Maggi Andersen's Blog, page 63

I found a lovely image for my next heroine! Lady Sibella Winborne

Portrait of Laura Bro, 1820.

Lady Sibella Winborne of the Brandreth clan in TAMING A GENTLEMAN SPY - THE SPIES OF MAYFAIR SERIES, BOOK TWO, released September 2013.

Here's an unedited taste:



The dancers spun around them to the strains of a Handel waltz. Strathairn smiled down at his partner, enjoying her slim waist beneath his hand as they danced. Lady Sibella Winborne looked like a delicate flower in a gauzy pale gown covered in amber blossom. White ostrich feather plumes adorned her luxuriant dark locks. He enjoyed looking at her. Her calm oval face lifted and she smiled at him, her mouth wide and full. A very kissable mouth. She had inherited her mother’s famous green eyes. She was a beauty, but oh, so much more: practical, composed and intelligent. Yet still unmarried, which surprised him.“You arrived late tonight. I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she said.“I was tied up with business.”“Not parliament?”“No.”She tilted her head. “Your horses, then?”He grinned at her blatant curiosity. “No.”“You won’t tell me.”“No.”Sibella laughed with good humor. “Very well. Might I find you riding in Hyde Park tomorrow?”“I hope to.”A delicate brow rose. “If business doesn’t keep you.”He laughed. “Precisely.”The music faded away. Strathairn escorted her back to her chair where her mother, the Dowager Marchioness of Brandreth, sat fanning herself among the other dowagers. He bowed, planning to slip into the rooms set aside for gambling. As much as he might wish to dance with Sibella again, it would place them under scrutiny, and faro was an effective release from the tension he always carried with him.  “Don’t rush off, Strathairn,” her sharp-eyed mother said. “We have seen little of you of late. You rarely frequent these affairs.” She waved her fan in an arc to encompass the ballroom. “Where have you been hiding?”“Not hiding, my lady, merely visiting my estates.”Lady Brandreth adjusted the cashmere shawl over her shoulders. “Did you include that pile of yours in Yorkshire?  I enjoyed the hunt ball, but it’s cold as charity in winter up in those parts.” “Not this time, but I miss it. There’s a wild beauty to the dales in winter, quite unlike southern England.”“I daresay.” Her purple turban wobbled as she nodded. “You are a fine figure of a man, Strathairn. What are you now? Five and thirty? You should marry. You’re in need of an heir.” She gestured towards her daughter sitting beside her. “Sibella will bear you healthy children. The Brandreths come of good stock, and the Wederells even better.”  “Mama, please!” He caught Sibella’s apologetic gaze and suppressed a wry smile. Her plea would have little effect; the marchioness was known to be one of the most colorful and outspoken members of the ton. The dowager batted her daughter’s protest away with her fan. “I am merely speaking the truth, Sibella.”  “Your daughter is a credit to you, my lady,” he said with a smile. “She has inherited both your beauty and intelligence.”“Now you are toad-eating.” A roguish smile lit Lady Brandreth’s face. “You always were a charmer. Sibella isintelligent. Walk with her on the terrace to discover it for yourself.”

Busy with edits but here's something of interest: The first Quadrille at Almacks

Busy with edits but here's something pretty: The first Quadrille at Almacks

The League of British Artist's Valentine Giveaway has begun!

18 Great authors! 24 fabulous books on offer, including A Baron in Her Bed. Stop over and enter at: THE LEAGUE OF BRITISH ARTIST'S

Historical Novel Review: Folly at Falconbridge Hall by Maggi Andersen

Historical Novel Review: Folly at Falconbridge Hall by Maggi Andersen: PUBLISHER’S BLURB Vanessa Ashley felt herself qualified for a position as governess, until offered the position at Falconbridge Hall. Le...

I take my characters to the Opera in the Regency Era.

A BARON IN HER BED IS RELEASED IN THE US & CANADA ON MARCH 6th!

Because my characters in A Baron in Her Bed - The Spies of Mayfair Book One go to the opera, I did some to research. Here's a taste of what I discovered.

Drury Lane 1808

Opera and drama could only be found in London at limited venues. Drury Lane and Covent Garden had the monopoly on plays and opera in English, explicitly granted by royal patent. The Kings theatre, Haymarket which had no special royal connection or license, remained the dominant presenter of opera throughout Austen’s lifetime, though it’s supremacy was challenged in the 1790s by the more conveniently located Pantheon.
The Kings Theatre and Opera House, Haymarket
The audience was composed mostly of the aristocracy, the gentry and the people of means for the ticket prices were far higher than at the theatres. Boxes, which held four to six people, were reserved, but seats in the orchestra were not, and those in line got the best seats; wealthier patrons often sent their footmen ahead to hold seats for them. While waiting for the opera to start, people could visit the coffee room, talk w3ith friends, scan the audience for famous faces, or buy a book from the “Fruit Woman” for 1s. 6d. which contained the cast and the libretto. Once the opera commenced all activity was meant to cease, but many continued to move about and indulge in conversation. Few patrons could speak Italian and the King’s Theatre could not present its performances in English.
Opera was only performed during the winter when members of the ton were in town. During summer the wealthy repaired to their country homes and the seaside. Singers then toured the country performing in provincial towns. 
Dorothea Jordan
Female performers were seen as glorified prostitutes and shunned by society, which had some basis in fact: 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.


Sarah Siddons by Thomas Gainsborough 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.”
Amazon US Buy Link:
Amazon UK Buy Link:MY WEBSITE:
Source: All Things Austen - An Encyclopedia of Austen's World Volume II

Great Review of The Folly at Falconbridge Hall!

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InD'Tale Magazine has given THE FOLLY AT FALCONBRIDGE HALL a 5 Star Review!


Vanessa Ashley is still grieving over the death of her parents
when she arrives at Falconbridge Hall. She has refused the help of a wealthy, titled uncle to accept the position of governess to Blythe, daughter of Lord Julian Falconbridge.
A scientist, Lord Falconbridge travels extensively to the
Amazon and is not home most of the time. Blythe, although a
delightful child, has been melancholy since the death of
her mother and is longing for her father's affections. As Vanessa
unravels the curious aspects of both the disappearance of the
former governess and the perplexing nature of Lord
Falconbridge she discovers her own heart has begun to heal and
is ready to find love.
Intrigue and mystery is introduced early in this story and
soon captures the reader's attention ten-fold! The author
deftly writes the character of Vanessa as strong-willed and
well-educated, making her a very interesting character that
gains one's respect and admiration. Lord Falconbridge is
equally interesting with his scientific knowledge and as the
reader journeys with him to the Amazon, the story is graced with
an exotic aspect. Thereʼs even more intrigue, however, as Lord
Falconbrige also employs a gyspy named Lovel who can
seduce a person with one look.
Suddenly, the reader is in the middle of a full blown whodunnit
with Scotland Yard on the case!
The author deserves high praise for her ability to capture the
reader's attention and engage one in both the mystery and the
romance of this delightful story!
Margaret Faria
InD’Tale Magazine

Happy Endings Giveaway Hop!

There are some great giveaways to be won at the Happy Endings Giveaway hop!

We authors have been asked to tell a story with a happy ending.

Here's mine.

We live in the countryside outside Sydney, Australia. A creek runs along the bottom of our land. In the recent heavy rain it had almost broken it's banks. Around lunchtime, our cat, Africa went for a wander. She was never away long, she's a home loving cat. A champagne Persian, she has a lovely nature and my husband and I adore her. When the hours passed and she didn't come home, I began to worry. I walked around the neighborhood calling her. We get the odd snake here and I worried that she might be hurt, or worse. I checked the roads and was relieved when I didn't spy her little furry body. It grew dark, my husband was on the expressway returning home and I was now convinced that something had happened to her. I walked down through the grounds of the neighboring house in the dim light to the creek calling her. Disheartened, I turned away, to return to the house and await my husband with the distressing news. Halfway up the garden I heard a faint mew. Racing back to the creek I called her. She mewed again. I spied her through the gloom standing on the opposite bank. The creek was too deep for me to cross. I wasn't sure what to do, to go by road meant losing sight of her for a while. Before I could decide, Affie decided for me. She swam across the creek! I have never seen a cat swim, and I knew Affie had a strong aversion to water. She followed me meekly home. She was exhausted and covered with thick mud! Something had obviously startled her possibly a snake. She'd fallen into the creek and, finding herself on the opposite bank, then got lost. I ran a warm bath and stood her in it. She quietly let me wash the grit and mud from her fur, an amazing thing in itself.
A very happy ending!

5 STAR REVIEW FOR DOG HEAD CODE - A YA ADVENTURE STORY

Score: 5.00 / 5 - Reviewer Top Pick From NIGHT OWL REVIEWS

I absolutely loved this book by Ms. Andersen! The storyline was intriguing and grabbed my attention immediately. I especially enjoyed the idea of the old book containing a map and a special unbroken code that Joe recently inherited from his late Great Uncle Jake. I found my heart pounding in my chest while Joe, his mom, Mr. Grant (Joe’s teacher) and Joe’s friend, Annie, were all inspecting the old and broken down mansion on Dog Head Island where Great Uncle Jake lived. The author planted plenty of twists and turns throughout the story to keep her readers engrossed and hanging onto her every word. Even though this story is labeled a Young Adult, I assure you that any reader of any age will walk away feeling that they’ve been on an exciting adventure alongside the characters. I highly recommend this book to readers of all ages who are looking for a fun reading adventure and I eagerly look forward to seeing what other stories this author already has available to read.
Joe Jones inherits a special book from his Great Uncle Jake containing a code and a map for Dog Head Island. Eagerly wanting to break the code and follow the map to possibly find some hidden treasures, he is joined by his mom, teacher and school friend. They all set out to explore the rundown mansion nestled on Dog Head Island, but while there, things start happening that are totally unexplainable to them. Can they get to the bottom of the unexplainable happenings? Are they all able to make it out of this old mansion alive? Does Joe ever crack the code in the book?


http://www.nightowlreviews.com/v5/Reviews/Diana-Coyle-reviews-Dog-Head-Code-by-Maggi-Andersen

Those Fascinating Gentlemen in Literature - the Rakes!

Hi everyone,
Because I write about rakes in historical romance and my new release, THE RELUCTANT MARQUESS features a rake, I thought I’d look at where it all began.
The Rake's Progress through literature.
A rake (short for rakehell) is a historic term for a man of immoral conduct. His wealth allowed him to live as he pleased and he shirked duty and marriage for pleasure. In 18th Century England, a rake was seen to be someone who wasted his inherited fortune on gambling, wine and women incurring vast debts. He was also known to seduce innocent young women and desert them after they fell pregnant.
 
In Restoration English comedy  (1660-1688) the rake was a carefree, witty, sexually irresistible aristocrat. The merry gang of courtiers, of which the 2nd Duke of Buckingham and the Earl of Dorset were a part, combined riotous living with intellectual pursuits and patronage of the arts.
After the end of Charles II rein, however, the rake took a dive into squalor. His fate was sealed in debtor's prison, venereal disease or in the case of William Hogarth's series of paintings A Rake's Progress, insanity in Bedlam.
In 1935 a ballet was made of The Rake’s Progress
In 1945 a movie
Ivor Stravinsky wrote an opera based on Hogarth’s paintings in 1951.


 This thoroughly unattractive rakehell has been turned into a brooding hero by authors such as the Bronte sisters, and later, Georgette Heyer and Barbara Cartland. In modern historical romances, he continues to be redeemed by a feisty heroine, but these stories have a happy ending.

While not all rakes in current romances are quite so black, they are reluctant to give up their rakish ways and settle down. Lord Robert, Marquess of St. Malin certainly fits this description and it takes a country girl, Charity Barlow to tame him.
 AMAZON BUY LINK:AVAILABLE IN PRINT

Here’s a taste:
The footman knocked on a solid oak door.
‘Enter.’
She stepped with trepidation into the room to be embraced by warmth. A fire blazed in the baronial fireplace where a liver-spotted spaniel lifted its head to study her. After a thump of a tail, its head sank to its paws again, lulled back to sleep by the heat. Above the fireplace, the painting of a hunting scene featured several dogs. Two tall china spaniels flanked the fireplace mantel. The heavy oak beams across the ceiling, and walls covered floor to ceiling in shelves of tomes made the room seem snug. Charity rushed over and crouched on the Oriental rug beside the animal, giving it a pat. The dog’s tail thumped harder. ‘You’re a nice fellow, aren’t you?’ Her stiff cold muscles loosened, and the icy pit at the base of her stomach began to thaw. Maybe she could be happy here. She loved dogs.
‘Welcome to Castle St. Malin.’
A man rose from behind a massive mahogany desk strewn with papers in the corner of the room. He crossed the room to greet her. He was not her godfather. She caught her breath. He was tall, his dark hair drawn back in a queue, and there was something of the marquess’ haughty demeanour about his handsome face, but she doubted he’d yet reached thirty.
‘Thank you.’ Charity could only stare at his attire, her gaze locked on his gold silk waistcoat as he bowed before her. He was in mourning, for black crepe graced the sleeve of his emerald green coat. With a sense of foreboding, she curtseyed on wobbly knees. ‘Where is the marquess, if you please?’ She looked around hoping her godfather might pop out of somewhere, but the room was otherwise empty.
‘I am the Marquess of St. Malin. My uncle passed away a short time ago.’
‘Oh. I’m so sorry.’ What she feared was true. Charity had an overwhelming desire to sit and glanced at the damask sofa.
He reacted immediately, taking her arm and escorting her to a chair. ‘Sit by the fire. You look cold and exhausted.’ He turned to the footman. ‘Bring a hot toddy for Miss Barlow.’
Charity sank down gratefully, her modest panniers settling around her.
‘I find the staff here poorly trained,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what my uncle was about.’
‘Why did you send a carriage for me?’ she asked, leaning back against the sofa cushions. ‘I wouldn’t have come had I known.’
‘I thought it best to sort the matter out here and now.’ He rested an elbow on a corner of the mantel and stirred the dog with a foot. ‘Shame on you, Felix. You might accord Miss Barlow a warm welcome.’ He looked at her. ‘My uncle’s dog; he’s mourning his master.’ He raised his brows. ‘Notice of my uncle’s passing appeared in The Daily Universal Register.’
‘We don’t get that newspaper in my village.’
‘You don’t? I wasn’t aware of you until the reading of the will. Then I learned of your parents’ death from my solicitor. I’m very sorry.’
‘Thank you. I’m sorry, too, about your uncle.’
‘My uncle fell ill only a few months ago. He rallied and then …’ The new marquess’ voice faded. He sighed and stared into the fire.
‘You must have been very fond of him,’ Charity said into the quiet pause that followed. Though, if she were honest, she felt surprise that the cool man she remembered could have provoked that level of affection.
He raised his eyes to meet hers and gave a bleak smile. ‘Yes, I was fond of him. He always had my interest at heart, you see.’ He sat in the oxblood leather chair opposite and rested his hands on his knees. ‘I am his acknowledged heir, and the legalities have been processed. I’ve inherited the title and the entailed properties. The rest of his fortune will pass to another family member should I fail to conform to the edicts of his will.’
‘His will?’ Charity gripped her sweaty hands together, she couldn’t concentrate on anything the man said. Her mind whirled, filled with desperate thoughts. With her godfather dead, where would she go from here? Her heart raced as she envisioned riding off along the dark cliffs to join a theatre troupe, or become a tavern wench.
‘This must be difficult for you to take in, and I regret having to tell you tonight before you have rested. But I’m compelled to move quickly as you have no chaperone and have travelled here alone …’
She raised her chin. ‘There was no one to accompany me.’  She would not allow him to make her feel like a poor relation, even though she was quite definitely poor. And alone. She hated that more than anything. What had her godfather left her? She hoped it would allow her some measure of independence and wasn’t just a vase or the family portrait.
The footman entered, carrying a tray with a cup of steaming liquid. Charity took the drink and sipped it gratefully. It was warming and tasted of a spicy spirit. She found it hard to concentrate on his words, as her mind retreated into a fog and her eyes wandered around the room. She finished the drink, which had heated her insides, and allowed her head to loll back against the cushions. Her gaze rested on her host, thinking he would be handsome if he smiled. She was so tired, and the warmth of the fire made her drowsy. What was he saying?
‘It’s the best thing for both of us, don’t you agree?’
She shook her head to try and clear it. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’
He frowned. ‘The will states we must marry. Straightaway, I’m afraid.’
‘I … What? I’m to m-marry you?’ Placing her cup down carefully on the table she struggled to her feet, fighting fatigue and the affects of whatever it was she’d just drunk. Smoothing her gown, she glanced at the door through which she intended to depart at any moment. ‘I have no intention …’
His lips pressed together in a thin line. ‘I know it’s perplexing. I didn’t intend to wed for some years. I certainly would have preferred to choose whom I married, as no doubt would you.’
Her jaw dropped. What kind of man was this? She had been raised to believe that marriage was a sacred institution. He made it sound so … inconsequential. She stared at him. ‘The will states I must marry you?’
‘Yes, that’s exactly what it states.’ He rose abruptly with a rustle of silk taffeta and moved closer to the fire. She wondered if he might be as nervous as she. ‘Unless I’m prepared to allow my uncle’s unentailed fortune go to a distant relative. Which I am not. As I have said.’ His careful tone suggested he thought her a simpleton. Under his unsympathetic gaze, she sank back down onto the sofa. ‘You are perfectly within your rights to refuse, but I see very few options open to you. As my wife, you will live in comfort. You may go to London to enjoy the Season. I shall give you a generous allowance for gowns and hats, and things a lady must have.’ His gaze wandered over her cream muslin gown, and she placed a hand on the lace that disguised the small patch near her knee. ‘What do you say?’
She tilted her head. ‘I shall receive an allowance? For gowns, and hats, and things a lady must have.’
‘Exactly,’ he said with a smile, obviously quite pleased with himself. ‘I see we understand each other perfectly. So … do you agree?’
What was wrong with this man? Slowly, Charity released a heavy sigh. She could barely contemplate such a thing as this, and yet he acted as though he’d solved all the problems of the world with fashion accessories. She had hoped for a small stipend, but marriage! And to a complete stranger. She couldn’t! Not for all the gowns and hats on earth. She straightened up in her chair and lifted her chin. Her words were clipped and precise, and she hoped beyond hope he would accept her decision gracefully. ‘I say no, Lord St. Malin.’
‘No? Really?’
‘Yes, really.’
‘How disappointing,’ he said quietly.
She gulped as his heavy-lidded eyes continued to study her from head to foot. She was uncomfortably aware that the mist had sent her hair into a riot of untidy curls, and she smoothed it away from her face with both hands as she glanced around the room. She tucked a muddy shoe out of sight beneath her gown and then forced herself to meet his gaze. Might he like anything of what he saw? Her father loved that she had inherited her mother’s tiny waist, and she thought her hands pretty. His lordship’s gaze strayed to her breasts and remained there rather long. She sucked in a breath as her heart beat faster. When their eyes met did she detect a gleam of approval? It only made her more nervous.

Excerpt 2
Robert dropped his hand and went to sit on the sofa. He watched her walk around the room, her skirts swaying gracefully around her. ‘Come here.’
She remained where she was.
‘Please?’
‘If you wish.’ She crossed the room to stand by his side.
He took her hand, turning it over in his large one, marvelling at her delicate, pointed fingers. He thought of the carvings he’d seen on her mantel. ‘I’m sorry I snapped at you.’
‘Are you?’ She pulled her hand away, her voice doubtful.
He patted the sofa beside him. ‘We need to learn more about one another, don’t you agree?’
When she hesitated, he seized her by the waist and tumbled her onto his lap.
‘The servants might come in.’ Charity struggled to rise, but he held her fast within his arms.
‘No, they won’t.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘They wouldn’t dare. I told them we wished to be alone.’
Her green eyes widened. ‘Why do such a thing? There will be gossip in the servants’ quarters.’
‘Servants love to talk. Why must we deny them something to talk about?’ His hands roamed from her tiny waist to her bodice and her full breasts, enjoying the feel of her soft curves. She was unlike the willowy women he was used to. Her derriere felt plump and delightful against his hardening erection. Should he stop? He struggled with his conscience and his conscience lost. He slid his hands up her smooth thigh, wishing to bare her body and study every bit of her he wanted to kiss and lick.
‘Robert, should you…’                                  
‘Yes. I intend to make love to you.’
She squirmed and gasped. Her full lips open and inviting. ‘Now? Here?’
‘Why not now and here?’ he asked, forced to remove his hand as she jumped up.  He drew her down again. ‘Don’t you want me to touch you?’
‘But this is scandalous.’ Charity’s eyes widened, her small pink tongue licked her bottom lip, sending a bolt of fire straight to his groin. She gave a shy smile. ‘A kiss perhaps.’
He found himself trembling as if it was the first time for him too, when he took her chin in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. Charity gave a soft moan. Her hands moved through his hair to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. God, he’d started something now. How he wanted this luscious and delicate woman.
She drew away with a deep shuddering breath. ‘The bedchamber at night would surely be the ….’
Robert began to undo the buttons on her gown. ‘I find myself unable to wait.’
‘Unable? But you said …’                                              
He undid the last button and pulled her gown away. Leaning forward, he kissed the tender nape of her neck. ‘Can’t a man change his mind?’



My books featuring Georgian and Regency rakes:  
THE RELUCTANT MARQUESS
HOW TO TAME A RAKE
LOVE AND WAR
REGENCY BUCK (PRINT ANTHOLOGY)
A BARON IN HER BED ~ THE SPIES OF MAYFAIR SERIES, Book One.
           
You might like to read my free Regency short stories on my website: Caroline and the Captain and The Earl Takes a Ward.
My Spies of Mayfair Series A BARON IN HER BED is published in the US on March 6th.
More information about my books can be found at: http://www.maggiandersenauthor.com