historical romance

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Spotlight on An Unpitied Sacrifice

When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall, one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle.” Edmund Burke

Brought together by war, Valeria Izquierdos and Harry Redepenning had only a few short months as a couple before the war parted them again.

That war is long over when she brings a group of war brides and children to England. Her friends seek their soldier husbands. Valeria wants to find Harry or, if Harry’s long silence means he is dead, his father. Her eldest child deserves to know his English family.

Harry has never forgotten, or ceased to mourn, the warrior wife he married in the midst of war, and lost to a French ambush years ago. His courtship of a suitable wife is a practical matter, not involving the heart that has been numb since Valeria’s death.

The Redepenning family greet Valeria with suspicion, but when Harry joyously confirms her identity, they welcome her and her children with open arms—not just Kiko, whose Redepenning eyes mark him as Harry’s son, but also the daughter she adopted and the younger son who origins she has disclosed only to Harry.

But as Valeria, Harry, and the children begin living as a family, another, private, war looms before them. The lady who had been smugly awaiting Harry’s proposal is less than pleased with the couple’s reunion. She and her parents set out to destroy Valeria’s reputation, and find willing accomplices.

An old foe of the Redepennings has combined forces with a man who blames Valeria for his brother’s death, and who wants Valeria’s youngest child. A rival of Harry’s from the army would be glad to hurt Harry however he can. These enemies will stop at nothing to destroy not only Harry and Valeria, but also their family.

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Backlist Spotlight on A Baron for Becky

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An unlikely knight errant not dressed to slay dragons

Aldridge never did find out how he came to be naked, alone, and sleeping in the small summerhouse in the garden of a country cottage. His last memory of the night before had him twenty miles away, and—although not dressed—in a comfortable bed, and in company.

The first time he woke, he had no idea how far he’d come, but the moonlight was bright enough to show him half-trellised window openings, and an archway leading down a short flight of steps into a garden. A house loomed a few hundred feet distant, a dark shape against the star-bright sky. But getting up was too much trouble, particularly with a headache that hung inches above him, threatening to split his head if he moved. The cushioned bench on which he lay invited him to shut his eyes and go back to sleep. Time enough to find out where he was in the morning.

When he woke again, he was facing away from the archway entrance, and someone was behind him. Silence now, but in his memory, the sound of light footsteps shifting the stones on the path outside, followed by twin intakes of breath as the walkers saw him.

One of them spoke; a woman’s voice, but low—almost husky. “Sarah, go back to the first rosebush and watch the house.”

“Yes, Mama.” High and light. A child’s voice.

Aldridge waited until he heard the child dance lightly down the steps and away along the path, then shifted his weight slightly letting his body roll over till he was lying on his back.

He waited for the exclamation of shock, but none came. Carefully—he wanted to observe her before he let her know he was awake, and anyway, any sudden movement might start up the hammers above his eye sockets—he cracked open his lids, masking his eyes with his lashes.

He could see more than he expected. The woman was using a shuttered lantern to examine him, starting at his feet. She paused for a long time when she reached his morning salute and it grew even prouder. Then she swept her light up his torso so quickly he barely had time to slam his lids shut before the light reached and lingered over his face.

She was just a vague shadow behind the light. He held himself still while she completed her examination, which she did with a snort of disgust. Not the reaction to which he was accustomed.

“Now what do we do?” she muttered. “Perhaps if Sarah and I…? I will have to cover him. What on earth is he doing here? And like that? Not that it matters. Unless he has something to do with Perry? Or the men he said would come?” Incipient panic showed in the rising pitch and volume, until she rebuked herself. “Stop it.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Stay calm. You must think.”

Aldridge risked opening his eyes a mere slit, and was rewarded by a better look at the woman as she paced up and down the summerhouse, in the light of the lantern she’d placed on one of the window ledges.

Spectacular. That was the only appropriate word. Hair that looked black in the poor light, but was probably dark brown, porcelain skin currently flushed with agitation, a heart-shaped face and a perfect cupid’s bow of a mouth, the lower lip—which she was currently chewing—larger than the upper.

The redingote she wore fit closely to a shape of amazing promise, obscured, then disclosed, as the shawl over her shoulders swung with her movements. Even more blood surged to his ever-hopeful member. “Down, boy,” he told it, silently.

“Mama?” That was the little girl, returning down the path. “Mama, I can hear horses.”

The woman froze, every line of her screaming alarm.

Aldridge could hear them too, coming closer through the rustling noises of the night. The quiet clop of walking horses, the riders exchanging a word or two, then nothing. They must have stopped on the other side of the house.

“Sarah.” The woman’s voice, pitched to carry only as far as her daughter’s ears, retreated as she crossed the summerhouse. “Sarah, we must go quickly.”

“But, Mama! The escape baskets!” the girl protested.

“I dare not wake the man, my love. He might stop us.”

Aldridge responded to the fear in her voice. “I won’t stop you. I am not a danger to you.” The woman turned to a statue at his voice, her hand on the framework of the arched entrance, as if she would fall without support. He swung himself upright, wincing as the headache closed its vice around his skull. Though he slitted his eyes against the pain, he kept them open just enough.

“Mama?” The girl’s fearful voice released the woman from her freeze, and she moved to block the child’s sight of him. “Sarah. Watch the house. Do not turn around until I say.”

Eyes open, he could confirm his initial assessment as she spun to face him. Spectacular. Then she shone the lantern straight on him, and he flinched from the light. “Not in my eyes, please. I have such a head.”

She made that same disgusted sound again, then stripped the shawl from her shoulders and tossed it to him, taking care to stay out of arms’ reach.

“Please cover yourself, Sir.”

Aldridge stood warily, and made a kilt of the shawl—a long rectangle that wrapped his waist several times and covered him from waist to thigh. “I beg your pardon for my attire, Mrs…” he invited.

But she was ignoring him. While he’d been tucking in the soft wool of the shawl, so it would hold securely, she’d crossed the summerhouse again and lifted the lid of the bench, tipping the cushions onto the floor, pulling various bundles, baskets, and packages from the recess.

“Mama!” The child sounded panicked. “They are in the house.”

Aldridge, headache forgotten, moved to a better vantage. Yes. Lights moving through the darkened house. And the men were not bothering to be silent, either, calling to one another as they searched swiftly and methodically: the ground floor, then the next, then the attics.

A rustle and chink came from the other end of the garden, then an eldritch groan that cut through his head like a knife.

“The gate!” The woman’s eyes were wide and fearful. Yes, complaining hinges would make that noise, and clearly frightened her more than any unnatural denizen of the night.

“Sarah, come to me.”

At the woman’s soft command, the child brushed past Aldridge and rushed right into the woman’s arms, wrapping herself around her mother’s waist. She was a small thing, not quite short enough to fit under the curve of her mother’s breasts. The delicate features, a miniature of her mother’s, showed fear and a quite adult determination. Aldridge had little experience of children but she was much the size of his cousin’s stepdaughter, who was six or seven.

The woman was holding something against the child’s temple. In a swift movement, he was almost on her, but he held himself apart, afraid of frightening her into pulling the trigger of the small pistol.

Outside, a rough voice spoke in the kind of argot he’d learned when slumming in St Giles. “Keep by t’prads, I’ll see ’tis all bob. I’ll crash the culls if uns’ve banged that Rose.” “Wait with the horses,” he understood the man to say. “I’ll see that all is well at the house. I’ll kill the men if they’ve raped that Rose.” Heavy footsteps retreating down the path. If they were quiet, they could talk.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, keeping his voice low enough to carry no further than her ears.

Her whisper was even lower, and he had to strain to hear. “Praying they will pass us by. For the love of all you hold holy, don’t give us away!”

“You cannot mean to hurt your child.”

“Better death at my hands than what they have planned for her,” the woman hissed. Her free hand, the one around the girl’s shoulders, returned the frantic hug, patting and soothing even as the other hand held the little pistol firmly in place.

“Better we all live,” he retorted.

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Spotlight on “Maggie’s Wheelbarrow” in Merry Belles

Maggie’s Wheelbarrow, by Jude Knight

Maggie hasn’t heard from her husband Will in more than a year—not since he marched out of Spain with his regiment. When she and the children followed him, the battles were over and his regiment was gone. Letters have brought no answers. With all her worldly goods and her son in a wheelbarrow, and her daughter on her back, Maggie sets off from Portsmouth to walk to the Midlands to find out what has happened to Will.

Will Parker has been invalided out of the army. The scars and the limp he has as souvenirs of the Battle of Toulouse are not the worst of it. He also left behind two years of memories. Back home with his mother, he is building a new life. But what is it he is forgetting? 

Meet Will Parker

Will Parker has nearly recovered from battle injuries received more than a year ago, but a blow to his head left a two-year gap in his memory. Invalided out of the army, he lives quietly with his mother and earns his living as a clerk. Deep inside he is restless, as if he yearns something he doesn’t know he has lost.

Meet Maggie Parker

Maggie Parker is determined to take her baby daughter and her little son to their father’s family, though she is not certain where in the Midlands he lives. She buys a wheelbarrow in Portsmouth, puts into it her baggage and her son, and sets out with her daughter on her back to walk as many hundreds of miles as are needed.

Excerpt from Maggie’s Wheelbarrow

Will has just read a letter from the wife he did not know he had. He has read it out loud, and he is surprised at his mother’s reaction.

While he was reading, he was aware of his mother sinking into another chair, but he had not looked directly at her. He did now.

Her eyes were filled with tears but she was smiling. “Thank God,” she said. “I have been so worried.”

“You knew I had a wife and you didn’t tell me?” Will couldn’t help but feel betrayed.

“What could I say, Will?” his mother asked. “You had forgotten them, and I had no idea what had become of them. Had she deserted you? Had they all died? How would it have helped to tell you what little I knew?”

She scrambled to her feet and pulled out a drawer on the kitchen dresser. She handed him a package tied with ribbon. “Here. Here are your letters. When you’ve read them, you’ll know as much about your wife as I do. Oh, my dear son, perhaps when you see her you will remember everything.”

Or perhaps not. What would he do if he didn’t know this wife of his? A thought occurred to him. “Margaret. Not… No, it couldn’t be… I didn’t marry Maggie Finch, did I? Sergeant Finch’s daughter?”

Ma nodded. “That’s it. Are you remembering, Will?” She sounded hopeful.

He shook his head. “Not from after Ciudad Rodrigo. From before. She… I doubt there was a man in the regiment who was not at least a little in love with Maggie Finch. Not that any of us would risk the sergeant’s reaction if we showed her the least disrespect!”

He could feel his lips spreading in a grin as he remembered the cheerful pretty daughter of the formidable soldier. “I married Maggie Finch!”

“So, I should hope, Will Parker, since you had two children by her,” said Ma, rather sharply. “Go and wash up for dinner, lad. You can read your letters after.”

Will obediently got to his feet. Maggie Finch. Maggie Parker, now, and wandering the Midlands with his two children in tow. Wandering where? He checked the date and location at the top of the letter. It was dated two weeks ago, and she was not here yet. She had included a village name, as well, and he knew it. Not more than thirty miles hence, but he supposed a woman with two children might travel slowly. On the other hand, perhaps she was heading for a different Ashton.

As he washed his hands and face, he pictured her out in the cold and the rain and shuddered. He hoped she had found somewhere safe and warm to wait out the storm. She and the little ones.

He had a powerful urge to race out the door and start searching for them. In the dark and the rain, it would be pointless. Possibly even dangerous. He would leave in the morning, once it was light, riding in the direction of the village she had left weeks ago.

 

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Spotlight on “Forever Hold Your Peace” in Merry Belles

Forever Hold Your Peace, by Rue Allyn

Home from the wars, Captain Prescott Drake is shocked to learn that his fiancée plans to wed someone else. Can he reach her in time to prevent the nuptials? Will she want him, or has their treasured love died the slow death he nearly suffered in a French prison?

Desperate and believing the man she loved is dead, Miss Elizabeth Feddleston seeks rescue in the form of marriage to a kind friend. He knows she does not love him now but has hopes that once she has mourned the man who first won her heart that she will turn to him.

Meet Prescott Drake

Ensign Prescott Aelfwyn Drake, only son of an obscure country baron answered his country’s call to arms. What good was the comfortable life of a baron, if Boney ruled the world with his iron fist. Prescott had been on leave before receiving his first orders when a friend invited him to a local assembly. There Prescott met the woman of his dreams. He knew the charming Miss Elizabeth Eloise Feddleston was meant for him. Lacking in fortune, her stellar reputation and innate kindness were far more important to him. On the night before he was to leave to join his regiment he proposed. She accepted and they planned to wed as soon as Boney was defeated and Prescott could resign his commission.

Meet Elizabeth Feddleston

Miss Elizabeth Eloise Feddleston had expected to marry for convenience. Betts was the daughter of a widowed country squire, whose gambling losses had devastated the family. From the age of eight she’d managed the household and raised her twin siblings. The local vicar had helped where he could. Her father passed shortly after she reached her majority. His heir was a self-righteous, penny-pincing bigot who at their first meeting informed her she would marry as he pleased or be thrown from the house. Her siblings would be sent to a school for orphans sponsored by the religious sect he favored. She’d sought refuge with highly placed friends who offered shelter and safety for both her and the twins. Under a duke’s protection she attended her first assembly and fell in love.

An excerpt from Forever Hold Your Peace

A treasured locket open in her hands, Miss Elizabeth Eloise Feddleston sat by the window of the elegant sitting room—part of the suite assigned her at Leigh Chase. She stroked the pad of one thumb across the miniature within.

The handsome soldier depicted stared out at her with an intent moss-green gaze. His square chin framed a generous mouth. The resolute set of his broad shoulders spoke of the strength of his courage and determination. Captain Prescott Aelfwyn Drake had given her the locket as a remembrance on the day she accepted his proposal of marriage. A marriage that would never be, for darling Prescott was dead.

Betts sniffled back a tear. She had cried too much already. ‘Twas past time to lay Prescott and his memory to rest.

Outside the December day was gloomy and drear, entirely too close a match to her thoughts. The wind howled as it battled with the branches of the trees which more often than not fell to the snow, ice and cold of the windy assault. In Betts’ heart, fear and worry did battle with her every attempt at the calm control she relied on to deal with disasters big and small, since the day of her mother’s passing. That had been sixteen years ago. She’d been seven when she’d made her way from the nursery to her father’s study and found him mumbling into a glass, which she later learned was Scotch whisky. Strathnaver’s best—nothing but the best for Squire Feddleston, regardless of what economies were necessary to acquire said best.

“London gentlemen won’t respect a man who wears shoddy clothes, serves second rate whisky, rides ill-bred hacks…” the list went on.”

She pushed painful memories aside and tried to concentrate on the future. Tried to convince herself she was doing the right thing. The only thing. To save her brother and sisters from soul-killing lives planned by their cousin and new guardian, marrying Sir Tellus Leigh was the right thing, the only thing.

In a few short weeks, on Christmas Day, she would be married. Not to Prescott, the man of her dreams, but to a kind, warm, generous man, a friend who deserved better than the half measure of love that had been all she could promise him in exchange for the protection he offered her and her family.

She knuckled away a second tear. It should have been Prescott standing beside her in the church. However, Prescott Drake was dead, as were all of the dreams they had shared. In the wake of the news that he was missing presumed dead had come a string of disasters that had led her to this moment.

It was imperative she marry quickly. Her lips twitched with a failed smile. No, she wasn’t enceinte. It was her siblings’ welfare that necessitated her quick nuptials.

 

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Spotlight on “Single Belles” in Merry Belles

Single Belles, by Elizabeth Donne

For Violet Hughes, this Christmas does not ring in a season of good cheer. One friend betrays her confidence, telling a certain gentleman Violet has feelings for him, while another begins her own bold pursuit of the very same gentleman. Despite being determined to fight for what she wants, Violet is thwarted deliberately at every turn. Someone among the single belles is her secret enemy. Surely it’s not her best friend, her infamous pranks suddenly taking a darker turn? Whomever it is, Violet will have to foil their plot to make her Yuletide wish come true.

Meet Violet

Violet Hughes, a serious-minded young woman, has tolerated the pranks of her best friend for years until they begin to interfere with Violet’s growing feelings for Victor Blayne.

Meet Victor

Victor Blayne, a sterling fellow and heir to the Blaynes’ estate at Hamptonlea House, has enjoyed the close and comfortable friendship of Violet Hughes since childhood. This Christmas, however, his decision to take a wife might very well change that.

Excerpt from Single Belles

“It’s not too late, you know.” Her brother pressed on. “At present, she is fascinating merely because she brings talk of new adventures. When that novelty wears off, she will become like the rest of us. But if she endears herself to him in these early days, he will never realize how ordinary she is.”

Violet’s mouth fell open. “You think she is ordinary? Come now, Donovan, Pearl is so much more than that. Her beauty, the way she carries herself…”

“Are all learned,” he finished for her. “Do you think a man cares for these things when looking for a wife?”

“Why, certainly I do! You show me a man for whom beauty and poise are not attractive elements. I will not believe it unless I see it with my own eyes.”

“Elements, yes, dear sister, but not the essence of what he looks for. If Pearl had remained here with us, she would have nothing to offer him now. You and Victor, on the other hand, have always been kindred spirits. Take your love of riding, for example. The two of you are like centaurs, at one with your steeds. I cannot imagine Victor happy with a wife who is unable to ride with the same passion he does.”

Violet fell silent at these words. There was so much of her kinship with Victor that she had simply taken for granted. It had formed organically over their entire lives, and she had never questioned it. Their closeness just was. She hadn’t really considered how enviably comfortable they were with each other. It would certainly be a sound foundation for a life together. Goodness, some marriages never reached such solid connection, only enduring years of dull co-existence.

What had she been thinking, handing it all over politely to Pearl Thompson as if she had no claim of her own? She wouldn’t just be losing the chance to be with Victor. She would lose the freedom they had to ride like two spirits unleashed. No more walking on his arm in the garden, talking of constellations, or lying side-by-side on the lawn, watching as clouds drifted by and trying to outdo each other for the most obscure image the floating shapes conjured up.

If he married someone else, he would have to be respectable. The dynamic in the group would shift. Their friendship would become a shadow-version of its former self.

Fear gripped Violet’s heart with fingers that squeezed until she gasped aloud.

“Are you alright?” her brother asked.

“I… I don’t know,” she answered truthfully.

Donovan considered her in silence. Then, as if reaching a conclusion, he nodded his head slowly and smiled with satisfaction. “You understand at last. Good. Now, what are you going to do about it?”

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Spotlight on “Mistletoe and Midnight Wishes” in Merry Belles

Mistletoe & Midnight Wishes

By Sherry Ewing

Can the magic of a midnight wish dispel the dark clouds of the past?

Mr. Joseph Morledge has taken on an almost impossible task. He has purchased the manor house that came to his family in his mother’s dowry. But his father’s deeds have left it haunted with memories best forgotten. Determined to fully renovate the house and reclaim the future, he sets Christmas as his target. But the woman he has long held in his heart has plans of her own.

For more years than she can count, Miss Charlotte Darby has hidden her feelings for Joseph Morledge, her brother’s best friend. Some untold code of honor between men has made him keep her distance. But when the opportunity comes to help him redecorate his house, she won’t take no for an answer.

As Joseph and Charlotte work to remake the manor into the home it should be, Joseph begins to realize that his house will not be a home without Charlotte as his wife. Has he left it too late to declare his love? Or will mistletoe and midnight wishes work their magic?

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Meet Charlotte

For more years than she can count, Miss Charlotte Darby has hidden her feelings for Joseph Morledge, her brother’s best friend. Some untold code of honor between men has made him keep her distance. But when the opportunity comes to help him redecorate his house, she won’t take no for an answer.

Meet Joseph

Mr. Joseph Morledge has taken on an almost impossible task. He has purchased the manor house that came to his family in his mother’s dowry. But his father’s deeds have left it haunted with memories best forgotten. Determined to fully renovate the house and reclaim the future, he sets Christmas as his target.

Excerpt from Mistletoe and Midnight Wishes

Still… he always kept Charlotte at a distance, since she was his best friend’s sister which by an undeclared gentleman code of honor made Joseph feel she should be off limits. And then there were Michael’s feelings for the lady. He could never act against his brother’s possible happiness even if it cost Joseph his own.

Her hand came to rest on his arm. “You’re lost in thought, Joseph. Are you sure this was a good idea?” she asked softly.

“Everyone keeps asking me that and it’s the same thing I’m beginning to question. But the answer remains the same. The deal is done and the manor is once again with my family,” Joseph stated, as he began ushering her from the house. “I would prefer if you don’t come inside. I’d rather you see the place once the renovations are complete.”

“But we came to help, didn’t we, Garrett,” she replied, as they met her brother outside.

“Any way we can,” Garrett said, slapping Joseph on his back.

“And I appreciate your offer but I’ve got this in hand,” Joseph answered, even as a wagon began making its way up the drive. “Besides, won’t you be busy with your charge this summer?”

Charlotte waved her hand in the air. “Lola and her father the Earl of Stanhope are off on an extended holiday together. Father, daughter time I suppose.”

Garrett chuckled. “The earl will have his hands full without Charlotte as the girl’s governess, and only a nanny to help him manage the child for the summer.”

“Lola won’t need lessons in reading and writing or any of the other academic studies I have planned for her upon their return,” Charlotte answered. “So, you see, Joseph. We have more than ample time to help you in any way we can lend assistance.”

“We can discuss this more at a later date. First, I need to access the manor and voice my plans with the workmen for the refurbishment. Garrett, we can talk later about how you might help. Charlotte will need to abide by my wishes.” Joseph watched as Charlotte took on a look that said an argument was forthcoming.

“Really, Joseph, I am not some delicate flower that cannot withstand a bit of hard work. Why, I’ll have you know—”

“Charlotte!” Michael’s voice called from the doorway as he hurried to reach her side. “How wonderful to see you… and Garrett, too.” Michael beamed staring at the young lady who was of the same age.

The adoration his brother felt for Charlotte was more than evident, and Joseph stepped back as he always did. But he did not miss the brief glance the lady bestowed upon him, causing his heart to flip end over end in his chest. Joseph wasn’t sure if he imagined the whole encounter but he kept the memory in his heart until their paths would cross again.

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“A Duke in Peril” in Love’s Perilous Road

A Duke in Peril by Meara Platt

Lady Florence Swann’s quiet life is upended when she finds a handsome soldier wounded on the side of the road near the country estate where she and her grandfather reside. Captain James Ryder claims to be the Duke of Wellbourne’s emissary and carries a letter concerning a Foreign Office matter. Is he more than he appears, and perhaps the duke himself? Does Florence dare trust her heart to him? 

Meet Florence

Lady Florence Swann has lived a quiet and contented life with her grandfather on his estate, until she finds a wounded soldier on the side of the road and knows she must save him. But she hadn’t expected to be so drawn to this handsome man she knows to be harboring secrets. Does she dare trust him with her heart?

Meet James

James Ryder is on a secret mission to draw out a traitor. He also happens to be the Duke of Wellbourne, but he dares not reveal his true identity to Lady Florence Swann, the ministering angel who saved his life when the traitor and his cohorts attempted to stop him. Once his mission is completed, he fully intends to reveal the truth to Florence and ask her to marry him. But first, he must keep her out of danger while he sets about unmasking the traitor.

An Extract from A Duke in Peril

The man’s eyes flickered open to stare at her.

Her breath hitched, for his eyes were extraordinarily beautiful, a magnificent, dark gray. Quite splendid…and dangerous. “You’re awake.”

He drew her even closer, as though to whisper something in her ear.

But instead of talking, he captured her mouth in a scorching kiss that lasted no more than the count of three.

Dear heaven.

It was enough to mark her soul.

He released her with a groan and sank back onto her lap. “Who are you, lass?”

Lass?

She was a lady and almost the age of three and twenty.

“Lady Florence Swann,” she said stiffly. “Something you might have bothered to find out before you kissed me.”

His chuckle was deep and resonant. “Do not berate me, Florence.”

Ugh.

Why was he being so familiar with her?

It was bad enough he’d kissed her, but to now address her as though they had been lifelong friends?

Sighing, she decided not to chastise him since he was not well and the damage had already been done. “Why did you kiss me, sir?”

“It was most improper, I know. But should I not be permitted to kiss my angel?”

She laughed. “Oh, I hardly think I am that.”

“You are an angel, Florence. Mine,” he insisted, taking hold of her hand as it rested on his chest.

Honestly, if he knew her better, he would not be calling her anyone’s angel.

Much less his.

Nor should he be holding onto her hand.

In truth, it felt awfully nice even though his palm was rough and his knuckles were bruised and swollen.

She meant to protest but never got the chance, for the man had gone limp in her arms again.

Her grandfather threw open the carriage door and stared at the big fellow lying motionless in her embrace.

“Hello, Grandfather.”

“Oh, Florence. What mischief have you got into this time?”

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“One Good Wager Leads to Another” in Love’s Perilous Road

A young widow escaping her controlling father. A former spy in disguise. And a long-ago but never-forgotten kiss.

Thisbe Rose moves into the haunted cottage she inherited from her soldier husband. She’s not afraid of ghosts, nor is she worried about smugglers and highwaymen—but she’s not so sure about the very odd housekeeper who’s already there.

Gervaise Transom returns from years as a spy with no taste for society, and wagers a friend he can spend six months in disguise without getting caught. When Thisbe moves into the cottage, he knows he should leave, to protect her reputation—but he also must stay to keep her safe.

Not only that, he’s sure he met her once years ago…

Meet Thisbe

Widowed Thisbe Rose leaves her controlling father to live in the cottage she inherited. She’s not afraid of smugglers, highwaymen, or ghosts, and is determined to make it on her own. But something strange is going on in the cottage—which has the oddest housekeeper she has ever met.

Meet Gervaise

Gervaise Transom spied for England, the country of his ancestors, against France, the country of his other ancestors, and now he’s torn up inside. He avoids family and society by accepting a wager with his best friend that he can spend six months disguised as a woman without being caught. 

An excerpt from One Good Wager Deserves Another

Thisbe sat up, heart thumping. She knew where the sound had come from—the squeaky board in the room above her bedchamber. Annoyed, she turned up the lamp, slid out of bed, and donned her robe and slippers. She lit a candle and followed Eddie’s ghost to the door.

The gallery was in darkness, save for a faint light from the windows. She crept toward the staircase. No light showed either below or above. She must have been mistaken. Old houses did creak sometimes in the night, so why was Eddie pestering her?

The ghost pointed upward and made a shooing motion, urging her to take the stairs.

She balked. Ghosts didn’t understand human fears, since earthly danger didn’t affect them anymore. Who could possibly be up there? And why? Surely for something underhanded and perhaps dangerous!

Eddie rolled his spectral eyes—an unpleasant sight—and made an even more urgent motion with his hand, mouthing, “Hurry!”

She could ignore him, but he might have a good reason for wishing her to investigate that sound. She couldn’t afford to succumb to anxiety. No hesitation, she told herself. This was her house. She had every right to know what was going on.

She picked up another candlestick—the closest she could find to a weapon—and trod firmly up the stairs. Let the intruder hear her approach and tremble.

Unfortunately, there was no response from above, trembling or otherwise. Nothing but a nod and a grin from Eddie.

Thisbe trod gamely upward. Just as she expected, a flicker of light showed beneath the door of the garret above her bedchamber.

She thrust the door open. “What in heaven’s name is—”

A female figure by the window tossed a brief glance at Thisbe and said, “Hush!” Then she opened her mouth wide and let out a wail that would drown out a banshee.

It was Mrs. Wix, the housekeeper, wrapped in a heavy cloak with a hood obscuring most of her face. She proceeded to open and close the shutters of a lantern several times. Eddie’s ghost stood next to her, looking mighty pleased with himself.

“How dare you order me to hush!” Thisbe said, but in a softer voice. “This is my house, my garret, and you have no business being up here pretending to be a ghost!”

“I’ll explain in a minute,” the woman hissed, a finger to her lips, astonishing Thisbe so much that a furious retort died.

So much for respect for one’s betters. Not that Thisbe really believed that some people were better than others merely because of an accident of birth, but surely an employee should be polite to her employer—especially such an understanding one as herself.

Mrs. Wix continued opening and closing the lantern in a strange, rhythmic pattern. The air movement of the shutters, combined with the breeze from outdoors, wafted the scents of night and dead leaves, and closer by, horse and dirt. What had she been doing in the stable? The woman surely needed a bath.

Suddenly, Thisbe knew what was going on. “You’re signaling to smugglers!” 

“I am not.” Mrs. Wix glanced at her again with a wide, mischievous grin. “I’m signaling to the revenue men.”

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Spotlight on “Forever and Always” in Love’s Perilous Road

Forever and Always in Love’s Perilous Road

By Rue Allyn

Lord Fontus Leigh secretly wed a stranger to protect her, then she left him with no way to find her. Years later, he is desperate to discover her whereabouts. His family has arranged another match for him, but he already has a wife. Unless the marriage was annulled as she promised.

Out of options, Lady Deoiridh Aitken narrowly escaped marriage to a cruel fortune hunter by means of wedding a complete stranger. She swore her husband to secrecy before she left, believing everyone would be safer if no one knew where she was. The plan worked perfectly, until now.

Meet Fontus

Youngest of ten brothers, Lord Fontus Leigh left England as a callow youth suspected of murder. Now an arranged marriage gives him a chance to clear his name and restore his reputation. Even though his prospective bride hates him, Fontus would marry her—if only he were not already wed.

Meet Dee

Lady Deoiridh Aitken grew up in the Bourbon court in exile. When a cruel fortune hunter pursued her, she fled and married a total stranger, promising an annulment once she was safe. But evil continues to hunt her, and she is forced to recognize the saving power of love.

An Excerpt from Forever and Always

She aimed in the direction of her new friend. Halfway there, Frobbin blocked her path.

“What do you want?” She wished she could give him the cut direct.

“I must speak with you privately.”

“I do not care to converse with you, sir. Nothing you can say is of any interest to me.” She used her iciest tone.

He arched a brow. “Not even if it concerns your mother?”

Dee lifted her chin and sniffed. “My mother is asleep with a sick headache and is no concern of yours.”

Hands clasped behind his back, Frobbin rocked back and forth on his heels. “Really? Did you see her?”

“She is asleep, so of course I did not disturb her.”

“Hmm. Perhaps you can explain a mystery for me.”

“I tire of whatever game you play. Get to the point, so I may speak with someone else.” 

“I play no game. However, since you are so certain of your mother’s location, maybe you can explain this note she wanted me to give you.”

Without thinking, Dee took the offered slip of paper, unfolded it, and read.

Daughter, please do not do as this canaille asks. He dares not carry out his threats. Deny him, and I will be fine.”

 Beside her mother’s signature, in very tiny script of an ancient style were the words Neart agus Faireachadh, war cry of the Aitken clan in her father’s native tongue. Strength and Vigilance. Few people from other nations could translate the ancient Scots language, let alone the particular dialect used here. Hence, her father had established it as a way of verifying that any message was truly from family. 

“I am surprised that you permitted my mother to write such a note.”

Barbeau shrugged. “I care only that you understand she is myguest at a location I shall disclose later. You may of course do as she asks and ignore my warning.”

“You made no threat.”

“Immediately after the ladies leave the table, you must excuse yourself.”

“On what grounds?”

“I don’t care what lie you create.” He snarled the words despite the smile he kept on his face. 

“So, you wish to make a liar of me as well as a slave.”

“Take care, Lady Deoiridh. I will soon be your husband. You will not wish to test my patience. Having excused yourself, get a cloak and bonnet. Steal one from the maids if you must, but do not return to your room. My associates among the footmen will tell me should you deviate from my instructions. Leave the house by a side door and make your way to the front gate. Stay within the shadow of the trees lining the drive. No one must know you left or suspect that anyone has gone from the house. I will meet you at the gate and take you to our destination. Bring nothing. I will provide everything you need once we are married.”

Dee laughed. “You honestly believe you can coerce me into marriage.”

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A change is as good as a rest in WIP Wednesday

In Maggie’s Wheelbarrow, which is my contribution to Merry Belles, the next Bluestocking Belles Christmas Collection, my heroine takes a job at a house party.

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 in the Midlands. 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 moved on the third. Thus it went through the autumn and on into early winter. When the snow came, she would have to be settled, but meanwhile, she moved from village to village, stopping to work whenever her money ran low, and at every village called Ashton or something similar, asking for the Parker family. All to no avail.

She was between Ashtons in early December when, on the strength of a stint as a maid at yet another inn, she was offered temporary work at the local 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 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 Maggie to visit “Ma” immediately.

“If she could put you up 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 two weeks of the house party, she would earn the princely sum of eighteen shillings! Four shillings of that would go Frannie’s mother, but fourteen shillings would feed her little family for weeks, if she was careful.

It was hard work, 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.