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Tea with Georgie and a charitable impulse

“What did you think of the singer?” Eleanor, the Duchess of Winshire, asked her sister-in-law. Lady Georgina Winderfield had travelled up from the country for a lecture series at the British Museum, and had by chance been here at the right time for Eleanor’s charity concert last night.

“I take it you mean Miss Lind,” Georgie said. “She was the outstanding singer of the evening, as you know, Eleanor, since you gave her the last spot of the evening before the auction and supper.”

“She was, wasn’t she? But I wondered about your personal impression of her.”

Georgie put her head to one side and narrowed her eyes. It was a mannerism shared by her brother, Eleanor’s beloved husband.

“You will have your reasons, my friend,” Georgie commented. “You always do. My impressions of Miss Lind?” She pursed her lips. “I did not meet her. The Earl of Coombe rushed her away immediately after the concert. So I am only reacting to her appearance on the platform.”

Eleanor nodded, encouraging Georgie to continue. Her friend had a gift for sizing people up on sight, and the singer had been in sight for twenty minutes or more as she sang.

“She was too thin,” Georgie commented. “Starvation thin. Possibly an illness, but more likely, I think, overuse of laudunum or the like. She had that bruised look around the eyes. When she sang, it was hard to think of anything but that magnificent voice, but between songs, she seemed to shrink into herself. I daresay Coombe abuses her. He has that reputation.”

“She is a childhood friend of a friend of Drew’s,” Eleanor commented. “Sir Johan Trethewey, a Cornish baronet. Drew says that Sir Jowan has tried to see Miss Lind but has been turned away on Coombe’s orders.”

“Poor girl,” Georgie commented. “Perhaps we could get word to her somehow. If she is being abused, and wants to escape, we could help her, Eleanor.”

“I daresay she will do more private contests,” said Eleanor. “Of course we shall help, if we can. And Georgie, I was not aware of Coombe’s private reputation until James told me, and by then the invitations to the concert had already gone out. Perhaps, once Miss Lind has been given her opportunity to flee to safety, we should make sure that Coombe finds England too uncomfortable for him.”

Georgie nodded. Between them, they were related to at least a third of England’s most influential women, close friends with a good half, and able to influence a fair percentage of the rest. If they decided someone was to be ejected from good society, ejected he would be.

But first, Miss Lind needed a chance to escape.

As it turned out, the singer did not need the duchess’s help to escape. Jowan and his friends, including Drew, managed the feat themselves. But Eleanor, Georgie and their friends were certainly instrumental in driving Coombe out of London Society. For more about this story, read Hold Me Fast, which was inspired by the Ballad of Tam Lin.

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Reviewing the Reviews – and this author’s promise to readers

One piece of advice people give newbie authors is not to read their reviews. It is great advice I’m sure, but I’ve never taken it. I cannot resist seeing what readers have to say about what I write. Overall, it’s a good experience–my books get mostly 4 and 5 stars ratings with the occasional 3, 2 or even 1 to keep me humble. I often learn from a negative review, and they seldom make me feel bad. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, and no one book suits every reader.

All reviews are positive reviews in the sense that:

  • they tell other readers what to expect–even a negative review, by saying what a reader doesn’t like, might help the book to appeal to another reader with different tastes
  • the sheer number of them acts on the bookseller’s algorithms to boost the book’s visibility.

Now and again, a review gets up my nose, usually by stridently insisting that I have not done my research, when I have, in fact, done my research and the reviewer has been taken in by The Tiffany Effect. I always want to go back and give them my references. But one can’t, of course. Arguing with reviewers is against etiquette.

The negative review one of my books received recently was more along the lines of “this is not the book for me” (and no, I’m not going to say which book or which reviewer, or even how many stars. Again, against etiquette). The reviewer didn’t want to read about what happened to the heroine, and shut the book at that point. Fair enough. Their taste, their call.

What irritated me a little was a remark about being disappointed in me, to which I wanted to say, “Look, sunshine, the blurb told you what to expect, and you chose to read it anyway.” But. Etiquette.

My promise to readers

I don’t promise that everything in my books is going to be palatable. My villains are often very bad people who do really nasty stuff, and if they can get their hands on the hero or the heroine, they’ll try to make victims of them, and sometimes succeed, at least temporarily. I do promise four things:

  1. My heroes and heroines will never stay victims.
  2. My blurb will usually hint at the issues and topics in the story. If something is likely to be triggering, I’ll spell it out in the blurb or even in a warning under the blurb.
  3. The key villain or villains will be beaten and the danger facing my main characters will be resolved.
  4. My hero and heroine will always have a happy ending.

So please, if you’ve read one of my books, take a few minutes to tell other readers what you liked, what you didn’t like, and how the book made you feel. This author thanks you.

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A mother’s challenge on WIP Wednesday

This is from Jackie’s Climb, novel 9 in A Twist Upon a Regency Tale, which is due to Dragonblade Publishing by the end of November and will be published next year.

“Hmm,” said Madame Haricot again. “Jackie, go and make a pot of tea. I wish to speak with Mr. Allegro in private. Mr. Allegro, come with me into my work room.”

Pol followed, his conscience advising him that she had noticed how he looked at her daughter, and sure enough, as soon as she had closed the door, she said, in a hushed voice, “What is your interest in my daughter?”

Only the truth would do. “Nothing I can act on yet,” Pol said. “I have enough saved to keep us all for perhaps six months, and not in luxury, which is what your daughter deserves. I don’t know whether I will be able to find work, or what even what kind of work I might look for. I think the steward here will give me a good reference, but finding a position without one will be hard. I have no right to any intentions when I cannot guarantee my wife and her mother a home and a measure of comfort for the foreseeable future.”

That was all he could say on the matter. It was, perhaps, more than he should say, given that Jackie had no idea how he felt, but this was her mother. Madame Haricot had a right to concerned for her daughter’s safety.

“You intend marriage, then? On a few days acquaintance?” The lady sounded scornful.

Again, Pol opted for honesty. “I am thinking of marriage, yes. Your daughter is an innocent, if perforce somewhat wiser than most of those in the social rank to which she belongs by birth. It has to be marriage or nothing. But I have not spoken to her of marriage or anything else. You must see, my lady, that I have nothing to offer at the moment. Hopes for the future, yes. But one cannot eat hopes.”

She said nothing, but merely examined him, her expression thoughtful. Pol resisted the increasingly uncomfortable urge to shift under her gaze. It seemed a long time before she nodded and said, “Very well, Mr. Allegro. I accept your position. I will care for your grandmother on the journey and until you can make other arrangements.

“Thank you, Madame,” he replied.

“We shall rejoin my daughter and discuss our plans,” she decreed. “Be aware that I will be watching you, Mr. Allegro. And I will not permit you to hurt my daughter.”

Pol had no intention of hurting Jackie, but he was increasingly aware that Jackie had the power to hurt him.

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Spotlight on Lord Ramsey’s Red-Headed Ruin

Book 3 in Scarlett Affairs is available now!

Lord Ramsey’s Red-Headed Ruin

By Cerise DeLand

It’s dangerous to be an honest woman.
Torture to be the man who loves her.
Amber St. Antoine flees Paris—and her role to spy on Bonaparte.
Ramsey must find her and keep her safe.
But the lady objects.
Stubborn, defiant and stunningly beautiful, Amber accepts Ram’s protection…even as she refuses to leave France.
What’s a man to do, if he’s determined to save her from herself…and is foiled at every turn?
Is he a fool to believe that love conquers all?
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Spotlight on Only a Lyon Will Do

Only A Lyon Will Do: Lyon’s Den Connected World

By Sherry Ewing

Can a chance encounter turn desire into love?

Asher Tyler, Earl of Rowley, has guarded his life as a carefree bachelor by avoiding romantic entanglements and the debutantes of each Season. When his world is turned upside down by a mysterious woman who saves him from a fall, Asher wishes to know her better but she refuses to reveal her identity. Asher cannot forget the woman at the Lyon’s Den and remembers every delectable detail about her.

Mrs. Patience Moore, a widow with a complicated past and ties to the Wicked Widow’s Club, was disowned by her merchant father when she married without his consent. Now a widow, she lives with her friend, Cassandra, who pays the matchmaking fees of the infamous Mrs. Dove-Lyon, the Widow of Whitehall, to find a husband for Patience.

But Patience doesn’t want an arranged marriage. She wants to fall in love but not with the man who stumbled into her one night at the Lyon’s Den who appears only interested in one thing. She knows his type. She should stay far away from him. Her heart tells her differently.

Mrs. Dove Lyon’s matchmaking brings Asher and Patience together, but the road is complicated. Asher insists he isn’t interested in marriage, his brother is vying for Patience’s affection, and an enemy from Asher’s past is seeking revenge.

Only time will tell if love will win over a woman who is afraid to trust and a man who refuses to see that the perfect woman is right before his eyes.

Learn more on Sherry’s website at https://sherryewing.com/regency-books/only-a-lyon-will-do/ 

 

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Tea with the Viscountess Andrepoint

“Your Grace,” Jane curtsied deeply, hoping that the amount of respect she was showing was adequate. She often granted far more depth to her courtesy than was strictly necessary, but she’d rather err on the side of respect than not.

“Lady Andrepont, please come in.” Eleanor, the Duchess of Haverford gestured to a waiting teapot and sitting area.

Jane’s palms sweated as she gripped her silk gown, crossing the plush pile rug of the duchess’s drawing room. “Thank you.”

Jane almost tripped on the way over, but righted herself in time. She was grateful when she was able to sink into the deep cushion of the Duchess’s upholstered settee. Finally she pulled out an unadorned tin that she’d held gripped in a sweaty fist lodged deep in her pocket on the way over. “If it is not too forward, I would like to gift to you a tisane of my own making.”

“Oh?” The Duchess asked, reaching out to take the small, undecorated box. “Shall we brew it up now?”

“Oh, no, it is for medicinal purposes.” Jane managed to get out the words. She was as skittish as a colt on ice, and her voice took so much effort to use. “It is especially meant for cramping or for headaches. I use it myself as well as for my staff.”

The duchess opened the tin and sniffed. She had the politeness to not wrinkle her nose at the pungent aroma. Jane had not yet learned how to mask the odors well yet.

“I have a greenhouse that I use to brew up my mentor’s receipts. Or, she was my mentor before I married.” Jane hurried through the explanation feeling foolish. But the duchess looked on with generosity. “I, of course, do not seek education now.”

“Cream?” Duchess asked, poised with the tiny ewer.

“Yes please.” It seemed impolite to refuse, so she accepted without thinking.

“You must be very well accomplished to have had a mentor,” the duchess said, pouring tea for them both.

“Well enough, I suppose. I had thought I would stay in the country, unsure if I would ever marry. It seemed prudent to have a profession.”

“If I may say, Lady Andrepont, you are quite a beauty. I know you are young, but you have many years of beauty yet. A profession would not have been needed.”

“Very kind of you to say. But I rather enjoyed my time with the midwife. She did more than attending the birthing room. The skills seemed preferable to marriage.”

“And now?” The duchess inquired.

Jane tried to give the polite answer. The one she should say, especially given the company. “I’d rather be a midwife.”

“And this tisane you’ve gifted me, you say you’ve tried it yourself?” The duchess inspected the tin again.

“Yes. Though I will caution that it does make bruising worse, even as it aids the feeling of the cramping.”

The duchess snapped her eyes back to Jane. She’d said too much. Jane looked down at her cup, the deep brown of the high quality tea swirling with the pale cream. Her heart hammered in her ears.

“Is it the viscount who does this?”

“Does what?” Jane said, before she could think of a lie, forcing herself to meet her hostess’s gaze. There was a pause, and Jane knew the duchess was weighing her options, on how much intervention she could muster. But no one could stop Andrepont. If someone could have, it would have already happened.

“Do you need protection?” the duchess asked, and even her asking the question made Jane tear up.

Jane couldn’t fathom anyone being nice to her anymore. She had spent long enough in Andrepont’s house to know that she was not a person who deserved kindness. That charity was nothing but bait to hurt her even further. There was a part of her that insisted the duchess had no such malice, but experience pushed those thoughts away. Jane shook her head.

“I’m sure I could help, if you are in true danger.” the duchess pursed her lips.

Jane thought of Vasya. He was the man who had built her greenhouse. The man who kept her safe despite her husband. Jane pulled her shoulders back, giving the impression of confidence she did not have. “I have protection. You have no need to worry.”

A Lady’s Resilience by Edie Cay

When the Blood Is Up series finale

Love Makes Us Desperate

In 1780, Queen Charlotte hosts a ball for her birthday. Jane Laurent has not been to a ball because at age sixteen, she isn’t ready. Raised in the country, Jane appointed herself apprentice to a midwife—a calling she wants to pursue. But the family traipses into London so Jane’s older sister Emma can land herself a lord. The family celebrates when lovely Emma catches the eye of the handsome viscount Andrepont. But the night of the engagement ball, dependable Emma runs away with a soldier instead. The family panics and pushes Jane forward to fulfill the marriage contract with the older and oddly unsettling Lord Andrepont. How bad could he be that pragmatic, reliable Emma ran away?

Vasily Nikolaevich Kuznetsov is a man with a past, but at least its far away. Meeting up with Gareth Somerset in a seedy gambling hell outside of Paris was the best thing that could have ever happened to him. Aimless, he follows Gareth to London where he helps his friend win the girl of his dreams, and vows to keep an eye on her while Gareth is deployed to the colonies. But when Gareth’s wife joins her husband in the colonies, and Vasya hears the younger sister is marrying Andrepont, a monster well-known to the seedy underbelly of London, Vasya takes a position as a groom in the lord’s household to protect the sister-in-law of his friend.

Years pass, and Vasya watches Jane grow into the formidable and beautiful Lady Andrepont. He can only love from afar, but there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. And when it comes to murder, Vasya has the experience and the moral flexibility to help…

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