the frog princess

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Spotlight on The Talons of a Lyon

Published this Wednesday

The death of Lady Frogmore’s neglectful and disloyal husband should have been a relief. But then her nasty brother-in-law seizes her three children and turns her out, telling the whole of Society that she is a crude, vulgar, loose woman. Without allies or friends, Serafina, Lady Frogmore, turns to Mrs. Dove Lyon, also known as the Black Widow of Whitehall for help, paying her with a promise to grant whatever favor Mrs Dove Lyon asks.

Lord Lancelot Versey has always tried to be a perfect gentleman, and a gentleman honors his debts, even when an unwise wager obliges him to escort a notorious widow into Society. But Lady Frogmore is not what he expects, and helping her becomes a quest worthy of the knight for whom he was named.

Except Mrs. Dove Lyon calls in Seraphina’s promise. The favor she asks might destroy all they have found together.

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Excerpt

Lance was early. He hoped it would give him an advantage of some kind to be here when the notorious baroness arrived. It was only when the solemn little schoolroom party had passed him that he noticed the dark shadow in the bushes.

For a moment, his mind had teamed with thoughts of kidnappers and thieves, but then a woman in widow’s weeds had stepped from the bushes to stare longingly after the retreating children and their servants.

Surely it was no coincidence that the two little girls were also in black? Then he saw the splash of white on the woman’s chest. He knew who she must be. She did not look coarse or vulgar, although all he could really see was her face, a sweet oval of a face with large brown eyes and a delicately molded nose, mouth, and chin.

He had not expected to have any sympathy for her after the rumors he had heard, but the longing on her face as she watched the girls march meekly away spoke to something within him. Perhaps Frogmore was correct to refuse to allow the woman to raise her children, but this scene went beyond that.

Surely, nothing she had done was bad enough to justify forcing her to hide in a bush so she could watch the two daughters she loved walk by? Having seen her face, he could not doubt that she loved them, and the unseen baby in the baby carriage. A little boy, or so he understood. The current Lord Frogmore, born a month after the death of his father.

If for no other reason than the comfort of the children, the mother should be allowed at least supervised meetings.

He walked toward her. His first impression of her delicacy was confirmed when he towered over her by nearly a foot. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, with a shallow bow. “I am Lancelot Versey.”

She blinked away the tears that were standing in her eyes, composing her expression into a blank, and curtseyed in return. “Lord Versey, I am Seraphina Frogmore.”

“Lord Lancelot,” he corrected. Had she never heard of him? “I am the second son of the Duke of Dellborough.”

“I beg your pardon,” she responded, without any of the admiring looks he was accustomed to receiving. “I did not realize. Lord Lancelot, then. Thank you for coming to meet me.”

He bowed again, considering that it might be ungracious to say he had not been given a choice.

He supposed he should ask what she wanted of him. “Were those your daughters?” he blurted.

She glanced along the path where the girls had recently walked. “My two little darlings,” she confirmed, a smile transforming her face. “Hannah and Helena. Hannah is the eldest, and very responsible.” The smile faded and her eyes clouded with worry. “Helena is a good girl, but full of life. I fear for her, Lord Lancelot. For them both, and for their little brother, who is in the baby carriage. That governess…” She shuddered.

Lance raised his brows. “Is she so awful? Governesses must sometimes be stern to teach the children in their charge.”

“Perhaps.” Her one word dripped with doubt. “But it is not her stern countenance that concerns me. It is the fact that she allows no play time, insists on lady-like behavior every minute of the day, hits the children’s hands with a ruler if they disobey or fidget or fail in any particular, and is doing her best to crush any joy out of them.” She was marching back and forth by the time she had finished this diatribe, her hands clenched into fists.

Lance was feeling an unwelcome surge of sympathy for the little girls, and for their mother. Who was, he had to remind himself, a disgraced woman and a merchant’s daughter.

“I do not see how this concerns me,” he said.

Lady Frogmore examined his face, searching for something she clearly did not find. “Thank you for coming, Lord Lancelot. I shall let Mrs. Dove Lyon know you are unsuitable.” She turned to walk away.

“What?” No one had ever called Lance unsuitable in his life. “But…” The woman was walking away. “Wait!”

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Proposals on WIP Wednesday

I have The Talons of a Lyon ready to go to Dragonblade, and am just waiting till the end of tomorrow in case the last beta reader has some comments. Meanwhile, I wanted to share with you Lance’s third proposal. He mucked up the first two.

“I asked Elaine for some time alone with you, Seraphina. Can you not guess why?”

“Oh,” she said, and to his dismay cast a longing glance at the door before abruptly sitting down on the nearest chair. “You mean to propose again.”

However hard he tried; he could not interpret her tone as encouraging. Nonetheless, he sank to one knee.

She leaned toward him, her hands up as if in protest. “You should not, Lance. You have done so much for me already. I cannot let you sacrifice your chances of a match with someone worthy of you.”

His surge of anger was not at her, but at all the people who had convinced her of her unworthiness, with her father and Lord Frogmore at the top of the list. “It is I who am not worthy of you, Seraphina. Your courage, your devotion to your family, your determination, your dignity—they humble me. As for sacrifice—the shoe is quite on the other foot, but I am more selfish than you. You could do much better than the left-over spare of a duke, whose brother has sons and a grandson to take his place. I’ve never achieved much in my life beyond good manners and a well-tied cravat. I don’t deserve you, but I am asking, anyway. If you will have me, I will be the best husband and father that I can.”

Seraphina stood to stamp one foot. “You shall not say such things. The left-over spare, indeed! No one could have done what you have done for me. Ever since you gave me hope that day in the park, you have always known exactly the right person to help me, and how to persuade them. If not for you, I would still be living in Pond Street, separated from my children, my reputation in ruins. I am so grateful, Lance. That is why I cannot take further advantage of your generosity.”

Lance felt like stamping his own foot. Might have, if he’d not still been on one knee. “Dammit, woman, I am not being generous. I love you.”

She sank back into her chair, one hand fluttering over her chest. “What did you say?”

He felt his cheeks heat. “I beg your pardon, Seraphina. Language unbecoming. I don’t know what came over me.”

She waved his apology away. “Not the curse, Lance. You said… did you really say you love me?” Tears trembled in her eyes, but she was smiling, almost glowing.

“I love you,” Lance repeated, hope almost choking the words. He swallowed hard and continued, “I cannot imagine facing the rest of my life without you. Will you marry me, Seraphina? Even if it is just because you need a guardian for your children, let it be me. I will ask nothing you are not prepared to give. Only the privilege of being your husband, of loving you.”

She slipped off her chair to kneel before him, slipping her hands into his. “I want to give you everything,” she told him. “I love you, Lance.”

“You will marry me?” Lance needed her to say the words, so he could start to believe them.

Her smile spread. “I will marry you.”

His eyes focused on her lips, turned up towards him, and his mouth lowered almost without his volition. “I am going to kiss you, my love,” he warned her.

Seraphina said nothing, but lifted her mouth to meet his.

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Tea with Seraphina

The Duchess of Winshire’s personal butler ushered the pretty young woman into Her Grace’s presence. “Lady Lancelot Versey, Your Grace,” he announced. “Also Miss Frogmore, Miss Helena Frogmore, and Lord Frogmore.”

Lord Frogmore was carried by his nursemaid, and the two little girls each held a hand of their governess, though Eleanor had seen Lady Lance out walking with the children and her new husband with him carrying the little heir to her first husband, and her hand in hand with the children. Today, clearly, they were all on their best behaviour. All of them curtseyed, the little girls very prettily.

“You are all very welcome,” Eleanor told them. “Girls, I have had a table set for you in the window. There is a chair for little Harry, and a tea party just for the three of you and your attendants. Lady Lance, do take a seat and tell me how my godson fares. I do not need to ask if he makes you happy. You shine with it.”

The duchess had had little to do with Lady Lance’s vindication in the eyes of Society, beyond giving her own approval, but her son and daughter-in-law had been involved, and Eleanor had certainly approved of the poor young lady’s reinstatement and the downfall of the villains who had maligned her. “Tea, my dear?” she asked.

What follows is an excerpt from The Talons of a Lyon, finished today with THE END on the last scene, and being published in April by Dragonblade.

“Lance shall be waiting for us at the ball,” Elaine said. “I daresay he shall be most impressed with how lovely you are in that color, Seraphina.”

Sure enough, Lord Lancelot was waiting on the steps of the grand house when their carriage drove in. Seraphina guessed that Elaine was right, given that his jaw dropped and his eyes widened when he saw her.

He recovered quickly, and hurried down the steps to offer her one arm and Mrs Worthington the other. “I shall be the envy of every man here,” he declared. “Two such lovely ladies on my arms! I shall probably be cashiered from my club for greed.”

Mrs Worthington rapped his arm with her fan and told him he was a cheeky boy.

They passed through the receiving line, being greeted by the duchess herself and several other ladies who were on the board of the charity for whom the ball was raising funds. The duchess greeted Mrs Worthington and the Barkers as friends, and Lord Barker introduced Seraphina.

Around them, other conversations stopped. While the Verseys’ support had won Seraphina a conditional acceptance in Society, the influence of the Duchess of Winshire was enormous. What she said next could mean total success or abject failure.

“Lady Frogmore, I am charmed to meet you at last. I have been hearing about your sufferings, and I am so sorry I was not aware earlier. You may be certain of my support, my dear. Indeed, we are all agreed, ladies, are we not?”

The other ladies on the board nodded, and all had something pleasant to say to Seraphina as her party passed along the line.

The ballroom was enormous, magnificent, and very full. “Anyone who can afford the price of a ticket can come,” Elaine told Seraphina. “Despite that, even people who generally prefer more exclusive entertainments still want to be seen here, for the duchess is much admired. Though there are people like Percy and Aurelia who would rather give her a donation for her cause and stay home.”

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Acts of Daring on WIP Wednesday

In my current work-in-progress, my heroine is fighting a court battle to get back custody of her children from the brother of her late husband. Discovering that the brother’s wife intends to hide them away in the country, my hero hatches a plan.

Thank goodness they were in time. The drivers were not yet in their seats. Men in Frogmore livery lounged against a nearby wall. Lance had been afraid that the detour to his bank might delay them too long, but money was essential to the plan.

“Take the rig a few doors down,” Lance told the groom as he dismounted. “We don’t want Mrs Frogmore coming out and seeing it.”

“You won’t leave me out, though, my lord?” the groom asked, and drove along with Lance’s reassurance.

The other three men approached the loungers. “How would some of you like the rest of the day off and all of you like a month’s pay for keeping your mouth shut?” Lance asked.

It took a bit of negotiation, and more money than he had initially offered, but in the end Lance and his men were dressed in Frogmore livery and one of the grooms relieved of duty for the day was on his way to Lance’s stable with Lance’s cattle and phaeton.

They were just in time. The word came from the house that they were to drive to the front steps to pick up their passengers.

Lance’s groom, with Lance alongside, drove the second carriage after the first. Hal and the valet took the footmen’s seat at the rear. As his informants had predicted, Mrs Frogmore and her dresser climbed aboard the first carriage, and it trundled away.

The nursery party waited for the second. They pulled up the steps. Hal and the valet leapt down to assist the passengers to board: first the nursemaid with the baby, then the sour governess, and then the two little girls.

They took off after the first carriage, their driver using every opportunity to let the other carriage get ahead—stopping to give way to people, other vehicles, and horses, and keeping their team into a slow walk.

Thankfully, the first carriage took the Windsor Road. It was the logical direction, given that young Baron Frogmore owned a secondary estate just out of Swindon. Lance had hoped Mrs Frogmore wouldn’t risk taking the children north to the principal Frogmore estate, not just because it was obvious, but because a journey of several days would give pursuers time to catch up.

This road would suit Lance’s plans very well. He had been thinking about where to hide the children until after the custody hearing made it safe to put them in their mother’s hands. Not with any of the Verseys or their closest friends. Percy certainly had the power to refuse to release them, but Lance didn’t know how his theft of the children would influence the custody hearing.

It was best if Percy, Lady Frogmore, and Mr Forsythe knew nothing about it. Then they could swear on oath that they had not been involved. It was possible that Mrs Frogmore would not know they were missing until she arrived at her destination this evening. That would be even better, for it would take at least ten hours to get the message back to London. The custody case could be over before anyone heard that the coach with the children had been hijacked.

However, just in case, Lance planned to take them to someone whose independence would not be questioned.