Backlist spotlight on Unkept Promises

(Book 4 in The Golden Redepennings series)

Logline: She wants to negotiate a comfortable marriage; he wants her in his bed

“… oaths and anchors equally will drag: naught else abides on fickle earth but unkept promises of joy.” Herman Melville

Naval captain Jules Redepenning has spent his adult life away from England, and at war. He rarely thinks of the bride he married for her own protection, and if he does, he remembers the child he left after their wedding seven years ago. He doesn’t expect to find her in his Cape Town home, a woman grown and a lovely one, too.

Mia Redepenning sails to Cape Town to nurse her husband’s dying mistress and adopt his children. She hopes to negotiate a comfortable married life with the man while she’s there. Falling in love is not on her to-do list.

Before they can do more than glimpse a possible future together, their duties force them apart. At home in England, Mia must fight for the safety of Jules’s children. Imprisoned in France, Jules must battle for his self-respect and his life.

Only by vanquishing their foes can they start to make their dreams come true.

Buy links

Books2Read: books2read.com/Unkept-Promises

Excerpt

Jules made his way home in the early hours of the morning, a little drunk and a lot annoyed at a waste of an entire evening. “Good of you to come out on the first night of your leave, Redepenning,” said the admiral when he was finally able to say his goodbyes. Not that his note demanding Jules’s presence at his table had offered the choice of refusal.

The evening had comprised interminable discussion of the same points over and over—points on which Jules had given his opinion in his reports from Madagascar and the final one delivered this afternoon. They needed to oust the enemy from the two ports still in French hands, since the enemy used those bases to attack British shipping.

Most of the captains favoured a frontal assault. Jules, Fleming, and a couple of the other captains held the minority view, suggesting the British support the young king of the Merinas, who was in the process of conquering the whole island. The admiral was playing his cards close to his chest, but had dismissed them all with a promise to let them know what he would be recommending to the Admiralty.

No-one had said anything new, and Jules’s evening would have been better spent with his daughters and Kirana. Or even having the overdue confrontation with his inconvenient wife.

She had better not be in his bed. If she was, he’d pack her off to her own, as he should have done with Maureen when the little baggage met him there one night, naked between his sheets, after a very similar evening. Instead, tired, frustrated, and lonely, his willpower blunted by alcohol, he had accepted what she had to offer. If she was pregnant with his child, it must have been that night, for the next time—the only other time—he’d worn a pig skin, as he always did with anyone except Kirana. Kirana, who had been too sick to give him the comfort of her body for a long time.

He had been so depressed by the sheer emptiness of copulating with Maureen that he’d sworn off any repeat engagements, though Maureen had not believed he was serious, and he’d left for Mauritius and Madagascar before she could put it to the test.

He’d kept to his resolution, too, much to Gerta van Klief’s surprise. The widow had been quite put out when he explained he intended to honour his marriage from this point on.

Which, when Jules came to think about it, he could do while still enjoying the delectable package that might be waiting in his bed. She was, after all, his wife. For a moment, he let himself imagine unwrapping the unexpected gift that was, after all, his. No. They needed to get a few things sorted, first. A ship could only have one captain, and he was it. And he decided who was on his crew and where they went.

His key opened the front door, and he locked and bolted it by the light of the shuttered lamp left waiting for him in the entrance hall. He let himself into his bed chamber. His bed was empty; the sheets crisp and neat over the mattress. He did not feel disappointed. He would not feel disappointed.

But before he could think and put a brake on the action, he crossed the room to the connecting door leading to the one requisitioned by his wife, and turned the handle. It wouldn’t budge. She’d locked the door against him!

His indignation expressed itself in a raised fist, ready to pound on the door and demand entrance, until his sense of humour caught up. So much for planning to turn her out of his bed. What a hypocrite he was being, desiring the damnable woman even while he was suspicious of her motives and annoyed about her existence.

He turned towards the bed. He’d be sleeping in it alone, apparently.

Please help! Vote for Unkept Promises for a RONE Award

Unkept Promises has been nominated for a RONE Award

Please help!

The RONEs are run by InD’tale Magazine, and books go through three rounds.

Round 1 is to be reviewed by one of the magazine’s readers and get a star rating of 4.5 or higher.

Round 2 is reader voting — that’s the stage we’re up to. Voting for my category is open until 26th April (in whatever time zone they publish). Here’s the link: https://indtale.com/rone-awards-week-two-april-20-26

The books with the most votes go to industry professionals for Round 3, to determine the very best book in the indie and small published world.

Help me get to the next round?

To vote, you need to be registered on the Ind’Tale website, but it’s easy to register, and the monthly magazine is full of book news and reviews, and free.

Tea with a concerned mother

Eleanor, Duchess of Winshire had known Mia Redepenning since she was a child — a small girl with big eyes much overlooked by her only relative, her absent-minded father. Back when Eleanor was Duchess of Haverford, the man spent six months at Haverford Castle cataloguing the library while his little daughter did her lessons at a library table or crept mouse-like around the castle or its grounds.

Who would have thought, back in the days that Mia first became acquainted with the duchess’s goddaughter during a visit, that she would one day be a connection of Kitty’s and of Eleanor herself, by marriage? Or that, more than twenty years after the first time Mia and Kitty had joined Eleanor for tea in the garden, they met for tea whenever they were both in London?

Not that Mia and her husband Jules spent much time in London. He owned a coastal shipping business in Devon, and they lived not far from Plymouth, but Eleanor suspected that the main reason for their dislike of London Society lay in their three oldest children. And those children, if Eleanor was not mistaken, were the reason for Mia’s call today, and her distraction.

“Yes, I will help,” she said.

Mia, startled, opened her eyes wide.

“You want a powerful sponsor to introduce your Marsha to Society, and I am more than happy to bring her and Frances out together, my dear. Marsha is a very prettily behaved girl, and will be a credit to you and to me.”

Mia laughed. “I was wondering how to work around to the subject, Aunt Eleanor. I should have known you would see right through me.”

“It won’t be entirely straightforward, my dear,” Eleanor warned. “Thanks to that horrid man that kidnapped Dan all those years ago, everyone who was out in Society when you brought the children back from South Africa know what their mother was to your husband. Most people won’t be rude to Marsha’s face, not when she is sponsored by your family and mine. But they will talk behind our backs, I cannot deny it.”

“Talk behind our backs, I can handle,” Mia commented, “and the children all know the truth, so they cannot be hurt by having it disclosed.” She frowned. “But will they really invite her to their homes? Will she have suitors?”

“The highest sticklers will ignore her,” the duchess said. “She might not receive tickets for Almacks. But for the most part, Society will pay lip service to story you tell them, since what you tell them is supported by the Redepennings, the Winshires, the Haverfords and all our connections.” She returned Mia’s tentative smile.

“I have done this before, my dear, and am about to do it again. All the world knows my wards are more closely related to the previous duke than we admit, but as long as I insist that they are distant connections, born within wedlock to parents who died and begged me to take them in, they all pretend to believe it. As to suitors, Matilda married well, and my poor Jessica’s problems had nothing to do with her bloodlines — the match seemed a good one at the time. I expect Frances to also make an excellent marriage.”

Mia shook her head slowly. “They are wards to a duchess. Jules and I are very ordinary by comparison. We can dower our girls, though, and as long as we can protect them from direct insult, we do not wish to deny them the same debut as their cousins and their younger sisters.”

“No need to deny them. The Polite World will accept that Marsha is, as the public story has it, the daughter of a deceased couple that Jules knew while he was posted overseas with the navy. We shall watch them closely to keep the riff raff at bay, and they will have a marvelous time, as shall you and I, Mia.” She held out her hand, for all the world as if they were men sealing a business deal, and after a moment, Mia took her hand and shook it.

Mia and Jules have their story in Unkept Promises, where you can meet Marsha, Dan, and their little sister. Matilda’s love story is coming soon, in Melting Matilda, a novella in Fire & Frost. Jessica is also introduced in that story. Her tragedy will be a sub plot of her brother’s story, the third book of The Children of the Mountain King series. As to Eleanor’s story, it spans that series, and concludes in the sixth novel.

Physical book launches

I’m just checking the page proofs for the print versions of the first 4 books in the Golden Redepenning series. I’m using a New Zealand printer for a physical book launch in the first book shop in New Zealand to carry my print books, Almo’s Books, in Carterton.

I’m organising long distance, since I didn’t get everything done before I received the three grandchildren I’m looking after while their mother has a much overdue and well-deserved holiday. I had them at my place last weekend, and now I’m at theirs for a week.

Aren’t the colours great? I wanted each of the books to be different, but clearly related. The spines need a bit of adjustment, but the printer emailed me the measurements, and I fixed them before I left Featherston.

I could maybe have used reversed text for my author piece on Realm, but otherwise, I’m pretty happy.

Now to check the contents.

Sometime in the next two days I need to print the posters I made before I left, and email them to the 5 local libraries and the various community centres with a request to put them up on noticeboards.

I’ve made a Facebook event, and I need to share it around. I’d like to get my invitations handed out on the train where I wrote at least half of each novel, but I’ll have to figure out how to do that long distance.

And then I need to update the sales one-pager for each book and send it to bookshops, and make sure that my updates at the National Library and Nielson Book Editor have taken effect.

And write a speech.

All this while prioritising the grandchildren and the day job. Sigh.

Meanwhile, I’m close to finishing The Gingerbread Caper, and the house is back on the market with a new agent — I still have the windows and oven to clean and one large garden to weed, but we’re at least ready for the photos, if not for the open homes.

Lists. I need lists

If you’re in the Wellington area on 24 September, please join me for a convivial evening at Almo’s Books. 6pm to 7.30 pm. I’d love to see you.

You're invited to the launch of Unkept Promises.

Disastrous error!

Go on. Ask me. Which part of ‘never do stuff while you’re tired and distracted’ didn’t I follow?

I’ve just accidentally cancelled the pre-order of Unkept Promises on Amazon. I knew straight away that my fingers had just betrayed me, but it was too late. No ‘are you sure’. Just gone. Locked. Can’t get in. And the ominous message in my email inbox:

Dear KDP author,

The pre-order for your book Unkept Promises has been canceled. Customers have been notified that it was canceled because you have decided not to publish your book. Also, you have lost pre-order access for one year.

For more details about Pre-orders, check out this page.

Best Regards,

Kindle Direct Publishing Team

I’ve sent a tearful begging message to Kindle Direct Publishing. Can I recover from this disaster? Meanwhile, the ads are going out, and the book isn’t.

And my preorders! All the people who expect the book in less than 36 hours! And the reviewers who are waiting to jump in. I feel sick. I might just go and crawl into a hole and pull a blanket over my head.

UPDATE: I’ve talked to Amazon, and they can’t reinstate. I’ve just republished. It’s in the queue to be reviewed. I’ll put up new links as soon as I have them. Meanwhile, you can still buy from Kobo, Apple, Nook or Smashwords — links here https://books2read.com/Unkept-Promises

Or at my bookstore, where it is 99c and available now. https://judeknight.selz.com/item/unkept-promises

UPDATED UPDATE: Fixed, and a new Books2Read link made with the new Amazon information.

 

Where to start on WIP Wednesday

At last, Unkept Promises has gone to the proofreader, and I’m two chapters in to the novella for the next Bluestocking Belles project. Where to start is always a question — I often cast around for a while, and I don’t always get it right.

This week, I’m inviting you to post the first few paragraphs from your work-in-progress. Here’s mine.

If the two of them made it out of the near-invisible city streets alive, Matilda Grenford was going to kill her sister Jessica, and even their honorary aunt, the Duchess of Haverford, wouldn’t blame her. Angry as Matilda was, and panicked, too, as she tried to find a known landmark in the enveloping fog, she couldn’t resist a wry smile at the thought. Aunt Eleanor was the kindest person in the world, and expected everyone else to be as forgiving and kind as she was herself. Matilda could just imagine the conversation.

“Now, my dear, I want you to think about what other choices you might have made.” The duchess had said precisely those words uncounted times in the more than twenty years Matilda had been her ward.

When she was younger, she would burst out in an impassioned defence of whatever action had brought her before Her Grace for a reprimand. “Jessica is not just destroying her own reputation, Aunt Eleanor. Meeting men in the garden at balls; going out riding without her groom; dancing too close.”

Was that the lamppost by the corner of the square? No; a few steps more showed yet another paved street with houses looming in the fog on both sides. Matilda stopped while she tried to decide if any of them were in any way familiar.

Meanwhile, she continued her imaginary rant to the duchess. “Even in company, she takes flirtation beyond what is proper. This latest start — sneaking out of the house without a chaperone or even her maid — if it becomes known, she’ll go down in ruin, and take me and Frances with her.”

Matilda had gone after her, of course, taking her maid, but she’d lost the poor girl several mistaken turns back. Matilda had been hurrying ahead, ignoring the maid’s complaints, thinking only about bringing Jessica back before she got into worse trouble than ever before. Now Matilda was just as much at risk, and she’d settle for managing to bring her own self home, or even to the house of a friend, if she could find one.

Haverford House, for preference. Turning up anywhere else, unaccompanied, would start the very scandal Matilda had left home to avoid. If Jessica managed to make it home unscathed, it would have to be murder.

In her imagination, she could hear Aunt Eleanor, calm as ever. “Murder is so final, Matilda. Surely it would have been better to try something else, first. What could you have done?”

Matilda startled herself with a bark of laughter that echoed oddly in the fog.

Parents on WIP Wednesday

 

We all have parents and many of us have offspring. Both ways, the relationship is hugely formative, and in stories, scenes between a parent and offspring, or memories of such scenes, can be important for both plot and character. This week, I’m inviting excerpts about relationships between parents and children. Good or bad. Mother or father. Children grown up or still young. With our protagonist as parent or as offspring.

Mine is from Unkept Promises, and shows how Jules feels about his children by his mistress.

“I would rather do laundry than wash dishes,” Marshanda argued.

“Washing dirty pots is the worst,” Adiratna agreed, and Perdana nodded. “I hate washing dirty pots.”

The children fell into a discussion about the baked on grime that was hardest to remove, and Jules pulled Mia to one side, his face thunderous. “When have my daughters cleaned dirty pots?”

“While you were away,” Mia explained. “Maureen O’Riley sent them to the kitchen when she took over Kirana’s place.” She bit at her lower lip, frowning. Now to tell him her fears. But he spoke before she could, his voice cold enough to freeze.

“Took over Kirana’s place? Explain yourself, Mrs Redepenning.”

“Has no one told you? After you left, Maureen announced she was your new mistress, and was taking over the mistress’s room. She had the servants move Kirana to the little storeroom by the kitchen.”

“That hole?” Jules took a deep breath and two or three swift paces, back and forth, colour ebbing and flowing in face.

“Quite,” Mia agreed, reassured by the strength of his reaction. Clearly, Maureen had not had his authority for the move.

“No wonder she— Kirana told me you’d moved her from a hot stuffy room, and I thought she meant the one you are in now.”  He took another two swift paces, his struggle to remain outwardly calm clear on his face.

“Papa?” Marshanda left her conversation to run to Mia, putting an arm around her waist and peeping at Jules from that place of safety. “Why is Papa angry, Ibu Mia?”

“Your father is angry you were made to work in the kitchen, and your mother was made to sleep in the storeroom,” Mia said.

Jules had himself under control, and his voice dripped ice, though sparks of fire lit his blue eyes. “My servants will explain to me how they allowed this to happen — how they helped this to happen.”

Marshanda plastered herself closer to Mia, and Adiratna explained. “Dench said you had told him this was what you wanted. I told Marsha he was lying. I don’t like Dench.”

“You were right, Ada,” Jules told her. “He was lying. And I don’t like him, either.”

“Dench hits people if they say he is lying,” Marshanda warned. “He hit Japheth when Japheth didn’t believe you had given the orders. And he hit Ada when she bit him.”

Jules dropped to his knees and took his youngest daughter’s face between his hands. “He hit you, sweetheart?”

“Papa will hit him,” Perdana promised. “Papa will hit him right through to next Tuesday, won’t you Papa?”

“I will certainly make certain he never lies to my little girls or hits them again,” Jules vowed, not taking his attention off Adiratna. “Biting him was a very dangerous thing to do, my darling.”

Adiratna stuck out her lip and glowered. “I am not sorry,” she insisted. “He was dragging Mami by her arm. It hurt her. I made him stop.”

“She was very brave, Papa,” Marshanda insisted, her whole body trembling as she stood up for her sister. “Mami tried to walk, but she fell down, and he said a bad word and began to drag her, but when Ada bit him and ran away, he ran after her and Japheth and I had time to help Mami to her new room.”

“You were both very brave, then,” Jules said. “I am proud of you. And Ibu Mia is proud of you, too.”

Tea with Mrs Julius Redepenning and children

Aldridge ushered Mrs Julius Redepenning — Mia — and her three wards into his mother’s elegant sitting room. “Mission accomplished, Mama,” he said. He winked at Mia and ruffled the smallest child’s hair. “She’s actually really nice,” he whispered to the eldest, the only boy, before whisking himself out of the room.

Her Grace exchanged a twinkling smile with Mia. She’d sent Aldridge with her message for this very reason — his ability to use his charm to set people at ease. Sometimes, the awe with which people approached duchesses could be useful. At times like this, she could wish for a less elevated social position.

“Come and let me see you,” she said to the children. They obediently lined up in front of her. Good. The task of making them acceptable to Society would not be inhibited by their appearance.  Yes, their dark hair and exotic tilt to their eyes hinted at their Javanese blood, and their skin was more ivory than cream, apart from the boy, whose complexion was more golden, a sign of the time he’d spent at sea with his father. But it could be a touch of Spanish or Italian blood, gained on the right side of the blanket, that gave them their good looks, and no one would make mention of it if enough of the leaders of Society showed the way.

“You are Perdana,” she said, “and your family call you Dan.” He bowed, his eyes huge.

She addressed the older of the two girls first. “Marshanda, I believe. What a pretty name for a pretty girl.” Marsha, as they called her, dropped her lashes and curtseyed.

The younger girl was bouncing with eagerness, biting her lip as if to keep from bubbling over with words. When the duchess said, “This must be Adiranta,” little Ada beamed.

“You are a great lady,” she confided. “Ibu Mia said we must curtsey and be very polite, but we are not to be afraid because you are very nice, and the Prince man called you Mama, so I am pleased to meet you. Oh! I forgot to curtsey.” She remedied her oversight, and very well, too.

“That was a lovely curtsey,” Her Grace said, taking care not to let her amusement show on her face. The Prince man was presumably dear Aldridge, and he would be as amused at his elevation to royalty as she was.

He returned at that moment with a closed basket — the kittens from the stable mews that she had requested to keep her young guests entertained while she spoke to Mia. “I met your footman on the stairs, Mama, and relieved him of his duty.” She narrowed her eyes. He was hovering. Why was he hovering?

The children were soon settled on the hearth rug with a kitten each. Aldridge took the chair nearest to them and some wool from her tapestry basket which he was soon knotting and twisting to create them each a toy for the kittens to play with.

“He is very good with them,” Mia commented. To her credit, only a whisper of her surprise shaded her voice.

Her Grace make no answer. Aldridge had gone to considerable lengths to make sure that his irregularly conceived sons and daughters — four of them — could grow up without taint of bastardy. The duchess hoped he would marry soon and have children of his own. He would be a wonderful father.

She would say none of that to Mia. The topic for today was how they could help the irregularly conceived children of that scamp Jules Redepenning.

“It is early to think about their future, Mia,” she began, “but I can assure you of my support when the time comes. However, I understand from my friend Henry that you have a more immediate concern. Tell me about this Captain Hackett.”

By the time she had the salient facts, they had finished their tea, and Aldridge had drifted over to lean against the back of her chair, listening but saying nothing.

“I am leaving tomorrow for Hollystone Hall,” Her Grace commented, “and I understand you and the children are to join the Redepenning Christmas party at Longford Court. In the new year, though, the man may become a nuisance. Let me know if you need any pressure brought to bear.”

“David might be able to help, too, Mama,” Aldridge suggested. “If the man has one shady episode in his past, there will be others.”

The duchess nodded, pleased. “Well thought, my son. Mia, I shall drop a note to David Wakefield. You know him, I think.”

Mia nodded. “Rede’s friend, the private inquiry agent.”

At that moment, they were interrupted and the reason for Aldridge’s lingering became clear.

“What are you up to?” demanded His Grace, the Duke of Haverford, lurching into the room. “Conspiring? Planning to get rid of me, hey?”

On the hearth rug, the children reached for their kittens and then froze, like cornered mice. Aldridge, without seeming to move with purpose, was suddenly half way down the room, where he could put himself between the erratic peer and either of the two groups in the room.

His Grace balanced his weaving body on the back of a chair, peering at the children in some confusion. His rumpled stained clothes hinted at a night spent drinking, if his manner was not already clue enough. The canker sore on his nose was the only evidence of the sickness that was slowly destroying him; that, and his current state. Ten, even five years ago, he’d show almost no outward sign of over-indulgence, until he fell flat on his face and had to be carried to bed. “Aldridge,” he barked, “whose are the chee-chee brats? Yours? Eleanor, I’m on to you. You’ve been waiting, haven’t you?” He pulled himself up, a hideous simulacrum of the handsome commanding man he had always been, only the underlying viciousness left to carry him forward.

Aldridge moved to intercept his father as the man lurched closer, and the duke grabbed him by the arm. “She is betraying me, boy. Betraying you, too. She’s going to bring a cuckoo into my nest, you will see. I knew, as soon as Winshire brought that rogue home. I knew she would betray us. It was always him, you know. Never me.” He snarled over Aldridge’s shoulder at Eleanor. “Lying, cheating, bitch.”

“Now, sir,”Aldridge soothed, “you are upset. Come. I have a new shipment of brandy and I would like your expert opinion.” Before the mystified eyes of Eleanor’s guests, the duke burst into tears on his son’s shoulder and Aldridge led him out.

Her Grace sat in embarrassed silence, her considerable poise shaken not just by the outrageous accusations but by the old pain that Haverford had lived, and James had been away, too long for her to ever have a child by the man she had always loved.

Mia’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Carry on with your play, children. Lord Aldridge is looking after the poor sick man.” She dropped her voice a little. “What an excellent idea the kittens were. I wonder… Surely someone at Longford will have some. Kittens might be just the thing to give the children’s minds a cheerful direction.”

The duchess smiled at her, grateful. “You shall have all the help I can give you,” she promised, again.

This scene links my two current works in progress. It takes place after Mia returns to England in Unkept Promises and before the Duchess of Haverford goes to Hollystone Hall, for the Christmas house party that is the setting for a large part of To Win a Proper Lady. If you read the stories in Holly and Hopeful Hearts, you’ll probably also notice that it explains why the duke was not at the house party, and hints at why Aldridge arrived late.

Parenting on WIP Wednesday

This is my idea of how Marshanda Redepenning might look.

I like to have children in my stories, which means one or more of my characters are parents — and all of my characters have had parents (many still do). In today’s post, I’m asking for comments with excerpts that are somehow to do with parenting. It might be a secondary character or a main protagonist; parenting in action or thinking about the actions of a parent; the character as parent or the character as child.

In the excerpt I have today, from Unkept Promises, Mia sees her husband with his children by his mistress. Backstory: they married many years ago, when she was still a school child, for the sake of her reputation, and he sailed straight away for the Far East to return to his mistress, Kirana, and their children. Kirana and Mia became friends by correspondence, and Jules has just arrived home from a sea voyage to find that Mia has been in his house for a week and has taken over running it.

Adarinta suddenly remembered that Jules had not yet disgorged his gifts. “Where are my…” she broke off, sneaking a glance at Hannah, who had been impressing the little girls with the unexpected information that they were ladies. Marshanda stuck her nose in the air. “Ladies,” she informed her sister, “do not ask. Ladies wait to be offered.”

Jules frown over her head at Mia. “Who has been telling you that?” he asked.

Adarinta, however, was not to be deflected. “I like presents,” she announced. “It makes me very happy when people give me a present. Ibu Mia brought presents for me and Marsha. I expect she brought presents for you, too, Dan. I do like presents.”

Faced with this flagrant attempt to get around the ‘ladies do not ask’ rule, the adults were struggling to maintain their gravity. Even Jules, who was holding onto whatever grudge had blown in with him, couldn’t resist a twinkle. “I happen to have some presents,” he commented.

Adarinta, climbing off his knee, stood before him, her hands clasped before her, her wide eyes pleading. “Oh Papa,” she pleaded, then looked back at Hannah again and chewed thoughtfully at her upper lip. Her eyes lit, and she said, “I have been very good, Papa, have I not, Hannah?” Then added mournfully, “Not as good as Marsha.”

“Dan, would you fetch my duffel?” Jules asked his son, shifting slightly to allow the boy to pass.

“Perhaps, you might take your father up to the nursery, young ladies?” Mia suggested. “Hannah could bring you up some scones. I am sure your father would like a scone his daughters have made.”

Jules, who had his mouth open — Mia was certain — to repudiate the suggestion, shut it again.

“Oh yes, Papa. Come and see.” Marshanda took one of Jules’s hands, and Adarinta, not to be left behind, took the other. “Hannah made us some curtains, Papa. And Ibu Mia bought us a table and chairs to do our schoolwork. I can read, Papa. Truly.”

Tea with Mrs Hackett

Why on earth, Eleanor wondered, had the duke her husband asked her to have this unlikable pair to afternoon tea? She knew he did business with the man, who continued to claim his naval ranking, though he had retired to run a large import export business.

But that did not require socialising with the man and his wife. The duke must owe Captain Hackett a large favour. He had even stayed to exchange a few pleasantries, before carrying Hackett off with him for a game of billiards, leaving the ladies, as he said, to get to know one another.

Mrs Hackett, a quiet faded woman who had said little in the past half hour looked alarmed at her husband’s desertion.

“Another cup of tea?” The duchess asked her. Mrs Hackett bobbed her head and pushed her cup forward. Eleanor prepared the cup with cream into sugars while she contemplated how to draw the woman out.

In the end, she decided on bluntness. “It seems our husbands mean me to be of some assistance to you, Mrs Hackett. Perhaps if you can tell me what it is you need?”

Mrs Hackett blushed. “I am so embarrassed, your grace. I hardly know how to ask. Is it true what they say? Does your husband expect you to acknowledge his by-blows?”

Eleanor had seldom been asked a more impertinent question. “I hardly think, Mrs Hackett,” but the woman compounded her rudeness by interrupting.

“I know I am being very impolite and forward, but indeed the captain assured me that such was quite acceptable in the best families, and that you were a lady who took such circumstances in your stride. That is why he asked the duke if I might meet you. I know it is most presumptuous of me, but, your grace, I have no one else to advise me.”

Despite herself, Eleanor found her sympathies were engaged. “You had better tell me the whole story.”

Mrs Hackett’s words tumbled over themselves as she explained her failure to bear her husband a son, and his determination to have a boy of his own blood to inherit his business.” The captain, it seemed, had such a son — a boy born to his mistress after he had dismissed the girl.

“He plans to claim the lad, and give him his name, and bring him up with our daughters. Tell me, your grace, is he mad?”

Captain Hackett is one of the villains in Unkept Promises, the fourth novel in the Golden Redepenning series, which I’m currently writing. The boy in question and his half-sisters, whose father is Jules Redepenning, are currently on their way to England with Mia Redepenning, who has adopted them after their mother died of consumption.