by

Proposal under pressure on WIP Wednesday

Here’s an excerpt from my novella in next month’s Bluestocking Belles’ collection, Love’s Perilous Road. My heroine has come to warn my hero of the villain’s plans, but he has other things on his mind.

***

“Was that Grant I saw leaving?” she demanded, as he drew her inside and shut the door to protect her from the eyes of scandalmongers. “What did he want?”

“To tell me I wasn’t good enough for you,” he blurted.

She raised her eyebrows and gave an unamused chuckle. “At least there is something the two of you agree about.”

I hurt her. Justin supposed he must have known it before, but seeing her use humor to deflect possible hurt brought it home to him.

“I told him we are betrothed,” he blurted. “I shouldn’t have. Not when I haven’t even asked you. I love you, Lady Felicity Belvoir. I have loved you since I first met you. For the past two years, even while I kept telling myself that it was hopeless, and that I was an arrogant bumptious fool for ever thinking I was fit to touch the toe of your shoe, I have loved you. Will you forgive this poor fool for running away without talking to you?”

Somewhere in that impassioned speech, he had caught up her two hands. He lifted them to his lips, and then said, “Will you marry me, and join me in a partnership to make our dreams come true? Will you, Felicity?”

Felicity lifted her lovely face and touched her sweet lips to his. “Yes, Justin. Yes, I will.”

During the kiss, Justin lost his wits for a while, allowing Felicity to instead fill his senses, sinking into the web of desire even as he wove it. He was not ready when she drew back after several glorious minutes, but he immediately loosened his grip so that she did not feel confined.

She had an urgent matter on her mind.

by

Why many of my villains are truly evil

Every so often, I get a review that accuses my villains of having being entirely black, with no redeeming characteristics. And it’s a fair call to say this is often how I present them.

To be fair, usually the villain’s crimes – while they are crucial to the story – are mostly described from the point of view of the villain’s opponents. His or her redeeming qualities, while possibly somewhere in my mind as I write the character, are not important to his or her victims. When I do write from the villain’s point of view, it is skewed in his or her favour, for villains have justifications, if not reasons. In the villain’s mind, what they want takes priority in all situations. Other people do not have a right to their own lives. They deserve whatever the villain wants to do to them. It is the victim’s honour to suffer so the villain can have something he or she wants. If they must do something detrimental to others, it is because they were forced into it. It is the victim’s fault. It is the government’s fault. It is the hero’s fault. It is their mother’s fault.

Or, the benefits to the villain so far outweigh the costs to the victim, that the villain is prepared to pay the price. So what if cutting corners on safety costs a few people their miserable little lives? It will earn me millions!

Anyone who thinks such characterisations are unrealistic has not been paying attention. In real life, sadly, there are people whose redeeming qualities pale into insignificance next to their evil. Even those who turn a benign face to the world can perform unspeakable evil behind the scene. When they achieve enormous wealth, power, and status, they believe nothing can stop them, and may even stop pretending to any virtue. In their minds, other people have no reality, and the sufferings of others are merely proof of the villain’s invincibility.

Such people are not born that way. Upbringing plays a crucial role, but I believe choice is also vital. And above all, the choice to regard others as pawns in one’s own story. What makes the man or woman my villain becomes? My hero and heroine never knew, and nor, probably, do they care. But I am telling their story, not the villains.

And a truly evil villain presents my hero and heroine with serious barriers to happiness. Which, of course, they will overcome, as my reader expects.

by

Spotlight on The Secret Word

What does the tale of “Rumplestiltskin” look like set during the Regency, and written without magic?

My answer is The Secret Word, which – once I started writing it – took on a life of its own. This book is published on September 6th.

The Secret Word

(Book 10 in A Twist Upon a Regency Tale)

When Christopher Satterthwaite rescues Clementine Wright from would-be kidnappers, he is offered an opportunity he can’t refuse. Clemmie’s father, a wealthy coal magnate, has been looking for a husband for his only child. Someone with aristocratic bloodlines and no family—someone who can give him the blue-blooded heir he craves, without the interference of noble relatives.

Chris figures he and Clemmie can work together to keep Wright from controlling their every move. As their partnership develops, they fall in love. Wright doesn’t stand a chance against them. Or does he?

And what about the other men who are showing an interest in the child who is soon on the way? Chris’s reprobate grandfather is hanging around like a bad smell, and clearly has a scheme in mind. Chris’s more respectable relatives have not disowned him after all, and are eager to show the as yet unborn child with every advantage—because they regret not helping Chris as a child? Or for purposes of their own?

And then there is Ramping Billy O’Hara, the most sinister of them all, and Chris’s patron.

Some are villains. Some are on the side of the couple and their child. Only time will tell which is which.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FM8R25VP

 

by

Oubliettes – places for being forgotten

An oubliette, as mentioned in my latest novel, The Night Dancers, is a bottle dungeon—that is, a hole in the ground, with no exit or entry except through the hole at the top. The name is French, and comes from the word oublier, to forget. It is a particularly nasty place to imprison people. The man who finished up in the oubliette deserved it.

by

Ruination on WIP Wednesday

The fear of ruination was real in a society in which rank, power, and wealth depended on male primogeniture–that is, inheritance based on the eldest legitimate son being heir to everything. Of course a man wanted no doubt that the baby the wife delivered after their wedding was, in fact, his. Hence, even being alone with a man, if you were a maiden of the upper classes, could be enough to cause all other men to avoid you. Who knew what you had been up to? Of course, the consequences for the maiden were dire, and that is why historical romance writers find the situation so tempting! Here’s the first part of my new newsletter subscriber story:

A country road in the Midlands, 1815

Miss Amber Williamson muttered insulting epithets as she stalked down the road. “Arrogant idiot.” Stamp. “Stupid fool.” Sniff. “Despicable loon.” With her chin in the air, she gave another stamp, which proved to be mistake, for her slipper landed in a puddle she had not noticed until then. The displaced water splashed across her calves and petticoat, and the standing water soaked through both footwear and stocking to chill her foot.

“Botheration.” Amber wished she knew a few worse words, for if ever there was a time for unladylike language, this was it.

Slippers were not made for country walking, and she must have at least another two miles to go. At least that awful man was not likely to be after her. In fact, she would be surprised if he dared chase her even when he did finally manage to escape from her knots and the room she had locked when she left.

Dare to kidnap me, did he? Try to force me into marriage? Intolerable! “I should have shot you. I hope you do follow me, you swine. It will give me an opportunity to repair that oversight!”

Just in case, she would stop and load her muff pistol. It had worked well enough unloaded at that nasty little inn the not very Honourable Wilbur Menningham had chosen as a place to change his horses and ravish his victim. But she could not rely on the stupidity of other villains she might encounter.

“Bird-witted blaggard.” Menningham had believed her frail little lady act. Didn’t he know her better by now? He had been courting her for weeks, ever since her cork-brained brother had doubled her dowry. Again.

Amber amended her first assessment. While Menningham was largely and most immediately responsible for her current state, Kit’s ridiculous and increasingly desperate attempts to marry her off by increasing her dowry had also played a part.

From the moment Menningham had attacked her, Amber’s instinct had been to play helpless and dumb. Fighting back then would not have worked, for she was a slightly-built woman. She had no choice but to let him drag her into his carriage, shove a handkerchief into her mouth, and tie her up.

What she could do, though, was pretend he had subdued her—that she was weak and frightened. She had, in fact, been scared. But not witless. At some point, he would have to stop. At some point, he would have to untie her. And then, she could surely escape, for the man was a fool.

The opportunity had come sooner than she expected.

by

First Kiss Moments

Today, I’m starting a series I’m calling Moments on Mondays. I’ll be publishing first kisses, starting with some of my own. This one is from the very first historical romance I published, Candle’s Christmas Chair.

“Min?” He came up onto his knees in a single motion, and captured her face between both of his hands, looking into her grey eyes.

She collected herself then, his brave little goddess. “When I come back with the chair, I will give you your answer.”

And then she pressed her sweet lips to his and he was lost. With a groan he enfolded her in his arms, slid his hands up behind her head, and deepened the kiss.

It could have been a minute; it could have been months. Time ceased to exist as he explored her mouth and she followed his lead. Her tentative movements, bold and shy at the same time, intoxicated him and he was conscious of nothing but the burning need to sink into her softness. Until a piece of gravel on the path turned as he shifted his knee, and dug into his skin.

He drew away from her with a groan.

Had he done that? Her lips were swollen and red, a sleeve was pulled down baring her shoulder, and one glorious breast was nearly tipped out of her dress. Another nudge, and he’d see…

He blinked, and shook the idea out of his head. “Min, my own dearest love.” He had to be calm. She looked as dazed as he felt. Probably more so, given her innocence. If his world was shaken, hers must be reeling.

“I would help you put yourself to rights, beloved. But I don’t dare touch you.”

She straightened her dress, repinned the lace cap she wore in her hair, rewrapped her shawl around her, all the while sneaking peeks at him and colouring each time their eyes met.

Before they left the succession house, he put a finger on her now clothed arm.

“Min, will you accept my apology, beloved? I meant no disrespect, I promise you. I should never have kissed you. I know how powerfully I react when we touch.”

To his surprise, she suddenly grinned. “Ah but Ran, you forget. I kissed you first.”

by

Spotlight on Dukes All Night Long

Welcome to Dukes All Night Long…
One of the sexiest Historical Romance collections ever!

Get ready to fall in love with a delicious lineup of never-before-published stories filled with passion, scandal, and irresistible dukes.

Whether it’s a marriage of convenience, a fake engagement, or a rake ready to reform, these dukes know exactly how to turn up the heat after dark…

From glittering ballrooms to scandalous house parties, this steamy anthology brings together some of historical romance’s biggest names in over 1,000 pages of heart-racing, sigh-worthy, late-night reading.

Because let’s face it, dukes do it better after dark.

The Duke’s Delayed Wedding Night by Chasity Bowlin

Amnesia and an evil twin? What could be better. The Duke of Rosemere is summoned to the Hellion Club, more officially known as the Darrow School for Girls. He does not expect to meet the wife who abandoned him after four months of a marriage in which she made life hell for him and all around him.

Forever with a Pirate Duke by Gina Conkle

Miss Susan Pryce has been sent by her father to with the assignment of preparing the newly minted rough-around-the-edges Duke of Hawkland for Society. Not to fall in love with him, and decidedly not for him to fall in love with her.

With a Valet in a Wardrobe at Midnight in Dukes All Night Long by Jude Knight

Gareth Lord Versey comes in disguise to Congleton Hall, home of the Earl of Congleton and his six daughters. Garry wants freedom to observe Lady Jenna, the second daughter, before he goes through with the marriage arranged by his grandfather, the Duke of Dellborough.
The Seducer Comes to Call by Edie Cay
After being driven out of medical school and Society by lying rumours, Sibyl has been hiding out on her brother’s estate, living in the hermit’s cave. Until her childhood friend Archie stumbles upon her. He is a rake, a scoundrel, a fortune hunter, her brother’s best friend–and the man whose kiss ruined her.
Trusting the Duke’s Son by Christiana Diane
Jenny met Fin, the second son of a hard-headed, jerk of a duke, in her first season out, and they shared a few tender moments. She believed he would offer for her, once he convinced his overbearing father to support that match.
But then a scandal erupted amongst the ton painting Fin as the monster. Can she ever trust him again?
Midnight Masquerade by Christine Donovan
Widow Lady Charlotte Beauchamp dances with a stranger she has just met at a masquerade ball held at the private Club Knight. After one night with her, the Duke of Tremont feels things he has never felt before. But he fears that she will reject him when she sees under his mask.
Duke by Dawn by Sheridan Jeane
Evan Eldridge never asked to be Duke of Westbridge. He’s lost his family, his purpose, and the only woman who ever truly saw him. Now Violet Heatherington is back, carrying secrets that could shake the Empire–and a mission that puts her directly in harm’s way.
The Duke of Covent Garden by Kesley Swanson
When Lady Kate Bell is delivered to Duke, proprietor of a gaming hell, as collateral for her brother’s debts, she expects humiliation, ruination, and worse. But Duke was once the stable boy Kate had comforted in the wake of her brother’s cruelty. Passion flares, and a forgotten love fights to rise from the ashes of vengeance.
The Wanton Maid by E.L. Johnson
She is the eldest daughter of a disgraced baronet, now stuck working for a rude mistress. He is the cheerful nephew of a duke, holding his first-ever party after his return from university. Together, sparks will fly at a masquerade ball, but a thief might be among the guests.
A Duke at the Opera by Peri Maxwell
When Zara Blake agrees to play opposite Silas Archer on stage as the Duke and Duchess of Adderley, the widowed star soprano has no idea that her vagabond tenor co-star has long been in love with her. In a run-down theatre full of quirky artists who are more like a found family, can she find true happiness?
Dawn’s Light by Tess Thompson
At an exclusive Twelfth Night party, Lady Arabella Kingsley is partnered with Lucian Rothmere, the Duke of Rothmere. The man she once loved. The man who abandoned her. Then the hostess locks them together in a room, with a series of clues designed to help them dig up the past.
A Deal with the Duke by Margaux Thorne
Jo, a widow, is told by a fortune-telling witch that it is time to move on, to marry again – and immediately after bumps into the Duke of Winchester, Oliver, the first man she ever loved. Jo and Oliver are two secondary characters from Margaux’s Cricket Club series. This isn’t their book. Not yet. But it is part of it.
Music in the Night by Caroline Warfield
Expect a musician visiting an almost empty ducal mansion, two loyal servants for company, the nightly strains of a Beethoven sonata in the music room, a pianist who repeatedly escapes into the night, a haughty opera singer long gone, an evil uncle, a complicated past, fraud and manipulation, past sorrows, dual identity, and second chances.
by

Little tame creatures


“How did they allow them to keep rats as pets?” asked my editor at the end of my epilogue, when my nine-year-old boy cousins were racing indoors after a fortnight away, to check on their pet rats. “Were they even domesticated at this time?”

Well, yes. They were. And nine-year-old boys love rats as pets at least in part because it upsets the maids and bothers the adult female cousins. Not my boys’ mothers, of course, who are made of sterner stuff.

Rats as domestic pets might have been familiar in Europe as early as the seventeenth century, and this was certainly  the case in Japan. We have excellent documentation for domesticated rats in England in the early nineteenth century. In fact, the ancestor of many of today’s pets might have been raised by Jimmy Shaw or Jack Black. (This might not have been his legal name, but it is the name under which he was interviewed by Henry Mayhew. The interview the two men was published in a book titled London Labour and the London Poor.)

Jack and Jimmy were ratcatchers. He suppled live rats to the rat pits, a popular blood sport that didn’t end until 1912. Another lucrative income source for him was breeding from rats that had different coloured coats. He told Mayhew ‘I have ’em fawn and white, black and white, black white and red. People come from all parts of London to see them rats. They got very tame and you could do anythink with them.’  He sold them as pets or curiosities, mainly to young ladies. Jimmy Shaw was even more interested in the odd rats. If today’s pets are not descended from those kept by one of these two men, they no doubt originated in a similar way.

Laboratory rats appear to have been used in research from at least 1828, and probably were also saved from the rat pits or bred from such animals. The Albino rat often used in laboratories or as pets is also known to have been around for a while. There was apparently a wild colony of Albino rats in Bath in 1828.

 

by

Toil and trouble on WIP Wednesday

I’m adding to my Maggie’s Wheelbarrow, and turning it into a Christmas story, for the Bluestocking Belles Christmas Collection. Here’s one of the new additions.

***

The hope of soon being reunited with Will, or at least reaching his mother, had kept Maggie moving along the winding roads from Portsmouth to the first village of Ashton. When that proved to be the wrong place, she changed her strategy. Winter was coming. Even now, the heat was gone from the long evenings as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. If she had to find lodgings for herself and the children during the winter, then she must make more than the few coins she had picked up on her way north.

Having made the decision between one village and the next, she put it into practice at the first opportunity, asking at both inns and the three major houses if there was any work available.

One of the inns took her on to clean rooms and empty slop pails. For one week, she told them. After that, she said, she must be off once more on her search. With Eva on her back and Billy tagging behind, she managed the heavy work with ease, and a week later set off the next Ashton with several more shillings in her purse and a warmer coat for each child to keep them comfortable in the sometimes cold wind.

The second Ashton was as disappointing as the first, but Maggie got two night’s work at the inn, and on the strength of that was offered temporary work at the great house, where they needed extra servants during a house party. At first, she thought she’d have to turn the job down, though the wages were excellent. But another woman overheard her telling the hiring steward about her children.

“I reckon they could stay with me Ma,” she said. “She’s looking after me own young uns, while I earn a few coins, so two more wouldn’t matter to her none, and she could do with the pennies.” The woman introduced herself as Frannie, and offered to take her to visit her mother immediately.

“If she could put you up for at night,” said the steward, “I shall add two shillings a day to the wages, for where I could find you a bed, I do not know. Mind you, you’ll have to be at your post by five in the morning, and will not be home until after the guests have had their dinner.”

Frannie’s mother proved to be a kind woman whom Eva took to straight away, and the other children were twins of Billy’s age, so Maggie went off to work the following morning with a light heart. If she saw out the week of the house party, she would earn the princely sum of twelve shillings! Two shillings of that would go Frannie’s mother, but ten shillings would feed her little family for weeks, if she was careful.

It was hard work and long hours, but in some ways, it was also a holiday. No walking for hours with Eva on her back and the wheelbarrow before her. No need to find dry spaces through the day to feed the children or to change a wet clout. And she enjoyed the walks with Frannie in the pre-dawn quiet and the velvet dark of the late evening.

After the first three days of the house party, the servants settled into a routine—those who belonged to the house, the temporary hires, and servants of guests all learning what they could expect from one another. Hearing how some of the guests behaved toward the servants, Maggie was pleased to be working where she didn’t see them.

by

Backlist Spotlight on Thrown to the Lyon

My latest release, The Lyon’s Dilemma, is the sequel to Thrown to the Lyon. The Duke of Kempbury, who is something of an antagonist in this story, is the hero in the next.

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/