Home of the Bluestocking Belles

Dear Lovely Readers:

A most scandalous display of courtship occurred yesterday on the stoop of Lady R’s townhome. The dashing Lord B swept the innocent debutante Lady D into his embrace for a scorching kiss. The neighbor’s windows steamed over from the passionate heat. It was said that the lady did not protest the affectionate gesture, but wrapped her arms around the gentleman pulling him closer. The kiss was soon broken-up by the reformed rakes The Duke of S and Lord W.

As Lord B was dragged away by Lord W, he drunkenly declared his apologies. While The Duke of S offered an explanation for his friend’s actions to Lady D. (Who I might add had also courted the lady himself before he wed the lovely Lady S.) A smile of pleasure graced the lady’s face before she closed the door.

But wait, there is more to this story readers. My sources tell me that earlier in the day while at his club, Lord B laid Lord P to the floor with a planter. He threatened him with more punches if he ever approached Lady D and his sister again. It leaves me wondering who the Earl tried protecting more, his sister or the red-haired beauty, Lady D.

Well readers, does the impoverished Earl mean to ruin Lady D for financial gain? Or is he smitten with her charms? While most ladies would have slapped a gentleman stepping over the bounds of propriety, Lady D did not. Which leads me to believe that she welcomes this scandalous courtship. I for one, will enjoy watching this scandal unfold.

About the Book: I Shall Love the Earl (Tricking the Scoundrels #3)

How many times must a gentleman ruin a lady before he offers for her hand….

She waited for the temptation held in his gaze. He refused to give into his desire to court her. Can a ruination of a lady lead toward a love to last a lifetime?

Every ball Dallis MacPherson attended, she saved a spot on her dance card for a certain gentleman. Many balls later and still no offer, prompts her to pursue the earl. When she encounters him on a darkened balcony, he steals a kiss and warns her away. His stolen kiss promises a passion she wants to explore. At every occasion he attends, she tempts him with her own promise. Soon the earl falls for her charms and sends her down a path of ruination with one incident after another. Can Dallis overcome the scandal of the earl’s pursuit?

Roderick Beckwith watched the Scottish beauty from afar. He lost his heart the moment he set eyes upon her. Throughout the season every gentleman offered her a dance, but him. With his financial affairs on the brink of disaster, he couldn’t provide her with the life she deserved. When his mother introduces his sworn enemy to his heart’s desire, he must set aside his pride. However, his courtship is less than ideal. At every opportunity he brings scandal to her name. Can Rory redeem himself and prove to Dallis that he is a gentleman worth loving?

With every glance, Dallis pulls Rory in deeper. His stolen kisses forces him to make her an offer of marriage. As they prepare for their wedding, he acts as the perfect gentleman. However, the proper gentleman was not who Dallis desired. Will her scoundrel show himself before they say I do?

I Shall Love the Earl is the third book in Laura A. Barnes’s romantic historical romance series. If you love a novel filled with a scandalous courtship set in Regency England, then you will enjoy Rory enticing Dallis with promises of love.

Devour I Shall Love the Earl, the third novel in Laura’s Tricking the Scoundrel series today.

Excerpt:

Dallis heard the pounding on the door and realized that for some reason Shaw wasn’t going to answer the caller. Even though it was highly improper, Dallis opened the door herself. She stood in surprise at who stood on her doorstep. Lord Roderick Beckwith swayed back and forth, trying to fight for his balance. His eyes glazed over as his lips pulled into a lopsided smile.

“Yous is sooooo betiful.”

He was drunk. The ever-proper, keeping his temper in a tight control, protective Rory Beckwith, was blazing drunk. He reached out to wrap his finger around a stray curl.

“Soooo soft. Knew wods be.”

Rory’s touch stilled Dallis from helping him stand. The gentle caress caught her unaware. His thumb brushed across the loose strand. Rory continued to sway and soon lost his balance. He fell into the doorjamb, where he decided to lean. When Dallis didn’t respond to Rory, he took his touch one step further and brushed his thumb across her lips. The jolt propelled Dallis closer to him, her mouth opening at his touch.

“Soft engf to kiss.”

Dallis didn’t know how to react. Rory was finally near and touching her. Her body took over, responding to his need. Her tongue slowly slid out to lick his thumb. At her reaction, he groaned and pulled her into his arms.

“See, I tolds you I’s dangerous.”

Rory’s lips devoured hers passionately, exploding her senses. His mouth pulling kiss after kiss from her soul, while his hands dived into her hair causing her hair pins to scatter across the foyer. As he sensed her desire, the kiss turned more urgent. Everything she ever read about was coming true at this moment. Still, Dallis held back from responding due to her naivety. Until he groaned and tightened his embrace, giving her the encouragement to return his kiss and match him stroke for stroke.

“We thought this might be your next destination. C’mon mate, before the neighbors catch sight of your stupidity. I told you, Sheffield, that he would go to her.”

Sheffield and Wildeburg pulled Rory away from Dallis. Her face flamed with embarrassment to be caught so intimately in Rory’s embrace. Dallis held her cheeks as Wildeburg led him away.

“Sorrysss Dallis,” Rory called out.

“For the kiss?” she whispered.

Sheffield answered for him. “No, my dear, for another matter. I am working to quell that problem. But you should be aware that he defended your honor at the club today with Lord Phipps.”

“Defended, how?”

“By a bloody punch to the nose.”

“Oh. More to add to my embarrassment.”

“I am afraid so. Do you remember our conversation in the park?”

“Yes.”

“If it is any comfort, you are not the only one suffering from love.”

“Then why does he ignore me?”

“Pride, my dear Dallis. A man’s greatest downfall in life.”

“Pshh.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“Thank you, Sheffield.”

“Anything for a friend. Will we see you at the Sambourne Ball?”

“Yes, I am very excited. Lady Beckwith offered to introduce me to Lord Holdenburg.”

“So I have heard. Another reason for our acquaintance’s inebriation.”

Dallis smiled. Rory’s display of drunken affection proved he was jealous. Was he jealous enough to stop the courtship her grandmother proposed? If not, his actions this afternoon secured that he must court her or ruin her reputation. They could have explained away the punch, but the kiss held the most damage. Dallis knew her grandmother’s neighbors watched them. There wasn’t an activity in the neighborhood they didn’t observe.

“Give Sophia my love.”

“Will do. Please save me a dance this evening. We might as well make the bloke so bloody jealous that he will become a pup at your feet, begging for a treat.”

Dallis closed the door as Sheffield entered his carriage. She leaned against the paneling, her smile growing wider, realizing she had Rory right where she wanted him. Her smile turned to astonishment as she remembered the taste of him on her lips. She pressed her fingers to her mouth. Would he recall their kiss after his drunkenness wore off? If not, she would be sure to refresh his memory.

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About the Author

International selling author Laura A. Barnes fell in love with writing in the second grade. After her first creative writing assignment, she knew what she wanted to become. Many years went by with Laura filling her head full of story ideas and some funny fish songs she wrote while fishing with her family. Thirty-seven years later, she made her dreams a reality. With her debut novel Rescued By the Captain, she has set out on the path she always dreamed about.

When not writing, Laura can be found devouring her favorite romance books. Laura is married to her own Prince Charming (who for some reason or another thinks the heroes in her books are about him) and they have three wonderful children and two sweet grandbabies. Besides her love of reading and writing, Laura loves to travel. With her passport stamped in England, Scotland, and Ireland; she hopes to add more countries to her list soon.

While Laura isn’t very good on the social media front, she loves to hear from her readers. You can find her on the following platforms:

Website: http://www.lauraabarnes.com

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Scandalous Doings in San Francisco

By Rue Allyn

On April 18, 2020

In Teatime Tattler

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

Dear Mr. Clemens,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Submitted with my kind regards

Your traveling correspondent.,

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

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

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

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

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A Plea From Rome

By Guest author

On April 15, 2020

In Teatime Tattler

A plea from Matthew Blakely, brother to Charlotte Blakely:

Do you know how it feels to be a third wheel? Well I do, quite thoroughly. I’ve been sent to Rome by my older brother, the new viscount, for one reason only: to keep an eye on Charlotte and act as her damned chaperone. I am not a companion, especially since she’s got this ridiculous idea in her head to go haring off in the hopes of finding the Veil of Veronica.

Yes, my sister’s got it into her head that she’s a bona fide treasure hunter instead of staying in London like a proper ton lady should. Even worse, she’s brought along a man who’s sweet on her but hasn’t committed. Truly, their displays of affection are sickening, and it’s quite scandalous. To say nothing of the mysterious visitors to the ambassador’s residence… Makes me uncomfortable.

About as uncomfortable as when she forces me to sneak into dusty passageways beneath churches and into tombs. And do you know how difficult it is to translate Latin? I’m afraid I wasn’t one to pay attention to that at school, and she thinks I have hero potential. Me. I’m not sure about that.

However, the whole idea of what she’s trying to accomplish is quite amazing. As time goes on and we move deeper into the puzzle, I’m gobsmacked. And I’m coming to understand my sister better. I had no idea how fearless she is, or how determined, and quite frankly, if the ambassador doesn’t come up to scratch and offer for her, I might need to force him into it… purely to halt the gossip’s tongues and the scandal that will follow.

Oh, and by the way, if you see me about Rome, send help, and not the Carabinieri. They’re quite certain my sister is wanted for murdering a monk…

About Ladies Prefer Adventure

Fulfilling a lifetime mission is much more fun when romance is woven into the adventure.

Mr. Everett Desmond spends far too much time behind a desk and entertaining dignitaries. He thought that was what he wanted from life… until an intriguing lady gave him a taste of adventure. But treasure-hunting comes at a price and, thanks to a failed engagement, he’s leery of romance.

The Honorable Charlotte Blakely is closing in on the actual location of the Veil of Veronica, carrying on her beloved late grandfather’s quest. Satisfying his last wish is all she’s ever wanted from life… until the possibility of a courtship with the handsome English ambassador to Rome made itself known. But does love mean giving up her hard-won independence?

Balancing each leg of the quest with the heat and passion simmering between them keeps Charlotte and Everett on the razor’s edge. When danger and death collide with the joy of adventure, truths they’ve denied themselves come into sharp focus. But with a bit of faith, they may discover a treasure far more priceless than a religious relic in their hands.

Find more and a trailer here.

Excerpt

Across the table, Matthew sipped his tea while watching passersby.

“I agree, and it came about so suddenly. After attending finishing school with her and keeping in touch, I never thought Callie would ever wed. She’d seemed content with her office job, and she is rather… unique.”

“Any woman worth her salt is,” he murmured softly.

Her cheeks heated again. She scanned the rest of the page. “Oh, bother.”

“Trouble?” Beneath the table, Everett laid a hand on her knee and slowly slid it upward, leaving tingles in his wake.

Concentration became difficult as she remembered the night she’d spent in his arms, but she prevailed. “You are mentioned here.”

“How so?” A frown marred the handsome perfection of his face.

“’Ambassador Desmond has once more left London for Rome. Rumor says he is accompanied by the late Viscount Hadleigh’s daughter, who studies in the same city. Is there a romance in the making?’”

A red flush crept over his collar. “I did not authorize that.”

He seemed so discomfited that Charlotte laughed, which brought Matthew’s attention back to her. “No one ever does in the gossip pages.” But she wondered too if there was a romance between them. It had been an age since they’d been able to talk about a future together. She continued to read and finished with a groan. “’We fear the ambassador wastes his time on an insane quest of Miss Blakely’s making, but perhaps he’ll come to his senses soon.’” She tossed the paper across the table at her brother. “Bah. What do they know?”

No one had ever believed in her apart from Everett, so why should the writer of the society piece be any different?

“You ought to listen to them, Char,” Matthew said as he took yet another sandwich. “It is rather ridiculous to traipse about the world. Not natural at all.”

She blew out a breath. “Not the world, brother, just Rome.”

Matthew snorted. “Be that as it may, this business with the ambassador needs settled and soon. It’s this side of scandalous.”

As if the scandalous sort of things men indulged in was merely men being men. Well, she’d never liked those unspoken rules, and she’d lived her life accordingly, for she’d been rather shocking herself while in Rome. No one needed to know, and it had helped grow her independence and sense of worth more than wasting time in England’s drawing rooms.

“Then it suits me fine, don’t you think?”

The men of the world and the catty gossips that made up the backbone of the ton didn’t have the right to deem her behavior overly scandalous or sexual. Only she had that power. She lived her life as she saw fit, and until men began seeing women as equals instead of objects, she’d keep doing as she pleased. Respect was earned, not blindly given due to status or whether one had certain pieces of anatomy between his thighs.

He glanced at Everett. “You truly mean to go haring after a rag with her?”

“I do.” The ambassador squeezed his hand on her knee.

Charlotte squirmed from the delicious sensations that lodged between her thighs. “It’s not a rag, Matthew. It’s a relic.”

“Semantics.” Her brother shrugged. “I cannot believe you would let your woman lead you in a chase like that, Ambassador. Fine kettle you’ll find yourself in should the two of you marry.”

“I should think so.” Everett’s chuckle danced over her skin and heightened her awareness of him. “And, I don’t let her do anything. I encourage her and follow. Quite frankly, I cannot wait to start.” He looked at her with a certain heat in his eyes. “On many things.”

“Oh.” A blush warmed her cheeks. That was the man she remembered. How she wished to kiss him, but Matthew’s presence put a damper upon that. Instead, she addressed her brother. Time to deliver a proper dressing down and put herself back in control. “First of all, I might be with the ambassador, but he doesn’t own me. I am neither a head of cattle nor am I a bookshelf to be moved about or tossed aside. Secondly, the world is growing. Women are contributing amazing things just as the men are. In fact, one of my friends is a doctor, and she fought for that honor. She plans on traveling to Africa of all places. We’ve all fought for what we want. Third, I know my own mind and will do as I please. Your approval is not needed.”

Matthew’s lower jaw gaped open before he remembered himself. “You will do this with Mr. Desmond regardless of his plans?”

“If he chooses to support me.” She smiled at Everett and ran the risk of tumbling headlong into the deep dark pools of his eyes. “In all honesty, he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t believe in me or my quest. His plans will, of course, be taken into consideration.” Then her smile faltered. Had their romance stalled before it had had a chance to proof? Was it more than never having a moment alone? Did he value his position as ambassador more?

“Indeed.” Everett’s fingers danced along her thigh in erotic reassurance. “I’ll remain here until you have no more need of me.” He dared to edge his fingers to the vee of her thighs, but the copious layers of her skirts dulled the caress even as the heat of it rolled over her.

For the moment, she savored the shivers going down her spine. “I look forward to the adventure, wherever it takes us.”

About the Author

Sandra Sookoo is a USA Today bestselling author who firmly believes every person deserves acceptance and a happy ending. Most days you can find her creating scandal and mischief in the Regency-era, serendipity and happenstance in Victorian America or snarky, sweet humor in the contemporary world. Most recently she’s moved into infusing her books with mystery and intrigue. Reading is a lot like eating fine chocolates—you can’t just have one. Good thing books don’t have calories!

When she’s not wearing out computer keyboards, Sandra spends time with her real-life Prince Charming in central Indiana where she’s been known to goof off and make moments count because the key to life is laughter. A Disney fan since the age of ten, when her soul gets bogged down and her imagination flags, a trip to Walt Disney World is in order. Nothing fuels her dreams more than the land of eternal happy endings, hope and love stories.

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IS DUKE BEHIND ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT?

By Jude Knight

On April 11, 2020

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

Sam, did you hear the Earl of Sutton was attacked earlier today? Footpads, they said. About twenty minutes later, a carter lost control of his horses just as his dray was passing Sutton’s children on a schoolroom outing. And you know assailants have had a go at both of Sutton’s sons in the past few days, too.

As an aside, Sutton beat his assailants to a pulp. He’s as tough as his sons, it seems. And the one still in the schoolroom whipped his schoolmates out of the way of the dray. He’ll be another formidable warrior when he grows up.

But that’s not the point, Sam.

I’ve found out who paid for all the attacks, and you’re never going to believe it. I was told in confidence, mind, and if we want the servants inside of Haverford House to keep slipping us bits of news we can’t use it. It’ll be a start to our own investigation, though.

That’s right. Haverford House, and yes, it was the Duke. The Merry Marquis is furious. He’s threatening to have his father locked up. Can he do that, Sam?

***

The Children of the Mountain King

Welcome to Jude Knight’s new series.

In 1812, high Society is rocked by the return of the Earl of Sutton, heir to the dying Duke of Winshire. James Winderfield, Earl of Sutton, Winshire’s third and only surviving son, has long been thought dead, but his reappearance is not nearly such a shock as those he brings with him, the children of his deceased Persian-born wife and fierce armed retainers.

This series begins with a prequel novella telling the love story of James senior and Mahzad (Paradise Regained), then leaps two decades to a series of six novels as the Winderfield offspring and their cousins search for acceptance and love.

To Wed a Proper Lady, the first novel, is on preorder and will be released on 15 April.

Follow the links for more details and for buy links.

Meanwhile, here’s an excerpt about the assaults from the point of view of the Duchess of Haverford. It appears in Paradise Lost, a novella about the duchess that I’m giving away free with my next newsletter in a couple of days. It tells of how Eleanor Creydon became Eleanor, Duchess of Haverford, a lynchpin character in my Regency and Victorian stories, and also backgrounds the series.

Haverford House, London, July 1812

The Duchess of Haverford took tea in her rooms this quiet Monday afternoon. She was alone for once; even the maid who brought the tray sent off back to the servants’ hall. Her life was such a bustle, and for the most part, that was how she liked it, but just for once, it was nice to have an afternoon to herself. No meetings. No entertainments to attend or offer. Not even any family members—her current companion had gone to visit her mother for her afternoon off, Aldridge was about his own business, her youngest ward was at lessons, and the two older girls had been invited on an outing with a friend.

As to Haverford, who knew where he was? But he would not disturb her here.

The thought had barely crossed her mind when a knock sounded; not the discreet tap of a servant, but a firm rap. Not the duke. He wouldn’t knock. “Enter,” she called.

Aldridge let himself into the room. He greeted her with his usual aplomb, asked after her day, but she could tell immediately that he was agitated. “What is wrong, my son?”

“I have no easy way to say this, Mama.” He knelt before her and took her hands. “Sutton has been assaulted in the street, and his schoolroom party was also attacked. A runaway brewer’s dray that was not a runaway at all.” He squeezed her hands, pulling her back from her sudden dizziness. “Sutton gave his assailants a drubbing, and the children and their attendants are unhurt, thanks to swift action on the part of their escort.”

Eleanor let out the air she was holding. “Thank goodness! And thank you, my dear, for letting me know before gossip made it so much worse.”

Aldridge frowned slightly. “There is more. I heard of the assault on Sutton before it happened, and arrived with help just after. Mama, my secretary was asked to be the paymaster for the assailants. And guess who gave him the command.”

She knew before her son said it. Breathed the words with him. “His Grace? Surely not. After the assassin at the duel, why would he do something like this again?”

“His Grace.” Aldridge confirmed. He leapt to his feet and paced the room, not able to keep still for a moment, his body expressing the agitation his face refused to display. “He is getting worse, Mama. Whether it would have happened anyway, or whether the arrival of Sutton lit the flame, he lives on the point of explosion.”

“I know, my dear.” She knew better than Aldridge, in fact. Despite the long estrangement between her and her husband, they nonetheless lived in the same house, attended some of the same social gatherings, worked side-by-side for the same political causes. Aldridge kept largely to his own wing when he was under the same roof as his parents, which was increasingly rare. He managed all the vast business of the duchy, but Haverford had long since let go those reins to the extent that his only association with Aldridge tended to be through the bills and notes of hand that arrived regularly to be paid.

Aldridge thumped the mantlepiece. “This latest start… if word gets out that Haverford was behind the attack on Sutton and his family, it will be a disaster. Sutton would be well within his rights to demand Haverford’s trial for attempted murder. This family is no stranger to scandal, Mama, and there’s no doubt in my mind His Grace deserves to be hanged, silken noose or not, but…”

Eleanor’s distress was such she found herself chewing her lip. “Thank God no one was seriously hurt.”

“Thank Sutton and his sons for their warrior-craft, and my secretary for telling me in time to lead a rescue.” Aldridge heaved a deep sigh and took another fast turn around the carpet. “He intended murder, Mama, and when I confronted him with it, he laughed and said he did it for England. He has gone too far, Mama. If he is found out, he puts us all at risk. What if the Regent decides to regard a murder attempt on another peer as treason?”

Eleanor had not considered that possibility. The title could be attained, the lineage considered corrupt. Aldridge had worked for years to rebuild the wealth of the duchy after his father’s mismanagement. He could lose it all, including the title, and the Prince would be delighted to benefit.

Haverford had become more and more erratic as the year progressed. He insulted and alarmed other people at every event he attended, completely ignoring social conventions and saying whatever he thought, often using the foulest of language. Thankfully, he was showing less and less inclination to go into Polite Society. Even so, the duchess frequently needed to use all her considerable tact and diplomacy to soothe ruffled feathers and quiet the gossip that claimed the duke was going mad.

“He is going mad,” she acknowledged to her son, the one person in the world who could be trusted with the knowledge. “It is the French Disease, I am sure. It is rotting his brain.”

“We cannot bring in doctors to examine him, Mama. Who knows what would come of that; what he would say and who they would tell? He cannot be allowed to continue, however.”

Eleanor frowned. It was a conundrum. Who could prevent a duke from doing whatever he pleased?

Aldridge, apparently. “I have made arrangements. He has been persuaded to travel to Haverford Castle. When he arrives, trusted servants know to keep him there. He will be comfortable, Mama. I have arranged for him to be entertained, and have nurses on hand in case he needs them. The disease will kill him in the next year or two, probably, and he is likely to be bedridden long before the end.”

He was brave, her son. He was breaking the laws of God and man in showing such disobedience to his father and a peer of the realm. She was sure God would understand, but the Courts might not. She would not ask about the entertainment Aldridge had provided. Knowing Haverford as she did, she did not want to know details. “He must never be set free,” she concluded. Should anyone find out he was insane, the scandal would be enormous. Worse still for Aldridge.

“I understand that such spells may come and go, so we need to be prepared for him to return to sanity, at least for a time,” Aldridge cautioned. “But if that does not happen, my instructions are to keep him from understanding he is imprisoned for as long as possible. With luck, the confusion in his mind will prevent him from ever working it out. I needed you to know, Mama, for two reasons. First, we need a story for the ton. Second, if he does not recover and if anything happens to me, it will be for you to keep him confined until Jon returns to be heir in my place.”

“I hope dear Jonathan comes home soon, Aldridge. I miss my son. But do not speak of your demise, my dear. I could not bear it.”

Aldridge stopped beside her and bent to kiss her forehead. “You are the strongest woman I know, dearest. Fret not. I am careful, and I intend to live to grow old.”

Eleanor hoped so. She certainly hoped so.

The Organist’s Lucky Escape

By Caroline Warfield

On April 8, 2020

In Teatime Tattler

The Lower Bottleby Weekly Register, October 27, 1814

The village bade farewell last week to Miss Ann Dunwood, heretofore the resident organist and choir director at the our dear church of Saint Cunigunda in the Fields. The lady actually left rather abruptly and folk hereabouts had little opportunity to bid her farewell or any wishes whatsoever. There have, however, been reactions.

Margaret Plumbottom informed the Register that Miss Dunwood, while a pleasant enough young person, often expressed tastes in music so questionable as to put many in dislike of her. She hinted the woman may have been forced out by “certain persons prone to vicious talk.” Mrs. Plumwood insists she herself is not inclined to be so harsh. “The chit simply needs to grow up a bit. She’ll understand the importance of the soothing and familiar when she is mature.”

Can questionable music be at the root of the matter? “Likes them German composers, the modern ones like Ludwig van Beethwhatnot. I heard her pounding out some such wild music on the vicarage piano—loudly—when our beloved Reverend Pettigrew and his good wife were away,” Lorena Blodget informed our reporter. This woman felt it her Christian duty to report the incident to the vicar. “The vicar saw to it she was counseled on the matter,” the woman told us.

When asked, Mabel Crouch, first soprano in the Saint Cunigunda choir these many years, refused to speak on the matter. “What’s done is done,” she said. “We will go back to the way things ought to be with proper hymns next Sunday.” After thought she recommended the reporter speak to Ernest Hackett, the church custodian.

Mr. Hackett professed to have no information about why the woman left. “Don’t know much about th’ music, but that woman were hard on the organ I can tell you that. Th’ village is lucky to have one, small though it is. Had to repair it twice when she played on it too hard. Sweet girl though. I wish her well.”

Reverend Pettigrew gave our reporter short shrift, claiming he had to work on Sunday’s sermon, though it was only Wednesday. We could only squeeze a few comments about the departed musical director. “She played well enough for a woman,” he said. “Left us in a lurch though.”

He pulled the door shut before the reporter could ask another question, but it opened back up, and the vicar’s wife’s head popped out. “You should be asking where she went,” the woman whispered. “Off to the wilds of Ornkey, up there in the far north. Uncivilized, I say.” She dropped her voice even lower, but we believe she said, “Left with that man from Edinburgh they call the Marriage Maker. Make something out of that.” The door shut for good.

About the Book

Sir Alexander Bradshaw needs a wife, a sensible woman to manage his unruly sons and sullen daughter. No suitable candidates appear, however, and Alec resigns himself to spend another long, dark Orkney winter companionless. When an acquaintance suggests a music teacher might occupy his daughter, he embraces the idea.

Ann Dunwood travels to Orkney for the opportunity to play the Kirkwall organ. For the beauty of the instrument, Ann endures the conservative choir members who wish to perform the most banal of hymns; she’s done it before. She knows how to fade into the shadows and keep to her place.

When he happens upon Ann in the cathedral, Alec is enchanted by the woman at the keyboard, who fills the room with a Bach fugue. Yet, when the music ends, the object of his fascination turns into a demure mouse. Alec determines to reignite the passion he glimpsed in her and fill his home with music.

Available October 1. Pre-order now.

About the Author

Caroline Warfield has been many things.Now in at least her third act, she works in an office surrounded by windows where she lets her characters lead her to adventures in England and the far-flung corners of the British Empire. She nudges them to explore the riskiest territory of all, the human heart.

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