Farewell to Kindness

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Pre-order links now up on most e-retailers

I woke at around 4.30 this morning and checked my buy links for Farewell to Kindness. As you do.

And all of the e-retailers who allow pre-order are now showing the book. Woohoo! So, to celebrate, here’s another excerpt.

Rede and his friend, the enquiry agent David Wakefield, are about to leave for Bristol. Alex is Rede’s cousin.

men planning

“Pack for an overnight stay, Rede,” David instructed. “You may not get to see him straight away, and I have a job this evening that Thomas was going to help me with. You’d be even better. Pack something to impress the solicitor with your consequence, and something suitable for a bit of lurking. Something inconspicuous.”

Rede raised an eyebrow, but didn’t ask questions.

The footman entered, followed by a maid, as Rede and his friends were leaving the breakfast room by the door into the Great Parlour. “Denning, would you send John to my bedchamber, please? I’ll meet him there.”

“Go on ahead,” Alex said, impatiently. “I can’t come upstairs with you anyway, Rede.”

Rede hurried his steps, leaving Alex and David to take seats in the parlour.

Up in his dressing room, he found a satchel and began packing it with the few things he needed for a night away.

“Going to Bristol with Master David, my Lord.” John made a statement of it, as he took Rede’s shaving kit from his hands and took over the packing.

“I need two changes, John. Something lordly and something that will make me invisible. But not too much to carry.”

John looked at him with a spark of interest in his eyes. “You can do much by changing your neckerchief and adding a bit o’ glimmer to distract.”

He rummaged through the shelves, adding one item and then another. Rede decided to dress up a plain brown coat and beige pantaloons with an embroidered silk waistcoat in a verdant green, intricately tied cravat, and various items of jewellery, and then dress it down again with a black linen waistcoat, a knotted kerchief, and a cap instead of a beaver-felt top hat.

Downstairs in the Great Parlour, David was chatting with Alex about the holidays they’d spent here at the Court, but he came swiftly to his feet when Rede entered.

“John is organising our horses,” Rede told him. “They’ll be ready in a few minutes. Will we take them right through, or change part way?”

“We’ll rest them at a cottage I have in Winterbourne,” David said. “I need to change my look and pick up a few things.”

Rede clapped Alex on the shoulder. “Watch out for your sisters, won’t you? Just in case we’re dealing with fools?”

Alex regarded his crutches with no little disgust. “Some help I’ll be if we’re attacked.”

“I don’t know,” Rede mused. “You don’t shoot with your legs, do you? And if they come close enough to grapple with, your crutches will make excellent clubs.”

Alex snorted a reluctant laugh. “Brimming with sympathy, that’s you.”

“And, um,” Rede’s hands twirled his hat, “present my apologies to the good Lady Redwood, would you?”

One corner of Alex’s mouth quirked. “I’ll be sure to do so. Though from what Susan tells me, Lady Redwood is merely providing the venue. So I’ll be sure to present your apologies to the engineer of these dance lessons. I’ve been wanting to meet her, anyway. I’ve heard so much about her. From Susan and Mia. Not from you, cousin, strangely enough.”

“Thank you,” Rede replied insincerely, heading off towards the door. But David had stopped. “Some new flirt of Rede’s, I take it?”

Rede tried to keep him moving. “We don’t have time for gossip.”

“The lovely Mrs Forsythe: a tenant of Rede’s in the village, and an old flame of George’s.”

David’s brows shot up in surprise. “Rede has taken up with one of George’s mistresses?”

“She is not, and never has been, one of George’s mistresses!” Rede snapped. Then added, belatedly, “And I haven’t taken up with her.”

Alex nodded to David. “He’s a bit sensitive about it.”

“I am not… Don’t be ridiculous. She’s a lady, Alex. Leave her alone.” This last in a growl that sounded out of proportion even to Rede.

David nodded, slowly. “He is sensitive, isn’t he? Better stop teasing, Alex, or he’ll wrap that crutch round your ears.”

Rede gave a reluctant chuckle. “I was thinking about it,” he admitted. “Or shoving it down your throat, Alex. Remind Susan, will you, that she promised not to gossip? Mrs Forsythe has to live in this village. Speculation about her past or my intentions could make her life impossible.”

“And do you have ‘intentions’?” Alex asked, seizing on the word Rede had regretted as soon as he said it.

“Yes. I intend to go to Bristol and set about a rumour that the Redepennings are rough, tough fighting men who would resent any actions that hurt their women.” He caught Alex’s eyes in his for a long moment. Even as he did, he knew it was a threat display, and that it was for Anne, though he hardly knew why or what he threatened.

Alex broke the stare first. “So,” he said, “Ride safely.”

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Are historical romances moral?

Today, I blog about the morality of historical romance over on Mythical Books, answering a question posed by my hosts. I suggest that the triumph of good over evil tends towards morality, and ask whether regency novels are more moral than the times they tell of.

This is a tour stop on the Enchanted Book Promotions blog tour. Thank you, CCAM.

VIC050393129A 01

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Farewell to Kindness is on Manic Readers today

Today, I’m featured on Manic Readers, with a post on happy endings and some information about Farewell to Kindness. Thanks, Ivy.

the kettle is on

And here’s the excerpt I promised:

What was it about this woman that made Rede want to spend time with her? She was, of course, delectable. But many women had faces and forms as lovely.

Since Marie-Josèphe died, he’d felt the stirrings of lust from time to time—and more than stirrings. Acting on those stirrings always felt like too much trouble, though.

In his private desires, as in all the rest of his life, he saw the world as if through a thick blanket that numbed feeling. He went through the motions of looking after his business interests and the Earldom, of acting appropriately in social occasions, of charming his tenants and his neighbours—but all the time, he was acting a part, as if he had been buried with his wife and children, and was reaching from the grave to operate his own body like a puppet.

Except when he woke each morning with his grief still raw. Except when he was planning how to make his enemies pay. Except when he read the reports David sent him every week.

And now, something beyond his vengeance was reaching through the blanket of unfeeling and bringing him back to life. Or, rather, someone.

He studied her for a moment, as he stood apart from the group. He couldn’t put his finger on what made her different. Perhaps it was that she talked to him, and not to his title or his wealth. He enjoyed her wit, her humour. He liked how she treated him with no more and no less deference than she did Will or the Squire or the innkeeper’s wife.

Today, she was dressed far more like a lady than a cottager, in a light-coloured dress in the modern style, modestly covering but shaping to her bosom, and dropping from there to a flounced hem. Yesterday’s apron had defined her slender waist, but the dress beneath it had hidden her shape entirely. Today’s dress left her waist a mystery, but clung to her hips and legs as she walked…

It would give the villagers confidence to see their lord working side by side with the other local leaders. Rede had run large teams of trappers, invested the money into multiple enterprises and made a not inconsiderable fortune by finding managers he could trust and inspiring them to give their all to serve him. He knew the value of showing his tenants and neighbours that he counted himself one of them.

His decision to help was for the village at large, not to impress the lovely Mrs Forsythe.

“And,” he admonished himself as he rode away, “if you believe that, I have a village built of pure gold in Upper Canada that I’d like to sell you.”

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Because… life

I was doing so well. A blog post every day. 1000 words a day minimum on the work in progress, Encouraging Prudence. Candle’s Christmas Chair published and Farewell to Kindness well on its way. I’d even organised some time off in March, figuring that I’d need to do some major promotion in the lead up to Farewell’s publication date.

Then, life happened. My commercial writing work got really busy, right when three people in the team left for other pastures. One of our daughters was seriously injured and spent 10 days in hospital (she’s on the mend now, thank you). A neighbour and dear friend fell from a ladder and died.

So I haven’t nearly finished the first draft of Encouraging Prudence, I’m behind on organising the launch for Farewell to Kindness, and my recent blog posts have been few and far between and not as interesting as I usually try to make them.

But Farewell is still going to be published on 1 April, I’ve created (and tweeted) some memes to promote it (like the one posted below), and I’ve been having a lot of fun meeting other writers and readers amidst the ongoing madness the Bluestocking Belles have created at our Housewarming Party site.

In the next few days, I’ll post excerpts from Farewell, and links to articles and reviews from the blog tour Enchanted Book Promotions are running for me. And then, I hope, normal service will resume. Thank you for your patience.

Rockfall meme FtK

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How low can I go? Doing the cover limbo rock

And here’s another view – this time in with a whole lot of other covers (some of mine and most belonging to other people). Most people will see the covers on a virtual bookshelf. On the scrolling ‘People who bought this book also bought’ list on Amazon, the images are small, and in the chat threads on Goodreads they’re even smaller – not too different in size to what you see below.

Can we make our covers work at this size? I think some of these work. You can still read my name on the Candle cover, and Lucinda Brant’s Dare Devil is striking, though only the face and her name are legible. Her name is legible on Autumn Duchess, further down the page, too.

Some are beautiful, but they’re not legible, and they’re not noticeable put in with a heap of other books.

This experiment changed my mind about the blue cover. I just don’t think it stands out enough. What do you think?

book covers