Lucian Ogilvy

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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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Dialogue on WIP Wednesday

Dialogue should tell us about character, move along the plot, feed us bits of backstory, or all three. I shared this bit in a Facebook chat the other day. What do you think? It’s from The Flavour of Our Deeds, novel 5 in The Golden Redepennings.

My lord, if the case goes against me, would you take Paul and protect him? I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”

“Consider it done,” Chirbury interrupted. “If things go badly, I will take him into my family. But we shall endeavour to ensure that they don’t, for my sister will be upset if they hang you by the neck until dead, Lucian Ogilvy. Speaking of which, what are your intentions towards my sister?”

Typical Chirbury. A soothing remark then a sneak attack. Two, in fact. Luke forced back the visceral reaction at the thought of his hanging, and tried to deflect the second jab. “Your sister?”

Chirbury raised a single eyebrow. “You thought I might possibly mean my sister Meg or my sister Lady Bexley?”

Luke stopped jousting. “I cannot have intentions towards Lady Catherine.”

The other eyebrow lifted. “Cannot. Not will not, or do not.” The earl’s tone was contemplative. “Perhaps you mean should not? My question is why not? You travelled for a week introducing her as your wife. Some would say you owe her a proposal.” He pulled out one of the chairs at the table, turned it around, and straddled it so he could rest his forearms on the back. “Take a seat, man.”

Who knew that words could knife a man in the chest and, at the same time, lift him to the stars? Luke sat in the other chair without thinking about what he was doing. “Chirbury, with due respect, I am the bastard son of an earl and a gamekeeper, I’m twelve years older than her, and to cap it all off, I’ve been arrested for murder. What do I have to offer her?”

Chirbury shrugged with his eyebrows. “What she wants, apparently. So Kitty says, and my countess agrees, so it must be true.”

Luke gaped at Chirbury. “Lady Chirbury thinks Kitty and I should marry?” He had forgotten to call her Lady Catherine.

“Not what I said,” Chirbury pointed out. “My lady thinks that Kitty wants to be your wife, and that she—that Kitty doesn’t care about your birth, your age, or the false accusations against you.”

Kitty cared. Luke knew that. But Chirbury would never let her make such a mistake, and if Chirbury would, Luke wouldn’t. “She is too young to know her own mind,” he said, arguing with himself even as he said the words. She was twenty-three, almost twenty-four. Her family’s trials had matured her early, and—except for her feelings about him—he would trust her judgement and her instincts ahead of those of most people he knew. The earl in front of him included.

Chirbury shrugged. “She was young six years ago when she set her heart on you. Anne and I told her that it was an infatuation. That she was reacting to the trauma of Selby’s assault and then the kidnapping. That she fixed on you because you helped to rescue her, and because she knew so few other unmarried men.”

“All true,” Luke agreed, though reluctantly.

Chirbury shook his head. “Demonstrably not. She has been courted by a broad selection of English gentlemen, Luke. I’ve no wish to dwell on the number of suitors I’ve turned away. I passed on to her anyone I thought she had even the slightest interest in, if they were honest and respectable. More than a score over the years, and she refused them all.”

Luke, was it? They’d never been on first name terms, though that was more on Luke’s side than Chirbury’s. The earl had asked him years ago to call him by his nickname, Rede. Given that he lusted for the man’s sister-in-law, Luke thought such familiarity a mistake. He had to remember that he was not a fit mate for Kitty. But Chirbury apparently thought differently.

“Are you telling me that you would permit Kitty to marry me?” he asked, though it came out as more of a challenge.

“It is Kitty’s decision. And yours, of course. My countess and I would not oppose the match, and she could still marry you if we did. She is three years past the age of needing our consent. You are twelve years older than her, and that age difference mattered when she was not quite eighteen. To us, at least, though even larger age gaps are common. Now? She is an adult, and to my mind, uncommonly mature for her age. You are base born, you tell me, but you are the acknowledged son of a baron and the guardian of another.”

He shrugged. “Yes, some will believe she has married down, but not people whose opinion she cares for. Which leaves us with your current situation. That, of course, needs to be resolved. However, we are ahead of ourselves, my friend. I still need to hear what your intentions are towards my sister.”

Luke groaned. Heaven was his for the grasping, except a hangman’s noose dangled between him and it. “I cannot deny that I love her, Rede. Marrying her would be the greatest privilege I can imagine. Also, if I win my freedom and prove my innocence, I have my own estate. It is not much compared to Longford, but I can afford to take a wife. If I can prove my innocent. My uncle is determined to see me hang.”

“Whereas I am determined that you shall not,” Rede replied.

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Forbidden love in WIP Wednesday

“Bullseye!” crowed Paul. “That’s all five, Dad!”

“You can barely count the third one,” grouched Luke Mogg. “It was right on the line.” The boy was better by far than Luke had been at twelve. Not just with a bow, but with knife, pistol, and bare-handed. Even now, Paul could hold his own against most grown men. Once he had his adult growth and strength, perhaps Luke would be able to relax a little.

“Let’s try for five more,” he suggested.

Paul put five more arrows into the turf in front of him, and Luke held up one hand while fixing his eyes on his watch. The exercise was not just about accuracy, but speed. Paul could count only those arrows that hit the target within sixty seconds.

As his hand came down and the first arrow flew, he heard the sound of someone running. “Stop, Paul. Someone is coming down the path.”

A moment later, Lady Kitty burst into the clearing. Her face lit up when she saw him, and she didn’t slow, but continued running until she was standing before him.

As always, Luke’s heart ached at the sight of her. Lady Catherine Stocke, sister to his employer’s wife, as far out of his reach as a star, and as tempting as a siren. Especially since he knew she thought herself in love with him.

The Earl of Chirbury, his employer, would dismiss him if he knew Luke loved her in return, and kill him if Luke ever hinted that he had once stolen a kiss. A mistake. His birth and his age made him an unfit groom for a lady such as her, even if he was free. As it was, his self-imposed mission barred him from any personal happiness until he had seen Paul safe at last. He should regret the kiss, but he could not.

How far had she run? She was trying to talk, but was heaving for breath. He made out the words, “Warn you.”

He cast a glance the way she had come and nodded to Paul, who nodded and nocked another arrow.

“Take your time, my lady,” Luke advised. “Do you want a drink? Here, come and sit down.” He offered his arm, and she let him support her to the bench by his front door, while Paul stood sentry over the path.

She shut her eyes and took several deep breaths, then opened them again. “I came to warn you, Luke. I heard two men planning your murder. Yours and Paul’s.”

Luke cast another anxious glance at the path.

“Tomorrow night,” she assured him. “They are coming for you tomorrow night.”

“You had better tell me the whole story in order.” He thought about it. “Me and Paul.”

(From The Flavour of Our Deeds, which is currently up to 9,000 words, so about an eighth of the way through.)