agnes
(Mrs John Horner)
The Boston Tea Party was one in a series of protests against coercive acts by the government against the citizens of the American colonies. At the time, to be loyal was to want to stay British.
The tea belonged to the East India Company, not to the British government. However, the government had given the Company a monopoly on tea imports to the American colonies.
The stupid Government reaction to the protests meant that they escalated and eventually became full-scale revolution. In light of modern events, I find it intriguing that the destruction of one million dollars (in today’s terms) of private property is now regarded as a heroic act.
I am in receipt of your letter to me of yesterday. Oh, my dear friend, I urge you to attend my wedding to the Marquess of Northington next week and our family May Day Frolic!
I do understand your wish not to see Charlie once more. What happened between you last year was unexpected. Yet at the time, you called it delightful. Your moments together did restore your faith that you could attract a man who set your heart aflutter. And if Charlie’s kisses also stirred you to renew your search for a mate among those whom you had not heretofore considered, all the better.
Still you write that, in this past year, you have not found another to compare to him. Does that not speak to the issue louder than any words I can write here?
I know your father demands you wed before your next birthday in January and that you marry one who will bring him political alliance with those in those of Grand Whiggery. Our Reverend Charles Compton is cousin to those famous families. As third son of such an allied earl, he has family connections that should make your papa proud. Charlie’s lack of income and property to call his own is most likely (forgive me for saying this so bluntly) a detraction from his worthiness in your father’s eyes. I am not informed of Charlie’s father’s annual settlement upon him. I doubt it would be subsistence level and Charlie has his Army pension to buoy him. Those are in addition to his wages here in the curate. Family connection is a value to your father. But what price do you pay for your papa’s political prowess if you spend your hours with one who makes you miserable?
A brief flirtation—as I now serve as example—can indeed engender greater affections. My fiancé and I met by accident in a dark sitting room where I had escaped alone, champagne in hand, the tedium of men who simpered over me. All for my money, of course. (So tiresome!)
I do beg you to come to the May Day Frolic. You love it so. Each year you’ve found something new to adore. The mummers. The music. Last year, Charlie in his new role as our village vicar.
He is a charming man. You cannot deny it. Mama adores him. Papa declares he brings a bit of youth and boldness to our church services. Our tenants think him comforting. And yes, he rues his time in the Army in Spain. His return to the clergy is, he says, his true calling…and his penance. I know not, nor does he speak of the horrors he saw at war. I do find him often sitting alone outside his little house in the Grecian folly and the expression on his face is one of utter madness. I fear for him then. I have tried to lure him from this night of his soul. But I tell you truly, only when I speak of you and his affections for you do I see his expression change. He needs you, Willa.
He needs you. If not for more kisses, if not for more amorous caresses, he needs you to sit with him and talk and laugh. He needs you to soothe his soul and show him the finest elements of humanity. Friendship, solace, communion of like minds are what he needs.
I submit only you can bring that to him.
What will you gain from your attendance at my wedding to Northington? You will renew your faith in yourself as a woman who does inspire friendship and love.
Please come to my wedding, Willa. Charlie needs you. I need you, too, more than I have ever told you.
With great love for your undeying friendship,
Esme
~~~
Miss Esme Harvey is about to marry the man she loves and she wishes a few of her best friends in attendance. One of her closest friends is Lady Willa Sheffield, daughter of the Earl of Seaford. Esme needs all the friends she can get as she has her own challenges concerning her beloved, the heir to a duchy. Willa fancies the new vicar who struggles with his own tormented memories fighting against the French.
So begins the fourth novel, LADY WILLA’S DIVINELY WICKED VICAR in Cerise DeLand’s romantic comedy series, FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FROLIC, out October 23. Esme’s story in the series, MISS HARVEY’S ACCIDENTAL GROOM debuts August 21!
For more laughter and romance in her historical novels, do follow Cerise DeLand everywhere you wish!
Ella finished writing her name to the parchment and set the quill down to inspect her short letter to her sister. She bit her lip in indecision wondering about the possibilities of this ever reaching her sibling. Poor Jennifer must be frantic with worry after so much time but still… Could it be possible Ella was gone for only a brief instant from her future life in the twenty-first century? Time had played enough games with Ella and Killian for that matter. She was done traveling through time and was content to live out her life with those she had come to love.
The ink dry, she sealed the letter with wax and watched as Killian brought over an iron box that looked as though it could survive a century or two hidden with the stone wall of Berwyck Castle. She placed a kiss upon the parchment, set it inside the box, and Killian closed the lid with a smile.
“She will find it somehow, my dearest Ella.” His Scottish brogue brought a delightful shiver to her skin and she hoped that feeling never went away. He put the box inside the wall and proceeded to replace the stone in order to hide the box’s placement.
“Do you think so?” she asked before he took her in his arms. A small memory of Ella and her sister in a park flipped through her mind and she smiled knowing his words were true.
“Aye. Ye know she will someday know ye found love,” he whispered before he bent down and sealed his words with a kiss.
Killian gave her no further time to ponder the mysteries of them being together. Time had brought her to this man and she would never be parted from him again.
Ella’s nerves were on edge. That must be why she was feeling so anxious when she noticed Killian making his way across the hall. She reached for her chalice of wine, her fingers trembling before she managed to wrap them around the cup to take a sip without the heady red liquid spilling all over her gown. Perchance she should excuse herself and seek her chamber to rest. That was all she needed. She just had to go and rest before she left Berwyck forevermore to finally meet her destiny.
“He favors you,” Amiria’s voice was a soft whisper barely heard above the lutes playing in her hall.
There was no point in denying that she knew whom Amiria meant. “You are mistaken,” Ella replied taking another sip from her goblet before setting it upon the table. She clutched her hands together upon her lap, her knuckles quickly becoming white. Her heart tapped a ferocious beat inside her chest. This was not happening! Not when she was this close to being reunited with the one man she had crossed time for.
Amiria reached over to clasp her hands, giving them a slight squeeze. Ella turned to look upon her friend, who had given her shelter more times than she could count over the years. Amiria was a beautiful woman with flaming red hair and eyes of violet. She reminded Ella of a Viking shield maiden of old, since Amiria could wield a sword as no other woman of Ella’s acquaintance.
“I have waited many a year for some woman to catch his eye,” Amiria replied, her tone conveyed all the love she felt for the man who had watched over her like her father would have done if he yet lived.
Ella saw Killian’s progress was interrupted when he began having speech with Gregory, another of Dristan’s knights. “I have not caught his eye, my lady. Besides you know my fate lies in another direction.”
Amiria sighed, leaning over towards her husband when he whispered in her ear. She began to rise but bent over to kiss Ella’s cheek. “Be kind to him, Ella. I do not wish to see him hurt.”
Before Ella could make any reply, Amiria left to dance with her husband. They were an impressive pair, the two of them, and she was happy the couple twirling across the floor had found true love. Everyone deserved to find the person who called to them, soul to soul, Ella included.
Killian stood in front of the table clearing his throat, bringing her back to the challenge before her. “Mayhap ye would favor me with a dance, Ella?”
He appeared nervous, but the smile she gave him was genuine when he willingly dropped the whole lady business and called her only by her first name. “Aye, of course, Killian.”
His faced showed the briefest glimpse of relief before a mask of indifference fell into place. He came around the table, gave a courtly bow, and then offered his arm. Hesitant, but curious if she would have the same reaction as when she had touched him earlier, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Her breath hitched at their contact. How could this be happening? She did not understand what was going on with the man who began ushering her through the patterns of a lively tune.
The other dancers upon the floor became a blur, her partner the only one who remained in focus. Each time they came together and touched, small sparks flowed like the sweetest nectar through her body. The sensation warmed her entire being, making it hard to remember the steps of the dance. Her wits surely must be addled as she continued to gaze into the hypnotizing eyes of her partner.
Killian was an accomplished dancer, of that there could be no doubt, despite him always showing the outside world a gruff appearance. He took her by the waist and lifted her high while the dance continued, his arms of steel more than capable of easily picking her up as though she weighed nothing at all. As he lowered her back to the floor, her eyes widened as she slid down his body. Her hands remained on his shoulders as they just stood there, the dance all but forgotten.
Love Will Find You: The Knights of Berwyck, A Quest Through Time (Book Four)
Sometimes a moment is all we have…
Ella Fitzpatrick is a woman with a secret. As she comes and goes from Berwyck Castle, seeking refuge within its gates, she yearns to be reunited with the one for whom she crossed time from the twenty-first century. She has lived another lifetime in the twelfth century waiting for the date of their reunion and it is almost upon her. But how could she have known the man she believes she loves is not the person she needs?
Killian of Clan MacLaren has been infatuated with Ella for many a year but has guarded his heart, knowing her affection lies with another. When Ella must flee Berwyck, Killian vows to escort her to her encounter with destiny. But passion flares between them and there is no doubt the bond they have is far greater than either of them expected.
Their time together is running out. Killian has a decision to make that might give him and Ella a future together. If you could change someone’s past, would you seize the moment?
Sherry Ewing picked up her first historical romance when she was a teenager and has been hooked ever since. A 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.
It has come to this writers attention that a young lady from our very own town is getting married to the grandson of the Duke of Dunsbury. Savannah is in an uproar. It has been well known that Miss Tara Wellesley was a Union Sympathizer during the War Between the States. Some speculate that she was a Union Spy but no evidence was found to prove said scandalous behavior. Sebastian Stafford, the man she is engaged to wed, is said to have been part of a secret society called the Rakes and the Crown. No evidence has been found to ascertain the validity of this either, since records don’t exist on the group, itself. Readers, you can’t get this anywhere else!
Harry Fenn, View of Savannah from the River
Strange events have been happening at night here in Savannah. Sounds of musket shots, canon fire, and sword clashing could be heard from near the river. Some have noticed British flags flying from the redoubts, men dressed in Colonial garb, and some even in the bright red coats of the English Army. This humble writer, would love to know more about these somewhat bizarre events and would like to see them for himself. Maybe even write a future article about it.
In other news, the Wellesley twins are back from their adventures in the North. There is gossip saying that one of them has a secret child housed at the Whispering Oaks plantation. Oh la la, readers! The other twin is said to have fallen for an English girl whom no one has heard of before. How scandalous! The women of Savannah will surely mourn the presence of such handsome gentlemen.
Readers, this author will have more gossip for you in my next article. Until then, check out “A Sea Between Them” by Jessica A Clements and follow this link to find out more: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B082S2KVJH.
About the Book
Tara Wellesley, a Southern belle, knew her world was going to change. The only one in her family with the second sight, she could see what would happen to those around her. What she didn’t see, however, was the English Rake that befriended her twin cousins—dragging them into a deadly battle with a rival spy ring. Sebastian Stafford, the grandson of the Duke of Dunsbury, came to the United States to resurrect the Rakes of the Crown, a spy syndicate that once supplied information for the English Crown. Now, far from England, Sebastian takes solace in Tara’s love and renames his group The Rakes of Liberty. The Rakes have one mission—to keep the Union together no matter the price. That means engaging in their own battle with the Order. But, fate has other plans. When the Order launches an attack against Sebastian’s family, he races back to England to save what is left of them. With a sea between Tara and Sebastian, will the Order get the upper hand or will love be enough to conquer an old foe?
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.
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.
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.
