Spotlight on The Golden Redepennings: Books 1 to 4

Published on 24 March: The box set of the first four Golden Redepenning novels. It’s only $4.99 until the end of the month. In February, it will revert to $9.99, which is still a great price for four long novels.

Order your copy today: https://books2read.com/GRbox-set

Here’s more about the series: The Golden Redepennings

And here are the covers of the four books included in the set:

And, finally, one of the early reviews.

I had read books 1 and 2 several years ago. It’s especially good to binge read such a series. I had forgotten how obnoxious and cynical Alex was at times in book 1 – Farewell to Kindness. In book 2 – A Raging Madness – he takes on the role of knight errant and is less bitter than in book 1. (Well, of course. He has admired Ella for years.)

In all 4 stories there are secrets to be revealed (including surprises for the reader) and many obstacles to overcome, including the reluctance of the main characters to voice their feelings for the other. I felt transported in time and place by these well-paced and carefully crafted stories.

Backlist spotlight: Farewell to Kindness

He thought he had buried his heart with his children. He was wrong.

Helped by the earl who hurt them, hidden from the earl who hunts them, Anne and her sisters have been accepted into the heart of a tiny rural village. Until another earl comes visiting.

Rede lives to avenge the deaths of his wife and children. After three long years of searching, he is closing in on the ruthless villains who gave the orders, and he does not hope to survive the final encounter. Until he meets Anne.

As their inconvenient attraction grows, a series of near fatal attacks draws them together and drives them apart. When their desperate enemies combine forces, Anne and Rede must trust one another to survive.

Farewell to Kindness is Book 1 in the series The Golden Redepennings.

Excerpt

That night, Anne dreamt of dancing with Lord Chirbury. In her dream, they didn’t walk decorously away after the wild excitement of the dance, to find her sisters and go tamely home. In her dream, the first vigorous dance led to another, even wilder, and part way through the second he swung her out into the shadows as she’d seen some of the village men do with their wives and sweethearts. In her dream, he’d caught her up into his arms and pressed his lips to hers.

“Call me Rede,” he insisted, his voice husky as she’d heard it once or twice, his vivid eyes burning into hers.

In her dream, she confessed that she’d been thinking of him as ‘Rede’ ever since they met in his woods and picked berries together.

“Anne,” he murmured, holding her closer.

There was something not right about the embrace, about the kisses he showered on her face. Drifting awake, she acknowledged she expected more: not a hug such as Ruth or Kitty might give; not a flurry of pecks like those she received from Daisy and Meg.

She had never been kissed by a man, but something told her that, if Rede ever did kiss her, it would be a different kind of kiss to the ones her sisters gave. It would be a kiss that spoke to the strange, unsettling physical responses that troubled her body when he was near; when his gloved hand touched her hand or the small of her back; when his hard body tensed under hers as she leaned across to untangle the brambles; when he moved smoothly through the dance, displaying his strength and fitness, the lines and angles of the muscles in his thighs and shoulders. Or now, when she thought of all those things.

She felt herself blush in the dark. Such foolish thoughts. Rede—Lord Chirbury—wasn’t for her. With her past and her need to keep Kitty hidden, she could not be wife to a peer, and she would not be anything less than a wife. Quite apart from the morals of such a choice, she wouldn’t take any risks with Kitty’s chances of being reestablished in the life to which they’d been born.

The heat in her face increased, as she acknowledged to herself that she was rushing her fences. Apart from those few heated glances, which she—in her inexperience—might have misunderstood, Rede had shown no signs of wishing to bed her, let alone wed her.

The thought should have made her feel better. Odd, then, that she felt slightly disgruntled. Did she want him to proposition her? Like his impertinent cousin? Surely not.

But a small voice deep in the back of her mind said that she would like to know he desired her as she did him, even if they never acted on that desire. Which, of course, she assured herself hastily, they never would.

Tea with a nephew

This week’s excerpt is Eleanor’s first appearance in print, in the novel Farewell to Kindness.

The sun was setting on Saturday evening, and Rede was beside himself with frustration, before the Duchess of Haverford’s coach was finally seen tooling up the road to the castle.

He was waiting when she entered the front door, and she greeted him with pleasure. “Rede, darling. What a lovely surprise. Have you been waiting for me long?

“Such a circus in Deal. The electors were inclined to listen to the merchants, and the merchants did not favour Haverford’s man. Not at all.

“So I had to visit every shop in the town and buy something. The carriage, I can assure you, is laden. But Haverford believes that it may have done the trick.

“Just as well, dear, for I have enough Christmas presents for every one of my godchildren for the next three years. And some of them are not of the best quality, I can assure you.”

She was talking as she ascended the stairs, giving her cloak to a maid as she passed, her bonnet to a footman, and her reticule to another maid.

“You want something, I expect. Well, you shall tell me all about it at dinner. I left most of the food I purchased at the orphanage in Margate, but I kept a pineapple for dessert. Such fun, my dear, have you tried one?”

“No, dear aunt,” he managed to say, sliding his comment in as she paused to give her gloves to yet another maid. Or it may have been the first maid again.

“Well, today you shall. Join me in the dining room in—shall we say one hour?” And she sailed away towards her apartments, leaving him, as always, feeling as if he had been assaulted by a friendly and affectionate hurricane.

Over dinner, he laid all honestly before her. Well, perhaps not all. The lovely widow, betrayed by George, the three sisters, the little daughter. No need to mention that he’d played fast and loose himself with the lady’s virtue. Just that he needed to rehabilitate her. Just that he wanted to marry her and she had refused.

“She has refused you, Rede?” Her Grace was surprised. “But you are handsome, wealthy and charming. And rich. What does she object to?”

Rede hadn’t been able to work it out, either. “I know she cares for me, Aunt Eleanor. But she keeps saying no. The first time—to be honest, the first time I made a disaster of it. I told her… I gave her the impression that I only wanted her for a wife because she was too virtuous to be my mistress.”

Her Grace gave a peal of laughter. “Oh Rede, you didn’t.”

“I’m afraid I did. But the second time I assured her that I wanted her for my Countess.”

“And you told her that you loved her,” the Duchess stated.

“No. Not exactly. I told her I wanted to keep her safe. I told her I wanted to protect her.”

“I see. And I suppose you think if you bring her into society, she will consent to marry you?”

“I don’t know, aunt. I only know that she deserves a better life than stuck in a worker’s cottage in the back of nowhere working as a teacher so she can one day give her sister a decent life. If she won’t have me… Well, she has been to see a lawyer about a small inheritance she has coming. I thought perhaps I could make it a bit bigger. Without her knowing.”

“You do love her,” said the Duchess, with great satisfaction.

“Yes, but… Yes.” There were no buts. He loved her. At least he hadn’t told her so. He had no taste for laying his heart on the floor for her to walk on.

“You need to tell her so.” The Duchess echoed and denied his thinking, all in one short sentence. “She is probably afraid that you are marrying her out of a misplaced sense of duty. You are far too responsible, Rede.”

“No, she couldn’t think that. Could she?”

“Who knows? Well, I will do it. I cannot have my niece-in-law having her babies in scandal. I take it there is the possibility of a baby? You would not be feeling so guilty otherwise.”

Rede was without a response for a long moment, finally huffing a laugh. “Aunt Eleanor, a hundred years ago you would have burnt as a witch,” he told her.

Celebrating To Tame the Wild Rake week 5

Fifth contest over. Congratulations to Carolyn, our winner for week five.

Week five contest

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Fifth week prize is:

  • an ecopy of a title from my backlist of books (winner’s choice)
  • a face mask in history themed fabric from RegencyStylebySusana
  • an ecopy of the Bluestocking Belles collection Fire & Frost

Grand prize for the full six weeks

Each entry also gets you a place in the draw for the Grand Prize, to be drawn in six weeks.

  • A $50 gift voucher, provided I can organise for it to be purchased in your country of origin
  • A print copy of To Wed a Proper Lady
  • A personal card signed by me and sent from New Zealand
  • A made to order story — the winner gives me a recipe (one character, a plot trope, and an object). I write the story and the winner gets an ecopy three months before I do anything else with it, and their name in the dedication once I publish.

This week’s discount is 99c for Farewell to Kindness

Runs from 21st September to 29th September

Available at this price from Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Farewell-Kindness-Golden-Redepennings-Book-ebook/dp/B00TXRW4KA/

or from my SELZ bookshop: https://judeknight.selz.com/item/farewell-to-kindness

This week’s giveaway at my SELZ bookshop is Lost in the Tale.

Runs from 21st September to 7 October. Pick up from my bookshop: https://judeknight.selz.com/item/lost-in-the-tale

Tea with Jude

 

Her Grace gestures to a seat, and begins to pour a fragrant cup of tea from the teapot she has ready at her elbow. She does not ask how I have it — medium strength, no sugar, no milk or cream. We have been together now for more than six years, and we know one another’s habits.

She has become more than I expected when she first surfaced from the depths of my imagination. My notebook says:

Anthony George Bartholomew Philip Grenford, Duke of Haverford, Marquess of Aldbridge, Baron Chillingham
m
Eleanor Frances Sophia Grenford nee Creydon (daughter of Earl of Farnmouth)

Duchess with two sons and unhappy marriage treasures her many goddaughters. Links books through goddaughters. Sons have their own stories.The Duchess also rescued her husband’s by blows and put them into school etc. See David. Could be more stories about these by-blows.

“That was the start,” Eleanor agrees, “but we have gone beyond that, have we not?”

We have. Even from her first appearance, she has demanded her own voice. She is the maternal aunt of the hero of my first novel, and he goes to her when he needs help with the social circumstances of his lovely widow. England is in the middle of the 1807 election, and Eleanor has been canvassing the Kent electorate on behalf of her husband’s candidate.

The sun was setting on Saturday evening, and Rede was beside himself with frustration, before the Duchess of Haverford’s coach was finally seen tooling up the road to the castle.
He was waiting when she entered the front door, and she greeted him with pleasure. “Rede, darling. What a lovely surprise. Have you been waiting for me long?
“Such a circus in Deal. The electors were inclined to listen to the merchants, and the merchants did not favour Haverford’s man. Not at all.
“So I had to visit every shop in the town and buy something. The carriage, I can assure you, is laden. But Haverford believes that it may have done the trick.
“Just as well, dear, for I have enough Christmas presents for every one of my godchildren for the next three years. And some of them are not of the best quality, I can assure you.”
She was talking as she ascended the stairs, giving her cloak to a maid as she passed, her bonnet to a footman, and her reticule to another maid.
“You want something, I expect. Well, you shall tell me all about it at dinner. I left most of the food I purchased at the orphanage in Margate, but I kept a pineapple for dessert. Such fun, my dear, have you tried one?”
“No, dear aunt,” he managed to say, sliding his comment in as she paused to give her gloves to yet another maid. Or it may have been the first maid again.
“Well, today you shall. Join me in the dining room in—shall we say one hour?” And she sailed away towards her apartments, leaving him, as always, feeling as if he had been assaulted by a friendly and affectionate hurricane.
Over dinner, he laid all honestly before her. Well, perhaps not all. The lovely widow, betrayed by George, the three sisters, the little daughter. No need to mention that he’d played fast and loose himself with the lady’s virtue. Just that he needed to rehabilitate her. Just that he wanted to marry her and she had refused.
“She has refused you, Rede?” Her Grace was surprised. “But you are handsome, titled and charming. And rich. What does she object to?”
Rede hadn’t been able to work it out, either. “I know she cares for me, Aunt Eleanor. But she keeps saying no. The first time—to be honest, the first time I made a disaster of it. I told her… I gave her the impression that I only wanted her for a wife because she was too virtuous to be my mistress.”
Her Grace gave a peal of laughter. “Oh Rede, you didn’t.”
“I’m afraid I did. But the second time I assured her that I wanted her for my Countess.”
“And you told her that you loved her,” the Duchess stated.
“No. Not exactly. I told her I wanted to keep her safe. I told her I wanted to protect her.”
“I see. And I suppose you think if you bring her into society, she will consent to marry you?”
“I don’t know, aunt. I only know that she deserves a better life than stuck in a worker’s cottage in the back of nowhere working as a teacher so she can one day give her sister a decent life. If she won’t have me… Well, she has been to see a lawyer about a small inheritance she has coming. I thought perhaps I could make it a bit bigger. Without her knowing.”
“You do love her,” said the Duchess, with great satisfaction.
“Yes, but… Yes.” There were no buts. He loved her. At least he hadn’t told her so. He had no taste for laying his heart on the floor for her to walk on.
“You need to tell her so.” The Duchess echoed and denied his thinking, all in one short sentence. “She is probably afraid that you are marrying her out of a misplaced sense of duty. You are far too responsible, Rede.”
“No, she couldn’t think that. Could she?”
“Who knows? Well, I will do it. I cannot have my niece-in-law having her babies in scandal. I take it there is the possibility of a baby? You would not be feeling so guilty otherwise.”
Rede was without a response for a long moment, finally huffing a laugh. “Aunt Eleanor, a hundred years ago you would have burnt as a witch,” he told her.

Eleanor reads the words over my shoulder and laughs. “Silly boy,” she observes. “But it all turned out in the end.”

And then you helped Becky and Hugh,” I reminded her. A shadow passes over her face. That also turned out in the end, though perhaps not for Eleanor’s son, the Marquis of Aldridge.

By that time, Eleanor Haverford had embedded herself into my Regency world. She appears again and again, always helping, always protecting the defenseless and supporting the cause of true love.

From her wistful look into her cup, I know what she is thinking. I know the question she wants to ask.

“Will it ever be my turn?” The room hums with the unspoken words.

I can’t answer; those stories are not written yet, although I’ve begun them. Things change as I’m writing. I can’t imagine that the one-word answer will reverse, but she will want details, and I need to write the six-novel series, Children of the Mountain King, to find out for certain whether it will ever be Eleanor’s turn.

I hope so. She deserves it.

Tea with Mia and Kitty

The two girls were discussing their suitors. Catherine Stocke had a sharp wit and a wicked gift for describing each man’s least charming characteristics. At least her suitors intended marriage. Euronyme Redepenning, as a married woman with a husband on the other side of the world, attracted less permanent offers, which she had no hesitation in refusing. Her stories of the rakes’ reactions had the girls in giggles.

The duchess should probably squash the conversation, which had become a rather racy for two maidens, for Mia was still untouched despite the wedding that took place in this very castle over two years ago. She would not, though. Both young ladies had experienced rather more of life than the sternest arbiters would consider desirable, and being able to laugh about the stupidities of men was a healthy reaction, Eleanor thought.

The mystery surrounding Kitty whereabouts these last seven years, and her sister’s recent marriage to Eleanor’s nephew the Earl of Chirbury, had made her a sensation since the day she walked into a London ballroom earlier in the year. Her own beauty and charm won her an immediate following. Her disinterest in any of her court had the paradoxical effect of increasing it event by event, despite her tactic of insisting that she would not dance more than once with anyone, and that the men surrounding her must take themselves off and dance with other ladies.

Mia’s tale was old news by this time. In the weeks surrounding her fifteenth birthday, she had been trapped by smugglers, forced to marry by the damage to her reputation, and abandoned by her husband on their wedding day (for his duty to the Far East fleet, said some; for his mistress in India, said others). Eleanor, who was rather fond of young Jules, thought the assessment harsh. Faced with conflicted duties, the boy had done his best. He had married an orphaned schoolgirl twelve years his junior in order to save her reputation and give her a home with his family. Then he’d returned to the east in obedience to his orders. Her in-laws had taken the bride into their hearts and been stalwart defenders these past two years.

Both girls had accepted her invitation to spend several weeks at Haverford Castle so they could spend more time together, away from the men who pestered them, and Eleanor was enjoying their company. No. She would not interrupt them. Let them have their fun. “More tea?” she asked.

Kitty and Mia are introduced in Farewell to Kindness the first book in The Golden Redepennings series.  In the Epilogue to that book, we are told that the two friends are staying with the Duchess of Haverford, so the scene above belongs to that visit.

My next newsletter subscriber story, going out this week, is of Mia’s encounter with the smugglers and her wedding. The novel I’m working on at the moment, Unkept Promises, tells what happens seven years later when she heads to the Cape Colony at the foot of Africa to retrieve her husband’s daughters by his mistress.

Kitty will have her own story told in the fifth book of the series.

Tea with Kitty

The Duchess of Haverford sat straight in her chair and examined Lady Kitty over her tea cup. Long gone was the little girl who once visited Haverford Castle in Margate, trailing behind her eldest sister, and being solicitous of the next in age, dear little Meg, whose mind had stalled forever in childhood. Now in her twenties, Kitty had also left behind the debutante, thrilled with the gowns and glitter, loving the dancing, engaging with every sign of enthusiasm in the endless round of entertainments.

She had never shown much interest in the marriage-mart reasons behind the Season, and — for her — the gloss faded from the social whirl quite quickly. She’d had suitors aplenty. Her Grace had witnessed it for herself, and Kitty’s sister had confirmed that they’d received a number of formal offers. But Kitty refused them all. Was it because of the close friendship she’d formed with Euronyme Redepenning? Mia, as she was called? Kitty and the wife of Lord Henry Redepenning’s youngest son were the same age, had many of the same interests, and had been inseparable these past five years.

But Mia had left London this very week, sailing to South Africa to be with her husband. And with her husband’s mistress, which seemed very peculiar to the duchess.

How to begin? “Kitty, my dear, what are your thoughts on marriage?”

“It is a venerable institution with much to recommend it,” the younger woman replied, a smile dancing in her eyes.

The duchess tipped her head in acknowledgement of the quip, but raised one eyebrow.

Kitty seemed to come to some kind of a decision, for she gave one sharp nod. “Aunt Eleanor, I would like to marry, but I think it unlikely. I will not marry where I do not trust, and I trust few people, I regret to say. My family. My friends. How does one become friends with a man in our world, where every interaction is governed by rules and monitored by prying eyes?”

Unconventional, but perceptive. A man who could not be trusted was the source of much unhappiness, as the duchess knew all too well. “You are young to be so suspicious,” she commented.

Kitty put her cup down on the table beside her chair and leant forward. ” Has anyone ever told you about what happened between me and the Earl of Selby?”

The incident between Selby and Kitty happened in Farewell to Kindness, where the heroine is Kitty’s sister, Anne. Alex, who appears in the excerpt below, is the hero of A Raging Madness, next in the series. Both books are discounted for the rest of May, to celebrate the publication of the third novel in the series, The Realm of Silence, which is already available on my bookshop and comes out everywhere else tomorrow.

Clink on the links for blurbs and buy buttons.

Farewell to Kindness is currently discounted to 99c wherever it is sold as an ebook.

A Raging Madness is available with a discount of $2.75 off the list price of $3.99 on my bookshop only (the Buy from Jude Knight button). Use the discount code KWMS6GNW at checkout.

Excerpt from Farewell to Kindness

“And is Miss Kitty with Miss Meg?” John asked.

“No, indeed. She went off to bed a good ten minutes ago. You go too, Price.”

With a sense of alarm out of all proportion to the circumstances, John left. He had no reason, beyond Jonno’s concerns and a stirring uneasiness, to run down the eastern stairs instead of up the servant stairs to his own room in the attic. But run he did.

On the floor below, he stopped. The ladies’ bedchambers, including Miss Kitty’s, were mostly to the left. Acting on instinct, he turned right, to pass the room where Miss Ruth had slept.

He stopped as he came level with the closed door. Something moved inside. A struggle? Thumping and muffled cries. He tried the handle. Locked. Shouting himself in his alarm, he hurled himself against the door. Once, twice. The third time it burst open, and he fell through the doorway, catching himself with his hands before he crashed to the floor.

As he picked himself up, the Earl of Selby cast him a fierce look.

“Get out,” Selby ordered. The dirty swine held Miss Kitty pinned to the bed with his upper body, one hand muffling her cries while the other fumbled at the buttons of his breeches. “Get the hell out, man. This is none of your business.”

John grabbed the bastard by the shoulder, swung him around and planted a fist straight into his superior nose, sending him lurching backwards.

Miss Kitty slithered quickly off the bed, and ran to the door, where Miss Mia—who must have been woken by the shouting—wrapped an arm around her.

John put himself between Lord Selby and the doorway.

“You hit me!” Lord Selby said, incredulous. “You broke my nose!”

John figured he probably had. Certainly if the pain in his hand was anything to go by, he must have caused considerable damage to the bastard’s face.

“I’ll see you swing for this,” Selby hissed. “Striking a peer is a capital offence. You’ll swing for this.”

“Rubbish,” Miss Mia said, from the doorway. “You were drunk and you bumped into the bedpost. We all saw it.”

From below came a stentorian bellowing. “What’s going on up there? Jonno, get up those stairs and report, man.”

“Mrs Redepenning, this man attacked me.”

Miss Mia thrust out her chin. “Lord Selby, the Earl of Chirbury’s trusted friend protected a guest in his Lord’s house.”

Selby tried to dodge past John, who blocked him. Jonno came running along the hall and skidded to a stop behind Miss Kitty and Miss Mia. “Major wants to know what’s happening.”

“This man attacked me!” Selby roared. “I want him arrested!”

“This so-called gentleman attacked Miss Haverstock,” Miss Mia interrupted, “and Price came to her rescue.”

“Stop saying that,” Selby commanded. “I intend to marry the girl. There’s no need for all this fuss.”

The two women looked at him, shocked. “Marry?” Miss Kitty said.

Selby smiled, looking smug even with the blood dripping from his nose. “I’ll wager you didn’t think to catch a peer, did you?”

Her eyes flashing, Miss Kitty took a step away from Miss Mia’s protective arms. “Marry? Me? Marry you?”

Selby looked even more smug. “Of course you’re surprised, a village girl becoming a Countess, especially one with such a questionable past. But yes, I’ll marry you. What do you think of that? That changes things, doesn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man in England,” Kitty hissed. “You slimy, disgusting slug, you.”

“Here now!” The smug look gone, Selby frowned. “You have to marry me. I’ve compromised you.”

“I don’t see any compromise,” Miss Mia argued. “Kitty has been with me the whole time.”

“But I have witnesses,” Selby looked at John, and at Jonno.

“I didn’t see nowt,” John said. “Did you Jonno?”

Jonno, a grin burgeoning, shook his head.

“Jonno, a hand here!” The peremptory command came from the stair landing. Jonno glanced in that direction, then ran toward it.

Miss Mia, looking after him, said, “Alex, how did you get up the stairs?”

“On my behind,” the Major replying, hobbling into view, leaning heavily on Jonno. “What’s all the noise?”

“Thank God you’re here,” Selby said, importantly. “You can sort this out.”

Major Alex let Jonno help him to a chair. Miss Mia led Miss Kitty into the room, her arm still protectively around her, keeping as far away from Selby as they could.

“All right,” Major Alex said, “what’s going on?”

Several voices started at once, and he roared, “Quiet! Selby. You first.”

“I want this man arrested. He hit me,” Selby commanded.

“A good one, too,” Major Alex observed. “I take it he deserved it, John?”

“He was trying to rape Miss Haverstock, sir,” John replied quietly.

“I’ve already said I’ll marry the girl,” Selby interrupted, impatiently. “He hit me, do you hear? He hit a peer. That’s a hanging offence.”

“Do you have witnesses to that, Selby?”

“Well, yes, Mrs Redepenning, and Miss Haverstock. They both saw him.”

The two ladies shook their heads. “I wasn’t even here,” Miss Kitty said, smiling at Miss Mia. “Mia and I were in her room, playing chess.” Miss Mia nodded. “Price wasn’t here, either, Alex. Lord Selby imagined the whole thing after he walked into the bedpost.”

Major Alex nodded. “Fair enough.”

Selby spluttered. “What do you mean, fair enough? It’s all lies. I’ve compromised the girl and I have to marry her! She has to marry me.”

“She doesn’t want to, Selby.”

“But… I’m an Earl. She would be a Countess.”

“You’re a slug,” Mia commented. “A slimy, disgusting slug, just as Kitty said.”

Major Alex’s eyes lit with appreciation. “That would seem to be a clear no, Selby,” he told the fuming Earl. “Jonno, John, the Earl appears to be shaky after his accident. Take him to his room and lock him in. Bexley’s valet has been doing for him, hasn’t he? Tell the man to pack the Earl’s effects. He will be leaving first thing in the morning.”

Tea with Rede

Another excerpt post. Rede has been kicking his heels at Haverford Castle while waiting for his aunt to arrive home.  The book is Farewell to Kindness, and blurb and buy links  are at the link from the book title. The first two chapters are on my excerpts page.

The sun was setting on Saturday evening, and Rede was beside himself with frustration, before the Duchess of Haverford’s coach was finally seen tooling up the road to the castle. 

He was waiting when she entered the front door, and she greeted him with pleasure. “Rede, darling. What a lovely surprise. Have you been waiting for me long?  

“Such a circus in Deal. The electors were inclined to listen to the merchants, and the merchants did not favour Haverford’s man. Not at all.  

“So I had to visit every shop in the town and buy something. The carriage, I can assure you, is laden. But Haverford believes that it may have done the trick.  

“Just as well, dear, for I have enough Christmas presents for every one of my godchildren for the next three years. And some of them are not of the best quality, I can assure you.” 

She was talking as she ascended the stairs, giving her cloak to a maid as she passed, her bonnet to a footman, and her reticule to another maid. 

“You want something, I expect. Well, you shall tell me all about it at dinner. I left most of the food I purchased at the orphanage in Margate, but I kept a pineapple for dessert. Such fun, my dear, have you tried one?” 

“No, dear aunt,” he managed to say, sliding his comment in as she paused to give her gloves to yet another maid. Or it may have been the first maid again. 

“Well, today you shall. Join me in the dining room in—shall we say one hour?” And she sailed away towards her apartments, leaving him, as always, feeling as if he had been assaulted by a friendly and affectionate hurricane. 

Over dinner, he laid all honestly before her. Well, perhaps not all. The lovely widow, betrayed by George, the three sisters, the little daughter. No need to mention that he’d played fast and loose himself with the lady’s virtue. Just that he needed to rehabilitate her. Just that he wanted to marry her and she had refused. 

“She has refused you, Rede?” Her Grace was surprised. “But you are handsome, wealthy and charming. And rich. What does she object to?” 

Rede hadn’t been able to work it out, either. “I know she cares for me, Aunt Eleanor. But she keeps saying no. The first time—to be honest, the first time I made a disaster of it. I told her… I gave her the impression that I only wanted her for a wife because she was too virtuous to be my mistress.” 

Her Grace gave a peal of laughter. “Oh Rede, you didn’t.” 

“I’m afraid I did. But the second time I assured her I wanted her for my Countess.” 

“And you told her you loved her,” the Duchess stated. 

“No. Not exactly. I told her I wanted to keep her safe. I told her I wanted to protect her.” 

“I see. And I suppose you think if you bring her into society, she will consent to marry you?” 

“I don’t know, aunt. I only know that she deserves a better life than stuck in a worker’s cottage in the back of nowhere working as a teacher so she can one day give her sister a decent life. If she won’t have me… Well, she has been to see a lawyer about a small inheritance she has coming. I thought perhaps I could make it a bit bigger. Without her knowing.” 

“You do love her,” said the Duchess, with great satisfaction. 

“Yes, but… Yes.” There were no buts. He loved her. At least he hadn’t told her so. He had no taste for laying his heart on the floor for her to walk on. 

“You need to tell her so.” The Duchess echoed and denied his thinking, all in one short sentence. “She is probably afraid you are marrying her out of a misplaced sense of duty. You are far too responsible, Rede.” 

“No, she couldn’t think that. Could she?” 

“Who knows? Well, I will do it. I cannot have my niece-in-law having her babies in scandal. I take it there is the possibility of a baby? You would not be feeling so guilty otherwise.” 

Rede was without a response for a long moment, finally huffing a laugh. “Aunt Eleanor, a hundred years ago you would have burnt as a witch,” he told her. 

Tea with Alex

The best way to move Alex downstairs, his sister had decreed, was to press a chair into use and set a stout footman on each leg. Susan insisted he spend part of each day out of his room, and in truth he was going mad with only the same four walls, the same ceiling, to distract him from the pain and the craving for the oblivion of poppy juice. To which he would not surrender. He might be in agony, but at least he was in his right mind.

So here he was, dressed at least above the waist, ensconced on a sofa in the smaller of the two drawing rooms with a view out over the early Spring garden.

The blanket draped over his bandaged broken legs to hide them from sight and protect the modesty of the maids was the lightest Susan could find, most of its weight taken on cushions either side of the useless appendages. They would heal. Or so the doctors promised, though weeks ago they had proclaimed he was certain to die, so perhaps they were wrong again.

Susan had left him with a pile of books and a pack of cards, all within easy reach, and had promised him visitors to amuse him. Even so, he did not expect the butler’s announcement.

“Her Grace the Duchess of Haverford. The Marquis of Aldridge.”

Decades of conditioning had him attempting to rise—a poor effort that died in a white blaze of pain, and the gracious lady had seated herself and was holding his hand in a firm grip before he fought it back enough to be conscious of her again. And of her son, who was returning across the room from the brandy decanter, a glass in his hand.

“Redepenning,” he said, in greeting, handing over the drink. Alex let it burn down his throat, not waiting for it to warm. Breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. And again.

“Don’t try to talk until you are ready, Major Redepenning,” Her Grace cautioned. “The sick bed is no place for conventional manners. Besides, Aldridge and I have come to entertain you, not make you feel worse.”

Even a serving officer (at least one from his family) knew the Duchess of Haverford entertained visitors At Home on a Monday, and surely today was a Monday?

But Her Grace answered the unasked question. “I have been anxiously waiting to see for myself how you are, and today is the first that Mrs Cunningham allowed you to have visitors. So here I am, though it is a Monday, and Aldridge swears that the world shall wobble in its orbit at my departure from practice.”

“But one would not wish to be predictable, Mama,” Aldridge teased.

Alex cracked open an eyelid and then another. The room was no longer spinning, and the brandy had helped settle his nausea. He had been wrestling with his pain for long enough that the servants had brought in a tea trolley.

“Thank you for your good wishes,” he said, his voice calm, if a little strained.

The duchess gave his hand another squeeze and released it so that she could prepare herself a cup of tea. Aldridge, Alex noted, had helped himself to the brandy.

“I can see you are in pain, and look half-starved, my dear,” Her Grace said, “so I will need to take your sister’s word that your condition has improved, and forgive her for being so protective. Now. We shall not remain long, so what do you wish from us on this first visit? Shall Aldridge give you the news? Or shall I show you what we have brought to amuse you?”

“I have war, government, and court news,” Aldridge offered, “and Mama knows more than me about what is newsworthy in Society. If you want to hear about less disreputable matters,” he slid a glance sideways at his Mama, “we will ask Her Grace to step into the next room.”

The world was carrying on without him, and Alex could not summon the energy to care. “Presents, Your Grace? You are too kind.”

“My dear Major, you were raised almost a brother to my dear nephew, you are my good friend’s son, and I have known you from the cradle. I can spoil you if I wish. Besides…” She lowered her voice, “Her Majesty has told me something of the circumstances of your injury, and I am grateful on her behalf.”

Alex grimaced. All the gratitude in the world wouldn’t give him back the use of his legs.

But the duchess intended him to make the most of sitting in one place. In the ten minutes that was all she allowed herself, she loaded him with gifts, some purchased and others made specifically for him.

First, she had Aldridge and a footman bring in a table made with two legs so that it would fit across the sofa, and informed him that one with higher legs had been delivered to his bedroom.

“Now that you can sit up, Major Redepenning, you will find this surface more stable than a tray for taking meals, keeping up with your correspondence, playing cards, or whatever pleases you.”

A long procession of packages followed: books, a games board marked for backgammon on one side and chess on the other, the pieces in a matching box, several packs of cards, note paper, an inkwell that Aldridge assured him was non-spill.

So many, each showing the giver’s awareness of his interests and his limited abilities, but when Alex roused himself to express his gratitude, the duchess claimed that Aldridge had been her deputy in choosing what to bring, and Aldridge brushed off his thanks with a challenge to a game of backgammon “In a day or too, when you are more the thing.”

By the time Susan returned from whatever errand had taken her out, Alex had slept for a restless half hour and was laying out a solitaire game of patience on his new table. He greeted her with a smile, and she exclaimed with delight, “You are feeling better, Alex. I hoped you would.”

And he was, he discovered. The pain was no less, the legs no more co-operative, but the visit had done him good, reminding him that he had friends who loved him, and that the wide world still waited on the other side of this long stretch in the sickroom. He would get better. He vowed it. He owed it, after all, to the doctors, having confounded their expectations once.

This scene takes place some time in March 1807. Readers of Farewell to Kindness will see Alex, a secondary character in that book, still recovering but able to get around on crutches and in an invalid chair. My forthcoming novel, A Raging Madness (published 9 May 2017), begins in October of that same year, as does A Baron for Becky. Alex is the hero of A Raging Madness, and Aldridge could have been the hero of A Baron for Becky, but chose to please his family rather than follow his heart. Poor Aldridge.

Tea with Ruth

Ruth Henwood had taken tea with the Duchess of Haverford several times, and each time had felt out of place; a pit pony in a herd of thoroughbreds; no, a metal kitchen mug somehow displaced in among the exquisite oriental tea cups.

Today was a thousand times worse. On every previous occasion, she had trailed along as companion to Lady Chirbury or one of her sisters, to be included in the conversation not because she belonged, but because the ladies she worked for loved her and because the duchess was kind. Today, she was alone, and here by personal invitation.

She had reread the perfumed note several times; checked that the inscribed name was indeed her own; traced the signature with one mystified finger. Eleanor Haverford. What did Her Grace want?

Had she somehow discovered Ruth’s less than stellar origins? She had been born into the lower reaches of gentry as her improvident father and foolish mother made the final fall into poverty, orphaned before she was twelve, and educated only through the mercy of a charity school and a sponsor with a kindness for her mother. At her very first job as a governess, she had failed to protect herself or her charges. Somehow, years later, she found herself treated as an extra sister by the ladies of an earl. Surely they would stand up for her if the duchess was inclined to expose her to Society as the fraud she was?

She shifted uncomfortably then stilled her limbs. A lady did not fidget. A lady sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap and her face composed and calm, not matter how much turmoil disturbed her mind and her heart.

“Miss Henwood? Her Grace will see you now.” Ruth rose and followed the maid from the little room where she had been deposited to await the duchess’s pleasure. No. That was a sour thought. She had arrived early, and had waited not above ten minutes, for all it felt like hours.

The duchess was waiting an elegant room Ruth had seen before, but it seemed somehow larger and richer with only the two of them present, for the maid simply opened the door for Ruth and withdrew.

At the duchess’s invitation to take a seat, Ruth realised she had been frozen just inside the room. Only years of practice at hiding her thoughts allowed her to cross to the indicated chair; to keep up her side of a harmless conversation about the weather and Ruth’s beverage preferences.

What was the duchess up to? Even if Ruth dared put that question to the exalted lady, she would not receive an answer until Her Grace was good and ready. The duchess was known both for her near omnipotent knowledge about those who were broadly called Society, and her ability to keep her own council. She would speak if and when she was ready, and not before.

Ruth finished her tea and accepted a second cup, ate one of the dainty savoury tarts, discussed the dangers and benefits of the new gas lighting, and agreed that the fashion for square necklines would be very flattering to Kitty, Lady Chirbury’s sister.

Indeed, several of the gowns ordered for Kitty’s coming Season had that neckline. Ruth managed not to frown; the duchess herself was sponsoring Kitty at the Queen’s first Drawing Room in the new year, with her debutante ball to follow right here at Haverford House. The social whirl Kitty had so eagerly anticipated for several years was almost upon them, but last summer’s experiences had sucked the joy from her.

“Yes; I am very pleased with our purchases so far,” the duchess commented. “I am not so pleased, however, with what I observe of our dear Kitty.” She held up a hand as if to stop Ruth from commenting. “She jumps at shadows, and I see shadows in her eyes, Miss Henwood. Something has happened. She manages to hide it very well, especially when her sister is watching, but she has consented to this Season to please Lady Chirbury and not because she wishes for it.”

That was true. Kitty had even cited Anne’s desire to give her a Season when Ruth had suggested they could postpone if Kitty felt unready.

“You must see that I need to know, so that I can protect and support her, Miss Henwood. I cannot ask Kitty herself; not when all I have is guesses and rumours. Nor will I ask Lady Chirbury, given her condition. So I depend on you. What happened to my protegée? And what did Lord Selby have to do with it?”

Ruth is a secondary character in Farewell to Kindness, and a witness to at least one of the experiences that changed Kitty from a carefree and confident young woman to one who is papering over the cracks in her composure by sheer force of will. Kitty will have her turn as heroine later in The Golden Redepenning series, in The Flavour of Our Deeds.

Also see Tea with Anne, Tea with Kitty, and Tea with Rede.