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Sowing Chaos on WIP Wednesday

Here’s an excerpt from Chaos Come Again, my retelling of Othello, now on preorder.

Lion walked out of his bedchamber at peace with the world. Dorothea was still asleep—the sleep of the well-pleasured, Lion thought as he closed the bedchamber door as quietly as he could. Amelia was already up, and was frying bacon and eggs on a skillet over embers in the hearth. Blythe must have given her the provinder he had brought from headquarters.

“Coffee, Colonel?” she asked. “I am making breakfast for Major Foxton. Can I fetch you a plate?”

Lion was suddenly remarkably hungry, which was unsurprising given how physically active he had been in the night. “Yes, thank you. Breakfast would be very welcome. I can pour my own coffee, Mrs Foxton.”

He carried his mug out into the morning sun, where Fox was already sitting on the bench under the front window.

“I didn’t expect to see you up so early,” Fox commented. “Busy night, wasn’t it?”

Lion bristled. Admittedly, he and Dorothea had not been quiet, but the comment was in poor taste.

Fox didn’t seem to notice. “I am glad you have some compensations for your hasty marriage,” he commented.

That was an odd thing to say. “I have Dorothea,” Lion pointed out.

Fox chuckled. “Yes, I heard.”

Lion glared at him. “Enough of that, Fox. Show my wife some respect.”

“Sorry, Lion. It’s just, it seems so unfair that you didn’t know you were earl-in-waiting until after you’d taken a merchant’s daughter to wife. There are better-born women—ladies—with dowries her equal or better, and you could have had your pick. I blame our grandfather.”

“Don’t say that Fox. Don’t even think it. I count myself the luckiest man alive that I was there to rescue her from Westinghouse. I love her, Fox, and she loves me.” He smiled out over the camp, recovering some of the peace with which he’d started the day.

He wanted his cousin to understand. “You can’t know what it is like. My life has been turmoil and chaos since my mother died, but she makes sense of everything. She is my order and my peace. Be glad for me, cousin.”

Fox looked blank for a moment, as if he could not understand Lion’s words. Then he lifted his cup to sip his coffee and looked away, across the sea of tents where earlier risers than they were already busy. “That’s good then,” he said.

She loves me, Lion reminded himself again. And then, unbidden, And I do love her. If ever I do not, chaos is come again.

“What was that, Lion?” Fox asked.

Did I say that out loud? He must have. “Nothing,” he told his cousin. “Look, here is Amelia with our breakfast.”

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Tea with a nephew

“Dear Lord, Rede,” said the Duchess of Haverford. “The whole village?”

“Not the entire village, nor all of the household. The thing was, Aunt Eleanor, they had no idea who they could trust–who was working for that scoundrel and who was secretly their friend,” said the Earl of Chirbury, known to family and friends as Rede.

Eleanor fanned herself with her hand. “As a principle, dear boy, I do not like to hear the end of a story before the middle, but please tell me that our darling Kitty and her little family are safe.”

“Thanks in no small part to Kitty herself,” Rede said, proudly. “When the smugglers attacked en masse after her husband was captured and imprisoned, she helped to organise the defence and…”

Eleanor halted him with an exclamation. “Rede! Stop right there!”

His eyes twinkled, as he raised a single eyebrow at her, which was an annoying affectation that her son had copied from his favourite cousin. “Something wrong, Aunt Eleanor?”

“I did not mean for you to skip the middle entirely. Now answer my question, you wicked man, and then go back and tell the story properly.”

See The Flavour of Our Deeds for Kitty’s story.

 

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Don’t miss this chance to buy all five novels in the Golden Redepenning series at sale price.

I’ve held the standard price for my novels at $3.99 USD, because times are tough for so many people. But even then, with five novels in the series, that’s close to $20.

But not for the next twelve days. You can buy the box set for $4.99, which is half the box set price, and the newest novel, which is the 5th, for 99c. More than 1500 pages of adventure, suspense, romance, humour, and history for under $6.

This bargain price ends mid-April.

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Jealousy on WIP Wednesday

I think I’ve finished the first draft of Chaos Come Again, my retelling of Othello. The following is the scene illustrated on the cover.

Dorothea lay sprawled on their bed, still fully dressed but sound asleep, though it was only early evening. Lion bent over her, and his heart turned over in his chest. Her eyes had the red puffy look of someone who had cried herself to sleep and the tracks of tears stained her cheeks.

In the course of the day, he had imagined wiping out the insult of her betrayal by killing her. Yes, and Michael Cassiday, too.

He had not expected to reach the farmhouse and find it empty. Empty, that is, except for his sleeping wife.

Lyon had visualised a bullet for Michael, or killing him with his own officer’s sword. Not a duel. The kind of scum who took advantage of his colonel’s wife did not deserve the honour of a duel.

He could not use a gun on Dorothea. He could not bear to think of the damage that a bullet would do to the body he had loved with such passion and tenderness. The same applied to a knife.

He had considered strangling her with his own hands, but he couldn’t do that, either. To touch her with violence—no, it was inconceivable. He could not see her suffer or mar the perfection of her skin in any way.

As he gazed at her asleep, he realised that a pillow would be a solution to the conundrum. He could place it over her face and hold it down. He wouldn’t have to look at her. She might wake. Probably would. But not for long, and death would be as kind as death ever could be in one so young.

He shuddered, and his tears were as much revulsion as grief and shame.

This is a romance, I promise. There will be a happy ending.

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Spotlight on The Flavour of Our Deeds

When Luke finally admits to loving Kitty, she thinks their troubles are over. They are just beginning.

“It is a bitter thought to an avaricious spirit that by and by all these accumulations must be left behind. We can only carry away from this world the flavour of our good or evil deeds.”
Henry Ward Beecher

Kitty Stocke has loved her brother-in-law’s gamekeeper for six years, ever since he saved her and her sisters from murderous villains. Luke keeps her at arms length. Social class, wealth, an age gap, and the secrets he hides stand between them.

But when those secrets come to light and set him running with Paul, the boy everyone believes to be his son, Kitty follows. Luke is arrested on a false charge of murder, but Kitty marshals powerful allies who help him to prove his innocence. With the real villain behind bars, Luke at last declares his love, and he and Kitty marry.

However, far to the north in Northumberland, at Paul’s estate, the new family are in more danger than ever before, and can only trust one another.

Published 29 March: Order now

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Travels with my keyboard

Looking for a village half a day’s ride from the Marquess of Wellington’s winter headquarters in Portugal, I landed on Almeida. What a find! This medieval fortress village is amazing. I’ve been through it by Youtube clip, read several travel accounts, been awed by its resilience to one siege after another, and noted that it has been taken by assault only once, when a stray shot fortuitously blew up the armaments store in the medieval castle along with the castle itself and part of the village. By the way, in one of the Sharpe book’s, the explosion was caused by Sharpe. I love when an author takes a real historic incident and repurposes it for the story.

In my story, Almeida is mentioned only in passing. My brigade is camped in the fields below the hill that contains the village, though they do have a couple of guard posts up on the outer defenses. But wow!

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Wounded heroes on WIP Wednesday

I’ve been working on my story for the next Bluestocking Belles collection, and thought I’d share. Jack has offered to look after Gwen’s father, who has dementia (not that they called it that then, while Gwen works.

Back at her home, she soon found her father and Captain Wrath. All she had to do was follow the two voices singing in the kitchen—a somewhat bawdy song about a miller and his customer. Her father’s deep bass and Captain Wrath’s light tenor wound around one another to turn the silly lyrics into a thing of beauty. On impulse, she joined in the chorus.

“To me right ful la, my diddle diddle lay do,
Right ful, right ful ay.”

Captain Wrath turned to smile at her. “That was just what the song needed,” he observed. “An alto.”

“My Ellen,” Da said, smiling. Once again, he thought she was her mother. Gwen had given up arguing with him when he was like this. Captain Wrath put a bowl down in front of him—stew, which he was eating with a spoon. What a good idea! Gwen had been serving her father on a flat plate, and with a fork and knife. And where did the stew come from? Had Mrs. Carr sent it in apology? Which reminded Gwen that she would have to call by and see how Chrissie was.

Captain Wrath had filled another bowl. “Are you ready for stew, Miss Hughes?” he asked. “I can make a pot of tea, too. The kettle has just boiled.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking a seat on the bench next to her father. Jack put the bowl in front of her. “What have you two men been up to today.”

Da was shoveling stew into his mouth. He spoke without waiting to finish the mouthful. “Jack tells stories,” he swallowed. “He went to the war.” He took another spoonful.

“Did he?” Gwen asked, at a loss for what else to say.

“Damn fool thing to do,” Da grumbled. “No good comes of going for a soldier. Thugs and villains.”

Gwen took a worried look at Captain Wrath to see if he was offended, but he grinned as he brought his own bowl to the table. All three of them with bowls and spoons, and bread they could tear with their fingers. Well, why not? It was not a formal dinner party.

“Ellen likes us to eat proper,” Da said to Captain Wrath in what might be intended as a whisper. He dipped his bread into the soup, scooped soup on to it and lifted it up, dripping, to shove into his mouth.

“It’s not the officers’ mess,” Captain Wrath whispered back. “Proper doesn’t count if it’s not the officers’ mess.” He nudged the bowl toward Da, so more of the soup would fall into the bowl while the bread was being transferred to Da’s mouth. Da had a towel tied round his neck, so the rest would at least be easy to clean up. Another good idea.

Father accepted Captain Wrath’s explanation, and continued spooning up his stew, while Captain Wrath gifted Gwen with a twinkling smile.

“How has your morning been?” he asked. The kettle whistled again, and he got up to pour the water into the teapot, then brought it, a cup, and a jug of milk to her place at the table. Gwen had not been waited on since she could toddle. It felt both wonderful and slightly uncomfortable. Shouldn’t it be her job to serve the food and the tea? But if it did not bother Captain Wrath, why shouldn’t she enjoy it?

“Is all well?” Captain Wrath asked.

Gwen collected herself and answered his question. “I have had a busy morning, thank you. Everything is well.” What was it about Captain Wrath that scattered her thoughts? “How have you and Da enjoyed yourself?”

“I think it has been a good morning for him,” Captain Wrath confided. “He has been talking well, and has accepted me, though he keeps forgetting who I am.”

At that moment, Da pushed back from the table and glared at them both. “What are you doing in my house?” he demanded. “Who are you?”

Gwen tensed. Last time he had suddenly had no memory of her at all, he taken offense at having a strange woman in his kitchen and had chased her from the house brandishing a broom.

“I am Jack,” Captain Wrath said, “And this is Gwen. You may remember you invited us to a meal with you.”

Da frowned, but didn’t challenge Captain Wrath’s statement. He pointed. “Something wrong with your arm?”

“Bullet in the shoulder,” Captain Wrath said. “Dr. Wagner says it damaged the nerves and muscles. Now the arm is pretty much just a useless lump of meat.”

Da nodded thoughtfully. “Poacher, was it? Or highwaymen. Not a duel, I hope.”

“No,” Captain Wrath said. “Not a duel.”

“Good,” Da said. He bent over to take a closer look. “No movement at all?”

Jack wiggled the fingers that poked out of the sling. “A little.”

“Hmmm.” Da frowned in thought. “A good sign. Keep it bound so you don’t bang it into things. But make sure you get your wife to exercise it twice a day. Massage, too. Ellen can give you some of my liniment to use. Do the dishes, Ellen, and see this stranger out. I’m going to have a little lie down.”

Gwen was back to Ellen again. She began to get up to see that her father made it up to bed, but Captain Wrath gestured for her to sit. “I’ll do it,” he said. “You finish your meal. I know you have a busy afternoon ahead of you.”

Gwen should have insisted. After all, it was her job to look after her own father. But it was such a blissful luxury to sit and eat a meal on her own; to finish a cup of tea while it was still hot. She had to admit that Captain Wrath was handling her Da well. Better, in fact, than she did.

The least she could do was offer him the liniment Da mentioned, and help him exercise his arm. Unless he had a wife. He had not mentioned a wife.

 

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Spotlight on The Husband Gamble

This week, The standalone novella The Husband Gamble is published as part of the multi-author series The Wedding Wager. It stars my Earl of Hythe from To Wed a Proper Lady and A Dream Come True, and the runaway bride from The Abduction of Amaryllis Fernhill.

The universal link to purchase is: https://books2read.com/HusbandGamble

And here’s an excerpt:

Four days into the interminable week, Hythe had made no progress in his bride hunt. It had taken him the space of an afternoon to discover that Miss Thompson was an unkind shrew, and if he doubted his own experience, the men who knew her from London confirmed it. One by one, he spent a little time with each lady at the house party. This girl was too frivolous. That one was waspish.

In any case, he did not find himself in the least attracted to any of them. Surely it was not too much to ask that the woman to whom he would vow to be faithful for the remainder of their days was one he actually wanted to bed? He could not imagine physical intimacies with any of the ladies currently on offer.

Except Miss Fernhill. She had grown prettier day by day—not the flashy kind of beauty some of the others had, but a quiet loveliness that comprised her character as well as her features. Her attractions were manifold, and not least of them was her mind. She commanded his attention whenever she was in the vicinity. Even when she wasn’t, he could not stop thinking about her.

Perhaps he was making things worse by spending so much time with her. But nobody else here challenged him to think the way she did. When he succeeded in winning a discussion point with her, he felt as if he had persuaded the entire House of Lords— yes, and the Austrian and Prussian negotiators.

What an ambassador for Britain, she would have been, if she’d been a man. She knew several languages, understood the current political situation better most people of his acquaintance, male or female, and was invariably charming and composed.

The company that had been inclined at first to treat her with disdain was now, with few exceptions, thoroughly enjoying her company, and at least two of the gentlemen were seriously considering a courtship. Hythe felt she could do better than a penniless second son or a half-pay naval captain, but at least the lady would have choices.

 

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Waterloo, with Christopher Plummer as Wellington

This is great! A few historical inaccuracies, but superb for seeing the lay of the land. We watched the full movie, also available on YouTube (Link below). I was particularly struck by the scene in which the imperial guard attack the British squares. I’ve read about it, and seen diagrams, but watching it play out in front of me was a much more visceral thing. And the two leads were amazing.

 

 

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Spotlight on A Countess to Remember

A Countess to Remember

By Sherry Ewing

Patience, the young Dowager Countess of Seahaven has the weight of the world on her shoulders. With a bevy of stepdaughters under her care, a Season to find them all husbands is completely out of reach. But with the help of her family, they’ll scrap up enough money to see to a Season in York for the younger eligible daughters. Still… there’s been no chance at all for romance for Patience until fate intervenes. Will she allow herself time for love?

Richard, Viscount Cranfield has no desire to find a wife. He’s been perfectly content leading his carefree life until he’s charged with finding a suitable husband for his sister. He’ll travel to York for the Season only to become enchanted with a lovely young widow. Can he look past a ready-made family to possibly find love to fill his heart?

When several events have Patience and Richard crossing paths, she is hard pressed to forget her infatuation with the gentleman. Then there is the matter of her many responsibilities, along with Richard’s jealous ex-mistress who just may put an end to any sort of a relationship blossoming between Patience and Richard. Only time will tell if they can overlook their differences and allow love to conquer all.

Sometimes love finds you when you least expect it…

Released on 14 March: https://www.amazon.com/Countess-Remember-Sherry-Ewing-ebook/dp/B0BRK2DCS7