Maggi Andersen's Blog, page 2
July 26, 2022
May 17, 2022
Never Trust an Earl is LIVE
.jpg)
The third book in the Never series will be released on the 17th June 2022.
Redcliffe Park, Northumberland, 1819
Dominic Thorne, the Earl of Redcliffe, arrives in Redcliffe village in the far north of England, to view his inheritance. The estate, Redcliffe Park, is miles from a decent town, and in need of extensive renovation.
A rake, says the squire’s wife, who heard all about him from her aunt in London. Rumors of Dominic’s scandalous lifestyle have quickly spread. His uncle, the former earl, was disliked. He failed to pay his debts. And it’s assumed his nephew is cut from the same cloth, or even worse, will ravage all the ladies in the village. It’s suspected his uncle distrusted banks, and stashed his wealth in a secret place somewhere on the estate.
Dominic wants to restore order to the estate to lease or sell it, then return to London. But his extremely attractive and capable housekeeper, Miss Olivia Jenner, makes him want more than a well-run house. He wants her in his life, in his bed. But she has plans of her own and doesn’t trust him.
Olivia Jenner has her own reasons for becoming the housekeeper, which she is not about to tell the earl. She loathed his uncle who destroyed her father’s life, and is determined to keep the rakish earl at arm’s length. But it becomes difficult for Olivia to hold on to her poor opinion of Dominic, after he toils in the fields with his plowman and works to improve the lives of those on his estate. Intrigued, Olivia can’t seem to stay away from him. She brings them lunch and hovers, admiring his fine physique and his straightforward manner with his workmen. He is not what she expected. But she cannot not lose her focus, she must find what she came for, then execute her plans for her future.
The house is broken into, and it’s believed they search for the money stashed away by his uncle. While Olivia and Dominic work together to discover who is behind it, a further threat appears. Someone wants Dominic dead.
The attraction between them grows to fever pitch. Dominic wants her, but will the independent and practical lady who considers the disparity in their births an impossible hurdle to overcome, ever agree?
Read Free in Kindle Unlimited!
The Never Series
Book 1 - Never Doubt a Duke
Book 2 - Never Dance with a Marquess
Book 3 - Never Trust an Earl
Never Trust an Earl is available on Pre-Order for 99cents!
The third book in the Never series will be released on the 17th June 2022.
Redcliffe Park, Northumberland, 1819
Dominic Thorne, the Earl of Redcliffe, arrives in Redcliffe village in the far north of England, to view his inheritance. The estate, Redcliffe Park, is miles from a decent town, and in need of extensive renovation.
A rake, says the squire’s wife, who heard all about him from her aunt in London. Rumors of Dominic’s scandalous lifestyle have quickly spread. His uncle, the former earl, was disliked. He failed to pay his debts. And it’s assumed his nephew is cut from the same cloth, or even worse, will ravage all the ladies in the village. It’s suspected his uncle distrusted banks, and stashed his wealth in a secret place somewhere on the estate.
Dominic wants to restore order to the estate to lease or sell it, then return to London. But his extremely attractive and capable housekeeper, Miss Olivia Jenner, makes him want more than a well-run house. He wants her in his life, in his bed. But she has plans of her own and doesn’t trust him.
Olivia Jenner has her own reasons for becoming the housekeeper, which she is not about to tell the earl. She loathed his uncle who destroyed her father’s life, and is determined to keep the rakish earl at arm’s length. But it becomes difficult for Olivia to hold on to her poor opinion of Dominic, after he toils in the fields with his plowman and works to improve the lives of those on his estate. Intrigued, Olivia can’t seem to stay away from him. She brings them lunch and hovers, admiring his fine physique and his straightforward manner with his workmen. He is not what she expected. But she cannot not lose her focus, she must find what she came for, then execute her plans for her future.
The house is broken into, and it’s believed they search for the money stashed away by his uncle. While Olivia and Dominic work together to discover who is behind it, a further threat appears. Someone wants Dominic dead.
The attraction between them grows to fever pitch. Dominic wants her, but will the independent and practical lady who considers the disparity in their births an impossible hurdle to overcome, ever agree?
Read Free in Kindle Unlimited!
The Never Series
Book 1 - Never Doubt a Duke
Book 2 - Never Dance with a Marquess
Book 3 - Never Trust an Earl
Excerpt from Never Trust an Earl
Northumberland, Summer 1819.
The Earl of Redcliffe was jolted from the seat when his carriage struck a deep pothole and lurched into a ditch. The vehicle tilted at a precarious angle. He shoved open the door and leapt onto the bank beside a small stream and gazed with concern at his coachman, who bent forward on the box, a hand to his head.
“Are you hurt, Grimsby?”
Grimsby rubbed his forehead and climbed gingerly down. “A bit of a banged noddle is all, milord.”
Dominic’s groom appeared to be hopping as he hastened to calm the skittish horses.
“What about you, Fellows?”
“Merely twisted me ankle, milord.” As the chestnuts whickered and strained in their harness, Fellows ran experienced hands over their legs. He shook his head. “No sign of injury.”
Dominic and Grimsby squatted down to examine the undercarriage.
“That front right wheel’s broken’n two, milord,” Grimsby said, stating the obvious.
Dominic stood and brushed his trousers. “We passed a sign a way back saying it was three miles to the village. I’ll fetch the wheelwright. You and Fellows stay with the carriage.”
“No need, milord,” Grimsby said, shocked. “I’m well able to walk.”
He eyed the man’s pale face and the bruise forming on his forehead. “No. I relish a stroll after hours spent in the carriage.”
Dominic left them and strode up the road, breathing in fresh air tinged with damp foliage and wet earth. The trees bordering the route dripped from an early rain shower, but above him, the summer sky was almost cloudless and a clear, bright blue. In the distance, the drying fields shimmered. Since he’d sold out of the army after the Battle of Waterloo, he preferred not to stray far from London, and yet here he was, miles from anywhere.
Surprisingly, after a few days on the road, with the ever-changing view of peat bogs, moorland, and hay meadows, so different from anything he’d seen before, Dominic found he gained some perspective on the last disappointing year. While he didn’t consider himself a rakehell, because he would never coerce a woman, he feared the gossip worried his sister. But even for Evelyn’s sake, he had no intention of marrying until well into his thirties.
As the last mile passed, he considered this trip to be an excellent idea. To leave the sooty gray skies and crammed streets of London for a short spell, not to mention the gossip swirling about seemed exactly what was needed. He hailed a pair of black-and-white cows standing in a field. They remained like statues, staring at him while they chewed. Dominic chuckled. The silence here was positively deafening. He felt untethered from his London life, floating free. It was a good feeling.
He considered it unwise to leave the men and the horses for too long, and careless of the mud sticking to his top boots, he jumped a puddle and broke into a run. Rounding a bend in the road, a few thatched-roofed cottages came into view. A sign welcomed him to Redcliffe Village. It gave him a jolt as reality struck. He was the fifth earl in a family whose history reached back to William the Conqueror.
By the look of the small, quiet village, he feared it could prove grindingly dull. A week or two at most would be enough with Williams’s help to prepare the estate for leasing or sale. Then back to London, refreshed.
The church spire came into view. He walked past the watermill, crossed a stone bridge over the River Tyne, and entered the village.
There were few people about, but it was still early. The coach had departed the last coaching inn at first light. Once the wheel was mended, breakfast would be in order. An inn, the Plough, was farther along the street. After a hearty meal, he could face the neglected estate his uncle had shut himself away in for decades.
He passed a few shops and businesses overlooking the green, not yet open, and approached a barn with the wheelwright’s sign affixed above the door. As he drew near, a young woman, her skirts gathered high to reveal a trim ankle, bolted out the barn door. Her eyes on the path, she cannoned into his chest.
She stared up at him, her bonnet shoved back on her head, saved from falling by its blue ribbons, while Dominic steadied her, his hands on her shoulders. He gazed down into a pair of stunning, violet-blue eyes. “May I be of help?”
She stepped away to a safer distance. “No, thank you, sir.” Something akin to recognition dawned in those wonderful eyes. A frown creased the smooth skin between straight, dark brows.
Dominic swept off his hat. He’d enjoyed the brief moment her fragrant, slim body rested against his chest. Amused, he observed her. From her bonnet to her shoes she was a decidedly fetching woman. “Are you sure?”
“I am quite sure, Lord Redcliffe.” Her voice crisp, she settled her straw hat over her disordered dusky curls. Knew him, did she? He cocked an eyebrow.
“There’s an article in the local paper,” she explained. “They mentioned your visit.”
But why the distrustful attitude? Had London gossip traveled this far? Surely not the print shop caricature? Lord, no. His estate manager, Williams, would likely have spread about Dominic’s intention to visit. “And you are?”
“Miss Jenner, my lord.”
She spoke well for a country lass. Some years past twenty, and still unmarried, judging by the lack of rings on her slender fingers. He was pleased to find a pretty woman here, miles from a big town. Not a good welcome, however, for her eyes remained wary. “My carriage ended up in a ditch, and I have need of the wheelwright,” he said affably. “Is the fellow inside?”
“I… er… yes... he is.” After an annoyed shake of her head, she said, “He’s busy.”
Rendered curious by the flush creeping over her cheeks, he hesitated, then replaced his hat. “I must have a word with him. Good day to you.”
“Good day, milord.” With a bob, she hurried away.
When Dominic reached the door, he turned. But she’d disappeared from view down the street. She must have almost run. He stepped into the dim interior, breathed in the smells of sawdust and sweat. The wheelwright stood buck naked, a towel in his hands, a bucket of water at his feet.
Dominic thought of Miss Jenner’s reaction and grinned. “Bickle, I believe.”
Naked, Bickle paused from vigorously drying his hair and turned, displaying a broad chest covered in a matt of black hair. He was quick to perceive Dominic a gentleman, and snatched up his breeches, pulling them on. “I won’t be but a moment, sir.”
Dominic introduced himself. It was possible Bickle knew who he was, for he calmly nodded.
“Take your time. I don’t wish to interrupt your ablutions.”
As Bickle slipped his feet into his boots, Dominic explained his situation.
While the wheelwright readied the trap, he wondered who Miss Jenner was. He would expect a farmer’s daughter to have an earthier attitude to nudity.
The trap ready, Dominic joined Bickle on the seat.
As Bickle drove the carthorse along the road, Dominic wondered whether he would see Miss Jenner again. Bound to—it was a small place. Although she’d hardly been welcoming, once she got to know what a genial fellow he was, she might change her mind. If by some unseen circumstance he was stuck here for weeks while he worked out what to do with this property left in his unwilling hands, any feminine company—and most particularly someone as attractive as Miss Jenner—would certainly while away the hours.
***
Everyone in the village would know him on sight, dressed in his superbly tailored Bond Street clothes. Never in her memory had such a well-dressed, highborn gentleman visited the village. The former earl didn’t count. On the rare occasions he ventured out, he dressed like a pauper.
Olivia picked up a long stick and used it as a switch to batter away the leafy fronds encroaching on the path. The heat had only now left her cheeks. She had wanted to meet him, but not in that fashion. The drawing in the local newspaper hadn’t quite captured him. They’d made him appear sober and steely-eyed, and while his features were rugged and his jaw hard, when he smiled he looked more like the rake they’d heard about. His arrogant, green gaze flickered over her, from her head to her feet, making her quiver. Yes, definitely a rake.
Entirely too attractive with smile lines radiating from his compelling eyes, a lean muscled body, and skin of an olive tone. His wavy, dark brown hair invited a woman’s touch. That last bit made her frown. Was she to act like a silly girl? But when she recalled his amused smile at her recognizing him, and his even white teeth, her heart gave a strange flutter.
Olivia continued along the road, increasingly annoyed at her foolishness. She needed to keep a cool head about Lord Redcliffe and not allow the embarrassment of their first meeting to spoil her plans. This was her chance to right a wrong, and she was determined to seize it with both hands.
She often walked the few miles to Redcliffe Hall along the road bounded by the estate’s high stone wall, to see if anything had changed since the old man died. From her limited vision through the tall, padlocked gates, nothing had. The ancient gatehouse deserted, the avenue of gnarled trees unchecked by any gardener still formed a dark tunnel over the driveway, the grounds overgrown, and the lawns past thigh-high. What must once have been a magnificent Elizabethan mansion now sad and neglected, with broken panes in the cobwebbed, mullioned windows.
Haunted, many believed, by the old earl guarding his money, which rumor claimed he’d hidden somewhere in the house. Olivia didn’t know if that was true, but he certainly didn’t spend any of it paying his bills. If he still lived, her poor father could attest to that.
Olivia entered through the side gate of Lady Lowry’s establishment and followed the path to the servants’ entrance. Her mistress had sent her to Bickle to arrange for him to fix the broken axle on her cabriolet. Before Lady Lowry questioned her, she must find an excuse for why she hadn’t seen him. Although she certainly had, much more than she ever wished to see. As it was, she loathed having to speak to him because he leered at her and made improper suggestions. Fortunately, Bickle had a towel over his head, and she made her escape without him seeing her. Then in her haste to get away from the man, she’d run into Lord Redcliffe. Literally. Smack bang against his hard chest. Heavens. He’d caught hold of her. Held for a moment while she breathed in his clean male smell.
He’d be very different to Bickle when stripped. She batted that thought away. She’d been tongue-tied with embarrassment, and he must think her an idiot. But then her absolute distrust of all Redcliffes took hold, and she’d had to take herself in hand not to reveal it.
Olivia entered through the servants’ door of the manor house, a solid two-story brick edifice built in the last century, where Lady Lowry employed her as housekeeper. Her mistress, the widow of Sir Hubert Lowry, could be difficult, at times quite horrid to her servants. As she entered the breakfast room, Olivia wondered what mood she would be in this morning. She hoped the young maid, Emily, hadn’t served her mistress cold porridge again.
In a dressing gown of pale pink, lavishly trimmed with ribbons and bows, Lady Lowry looked up from buttering her roll. “There you are. You’ve been gone a long time.” She gazed suspiciously at Olivia. “Did you tarry to flirt with the fellow?”
Olivia suppressed a shudder. “I had no chance to speak to Bickle. He was busy.”
“I’ll send the footman. He will not be turned away.”
“As I left,” Olivia said, aware this would draw her mistress’s attention from herself, “I saw Lord Redcliffe.”
Lady Lowry put down her roll. “The earl has arrived?”
“Yes.”
She tucked strands of fair hair beneath her cap. “I must get busy. Such a lot to organize. Of course, he will want to meet those in society equal to his rank. Whom shall I invite?” She frowned. “So few to choose from. Mr. and Mrs. Crompton of the Pastures, and the widow, Mrs. Herrington, and of course, , the squire at Northoaks…” She drifted off for a moment in thought.
Olivia’s cheeks warmed. She told herself she was immune to her mistress’s callous disregard for her feelings but feared she wasn’t. Would never be.
Impervious to any hurt she might have caused at the mention of the squire, Lady Lowry stared up at her. “Don’t daydream, girl. The reception rooms need to be cleaned. Thoroughly. Take up the rugs and make sure the piano is properly dusted and polished. The servants always make a poor job of it.” She tapped her chin. “We might have some music. And see they are careful with my china ornaments. Any chips, and the girl will find herself out in the street. Tell Cook to come here. I wish to discuss the menu.”
Lord Redcliffe’s arrival had stirred Lady Lowry into a frenzy. Relieved to escape, Olivia hurried from the room. In the kitchen, Cook sat with her morning cup of tea, something delicious baking in the oven. “Sit down and have a bite to eat before you fade away,” she said, eyeing Olivia. “Is Madam in one of her moods?”
“She wishes to discuss the menu for the party she plans for the Earl of Redcliffe. He has arrived in the village”
“Oh?” Cook pushed her cap on straight. “Well, his nibs will have to take what he’s given, won’t he. I’m not one of the Prince of Wales’s fancy chefs.”
Olivia laughed as she poured herself a cup of tea. When free of her duties, she would call on Lord Redcliffe. As soon as she learned of his expected visit, she had given this considerable thought, for she feared he may not remain here long. If he planned to restore the house with even a skeleton staff for further visits, he would soon see what a pickle he found himself in and could hardly refuse her offer. She rubbed her aching temples. The success of her endeavor rested on his acceptance of her proposal.
February 16, 2022
New series coming! Improper Lords
I have signed a contract with Dragonblade Publishing for a 3 book series: Improper Lords.
The ton loves a mischievous lord until he crosses the line of decorum, then they must decide whether to give the transgressing lord a chance to reform, or give him the cut direct.
The Counterfeit Duke
The Marquess Takes a Misstep
The Earl's Brazen Bargain
Watch for the cover reveal!
Maggi
January 11, 2022
History of Opera and Drama in London
National Portrait Gallery London Copyright: Tate 2010; on loan to the National Portrait Gallery, London Dorothea Jordan, had a long-running and much-publicized affair with the duke of Clarence, bearing him ten children. (Jane Austen saw her perform at Covent Garden in 1814. One satirical cartoon shows her in her bedroom, gazing adoringly at a duchess’ coronet, which she hopes someday to wear by marrying her lover. A map on the wall purports to show the route from “Strolling Lane” (i.e. prostitution) through “Old Drury Common” all the way to “Derbyshire Peak.” A genealogical chart of the nobility lies on her dressing table, and her bed-hangings are crowned by a Phrygian cap, symbol of the French Revolution. The latter is intended to ridicule her pretensions to nobility; as a common woman, let alone an actress, she should know her place. Some actresses of sterling talent who resisted the temptation to climb to the top of the social scale were exempted from the popular prejudice against performing women. Sarah Siddons, who was generally well respected, is a notable example, but those who seemed to be using their visibility as a means to wealth and comfort were strongly stigmatized. The situation was worse for those without stardom to protect them, and it was worst of all for the “opera girls.” National Portrait Gallery LondonCopyright: Tate 2010; on loan to the National Portrait Gallery, London
December 28, 2021
December 9, 2021
Released! ANNOUNCING MISS THEODOSIA Book Three Once a Wallflower series - Excerpt and Reviews.
ANNOUNCING MISS THEODOSIABook Three Once a Wallflower SeriesAmazon
Take an independent miss, a gentleman intent on changing her mind, a dangerous foe, and stir in a whirlwind romance.
Theodosia Tothill attends her first Season with the conviction that all men control their wives. Even her brother’s wife, who used to have opinions, is now intent on filling his nursery and talks of nothing but babies.
Inspired by her poet aunt, Thea intends to remain unmarried while pursuing her dream to write for newspapers. But her father, wary of her restlessness which has exhausted nannies, governesses and run her parents ragged over the years, is just as determined to see her safely married to a good man.
At her first ball, Thea puts her plan into action. While avoiding a gentleman intent on dancing with her, she escapes onto the terrace. Forced to retreat into the garden, she overhears a frightening conversation through the open window in the room above her. A man comes to the window and peers out.
Tackled from behind, she rolls into the shadows, to be held by a strong male body and a voice in her head which urges her to be quiet.
Thea embarks on a dangerous adventure with Lord Ashton Grainger, who she considers controlling and annoyingly inscrutable, but oh, so attractive. And her father, furious at discovering her intention to avoid suitors, becomes more determined to marry her off. He has chosen the man Thea and Ash overheard coldly planning another man’s death. Rather than reveal all to her father, who would send her back to the country, Thea avoids the gentleman intending to work with Grainger to uncover what lies behind the murderous plot. But annoyingly, Grainger refuses to indulge her.
Ash has his own concerns. He dances with debutantes at balls merely to humor his grandfather, the Earl of Highworth, who is keen to see him wed before he dies. After the family suffered a terrible tragedy, his grandfather has become a virtual recluse. With the belief the earl has years left on the earth before he needs to marry, Ash intends to continue his bachelor existence. Until he receives disturbing news which forces him to make a snap decision that will affect both his and Thea’s lives. He comes to realize it was something he wanted all along. But does Thea think the same?
When the murderous foe widens his net to include an innocent child and Thea in his sights, Ash must take matters into his own hands.
Read Free in Kindle Unlimited!
Once a Wallflower
Presenting Miss Letitia
Introducing Miss Joanna
Announcing Miss Theodosia
Except:
Unedited excerpt ©Chedworth, The Cotswold’s, April 1818In her bedchamber Thea raised her nightgown before the mirror. Only one chickenpox scar remained on her body. It was more like a dimple really near her navel. It would be there forever. For the span of her life. She would take it to the grave. She supposed it hardly mattered for a spinster. A gentleman would never see it. Unless, when she became a famous writer, she took a lover. Such a bold thought made her catch her breath, but she expected she’d grow used to the idea.Smoothing down the hem of her nightgown, Thea sank onto the bed. Confined to her bedchamber for a month thanks to contracting this infectious disease from a cousin had been such a bore. A whole month she should have been in London. A whole month of the Season gone! And now she was well enough to go to Grandmama, who loved the Season and seemed only too happy to chaperone her, but Mama still wished to wait another fortnight to be sure she had completely recovered and looked her best. Thea was in such good health, she felt as if she was bursting out of her skin. She had no wish to find or be bound to a husband. She preferred to search for intriguing matters to write about to send to magazines and newspapers. Two years ago, fired up by the writings of Mary Wollstonecraft, and inspired by her Aunt Margery who was a published poet, Thea had decided to be a writer, not of poetry nor philosophy but to bring current stories of importance to readers, and she’d spent her time browsing through everything in the library as well as her father’s newspapers, while awaiting her trip to London where she was sure there would be any number of subjects to choose from.It was so dull here in the country! Anything interesting rarely occurred to be worth writing about. She had penned a story about their previous vicar who disgraced himself by drinking the altar wine and calling Mrs. Lamont a dreadful snob, but her mother ripped up the pages.London was such a vibrant, busy place, teeming with scandals and skullduggery. She could not fail to find something significant there to make her eager to put pen to paper.But her mother intended her to marry. Thea considered it essential for women writers to remain single. Husbands demanded too much. Just look how her brother Robert treated his wife. Violet gave birth to three children in three years and was always knitting small clothes. She talked of nothing but babies when she used to have Opinions. Even Thea’s father was content to have Mother fuss around him. No, a husband would be far too disruptive.She stood and gazed wistfully at the garden. Sunlight danced on the pond, and the leaves of the gnarled old chestnut tree outside her window swayed in the breeze. The spring flowers were glorious this year. Mr. Thompson, their gardener, who worked so diligently on their behalf, deserved praise. And her mother forbade her to leave the house.Thea felt dreadfully hemmed in. Here she was, having turned eighteen and still treated like a child! She rummaged in her cupboard and brought out a pair of gumboots she’d borrowed from the gardener when it rained for weeks and turned the lawn to mud. Slipping her arms through the sleeves of her dressing gown, she firmly tied the belt. With her waist-length braid shoved over her shoulder, she mounted the windowsill. She tossed the gumboots down. Then leaning forward, her foot found the nearest branch, and she climbed out. The cool breeze swept over her, carrying the sweet scent of lilacs.How heavenly to be outside. The sun warmed her back, and sparrows fluttered around a nest in the topmost branches. Selecting a sturdy branch below, she descended cautiously. She’d climbed this tree many times and was as surefooted as a mountain goat. Down she went until, perched on the lowest branch, she gathered the folds of dressing gown about her knees, preparing to jump down.A piercing shriek rent the air. That could only be her older sister, Catherine. She was sure no one but an opera singer could hit that high note. And for so little reason!Oh bother! Cathy had spotted her. “Whatever is the matter, Cathy?” Thea called crossly. She couldn’t quite see her from the tree and leaped down. Her bare feet met soft, sun-warmed grass, and she flexed her toes appreciatively. “Why must you be so hysterical?” She turned toward the garden gate.Open mouthed, her sister stood with her hand resting on the arm of her fiancé, Lord Crispin Braithwaite, who looked very stern. But then he always did.Behind them, a very tall gentleman observed Thea, his dark brows arched over amused blue eyes. He removed his hat, his hair a glossy chestnut brightened by the sun, and bowed. He ran lightly over the ground and swooped up her gumboots. “Your slippers, Cinderella.”“Oh!”For a long moment, Thea, mortified, stood as still as a stature, her mind racing. Then she grabbed them from him as Cathy’s annoyingly little terrier, Crosby, ran to investigate. Overly excited, he danced around Thea’s bare feet with sharp barks. Aware her face flamed as red as one of Grandmama’s pampered roses, Thea sprinted over to the open French doors without pausing for a word of greeting, the gumboots hugged to her chest. While the deep chuckle of the mysterious gentleman made Thea want to cover her ears, her sister, so strictly correct in all things, apologized profusely, and led he and Crispin along the path to the front door.Thea ran upstairs and gained her room, meeting their maid, Sarah, on the way. Thea held a finger to her lips to silence the giggling girl and shut her bedchamber door. The gumboots discarded, she ran to the window and peeped from behind the curtain. Her sister still rambled on, talking nineteen to the dozen, as Williams, their butler, opened the front door. The stranger strolled slowly behind them. He paused before mounting the porch, and glanced up toward Thea’s window as if he knew she was there. As she darted back behind the curtain, the vision of his laughing blue eyes stayed with her.At the washstand, she poured water from the jug into the basin and wrung out a flannel to cool her hot cheeks. How much had he seen of her as she came down from the tree? Nothing, surely! She frowned. Cathy was sure to complain. Thea would never hear the end of it! There was no point asking her sister not to tell Mama. Not even the promise she could wear Thea’s pearl earrings left to her by Aunt Wilmot would work this time. She groaned and held the flannel over her eyes. She would be in disgrace.What form would her punishment take? Heavens! It didn’t bear thinking about. She sank back onto the bed. Who was that gentleman with Cathy and Lord Crispin? It was unlikely she’d meet him again. She certainly didn’t want to after he’d seen her bare legs and found her so amusing. She could ask Cathy who he was, but if her sister suspected Thea was interested, she’d clam up like an oyster, or tease her unmercifully. She would have to ask Williams who knew more about what took place in the Tothill residence than anyone else.***Saturday evening, Mayfair, LondonAshton Grainger strolled into the Duchess of Worthing’s ballroom accompaniedby his friend Freddie Cooper-Jones.“Another dull evening, where I must do my duty by Mother and dance with the debutantes,” Freddie said, his long face a picture of gloom.“I’m sure Mrs. Rollinson will be happy to smooth your ruffled feathers later,” Ash said.“Damn right. And incredibly good she is at it, too.” Freddie raised his auburn eyebrows. “If the earl were here to observe you, Ash, he would force you to choose a bride. Hasn’t he ordered you to wed before he dies?”“My grandfather remains in sound health. Don’t sound so hopeful I’ll be called to task, Freddie.”Freddie chuckled. “Misery loves company, my friend. Just look at the array of debs we have this year, not a beauty among them.”Ash turned and cast a subtle glance over the young women all dressed in white or varying pastel shades clustered together on benches. “They look anxious,” he observed. “Perhaps they’re no keener than you to dance.” One caught his eye, a remarkably pretty strawberry blonde, sitting apart from the rest, her glasses too big for her small, heart-shaped face. She looked vaguely familiar.“Oh, I say,” Ash murmured when he remembered. He chuckled.“What’s that?” Freddie turned to him.“I recognized one of the debutantes.”“I suppose you’ll have to dance with her then,” Freddie said with a slight shudder. He clapped Ash on the shoulder. “I’m for the gaming tables. Coming?”“Later. I believe I’ll stay awhile.”“Don’t get yourself engaged while I’m away.” With a devilish laugh, Freddie turned and made his way to the door.The musicians took their place on the dais for a country dance. Gentleman crossed the floor to claim a lady.Miss Tothill did a very odd thing. As the gentlemen sought partners, she rose from her seat and hurried from the ballroom.Ash watched a fellow pull up and change direction. “What was this impish young lady about? She didn’t wear glasses when she so nimbly climbed down that chestnut tree, offering him a tantalizing glimpse of endlessly long slim legs.He put the incident out of his mind and retreated to the games room. He played faro with Freddie and two of his friends, Brandon Cartwright and the baron, Gareth Reade, both of whom engaged in similar work as himself. Both happily married, they often teased him about his single state.“A friend of my wife wishes to be introduced to you,” Cartwright said with an amused curl of his lips.“Please tell Letty that the last young lady she foisted on me at that garden party decided I was hers for the evening, and damn near followed me into the gentleman’s convenience. Extricating myself proved a decidedly tricky endeavor.” Ash tossed down a card. “Can’t you control your wife, Brandon?”Reade chuckled. “The answer to that is no.”“I don’t see you having any better success with your lady wife,” Cartwright observed with an amused lift of his eyebrows. He studied his hand. “But the trouble arises when we make rash promises which enable us to continue our work for the crown, which the ladies consider too dangerous.”“Exactly,” Reade threw in his hand. “We will do or say almost anything to keep the hearth and home running peacefully.”“And you want me to marry.” Ash grimaced and laid down his cards. “Mine, I believe.” He gathered up the coins. “I’ll stick to my guns. I’m only twenty-seven. I am enjoying my freedom and have no need to look for a wife until well into my thirties.”Reade grinned. “Can we make a bet on that?”“Count me in,” Cartwright said. “And deal another hand, will you, Ash?”Ash pushed back his chair. “Forgive me, gentlemen, extremely bad manners to win and run, but I promised my grandfather I would dance at least twice. I’ll survey the ladies here tonight.” He grinned. “And no, Brandon, not Letty’s friend. Once bitten, twice shy.”He couldn’t help thinking of his grandfather as he left the card room. Grandfather’s heart had never recovered from the terrible loss of their family. Ash’s father and mother and grandmother had been travelling together on their way to Ascot in a carriage. A careless boatman had crashed his boat into the struts of a bridge, weakening it. Not long afterward, Ash’s father’s carriage had fallen into the river. They had all drowned. Ash and his grandfather were following behind in his curricle. They arrived just after the accident. The view of their loved ones fished from the cold waters, returned to haunt him at night, and his grandfather suffered it too, having lost his beloved wife, son, and daughter-in-law. The loss robbed him of his love of life. He became a virtual recluse. And now concentrated on Ash, the only member of his family left. Ash was to take care not to drive too fast or ride recklessly, and expected to marry and produce an heir. But the tragic accident had the reverse effect on Ash. He tended to ride too fast and drove his curricle at high speed. As if to tempt fate. It was the reason he now did dangerous work for the crown. And he did not want to fall in love and marry. His dalliances were brief and light-hearted and that was the way he intended to keep it for many years to come. And while that worried his grandfather, he seemed powerless to change. So he played the game, dancing with debutants at balls he’d rather not attend to give his grandfather hope.They announced a quadrille as he entered the ballroom. Not wishing to insult a lady by approaching her at the last minute, Ash leaned against a pillar and watched Miss Tothill. Sure enough, as a gentleman made a move in her direction, she was off. And this time it wasn’t toward the ladies’ retiring room.Intrigued, Ash left his position and strolled after her. To his surprise, Miss Tothill, with a nod at the footman, passed through the French doors at the far end of the ballroom.Ash followed, stepping out onto the deserted terrace where a stiff, chilly breeze blew. He expected to find her here, but there was no sign of the intrepid young lady.He descended the steps onto the lawn. The rustling bushes alerted him to her presence. Was this an assignation? If so, he would turn about and leave the lovers to it. But she appeared to be alone, where she lingered in the shrubbery beneath an open window.Tobacco smoke drifted out the window above them, along with men’s voices. Ash moved closer and listened. “We shall have to decide tonight,” a man said. “When he returns to London, we must get him while he’s alone. It’s his practice to walk along Cheyne Walk beside the Thames before retiring. A simple matter to cut his throat and toss him in the river. Remove anything valuable. The magistrate will view it as a robbery.”“Good grief, Farnborough, that’s decidedly bloodthirsty,” another said, his voice vaguely familiar.“Nor will it be so easy,” said a third man Ash couldn’t identify. “Let me close that window. Someone might overhear us.”A shadow loomed at the window.Miss Tothill, in her white dress, stood out among the greenery.In a swift tackle, Ash pulled her down on top of him, and rolled to one side to hide her with his body clad in black evening clothes. He clapped his hand over her mouth. She squirmed in outrage; her voice muffled against his palm. He enjoyed the novelty of the situation until she sank her teeth into his finger. He tightened his lips on a rebuke but kept a firm hold of her, longing to give her shapely derriere a good slap.Farnborough appeared at the window. He peered out for a moment before slamming it shut.“Be still!” he hissed. “If they see you, you’re dead.”He would have shocked her. She went limp, her fragrant, curvaceous body still pressed against his. The drawn curtains blocked out the candlelight, and shadowy gloom descended.“Let me up!” she demanded, wriggling pleasingly against him.Who was the doomed man? He would need to look into the matter, but first… He drew her to her feet.She gasped. “Who was at the window? Did… did he see us?”“Lord Eugene Farnborough.” Ash caught hold of her hand. “Now we’ll go somewhere quiet, and you can explain just what you are doing here.”***** Goodreads Review:Thank you to the author and the publisher, Dragonblade Publishing, for letting me read an ARC of this book via NetGalley!!
"A marriage of convenience could suit them both."
"Breakfast was the most necessary meal, in her grandmother's opinion, for it set one up for the day"
For fans of Bridgerton but with softer vibes ... less spicy let's say but with the really same purpose and setting, this book is for you!
I absolutely loved this book!
It was exactly what I needed ... a soft, interesting, historical romance about a young woman who wants to marry for love or , instead, live as a spinster writing ...
Most readers' dream, I'm afraid!
I loved each and every character and the writing-style made the plot easy to get through and to follow!!
I loved how independent Thea is and how much she cares for other's stories, and her grandmama ... an icon!
Ash is a great love interest and the fact that this book involved a forced-proximity trope as well as a sudden strategic marriage ... well this should say it all!!
The reading felt sure but simply because it got into it, right after the fast few pages, and it kept me captivated till the very end.
I can't wait for this to be published and possibly read more about it.
"Do you object to marrying me, or just the idea of marriage, Thea?"
"He was the man of her dreams, even though she rather thought of him as a lover and not a husband"
***** Goodreads Review:
Miss Theodosia Tothill wants to be a crime reporter. The one benefit of being in London is the chance to hear and report on more stories. She has no idea just how dangerous that can be.
Viscount Ashley Grainger works for the Crown but this latest mystery is a more personal one. It will however turn into much more.
A fascinating historical romance with a very interesting mystery to solve. Our characters must draw on unusual sources to solve it. There is danger from a very nasty man who has nothing to lose.
This story is brim full of great characters. It is part of a series but each book can be read on it's own. I do love having more than just romance in the stories.
New Pre-Order ANNOUNCING MISS THEODOSIA Book Three Once a Wallflower series - Excerpt and Reviews.
Available on Pre-order for 99cents!Get it before the price goes up!ANNOUNCING MISS THEODOSIABook Three Once a Wallflower SeriesAmazon
Take an independent miss, a gentleman intent on changing her mind, a dangerous foe, and stir in a whirlwind romance.
Theodosia Tothill attends her first Season with the conviction that all men control their wives. Even her brother’s wife, who used to have opinions, is now intent on filling his nursery and talks of nothing but babies.
Inspired by her poet aunt, Thea intends to remain unmarried while pursuing her dream to write for newspapers. But her father, wary of her restlessness which has exhausted nannies, governesses and run her parents ragged over the years, is just as determined to see her safely married to a good man.
At her first ball, Thea puts her plan into action. While avoiding a gentleman intent on dancing with her, she escapes onto the terrace. Forced to retreat into the garden, she overhears a frightening conversation through the open window in the room above her. A man comes to the window and peers out.
Tackled from behind, she rolls into the shadows, to be held by a strong male body and a voice in her head which urges her to be quiet.
Thea embarks on a dangerous adventure with Lord Ashton Grainger, who she considers controlling and annoyingly inscrutable, but oh, so attractive. And her father, furious at discovering her intention to avoid suitors, becomes more determined to marry her off. He has chosen the man Thea and Ash overheard coldly planning another man’s death. Rather than reveal all to her father, who would send her back to the country, Thea avoids the gentleman intending to work with Grainger to uncover what lies behind the murderous plot. But annoyingly, Grainger refuses to indulge her.
Ash has his own concerns. He dances with debutantes at balls merely to humor his grandfather, the Earl of Highworth, who is keen to see him wed before he dies. After the family suffered a terrible tragedy, his grandfather has become a virtual recluse. With the belief the earl has years left on the earth before he needs to marry, Ash intends to continue his bachelor existence. Until he receives disturbing news which forces him to make a snap decision that will affect both his and Thea’s lives. He comes to realize it was something he wanted all along. But does Thea think the same?
When the murderous foe widens his net to include an innocent child and Thea in his sights, Ash must take matters into his own hands.
Read Free in Kindle Unlimited!
Once a Wallflower
Presenting Miss Letitia
Introducing Miss Joanna
Announcing Miss Theodosia
Except:
Unedited excerpt ©Chedworth, The Cotswold’s, April 1818In her bedchamber Thea raised her nightgown before the mirror. Only one chickenpox scar remained on her body. It was more like a dimple really near her navel. It would be there forever. For the span of her life. She would take it to the grave. She supposed it hardly mattered for a spinster. A gentleman would never see it. Unless, when she became a famous writer, she took a lover. Such a bold thought made her catch her breath, but she expected she’d grow used to the idea.Smoothing down the hem of her nightgown, Thea sank onto the bed. Confined to her bedchamber for a month thanks to contracting this infectious disease from a cousin had been such a bore. A whole month she should have been in London. A whole month of the Season gone! And now she was well enough to go to Grandmama, who loved the Season and seemed only too happy to chaperone her, but Mama still wished to wait another fortnight to be sure she had completely recovered and looked her best. Thea was in such good health, she felt as if she was bursting out of her skin. She had no wish to find or be bound to a husband. She preferred to search for intriguing matters to write about to send to magazines and newspapers. Two years ago, fired up by the writings of Mary Wollstonecraft, and inspired by her Aunt Margery who was a published poet, Thea had decided to be a writer, not of poetry nor philosophy but to bring current stories of importance to readers, and she’d spent her time browsing through everything in the library as well as her father’s newspapers, while awaiting her trip to London where she was sure there would be any number of subjects to choose from.It was so dull here in the country! Anything interesting rarely occurred to be worth writing about. She had penned a story about their previous vicar who disgraced himself by drinking the altar wine and calling Mrs. Lamont a dreadful snob, but her mother ripped up the pages.London was such a vibrant, busy place, teeming with scandals and skullduggery. She could not fail to find something significant there to make her eager to put pen to paper.But her mother intended her to marry. Thea considered it essential for women writers to remain single. Husbands demanded too much. Just look how her brother Robert treated his wife. Violet gave birth to three children in three years and was always knitting small clothes. She talked of nothing but babies when she used to have Opinions. Even Thea’s father was content to have Mother fuss around him. No, a husband would be far too disruptive.She stood and gazed wistfully at the garden. Sunlight danced on the pond, and the leaves of the gnarled old chestnut tree outside her window swayed in the breeze. The spring flowers were glorious this year. Mr. Thompson, their gardener, who worked so diligently on their behalf, deserved praise. And her mother forbade her to leave the house.Thea felt dreadfully hemmed in. Here she was, having turned eighteen and still treated like a child! She rummaged in her cupboard and brought out a pair of gumboots she’d borrowed from the gardener when it rained for weeks and turned the lawn to mud. Slipping her arms through the sleeves of her dressing gown, she firmly tied the belt. With her waist-length braid shoved over her shoulder, she mounted the windowsill. She tossed the gumboots down. Then leaning forward, her foot found the nearest branch, and she climbed out. The cool breeze swept over her, carrying the sweet scent of lilacs.How heavenly to be outside. The sun warmed her back, and sparrows fluttered around a nest in the topmost branches. Selecting a sturdy branch below, she descended cautiously. She’d climbed this tree many times and was as surefooted as a mountain goat. Down she went until, perched on the lowest branch, she gathered the folds of dressing gown about her knees, preparing to jump down.A piercing shriek rent the air. That could only be her older sister, Catherine. She was sure no one but an opera singer could hit that high note. And for so little reason!Oh bother! Cathy had spotted her. “Whatever is the matter, Cathy?” Thea called crossly. She couldn’t quite see her from the tree and leaped down. Her bare feet met soft, sun-warmed grass, and she flexed her toes appreciatively. “Why must you be so hysterical?” She turned toward the garden gate.Open mouthed, her sister stood with her hand resting on the arm of her fiancé, Lord Crispin Braithwaite, who looked very stern. But then he always did.Behind them, a very tall gentleman observed Thea, his dark brows arched over amused blue eyes. He removed his hat, his hair a glossy chestnut brightened by the sun, and bowed. He ran lightly over the ground and swooped up her gumboots. “Your slippers, Cinderella.”“Oh!”For a long moment, Thea, mortified, stood as still as a stature, her mind racing. Then she grabbed them from him as Cathy’s annoyingly little terrier, Crosby, ran to investigate. Overly excited, he danced around Thea’s bare feet with sharp barks. Aware her face flamed as red as one of Grandmama’s pampered roses, Thea sprinted over to the open French doors without pausing for a word of greeting, the gumboots hugged to her chest. While the deep chuckle of the mysterious gentleman made Thea want to cover her ears, her sister, so strictly correct in all things, apologized profusely, and led he and Crispin along the path to the front door.Thea ran upstairs and gained her room, meeting their maid, Sarah, on the way. Thea held a finger to her lips to silence the giggling girl and shut her bedchamber door. The gumboots discarded, she ran to the window and peeped from behind the curtain. Her sister still rambled on, talking nineteen to the dozen, as Williams, their butler, opened the front door. The stranger strolled slowly behind them. He paused before mounting the porch, and glanced up toward Thea’s window as if he knew she was there. As she darted back behind the curtain, the vision of his laughing blue eyes stayed with her.At the washstand, she poured water from the jug into the basin and wrung out a flannel to cool her hot cheeks. How much had he seen of her as she came down from the tree? Nothing, surely! She frowned. Cathy was sure to complain. Thea would never hear the end of it! There was no point asking her sister not to tell Mama. Not even the promise she could wear Thea’s pearl earrings left to her by Aunt Wilmot would work this time. She groaned and held the flannel over her eyes. She would be in disgrace.What form would her punishment take? Heavens! It didn’t bear thinking about. She sank back onto the bed. Who was that gentleman with Cathy and Lord Crispin? It was unlikely she’d meet him again. She certainly didn’t want to after he’d seen her bare legs and found her so amusing. She could ask Cathy who he was, but if her sister suspected Thea was interested, she’d clam up like an oyster, or tease her unmercifully. She would have to ask Williams who knew more about what took place in the Tothill residence than anyone else.***Saturday evening, Mayfair, LondonAshton Grainger strolled into the Duchess of Worthing’s ballroom accompaniedby his friend Freddie Cooper-Jones.“Another dull evening, where I must do my duty by Mother and dance with the debutantes,” Freddie said, his long face a picture of gloom.“I’m sure Mrs. Rollinson will be happy to smooth your ruffled feathers later,” Ash said.“Damn right. And incredibly good she is at it, too.” Freddie raised his auburn eyebrows. “If the earl were here to observe you, Ash, he would force you to choose a bride. Hasn’t he ordered you to wed before he dies?”“My grandfather remains in sound health. Don’t sound so hopeful I’ll be called to task, Freddie.”Freddie chuckled. “Misery loves company, my friend. Just look at the array of debs we have this year, not a beauty among them.”Ash turned and cast a subtle glance over the young women all dressed in white or varying pastel shades clustered together on benches. “They look anxious,” he observed. “Perhaps they’re no keener than you to dance.” One caught his eye, a remarkably pretty strawberry blonde, sitting apart from the rest, her glasses too big for her small, heart-shaped face. She looked vaguely familiar.“Oh, I say,” Ash murmured when he remembered. He chuckled.“What’s that?” Freddie turned to him.“I recognized one of the debutantes.”“I suppose you’ll have to dance with her then,” Freddie said with a slight shudder. He clapped Ash on the shoulder. “I’m for the gaming tables. Coming?”“Later. I believe I’ll stay awhile.”“Don’t get yourself engaged while I’m away.” With a devilish laugh, Freddie turned and made his way to the door.The musicians took their place on the dais for a country dance. Gentleman crossed the floor to claim a lady.Miss Tothill did a very odd thing. As the gentlemen sought partners, she rose from her seat and hurried from the ballroom.Ash watched a fellow pull up and change direction. “What was this impish young lady about? She didn’t wear glasses when she so nimbly climbed down that chestnut tree, offering him a tantalizing glimpse of endlessly long slim legs.He put the incident out of his mind and retreated to the games room. He played faro with Freddie and two of his friends, Brandon Cartwright and the baron, Gareth Reade, both of whom engaged in similar work as himself. Both happily married, they often teased him about his single state.“A friend of my wife wishes to be introduced to you,” Cartwright said with an amused curl of his lips.“Please tell Letty that the last young lady she foisted on me at that garden party decided I was hers for the evening, and damn near followed me into the gentleman’s convenience. Extricating myself proved a decidedly tricky endeavor.” Ash tossed down a card. “Can’t you control your wife, Brandon?”Reade chuckled. “The answer to that is no.”“I don’t see you having any better success with your lady wife,” Cartwright observed with an amused lift of his eyebrows. He studied his hand. “But the trouble arises when we make rash promises which enable us to continue our work for the crown, which the ladies consider too dangerous.”“Exactly,” Reade threw in his hand. “We will do or say almost anything to keep the hearth and home running peacefully.”“And you want me to marry.” Ash grimaced and laid down his cards. “Mine, I believe.” He gathered up the coins. “I’ll stick to my guns. I’m only twenty-seven. I am enjoying my freedom and have no need to look for a wife until well into my thirties.”Reade grinned. “Can we make a bet on that?”“Count me in,” Cartwright said. “And deal another hand, will you, Ash?”Ash pushed back his chair. “Forgive me, gentlemen, extremely bad manners to win and run, but I promised my grandfather I would dance at least twice. I’ll survey the ladies here tonight.” He grinned. “And no, Brandon, not Letty’s friend. Once bitten, twice shy.”He couldn’t help thinking of his grandfather as he left the card room. Grandfather’s heart had never recovered from the terrible loss of their family. Ash’s father and mother and grandmother had been travelling together on their way to Ascot in a carriage. A careless boatman had crashed his boat into the struts of a bridge, weakening it. Not long afterward, Ash’s father’s carriage had fallen into the river. They had all drowned. Ash and his grandfather were following behind in his curricle. They arrived just after the accident. The view of their loved ones fished from the cold waters, returned to haunt him at night, and his grandfather suffered it too, having lost his beloved wife, son, and daughter-in-law. The loss robbed him of his love of life. He became a virtual recluse. And now concentrated on Ash, the only member of his family left. Ash was to take care not to drive too fast or ride recklessly, and expected to marry and produce an heir. But the tragic accident had the reverse effect on Ash. He tended to ride too fast and drove his curricle at high speed. As if to tempt fate. It was the reason he now did dangerous work for the crown. And he did not want to fall in love and marry. His dalliances were brief and light-hearted and that was the way he intended to keep it for many years to come. And while that worried his grandfather, he seemed powerless to change. So he played the game, dancing with debutants at balls he’d rather not attend to give his grandfather hope.They announced a quadrille as he entered the ballroom. Not wishing to insult a lady by approaching her at the last minute, Ash leaned against a pillar and watched Miss Tothill. Sure enough, as a gentleman made a move in her direction, she was off. And this time it wasn’t toward the ladies’ retiring room.Intrigued, Ash left his position and strolled after her. To his surprise, Miss Tothill, with a nod at the footman, passed through the French doors at the far end of the ballroom.Ash followed, stepping out onto the deserted terrace where a stiff, chilly breeze blew. He expected to find her here, but there was no sign of the intrepid young lady.He descended the steps onto the lawn. The rustling bushes alerted him to her presence. Was this an assignation? If so, he would turn about and leave the lovers to it. But she appeared to be alone, where she lingered in the shrubbery beneath an open window.Tobacco smoke drifted out the window above them, along with men’s voices. Ash moved closer and listened. “We shall have to decide tonight,” a man said. “When he returns to London, we must get him while he’s alone. It’s his practice to walk along Cheyne Walk beside the Thames before retiring. A simple matter to cut his throat and toss him in the river. Remove anything valuable. The magistrate will view it as a robbery.”“Good grief, Farnborough, that’s decidedly bloodthirsty,” another said, his voice vaguely familiar.“Nor will it be so easy,” said a third man Ash couldn’t identify. “Let me close that window. Someone might overhear us.”A shadow loomed at the window.Miss Tothill, in her white dress, stood out among the greenery.In a swift tackle, Ash pulled her down on top of him, and rolled to one side to hide her with his body clad in black evening clothes. He clapped his hand over her mouth. She squirmed in outrage; her voice muffled against his palm. He enjoyed the novelty of the situation until she sank her teeth into his finger. He tightened his lips on a rebuke but kept a firm hold of her, longing to give her shapely derriere a good slap.Farnborough appeared at the window. He peered out for a moment before slamming it shut.“Be still!” he hissed. “If they see you, you’re dead.”He would have shocked her. She went limp, her fragrant, curvaceous body still pressed against his. The drawn curtains blocked out the candlelight, and shadowy gloom descended.“Let me up!” she demanded, wriggling pleasingly against him.Who was the doomed man? He would need to look into the matter, but first… He drew her to her feet.She gasped. “Who was at the window? Did… did he see us?”“Lord Eugene Farnborough.” Ash caught hold of her hand. “Now we’ll go somewhere quiet, and you can explain just what you are doing here.”***** Goodreads Review:Thank you to the author and the publisher, Dragonblade Publishing, for letting me read an ARC of this book via NetGalley!!
"A marriage of convenience could suit them both."
"Breakfast was the most necessary meal, in her grandmother's opinion, for it set one up for the day"
For fans of Bridgerton but with softer vibes ... less spicy let's say but with the really same purpose and setting, this book is for you!
I absolutely loved this book!
It was exactly what I needed ... a soft, interesting, historical romance about a young woman who wants to marry for love or , instead, live as a spinster writing ...
Most readers' dream, I'm afraid!
I loved each and every character and the writing-style made the plot easy to get through and to follow!!
I loved how independent Thea is and how much she cares for other's stories, and her grandmama ... an icon!
Ash is a great love interest and the fact that this book involved a forced-proximity trope as well as a sudden strategic marriage ... well this should say it all!!
The reading felt sure but simply because it got into it, right after the fast few pages, and it kept me captivated till the very end.
I can't wait for this to be published and possibly read more about it.
"Do you object to marrying me, or just the idea of marriage, Thea?"
"He was the man of her dreams, even though she rather thought of him as a lover and not a husband"
***** Goodreads Review:
Miss Theodosia Tothill wants to be a crime reporter. The one benefit of being in London is the chance to hear and report on more stories. She has no idea just how dangerous that can be.
Viscount Ashley Grainger works for the Crown but this latest mystery is a more personal one. It will however turn into much more.
A fascinating historical romance with a very interesting mystery to solve. Our characters must draw on unusual sources to solve it. There is danger from a very nasty man who has nothing to lose.
This story is brim full of great characters. It is part of a series but each book can be read on it's own. I do love having more than just romance in the stories.
New Pre-Order ANNOUNCING MISS THEODOSIA Book Three Once a Wallflower series - Excerpt.
Available on Pre-order for 99cents!Get it before the price goes up!ANNOUNCING MISS THEODOSIABook Three Once a Wallflower SeriesAmazon
Take an independent miss, a gentleman intent on changing her mind, a dangerous foe, and stir in a whirlwind romance.
Theodosia Tothill attends her first Season with the conviction that all men control their wives. Even her brother’s wife, who used to have opinions, is now intent on filling his nursery and talks of nothing but babies.
Inspired by her poet aunt, Thea intends to remain unmarried while pursuing her dream to write for newspapers. But her father, wary of her restlessness which has exhausted nannies, governesses and run her parents ragged over the years, is just as determined to see her safely married to a good man.
At her first ball, Thea puts her plan into action. While avoiding a gentleman intent on dancing with her, she escapes onto the terrace. Forced to retreat into the garden, she overhears a frightening conversation through the open window in the room above her. A man comes to the window and peers out.
Tackled from behind, she rolls into the shadows, to be held by a strong male body and a voice in her head which urges her to be quiet.
Thea embarks on a dangerous adventure with Lord Ashton Grainger, who she considers controlling and annoyingly inscrutable, but oh, so attractive. And her father, furious at discovering her intention to avoid suitors, becomes more determined to marry her off. He has chosen the man Thea and Ash overheard coldly planning another man’s death. Rather than reveal all to her father, who would send her back to the country, Thea avoids the gentleman intending to work with Grainger to uncover what lies behind the murderous plot. But annoyingly, Grainger refuses to indulge her.
Ash has his own concerns. He dances with debutantes at balls merely to humor his grandfather, the Earl of Highworth, who is keen to see him wed before he dies. After the family suffered a terrible tragedy, his grandfather has become a virtual recluse. With the belief the earl has years left on the earth before he needs to marry, Ash intends to continue his bachelor existence. Until he receives disturbing news which forces him to make a snap decision that will affect both his and Thea’s lives. He comes to realize it was something he wanted all along. But does Thea think the same?
When the murderous foe widens his net to include an innocent child and Thea in his sights, Ash must take matters into his own hands.
Read Free in Kindle Unlimited!
Once a Wallflower
Presenting Miss Letitia
Introducing Miss Joanna
Announcing Miss Theodosia
Except:
Unedited excerpt ©Chedworth, The Cotswold’s, April 1818In her bedchamber Thea raised her nightgown before the mirror. Only one chickenpox scar remained on her body. It was more like a dimple really near her navel. It would be there forever. For the span of her life. She would take it to the grave. She supposed it hardly mattered for a spinster. A gentleman would never see it. Unless, when she became a famous writer, she took a lover. Such a bold thought made her catch her breath, but she expected she’d grow used to the idea.Smoothing down the hem of her nightgown, Thea sank onto the bed. Confined to her bedchamber for a month thanks to contracting this infectious disease from a cousin had been such a bore. A whole month she should have been in London. A whole month of the Season gone! And now she was well enough to go to Grandmama, who loved the Season and seemed only too happy to chaperone her, but Mama still wished to wait another fortnight to be sure she had completely recovered and looked her best. Thea was in such good health, she felt as if she was bursting out of her skin. She had no wish to find or be bound to a husband. She preferred to search for intriguing matters to write about to send to magazines and newspapers. Two years ago, fired up by the writings of Mary Wollstonecraft, and inspired by her Aunt Margery who was a published poet, Thea had decided to be a writer, not of poetry nor philosophy but to bring current stories of importance to readers, and she’d spent her time browsing through everything in the library as well as her father’s newspapers, while awaiting her trip to London where she was sure there would be any number of subjects to choose from.It was so dull here in the country! Anything interesting rarely occurred to be worth writing about. She had penned a story about their previous vicar who disgraced himself by drinking the altar wine and calling Mrs. Lamont a dreadful snob, but her mother ripped up the pages.London was such a vibrant, busy place, teeming with scandals and skullduggery. She could not fail to find something significant there to make her eager to put pen to paper.But her mother intended her to marry. Thea considered it essential for women writers to remain single. Husbands demanded too much. Just look how her brother Robert treated his wife. Violet gave birth to three children in three years and was always knitting small clothes. She talked of nothing but babies when she used to have Opinions. Even Thea’s father was content to have Mother fuss around him. No, a husband would be far too disruptive.She stood and gazed wistfully at the garden. Sunlight danced on the pond, and the leaves of the gnarled old chestnut tree outside her window swayed in the breeze. The spring flowers were glorious this year. Mr. Thompson, their gardener, who worked so diligently on their behalf, deserved praise. And her mother forbade her to leave the house.Thea felt dreadfully hemmed in. Here she was, having turned eighteen and still treated like a child! She rummaged in her cupboard and brought out a pair of gumboots she’d borrowed from the gardener when it rained for weeks and turned the lawn to mud. Slipping her arms through the sleeves of her dressing gown, she firmly tied the belt. With her waist-length braid shoved over her shoulder, she mounted the windowsill. She tossed the gumboots down. Then leaning forward, her foot found the nearest branch, and she climbed out. The cool breeze swept over her, carrying the sweet scent of lilacs.How heavenly to be outside. The sun warmed her back, and sparrows fluttered around a nest in the topmost branches. Selecting a sturdy branch below, she descended cautiously. She’d climbed this tree many times and was as surefooted as a mountain goat. Down she went until, perched on the lowest branch, she gathered the folds of dressing gown about her knees, preparing to jump down.A piercing shriek rent the air. That could only be her older sister, Catherine. She was sure no one but an opera singer could hit that high note. And for so little reason!Oh bother! Cathy had spotted her. “Whatever is the matter, Cathy?” Thea called crossly. She couldn’t quite see her from the tree and leaped down. Her bare feet met soft, sun-warmed grass, and she flexed her toes appreciatively. “Why must you be so hysterical?” She turned toward the garden gate.Open mouthed, her sister stood with her hand resting on the arm of her fiancé, Lord Crispin Braithwaite, who looked very stern. But then he always did.Behind them, a very tall gentleman observed Thea, his dark brows arched over amused blue eyes. He removed his hat, his hair a glossy chestnut brightened by the sun, and bowed. He ran lightly over the ground and swooped up her gumboots. “Your slippers, Cinderella.”“Oh!”For a long moment, Thea, mortified, stood as still as a stature, her mind racing. Then she grabbed them from him as Cathy’s annoyingly little terrier, Crosby, ran to investigate. Overly excited, he danced around Thea’s bare feet with sharp barks. Aware her face flamed as red as one of Grandmama’s pampered roses, Thea sprinted over to the open French doors without pausing for a word of greeting, the gumboots hugged to her chest. While the deep chuckle of the mysterious gentleman made Thea want to cover her ears, her sister, so strictly correct in all things, apologized profusely, and led he and Crispin along the path to the front door.Thea ran upstairs and gained her room, meeting their maid, Sarah, on the way. Thea held a finger to her lips to silence the giggling girl and shut her bedchamber door. The gumboots discarded, she ran to the window and peeped from behind the curtain. Her sister still rambled on, talking nineteen to the dozen, as Williams, their butler, opened the front door. The stranger strolled slowly behind them. He paused before mounting the porch, and glanced up toward Thea’s window as if he knew she was there. As she darted back behind the curtain, the vision of his laughing blue eyes stayed with her.At the washstand, she poured water from the jug into the basin and wrung out a flannel to cool her hot cheeks. How much had he seen of her as she came down from the tree? Nothing, surely! She frowned. Cathy was sure to complain. Thea would never hear the end of it! There was no point asking her sister not to tell Mama. Not even the promise she could wear Thea’s pearl earrings left to her by Aunt Wilmot would work this time. She groaned and held the flannel over her eyes. She would be in disgrace.What form would her punishment take? Heavens! It didn’t bear thinking about. She sank back onto the bed. Who was that gentleman with Cathy and Lord Crispin? It was unlikely she’d meet him again. She certainly didn’t want to after he’d seen her bare legs and found her so amusing. She could ask Cathy who he was, but if her sister suspected Thea was interested, she’d clam up like an oyster, or tease her unmercifully. She would have to ask Williams who knew more about what took place in the Tothill residence than anyone else.***Saturday evening, Mayfair, LondonAshton Grainger strolled into the Duchess of Worthing’s ballroom accompaniedby his friend Freddie Cooper-Jones.“Another dull evening, where I must do my duty by Mother and dance with the debutantes,” Freddie said, his long face a picture of gloom.“I’m sure Mrs. Rollinson will be happy to smooth your ruffled feathers later,” Ash said.“Damn right. And incredibly good she is at it, too.” Freddie raised his auburn eyebrows. “If the earl were here to observe you, Ash, he would force you to choose a bride. Hasn’t he ordered you to wed before he dies?”“My grandfather remains in sound health. Don’t sound so hopeful I’ll be called to task, Freddie.”Freddie chuckled. “Misery loves company, my friend. Just look at the array of debs we have this year, not a beauty among them.”Ash turned and cast a subtle glance over the young women all dressed in white or varying pastel shades clustered together on benches. “They look anxious,” he observed. “Perhaps they’re no keener than you to dance.” One caught his eye, a remarkably pretty strawberry blonde, sitting apart from the rest, her glasses too big for her small, heart-shaped face. She looked vaguely familiar.“Oh, I say,” Ash murmured when he remembered. He chuckled.“What’s that?” Freddie turned to him.“I recognized one of the debutantes.”“I suppose you’ll have to dance with her then,” Freddie said with a slight shudder. He clapped Ash on the shoulder. “I’m for the gaming tables. Coming?”“Later. I believe I’ll stay awhile.”“Don’t get yourself engaged while I’m away.” With a devilish laugh, Freddie turned and made his way to the door.The musicians took their place on the dais for a country dance. Gentleman crossed the floor to claim a lady.Miss Tothill did a very odd thing. As the gentlemen sought partners, she rose from her seat and hurried from the ballroom.Ash watched a fellow pull up and change direction. “What was this impish young lady about? She didn’t wear glasses when she so nimbly climbed down that chestnut tree, offering him a tantalizing glimpse of endlessly long slim legs.He put the incident out of his mind and retreated to the games room. He played faro with Freddie and two of his friends, Brandon Cartwright and the baron, Gareth Reade, both of whom engaged in similar work as himself. Both happily married, they often teased him about his single state.“A friend of my wife wishes to be introduced to you,” Cartwright said with an amused curl of his lips.“Please tell Letty that the last young lady she foisted on me at that garden party decided I was hers for the evening, and damn near followed me into the gentleman’s convenience. Extricating myself proved a decidedly tricky endeavor.” Ash tossed down a card. “Can’t you control your wife, Brandon?”Reade chuckled. “The answer to that is no.”“I don’t see you having any better success with your lady wife,” Cartwright observed with an amused lift of his eyebrows. He studied his hand. “But the trouble arises when we make rash promises which enable us to continue our work for the crown, which the ladies consider too dangerous.”“Exactly,” Reade threw in his hand. “We will do or say almost anything to keep the hearth and home running peacefully.”“And you want me to marry.” Ash grimaced and laid down his cards. “Mine, I believe.” He gathered up the coins. “I’ll stick to my guns. I’m only twenty-seven. I am enjoying my freedom and have no need to look for a wife until well into my thirties.”Reade grinned. “Can we make a bet on that?”“Count me in,” Cartwright said. “And deal another hand, will you, Ash?”Ash pushed back his chair. “Forgive me, gentlemen, extremely bad manners to win and run, but I promised my grandfather I would dance at least twice. I’ll survey the ladies here tonight.” He grinned. “And no, Brandon, not Letty’s friend. Once bitten, twice shy.”He couldn’t help thinking of his grandfather as he left the card room. Grandfather’s heart had never recovered from the terrible loss of their family. Ash’s father and mother and grandmother had been travelling together on their way to Ascot in a carriage. A careless boatman had crashed his boat into the struts of a bridge, weakening it. Not long afterward, Ash’s father’s carriage had fallen into the river. They had all drowned. Ash and his grandfather were following behind in his curricle. They arrived just after the accident. The view of their loved ones fished from the cold waters, returned to haunt him at night, and his grandfather suffered it too, having lost his beloved wife, son, and daughter-in-law. The loss robbed him of his love of life. He became a virtual recluse. And now concentrated on Ash, the only member of his family left. Ash was to take care not to drive too fast or ride recklessly, and expected to marry and produce an heir. But the tragic accident had the reverse effect on Ash. He tended to ride too fast and drove his curricle at high speed. As if to tempt fate. It was the reason he now did dangerous work for the crown. And he did not want to fall in love and marry. His dalliances were brief and light-hearted and that was the way he intended to keep it for many years to come. And while that worried his grandfather, he seemed powerless to change. So he played the game, dancing with debutants at balls he’d rather not attend to give his grandfather hope.They announced a quadrille as he entered the ballroom. Not wishing to insult a lady by approaching her at the last minute, Ash leaned against a pillar and watched Miss Tothill. Sure enough, as a gentleman made a move in her direction, she was off. And this time it wasn’t toward the ladies’ retiring room.Intrigued, Ash left his position and strolled after her. To his surprise, Miss Tothill, with a nod at the footman, passed through the French doors at the far end of the ballroom.Ash followed, stepping out onto the deserted terrace where a stiff, chilly breeze blew. He expected to find her here, but there was no sign of the intrepid young lady.He descended the steps onto the lawn. The rustling bushes alerted him to her presence. Was this an assignation? If so, he would turn about and leave the lovers to it. But she appeared to be alone, where she lingered in the shrubbery beneath an open window.Tobacco smoke drifted out the window above them, along with men’s voices. Ash moved closer and listened. “We shall have to decide tonight,” a man said. “When he returns to London, we must get him while he’s alone. It’s his practice to walk along Cheyne Walk beside the Thames before retiring. A simple matter to cut his throat and toss him in the river. Remove anything valuable. The magistrate will view it as a robbery.”“Good grief, Farnborough, that’s decidedly bloodthirsty,” another said, his voice vaguely familiar.“Nor will it be so easy,” said a third man Ash couldn’t identify. “Let me close that window. Someone might overhear us.”A shadow loomed at the window.Miss Tothill, in her white dress, stood out among the greenery.In a swift tackle, Ash pulled her down on top of him, and rolled to one side to hide her with his body clad in black evening clothes. He clapped his hand over her mouth. She squirmed in outrage; her voice muffled against his palm. He enjoyed the novelty of the situation until she sank her teeth into his finger. He tightened his lips on a rebuke but kept a firm hold of her, longing to give her shapely derriere a good slap.Farnborough appeared at the window. He peered out for a moment before slamming it shut.“Be still!” he hissed. “If they see you, you’re dead.”He would have shocked her. She went limp, her fragrant, curvaceous body still pressed against his. The drawn curtains blocked out the candlelight, and shadowy gloom descended.“Let me up!” she demanded, wriggling pleasingly against him.Who was the doomed man? He would need to look into the matter, but first… He drew her to her feet.She gasped. “Who was at the window? Did… did he see us?”“Lord Eugene Farnborough.” Ash caught hold of her hand. “Now we’ll go somewhere quiet, and you can explain just what you are doing here.”
