Book series

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We cannot choose our family, on WIP Wednesday

“Oscar, before you go out, I would like a word,” Pol said after dinner. The ladies had withdrawn and it was just the two of them and a couple of footmen in the room.

“I’ll have a port then,” Oscar said, waving a hand at one of the footmen.

Pol stood. “I’ll get it,” he said to the men. “Leave us, please. I will let you know when you can clear.”

“Uh oh.” Oscar grinned, mockingly. “I detect a Polly scold.”

The topic Pol wanted to broach had nothing amusing about it. “If you wish to see it that way. I am looking out for your interests, cousin. And they won’t be served by alienating the villagers and your tenants.”

He handed Oscar his port, and the heathen tipped back his head and swallowed the lot. Pol doubted if he’d tasted it.

“If you are going to scold me, I’m leaving,” Oscar threatened.

Right. Straight to the point then. “You’ve been trying to talk John Westerley’s daughter into meeting you in private. She had the sense to talk to her father. He asked me to let you know that any man who touches her, whoever he might be, will lose his ballocks.” Margaret Westerley was fifteen. If Oscar seduced her or worse, Pol might just hold his cousin down for the knife.

Oscar snorted. “Westerley is my tenant. He won’t touch me.”

“Westerley runs the biggest and most successful farm in the district. If he is hanged or transported for gelding you, you will lose not only your breeding equipment but also a third of your income. That is, if he gets caught. I tell you now, Oscar. If you turn up minus important body parts, I will deny we had this conversation, and all of your tenants and most of your villagers will make certain that Westerley has an alibi.”

“She’s ripe for it,” Oscar protested. “You can’t blame me if the tarts lead me on.”

There was no point in arguing that a girl’s appearance was not an invitation to molest her. “You’re an adult,” Pol told him. “If you want to stay whole, think with your brain and not your pecker. Leave the tenants’ daughters alone.”

In a whiny singsong, Oscar repeated the last sentence and added to it. “Leave the tenants’ daughters alone. Leave the villagers’ daughters alone. Leave the maids alone.” His sneer broadened. “You might be a eunuch, Polly, but I’m not.”

“Keep on poaching other people’s women and you will be,” Pol promised, ignoring the insult. “That goes for the dressmaker’s girl, too, by the way.”

Nothing in Oscar’s eyes or his expression hinted that he knew anything about what Pol had heard in the village—that the dressmaker was searching for her seamstress, who had not come home last night. So it probably wasn’t anything to do with Oscar. Pol hoped she was somewhere safe, but he greatly feared that she might have fallen afoul of some of the other predators who thrived in this district. Oscar’s example and the negligence of the magistrate saw to that.

“The dressmaker’s girl is my business, not yours.” Oscar was on his feet and pouring himself another port. “As for the tenants, I’m the highest ranked peer in the district. They won’t touch me. Little mice. Everyone is afraid, and they should be. You should be.”

He tipped his glass up again, swallowing several times as the port ran down his throat. “I can destroy them,” he added. “I can destroy you, Polly. So stop trying to tell me what to do.”

He stormed out of the room.

That went about as I expected. Honestly, Pol should let Westerley loose with his gelding knife. Pol couldn’t think of anything else that would stop the viscount from his indiscriminate rutting.

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Meet Jude Knight on a virtual book launch tour

I’m doing a virtual book tour on Facebook in conjunction with the launch of Thrown to the Lyon and The Trials of Alaric.  I’ll bring excerpts, introductions to my characters, games, historical tidbits and more. Come and chat with me in the following places and times:

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Spotlight on Thrown to the Lyon

When Dorcas Anderson saves Mrs. Dove-Lyon from being crushed by a passing dray it sets up a chain a series of events she could not have imagined. The grateful lady insists on presenting to her rescuer a tinder box containing three tokens. Each can be exchanged for a favor from The Black Widow of Whitehall herself.

She needs the first sooner than she expected, when her dead husband’s twin, brother to a powerful duke, has her and her four-year-old son arrested for theft.

When Mrs. Dove-Lyon asks him to help rescue a wrongfully arrested widow, Ben, the Earl of Somerford, is glad to aid Mrs. Anderson, whom he knew and respected when he was with the army in the Peninsula.

Dorcas uses the second token to enlist Mrs. Dove-Lyon in catching Ben’s attention, little knowing that Ben is already wondering if Dorcas is just the wife he needs.

Ben is too slow to declare his interest. Dorcas’s brothers-in-law threaten, and Mrs. Dove-Lyon may have the answer: Another marriage, this time to a man powerful enough to stand against a possibly malevolent duke.

The plan is set. A game of cards will decide the groom. Can Dorcas use the third token to change the odds? Anything can happen when a lady is thrown to a Lyon.

https://www.amazon.com/Thrown-Lyon-Lyons-Connected-World-ebook/dp/B0DGMYS3W9/

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Eavesdropping on WIP Wednesday

From her position in hiding, Jackie could see Mr. Allegro select a file book from the top of a neat stack of documents.

“Lord Hunnard has increased some of the rents and decreased others,” he told Lady Hunnard, moving out of sight again. “Repaying gambling debts or favours in the later case. At least one of the rents has been doubled because he wishes to force the tenant into allowing him sexual access to her employee.”

A slap sounded, followed by Lady Hunnard’s harsh voice. “It is not your place to ascribe motives to your master, or to criticise his decisions. What happens to the Hunnard tenants is not your concern,” she said.

Mr. Allegro’s calm and courteous tones did not change. “I merely advise, my lady. The Hunnard estates depend on the wellbeing of the Hunnard tenants. As might Lord Hunnard’s safety as he rides around the neighbourhood.”

“Are you threatening your master?” Lady Hunnard demanded.

“Not I, my lady. I merely advise. Desperate people do desperate things. Lord Hunnard would do well not to drive people to desperation.”

Lady Hunnard’s laughter was a grim sound, with nothing of humour about it. “Those mice? Those frightened cowering fools? They will mutter into their beer, but none of them will do anything. Besides, my Oscar could fight off a dozen of them and not disturb the set of his coat. And then Lord Barton would send them all to the assizes, to hang or to be transported.” He probably would, too, for the Baron Barton was Lady Hunnard’s lover. “No,” she insisted. “Oscar is in no danger. Give me the rent book.”

He must have complied without speaking, for her voice next came from further away. “Do you have an eye for the dressmaker’s girl, Allegro? Perhaps Oscar will allow you his leavings.” This time, her chuckle did sound amused.

The bitch!

“She has gone,” Mr. Allegro said. “You can come out now, Miss Haricot.”

Jackie discovered that her hands were locked into fists, so tightly that her nails had cut her palms. She relaxed them and used the deck to haul herself to her feet.

“Thank you for not telling Lady Hunnard I was here,” she said.

Mr. Allegro shrugged. “I tell the Hunnards as little as possible,” he said. “You no doubt heard that Lady Hunnard has no sympathy for your plight, and no intention of standing between her son and the victims of his vices. I imagine you are here with a plan. What is it, and how can I help?”

Could he be trusted? Would he really help? She looked into his steady brown eyes. Kind eyes, she thought.

He is not going to leave me to wander about the house on my own, and if he does not help me, I shall have to go home empty handed. And I am running out of time.

“You were there last night when Lord Hunnard cheated me out of my winnings,” she commented. He had helped her then, too, come to think of it, stopping Lord Hunnard from seizing her. She shuddered at the thought of what might have happened had that ogre discovered she was a woman.

“Yes?” Mr. Allegro said.

“I need that money to pay the rent,” she found herself saying. “I came to steal it back, and also to look for evidence of Horrid Hunnard’s crimes so that he can be stopped before he hurts more people.”

Mr. Allegro’s jaw dropped and he stared at her. Jackie glanced toward the window. If he called for help, would she be able to get out that way? What possessed her to blurt out her plan like that? Why didn’t he say anything?

As the silence endured, her discomfort grew. “Right,” she said, taking a step to the side so that she could sidle around the desk and make for the door. “It was too much to ask. I’ll just be off then.”

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Tea with a daughter-in-law

This week’s post is an excerpt from Paradise at Last.

Eleanor was too busy to fret much about her would-be suitors, or about the chill distance between her and the one man for whom she might be tempted to forsake her new freedom. She and Jessica had much to do preparing for Jessica’s wedding in April and shopping for Jessica’s trousseau. She continued the work she had begun, seeking donations for the several charities she had offered to help when last in Town.

She also found herself deputising for Cherry on many of the same committees that she had managed when she was duchess. Eleanor met with her daughter-in-law after every meeting to report on progress.

They took tea one afternoon in the little parlour Cherry had made her own. The previous evening Haverford had escorted them both to a formal dinner, with dancing afterwards, at the home of Lord Henry’s daughter Susan.

“You will be able to take up the work again, now that you are feeling more energetic,” Eleanor told her daughter-in-law. “I’m very happy to hand it all back to you, or to continue with some of it. You must just tell me what you need.”

“We shall see,” Cherry commented. “I expect I will need your help later in the year. You have guessed have you not?”

Eleanor acknowledged the truth of that with a smile and a nod.

“I thought so. You have not fussed over me as much as Anthony, but you are always there with a snack or a drink when I need it, and always ready to take over when a nap overwhelms me.” She put a hand over Eleanor’s and squeezed. “You and Mother are the only ones to know, apart from Anthony.”

“And, I imagine, your dresser,” Eleanor joked. “It is hard to keep such a secret from one’s maid.”

It was Cherry’s turn to smile and nod.

“Dearest, I could not be more thrilled,” Eleanor said. “And not because of that nonsense about an heir to the Haverford duchy. I have seen enough of you together to know that the love you bear one another is far more important than who carries on the title after we are all gone. But you deserve the little blessing you carry. You and my son will be wonderful parents.”

Cherry burst into tears. “Excuse me, Aunt Eleanor. I seem to have little control over my emotions at the moment.” She put her arms around Eleanor and Eleanor hugged her back, then offered a handkerchief so she could dry her eyes.

“And what of you?” Cherry asked. “I always thought you and Uncle James would make a match of it after the old duke died. We would all be so pleased. Can you not talk to him, Aunt Eleanor?”

Eleanor shook her head. “I expect you know what he thinks of me. Sarah was there when he found out what I had done. I cannot even blame him for it, for I was wrong.”

Cherry made an impatient noise. “And I suppose he has never made a mistake in his life? To throw away all of your history and the friendship you have found in the last few years—surely he is not so foolish.”

Eleanor sighed. “Shall we talk about something else, my dear? What dreadful weather we are having.”

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Backlist spotlight on To Wed a Proper Lady

Everyone knows James needs a bride with impeccable blood lines. He needs Sophia’s love more.

James must marry to please his grandfather, the duke, and to win social acceptance for himself and his father’s other foreign-born children. But only Lady Sophia Belvoir makes his heart sing, and to win her, he must invite himself to spend Christmas at the home of his father’s greatest enemy.

Sophia keeps secret her tendre for James, Lord Elfingham. After all, the whole of Society knows he is pursuing the younger Belvoir sister, not the older one left on the shelf after two failed betrothals.

Buy Links

Books2Read: https://books2read.com/CMK-ProperLady

Jude Knight’s book page https://judeknightauthor.com/books/to-wed-a-proper-lady/

Jude Knight’s book shop https://shop.judeknightauthor.com/index.php/product/to-wed-a-proper-lady-the-bluestocking-and-the-barbarian/

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I’m working on Felicity Belvoir’s story at the moment, for next year’s Bluestocking Belles’ collection. She was introduced in the collection Holly and Hopeful Hearts, in the novella that later became To Wed a Proper Lady. She was the younger sister of the heroine, Sophia. Felicity has also appeared in another collection, Storm and Shelter, as the employer of my heroine. And she was mentioned in The Husband Game, in which her brother, the Earl of Hythe, met his match over a chessboard.

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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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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.