Judith Arnopp's Blog, page 24

The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour presents - Mercedes Rochelle, author of The Usurper King - The Plantagenet Legacy Book 3

 

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Book Title: The Usurper King

Series: The Plantagenet Legacy Book 3

Author: Mercedes Rochelle

Publication Date: TBC

Publisher: Sergeant Press

Page Length: 308 Pages

Genre: Historical Fiction

The Usurper King

(The Plantagenet Legacy, Book 3)

By Mercedes Rochelle

From Outlaw to Usurper, Henry Bolingbroke fought one rebellion after another.

First, he led his own uprising. Gathering support the day he returned from exile, Henry marched across the country and vanquished the forsaken Richard II. Little did he realize that his problems were only just beginning. How does a usurper prove his legitimacy? What to do with the deposed king? Only three months after he took the crown, Henry IV had to face a rebellion led by Richard's disgruntled favorites. Worse yet, he was harassed by rumors of Richard's return to claim the throne. His own supporters were turning against him. How to control the overweening Percies, who were already demanding more than he could give? What to do with the rebellious Welsh? After only three years, the horrific Battle of Shrewsbury nearly cost him the throne—and his life. It didn't take long for Henry to discover that that having the kingship was much less rewarding than striving for it.

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EXCERPT: Prince Hal must tell Queen Isabella about Richard's death

Isabella of Valois was probably the only person in England who did not know about Richard's funeral. She was fourteen now and kept in close confinement at Havering-atte-Bower, where she was taken after the failed rebellion. Her prison was an old royal palace to the northeast of London, modest but comfortable. She knew Richard's life was in danger and was worried sick about him. Alas, no matter how much she cried and demanded to visit her husband, she was politely refused. So she was relieved when the Prince of Wales was announced, for of all King Henry's children he was closest to her in age and they had gotten along well before he went to Ireland. Before her life fell apart.

Hal came in by himself and knelt before her—a gesture sorely lacking these many months. He had grown much taller since she last saw him, and his shoulders had filled out from training. Unsurprisingly, his stiff posture had not relaxed, nor had his eyes softened; they were guarded as usual. 

Blinking back tears, she held out her hands. "You are a welcome sight, my lord. Thank you for visiting me."

Slowly he stood and together they walked over to a window seat. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she smiled self-consciously. It had been so long since she had a visitor, she was not dressed like a princess. Hal didn't seem to care. 

"Do you have everything you need?" he said, trying to find a good place to start a conversation.

Isabella nodded. She knew that's not why he was here. "I had hoped to see my husband," she said softly. She knew this was none of his doing, but she had to make her feelings known to somebody.

At least Hal had the grace to look embarrassed. "I loved King Richard like a father," he said earnestly, trying to take her hand. "He was very good to me."

"Loved?" Her eyes narrowed. "You love him no longer?"

He sighed. There was no easy way to say this. "My lady, there is something I must tell you."

She pulled her hand away, panic spreading over her face. "What has happened to him?"

As he struggled to find the words, Isabella broke into tears. "He's dead, isn't he?" She covered her face with her hands. "My poor Richard. How could you do this to him?"

Stricken, Hal fell to his knees. "I swear to you, I am overcome with anguish. I didn't even know where he was kept."

Lowering her hands, she looked at him doubtfully. "Do you expect me to believe that?"

Hal shook his head. "I am not privy to my father's decisions."

"How can that be?"

He hesitated, biting his lip. "It seems my father trusts no one, except for the archbishop. And perhaps his inner circle. We were never close."

She was not convinced. However, there was no point in arguing. "How did Richard die?" Her voice was so soft he barely heard her. 

"It is said that after the rebellion, he stopped eating. This went on for almost two weeks when they sent a confessor to reason with him. Relenting, he tried to eat but by then he was unable to swallow. Sadly, he expired shortly thereafter."

"Dear God, he starved to death?"

"That is what I am told." This sounded weak, even to him. What could he do? Richard's death was shrouded in mystery. 

"Do you believe this?" Isabella's voice was harsh. 

"Of course I do." Hal tried to sound sincere. 

"I expect to attend his funeral," she said firmly. Once again, he hesitated and she couldn't restrain her tears. "You wouldn't stop me, would you?"

Hal had to fight back his rage at his father. He was furious to discover Isabella hadn't been told about the funeral and insisted he be the one to break the tidings to her. Now he regretted it. 

"It's too late, Isabella. The king thought it best for you not to attend."

"Not to attend?" Her voice rose to a shriek. 

Hal stood, stepping back. "He sent me to tell you. He thought it would be best for you to hear from my lips." 

Did she even heed him? Turning away, she threw herself onto the cushion, crying uncontrollably. Looking around the room, Hal went over to a sideboard and poured a cup of water. He knelt by her side, holding it out.

"Here, drink this."

Hiccoughing, she sat obediently, accepting the water. 

"I promise you, I will do my best to see you are well taken care of," he said.

She stopped drinking. "What does it matter? I've lost everything I care about."

Defeated, Hal got up to leave.

"Wait." 

He stopped, his back to her.

"When?"

He was hoping she wouldn't ask. Turning, Hal wiped his hands on his sides. "The funeral was the twelfth of March." 

"That was months ago!" 

He waited for her to start wailing again and she surprised him by her restraint. "I see how it is," she said sadly. "Once again I am a pawn in your game. I am not supposed to have feelings. I must do what I am told for I have no choice."

She was breaking his heart. "My dear friend, you are not the only one."

Henry's response gave her pause. She cocked her head, considering him for a moment. "I am sorry we are enemies," she said. "In another world we might have been friends. Please, Hal. Help me go home."

***

Author Bio:

Mercedes Rochelle is an ardent lover of medieval history, and has channeled this interest into fiction writing. Her first four books cover eleventh-century Britain and events surrounding the Norman Conquest of England. The next series is called The Plantagenet Legacy about the struggles and abdication of Richard II, leading to the troubled reigns of the Lancastrian Kings. She also writes a blog: HistoricalBritainBlog.com to explore the history behind the story. Born in St. Louis, MO, she received by BA in Literature at the Univ. of Missouri St.Louis in 1979 then moved to New York in 1982 while in her mid-20s to “see the world”. The search hasn’t ended! Today she lives in Sergeantsville, NJ with her husband in a log home they had built themselves.

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The Coffee Pot Book Club welcomes Saving Grace by H. D. Coulter

 

Book Title: Saving Grace: Deception. Obsession. Redemption.

Series: The Ropewalk series, Book 2

Author: H D Coulter

Publication Date: 11th May 2021

Publisher: Independently Published 

Page Length: 330 Pages

Genre: Historical Fiction

Saving Grace: Deception. Obsession. Redemption.

(The Ropewalk series, Book 2)

By H D Coulter

(Blurb)

Beacon Hill, Boston. 1832.

“You are innocent. You are loved. You are mine.”

After surviving the brutal attack and barely escaping death at Lancaster Castle, Beatrice Mason attempts to build a new life with her husband Joshua across the Atlantic in Beacon Hill. But, as Beatrice struggles to cope with the pregnancy and vivid nightmares, she questions whether she is worthy of redemption.

Determined to put the past behind her after the birth of her daughter Grace, Bea embraces her newfound roles of motherhood and being a wife. Nevertheless, when she meets Sarah Bateman, their friendship draws Bea towards the underground railroad and the hidden abolitionist movement, despite the dangerous secrets it poses. Whilst concealed in the shadows, Captain Victor Hanley returns, obsessed with revenge and the desire to lay claim to what is his, exposes deceptions and doubts as he threatens their newly established happiness.

Now, Beatrice must find the strength to fight once more and save Grace, even if it costs her life.

An Excerpt from Chapter 2

Ulverston 1832.

“That is quite a debt you are racking up, dear Max.” Hanley stacked the gold coins into a pile as he held the owing slips of paper in his left hand.

“I can pay you; I just need a couple of days to free up the money.” Max licked out the last dregs of whiskey from his glass. There were three other tables surrounding them in one of the smaller rooms in the club where high stakes were thrown away more often than anyone involved cared to note.

Hanley grinned and gestured to the serving staff to bring two more. “On me.” They placed the tumblers down in front of them within seconds. With a simple nod, Max lifted his and swallowed the contents it in one gulp. “We both know you are running out of capital. That’s the dreadful business with ships, you never quite know when you’re going to lose them like that.”

Max relaxed back in his chair and allowed the haze of alcohol to blur his thoughts. “Storms happen... we have insurance.”

“Yes... and yet I had heard they are refusing to pay - and that would suggest you owe me a great deal of money that you simply do not have.” Hanley laid the pieces of paper in front of him like tarot cards, then gathered five more from his pocket and added them to the spread. “Your friends were more than happy to allow me to buy your debt.”

Max jumped forward in his chair and stared at the extra pieces of paper on the cards table. “You will get your money – I just need time.” He could no longer hide the panic in his voice.

“But Max - I can make sure the wheel of fortune turns again and makes all your troubles disappear.” Hanley drew an invisible wheel in the air in front of them, turning it around with his hand. Max watched the motion as if Hanley were casting a spell over him.

“What... what would you want in return?”

“Information... tell me where they are.”

“Who?”

The Captain’s face twitched in anger and his tone became darker. “The boy and his whore.”

“I don’t know. I cut ties with him after that dreadful... situation.” Max paused, remembering who he was speaking to and the lengths that person would go to to achieve their aims.

“A little birdie has told me he has been sending you letters.” Hanley held the younger man’s gaze, warning him to weigh his next words.

Max leaned in a little closer and lowered his voice from the other gentlemen in the room. “If I told you, then – then it would all disappear – the debt?”

Hanley mirrored his actions playfully. “You have my word.”

“They... they are in America. Boston, to be exact.”

“Excellent, what else?”

“He wants help to find work. Once word spread of their situation, none of the usual employers would send him a reference after they heard his own father had washed his hands of him. Without a reference, he can’t get a decent situation, not one that would... suit.” Max stared down at his empty glass, longing for it to fill once more with whiskey. Hanley paused, his hand in the air, and waited. “Joshua seems to think I can help him, that I know of people in Boston. I told him... I couldn’t - I can’t... I won’t, I won’t help him now, not anymore - but the letters keep coming.” Hanley moved two fingers, a sign for a refill.

“I want you to send him a letter back, informing him of the contrary – a convenient position in Boston has manifested itself, and you can furnish him with the relevant names and addresses.”

“Why? What’s in it for you, Hanley? Why would you want to help him get a job?” Max paused, the glass touching his lips, the smell of the single malt intoxicating.

“That is none of your business now, is it, Max? But, if you do this, I will sweeten the deal by having a word with your insurance company.”

Even through his hazy thoughts, Max realised the power that this man held, and knew it would not be wise to cross him, especially on the behalf of a disgraced and former friend. “If you tell me what to write, I... I will send it.” He masked the taste of guilt and betrayal in his mouth as he gulped down the whiskey. “I must say, it will make him pleased, especially with the news... Oh -”

“What news?” Hanley tilted his head,, and a curious grin fell across his mouth. 

“That he... well... he is to be a father, you see. A wedding night blessing, he said, but if that’s the case why ask for me to keep it quiet...?”

“Now... that is excellent news!” Hanley looked elated as he ordered two more drinks. “We must toast to their newfound fortune.”

Confused as to what he might have said, Max kept his thoughts to himself on the transaction. “You will... keep to your part of the deal, won’t you, Victor?”

“You doubt me?”

“No, no, of course not.” Max lowered his eyes from Hanley’s stare; the world was moving around him, a sign he needed to call it a night.

Hanley played with the pieces of paper in his hands, shuffling them like a deck of cards. “A man will deliver a letter to you tomorrow. You must copy it, word for word, and hand it back to him. In return you will get your little pieces of paper, and the good news you’ve been waiting for.” Max nodded in agreement, finished the last of his drink, and made his move to leave. Hanley rose to his feet and remarked loudly, “A pleasure doing business with you, Sir Max Elliot.”

Max held his head high and staggered out of the club, dotting his hat to familiar faces and disapproving looks.

Hanley sat back in his chair and gestured for another drink. Joyous news. His plan was taking effect and now, on top of everything, he was going to be a father. He knew there was no way the baby was a wedding-night blessing. He relived the event in his head for the hundredth time, knowing he had left his seed in her. There was no doubt in his mind that the baby was his, but what was he going to do about it? He smiled at the imminent chaos, wishing he had been there when she had realised, when she had told Mason boy of the news.

 An image of Bea popped into his head, smiling at her sisters in their old cottage kitchen. How much they had looked like her; how sweet she had seemed... how innocent. The scene shifted to her standing in front of him, holding out their child. His child. And in that moment, he knew the game had shifted.

Copyright: H D Coulter

Saving Grace: Deception. Obsession. Redemption. 

Book 2 in the Ropewalk series. 

Published 11th May 2021.

Buy Links:

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Ropewalk; Rebellion. Love. Survival (The Ropewalk Series, Book 1) is only 0.99 on ebook during the tour. Here are the buy links:

Amazon UK: Amazon US: Universal Link to other bookshops: 

H D Coulter

Hayley was born and raised in the lake district and across Cumbria. From a young age, Hayley loved learning about history, visiting castles and discovering local stories from the past. Hayley and her partner lived in Ulverston for three years and spent her weekends walking along the Ropewalk and down by the old harbour. She became inspired by the spirit of the area and stories that had taken place along the historic streets.

As a teacher, Hayley had loved the art of storytelling by studying drama and theatre. The power of the written word, how it can transport the reader to another world or even another time in history. But it wasn't until living in Ulverston did she discover a story worth telling. From that point, the characters became alive and she fell in love with the story.

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Sign up to Hayley’s newsletter between now and May 30th to be placed into a giveaway raffle for a personalised BookBox, including a signed copy of Ropewalk and Saving Grace.

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The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour is proud to host Anne O'Brien author of The Queen’s Rival

Book Title: The Queen's Rival

Author: Anne O'Brien

Publication Date: 15th April 2021(paperback) September 2020 (Hardback and ebook)

Publisher: HarperCollins

Page Length: 531 pages

Genre: Historical Fiction

Twitter Handle: @anne_obrien @maryanneyarde

Instagram Handless: @coffeepotbookclub

The Queen's Rival

Anne O'Brien

England, 1459. 

One family united by blood. Torn apart by war…

The Wars of the Roses storm through the country, and Cecily Neville, Duchess of York, plots to topple the weak-minded King Henry VI from the throne.

But when the Yorkists are defeated at the battle of Ludford Bridge, Cecily’s family flee and abandon her to face a marauding Lancastrian army on her own.

Stripped of her lands and imprisoned in Tonbridge Castle, the Duchess begins to spin a web of deceit. One that will eventually lead to treason, to the fall of King Henry VI, and to her eldest son being crowned King Edward IV.

The Queen's Rival Excerpt

Duchess Cecily takes the King to task in Reading Abbey, September 1464

Edward, King of England, stood before me.

‘Where is she?’

‘Who?’

‘Do not be obtuse, Edward.’

I could not address him as Ned. There was no maternal affection within me.

His eyes widened with just the hint of the temper that he rarely showed to me.

‘You refer to my wife, Madam.’

A little silence fell, broken only by a squawk from the popinjay that had been consigned to the corner of the room. I ignored the wine poured and presented to me. Rejected the delicacy of fried fig pastries he had ordered to sweeten my mood. There would be no sweetening here.

‘What have you done, Edward? What in God’s name have you done?’

Replacing the cup on the salver, my son stood foursquare before me. He had known that he would have to face this conversation with me. They said that he was charismatic in his treatment of women. There was no doubting it. His smile could have melted winter ice.

‘I have entered into a marriage. Was that not what you had been commanding me to do since the day that I became King?’

The truth of this stirred my anger to a new level of heat.

‘I am finding it difficult to choose my words. You have married a commoner, a woman of no connection, a woman already wed, with a family of her own, and so defiled. A Queen of England should be a spotless virgin, not a widow. I can barely believe the truth of it, that you should have embarked on so misguided a policy.’

‘I regret that you are so dismissive of my choice of wife.’ How smooth he was. How adult. I remembered that he was now two and twenty years old. ‘Not one word to wish us happy. I might have hoped for more.’

At least his smile had waned.

‘Happy is not a concept for a King when entering into matrimony,’ I replied. ‘Did you not think? Did you not stop and consider before you committed the deed? As King of England you had your choice of European women of high birth. Bona of Savoy would have been the perfect match. Your children would be magnificently connected to the best blood of England and France. Here was a chance to tie France into an alliance which would defeat the Lancastrians for ever. Since, without a reply, Edward picked up his own cup and drank, I continued.

‘Instead you have chosen a woman who will give you no advantage, and in so doing you have antagonised Warwick, humiliated King Louis, horrified your Council. And if that were not enough you have angered the bedrock of your Yorkist followers whose blood has been spilt in our cause on the battlefield. They think that you have betrayed them by this marriage. Surely I and your father raised you to see the value of making and keeping friends in political circles. You have destroyed so much goodwill. It will serve you badly if King Louis, feeling thwarted by your inexplicable volte-face, promptly gives his support to Queen Marguerite and furnishes her with French troops to win the throne back for her son. We could have a French army landing on our shores within months, and it will be entirely your own fault.’

Which at last prompted my son into some level of response.

‘You take no account of the reason why I asked that she would wed me. It is very clear to anyone who knows me well, and who knows the lady. I fell in love. I wed her because I did not wish to live without her.’

His features were alight with it. I would not be persuaded.

‘Love! It is an embarrassment.’

And there again was the flash of temper in his eyes as they held mine without any sense of regret.

‘I love her! Did I not appreciate the problems surrounding this marriage? I am neither ignorant or naive, but the moment I set eyes on Mistress Grey, my heart was hers, as hers was mine. I wed her because I wished to spend my life with her. I know that she will be an unimpeachable Queen.’

His confidence was disquieting. 'You say that you are not naive. This marriage was the opportunity to make that one single irrevocable alliance with a European power through the hand of a foreign Princess. Instead you have thrown it away on a family of little renown. Rivers, a man of meagre nobility. Jacquetta, it is true, the daughter of some distant branch of the family of Luxembourg, but it does not make amends for Woodville’s less than glorious birth.’

‘I care not.’

‘You should care. A King, particularly a new King with a kingdom to take in hand, should wed a virgin, a woman of pure reputation. It is not acceptable for you to wed a widow.’

My son’s face was wiped clean of any expression, but he was not lost for words.

‘It’s always an education to hear your views of my character, Madam.’  Edward, opening the door for me to depart, bowed with a perfect degree of respect, denied by his closing words.

‘I hope you will change your mind. In the interest of harmony in my household.  If you will not, then I fear that you will be the loser.’

Before the door closed behind me, all I heard was the popinjay’s shriek, startled by some reaction from within the room. Edward laughed. The popinjay had more effect on him than I.

All was clear, like iron nails hammered into a coffin. Elizabeth Woodville would be Queen of England. I had been supplanted by a woman for whom I had no respect.

At some point I would have to meet her.

What a game that would be to play out. Queen versus King’s Mother.

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Barnes and Noble:  Waterstones:  Kobo:  Audio:  Blackwells: WHSmith: 

Anne O’Brien

Sunday Times Bestselling author Anne O’Brien was born in West Yorkshire. After gaining a BA Honours degree in History at Manchester University and a Master’s in Education at Hull, she lived in East Yorkshire for many years as a teacher of history.

Today she has sold over 700,000 copies of her books medieval history novels in the UK and internationally. She lives with her husband in an eighteenth-century timber-framed cottage in the depths of the Welsh Marches in Herefordshire. The area provides endless inspiration for her novels which breathe life into the forgotten women of medieval history.

Website:  Twitter:  Facebook:  LinkedIn:  Pinterest: Amazon Author Page:  Goodreads:  

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The Coffee Pot Book Blog Tour welcomes Discerning Grace (Book One of The White Sails Series) by Emma Lombard,

Book Title: Discerning Grace

Series: The White Sails Series

Author: Emma Lombard

Publication Date: 22 February 2021

Page Length: 372 pages

Genre: Historical Women’s Fiction

Discerning Grace

(Book One of The White Sails Series)

By Emma Lombard

As the first full-length novel in The White Sails Series, DISCERNING GRACE captures the spirit of an independent woman whose feminine lens blows the ordered patriarchal decks of a 19th century tall ship to smithereens.

Wilful Grace Baxter, will not marry old Lord Silverton with his salivary incontinence and dead-mouse stink. Discovering she is a pawn in an arrangement between slobbery Silverton and her calculating father, Grace is devastated when Silverton reveals his true callous nature.

Refusing this fate, Grace resolves to stow away. Heading to the docks, disguised as a lad to ease her escape, she encounters smooth-talking naval recruiter, Gilly, who lures her aboard HMS Discerning with promises of freedom and exploration in South America.

When Grace's big mouth lands her bare-bottomed over a cannon for insubordination, her identity is exposed. The captain wants her back in London but his orders, to chart the icy archipelago of Tierra del Fuego, forbid it. Lieutenant Seamus Fitzwilliam gallantly offers to take Grace off the fretting captain's hands by placing her under his protection.

Grace must now win over the crew she betrayed with her secret, while managing her feelings towards her taciturn protector, whose obstinate chivalry stifles her new-found independence. But when Grace disregards Lieutenant Fitzwilliam's warnings about the dangers of the unexplored archipelago, it costs a friend his life and she realises she is not as free as she believes.

***

EXCERPT Discerning Grace (The White Sails Series Book 1)

London, 13 May 1826

A deep-throated rumble of laughter drew Grace’s eyes across the crowded drawing room and over to Uncle Farfar. Heading over to him, she admired the double row of gold buttons on his blue naval coat glinting in the luminescence of the gilt chandelier above. The crystal beads cast a sprinkling of starlight around the room. The evening had a distinctly tropical aura, with wide-fronded palms and vines spilling from all corners in a waterfall of greenery. Mother’s décor was fanciful and faux.

Uncle Farfar beckoned a young man, the single epaulette on his right shoulder announcing that he was a lieutenant in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. 

“Ah, Fitzwilliam. Just in time,” beamed Uncle Farfar, his face flushed with pleasure. Uncle Farfar was actually Admiral Arthur Jameson Baxter, highly decorated for his successful engagement in Admiral Nelson’s campaign at the Battle of Trafalgar. He had lovingly endured the childhood nickname Grace had bestowed upon him when she was eighteen months old and unable to pronounce his name, Uncle Arthur. He had not escaped the deep weathering of a man who had spent his life at sea, and though his face was much rounder these days, he still had a kindness in his eyes. 

Centring himself between Grace and the new arrival, Uncle Farfar said, “Lieutenant Seamus Fitzwilliam, may I introduce you to Miss Grace Baxter, my niece and the delight of my life.”

Grace smiled politely, admiring the shades of gold shimmering across Fitzwilliam’s smoothed-back hair, caught tidily in a black silk ribbon at his graceful nape.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Baxter,” said Fitzwilliam, formally kissing her hand.

“Lieutenant.” Grace took her hand back, fingers curling, and Fitzwilliam clasped his own behind his back.

Uncle Farfar’s sharp eyes flicked across the room, and his cordiality shrivelled. “God save us, see who approaches? Lord Silverton.”

Lord Silverton appeared closer to a hundred years old, despite him only being in his early fifties. He was also a childless widower of renowned wealth and lineage. His bulging midriff announced no shortage of good food. He had been a mysterious figure on the outskirts of Grace’s life since she could remember, but no number of years had lessened her discomfort around him.

“Your servant, madam,” drawled Silverton, bowing stiffly.

Grace dipped her head in greeting, lowering her gaze from Silverton’s beady eyes to the neatly tied cravat at the base of his bulbous, waggling chin. How could any respectable lady willingly draw herself to the attention of this crusty, timeworn creature?

“Your gown is simply delightful, Miss Baxter,” said Silverton. “Reminds me of the gossamer wings of a dragonfly.” Silverton’s obtrusive stare only blackened Uncle Farfar’s mood further. Oblivious, Silverton droned on, “Fascinating creatures! Dragonfly rituals of courtship may appear romantic to those inclined to observe the world through rose-coloured spectacles, but the amazing show of flips and spirals is usually the female trying to escape the boorish behaviour of the males.”

“I cannot possibly imagine how that feels,” Grace muttered, peering impassively around the crowded room. Fitzwilliam’s quick, dry cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and Grace studied him from the corner of her eye. His face betrayed nothing.

Just then, the butler rang the bell. 

Silverton’s beady eyes fixed on Grace. “Would you care to dine with me this evening, Miss Baxter?”

Uncle Farfar cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind, Silverton, I’d appreciate my niece’s company this evening.” 

Uncle Farfar drew Grace away before Silverton could say anything more and ushered her into the dining room. Fitzwilliam followed two steps behind with his allotted dinner companion, Miss Pettigrew. Her petite hand curled in his elbow, and her coifed black hair barely met his shoulder. Grace had made her acquaintance only once before and realised with a sinking heart that she was in for an evening of little to no conversation with the demure creature, should she be stuck beside her. The stretched table was laid with the snowiest of linen and set with such precision that even the King of England would have been pressed to find fault. 

Uncle Farfar waved at the empty chairs. “Would you care to sit between Lieutenant Fitzwilliam and me, Grace dear? You might need to give me a kick under the table if we bore you with too much naval chatter.”

Grace sank into her chair. “Nonsense, Uncle. I do so enjoy your tales.”

Fitzwilliam waited for Miss Pettigrew to be seated as she gave him a simpering smile. A wave of relief washed over Grace at not being stuck with Silverton for the evening. 

Uncle Farfar clearly had the same thoughts, and he chuckled, “At least you’re squirrelled with us, away from that pompous windbag.”

Grace peered down the long table, her eyes narrowing as she caught Silverton’s beady eyes, grey as a wolf’s pelt, roaming freely across her décolletage. She scratched absentmindedly at the fine lace edging around the low neck of her lavender gown, aware that her unladylike fidgeting would likely irk Father at some point in the evening. But it could not be helped. Lace was so wretchedly itchy.

Fitzwilliam pulled in his chair and nodded at Captain Steven Fincham sitting stiffly opposite him like a squat Napoleonic figure. Dark circles beneath Fincham’s bleary, bloodshot eyes gave Grace the impression that he was in poor health, suffering from the crapulous effects of intoxication, or both.

With the soup course over, Grace eyed the line of footmen entering with platters laden with succulent roast lamb. The thin slices were perfectly browned on the outside with just a peek of pink inside. Her stomach grumbled at the rich, buttery scent of the potatoes being served onto her plate. She intended to enjoy every mouthful. At the sound of cutlery pinging on glass, Grace turned her attention to her father, Lord Flint, who rose with his wine glass raised. 

“As you know, my dear wife’s partiality to dinner parties ensures they happen with alarming regularity.” A polite smattering of laughter rippled around the table. “But tonight, we have two guests who deserve our well wishes.” Father inclined his bewigged head at Fincham. “Captain Fincham and Lieutenant Fitzwilliam will soon be leaving England’s fair shores to expand our great nation’s knowledge of the world.” His crystal cut glass glimmered in the candlelight. “To a safe and prosperous journey, gentlemen.”

Universal Link: 

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Emma Lombard was born in Pontefract in the UK. She grew up in Africa—calling Zimbabwe and South Africa home for a few years—before finally settling in Brisbane Australia, and raising four boys. Before she started writing historical fiction, she was a freelance editor in the corporate world, which was definitely not half as exciting as writing rollicking romantic adventures. Her characters are fearless seafarers, even though in real life Emma gets disastrously sea sick. Discerning Grace, is the first book in The White Sails Series.

To join the crew—subscribe to Emma's newsletter: www.emmalombardauthor.com

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The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour presents Shadows of Versailles (An Affair of the Poisons, Book One) by Cathie Dunn

Book Title: The Shadows of Versailles

Series: An Affair of the Poisons, Book One

Author: Cathie Dunn

Publication Date: November 20th, 2020

Publisher: Ocelot Press

Page Length: 251 (ebook) / 277 (pb)

Genre: historical fiction / mystery

The Shadows of Versailles

(An Affair of the Poisons Book One)

By Cathie Dunn

Dazzled by Versailles. Broken by tragedy. Consumed by revenge.

When Fleur de La Fontaine attends the court of King Louis XIV for the first time, she is soon besotted with handsome courtier, Philippe de Mortain. She dreams of married life away from her uncaring mother, but Philippe keeps a secret from her.

Nine months later, after the boy she has given birth to in a convent is whisked away, she flees to Paris where she mends gowns in the brothel of Madame Claudette, a woman who helps ‘fallen’ girls back on their feet.

Jacques de Montagnac investigates a spate of abducted children when his path crosses Fleur’s. He searches for her son, but the trail leads to a dead end – and a dreadful realisation.

Her boy’s suspected fate too much to bear, Fleur decides to avenge him. She visits the famous midwife, La Voisin, but it’s not the woman’s skills in childbirth that Fleur seeks.

La Voisin dabbles in poisons.

Will Fleur see her plan through? Or can she save herself from a tragic fate?

Delve into The Shadows of Versailles and enter the sinister world of potions, poisoners and black masses during the Affairs of the Poisons, a real event that stunned the court of the Sun King!

Available FREE on Kindle Unlimited!

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Cathie Dunn writes historical fiction, mystery, and romance. She has been writing for over twenty years. She studied Creative Writing, with a focus on novel writing, which she now teaches in the south of France. She loves researching for her novels, delving into history books, and visiting castles and historic sites.

Her stories have garnered awards and praise from reviewers and readers for their authentic description of the past.

Cathie is a member of the Historical Novel Society and the Alliance of Independent Authors.

After nearly two decades in Scotland, she now lives in the historic city of Carcassonne in the south of France with her husband, two cats and a rescue dog. 

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The Coffee Pot Book Club Blog Tour spotlight on Chateau Laux by David Loux

 

Book Title: Chateau Laux

Author: David Loux

Publication Date: April 6, 2021

Publisher: Wire Gate Press

Page Length: 292 Pages

Genre: Historical/Literary Fiction

Chateau Laux

By David Loux

Blurb

A young entrepreneur from a youthful Philadelphia, chances upon a French aristocrat and his family living on the edge of the frontier. Born to an unwed mother and raised by a disapproving and judgmental grandfather, he is drawn to the close-knit family. As part of his courtship of one of the patriarch’s daughters, he builds a château for her, setting in motion a sequence of events he could not have anticipated.

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Author Bio:

David Loux is a short story writer who has published under pseudonym and served as past board member of California Poets in the Schools. Chateau Laux is his first novel. He lives in the Eastern Sierra with his wife, Lynn.

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The Coffee Pot Book Blog Tour Presents Under the Light of the Italian Moon by Jennifer Anton

Book Title: Under the Light of the Italian Moon

Author: Jennifer Anton

Publication Date: 8th March 2021

Publisher: Amsterdam Publishers

Page Length: 394 Pages

Genre: Historical Fiction/Biographical Fiction

Under the Light of the Italian Moon

Jennifer Anton

A promise keeps them apart until WW2 threatens to destroy their love forever

Fonzaso Italy, between two wars

Nina Argenta doesn’t want the traditional life of a rural Italian woman. The daughter of a strong-willed midwife, she is determined to define her own destiny. But when her brother emigrates to America, she promises her mother to never leave.

When childhood friend Pietro Pante briefly returns to their mountain town, passion between them ignites while Mussolini forces political tensions to rise. Just as their romance deepens, Pietro must leave again for work in the coal mines of America. Nina is torn between joining him and her commitment to Italy and her mother.

As Mussolini’s fascists throw the country into chaos and Hitler’s Nazis terrorise their town, each day becomes a struggle to survive greater atrocities. A future with Pietro seems impossible when they lose contact and Nina’s dreams of a life together are threatened by Nazi occupation and an enemy she must face alone…

A gripping historical fiction novel, based on a true story and heartbreaking real events.

Spanning over two decades, Under the Light of the Italian Moon is an epic, emotional and triumphant tale of one woman’s incredible resilience during the rise of fascism and Italy’s collapse into WWII.

Excerpt

November 1914 

Nina Argenta stared at the altar, trying to concentrate on the Mass since there was no chance of escape. The warm fragrance of incense surrounded her, and the priest’s recitations combined with the candlelit sanctuary made it hard to keep herself awake. It was Sunday, and like every Sunday of her ten years on Earth, she sat dutifully, bored by the teachings of the ancient text that is the Roman Catholic Holy Bible. 

Under the vaulted ceiling of the Chiesa della Natività di Maria,  the Madonna statue at the side of the church watched her. Candlelight illuminated the blue veil and gentle expression of the Blessed Virgin casting a shine, like polish, on one side of her face and leaving the other in shadow. Nina shivered, tugging her sweater around her shoulders. The yarn, thick under her fingertips, made her feel secure. It had been a gift from her mother on Nina’s birthday two weeks before – the birthday they shared. 

“We are born on the cusp of two moons, passionate and loyal. A gift for my gift,” her mother had said when she gave Nina the present, blue to match her light eyes. It covered the once-white dress she wore that had belonged to her older sister. She leaned against the solid wood of the pew and studied the colours in the paintings of Frigimelica and Forabosco hanging on the grand church walls. Garments of rich burgundies like dried blood, sparkling golds, skin on a flat canvas painted to project luminescence and curve. It was easy to distract yourself from Mass when surrounded by such intricacy. 

The women of her family sat to her right: seven of them in the row behind the nuns, a place of honour. The Argenta women occupied the same pew every Sunday. Onorina, four years her senior, perfect and pious, kept her eyes closed and prayed with a sparkling rosary threaded through her clasped hands, oblivious to the three youngest sisters who fretted next to their mother. Her father and younger brother, Vante, sat in front with the other men. Men in front, women in back, separated by the nuns. Nina’s older brother, Antonio, had not joined them today. At breakfast, tension had hung between him and their mother, which she assumed was why he missed Mass. The priest would surely notice. Mamma would be disappointed. Nina knew how it felt to let her down. 

The chapel veil sitting atop her head slipped as she looked up at the imposing crucifix that stabbed down above the altar. Adjusting the lace, she missed a prayer response, causing her mother to look over with a lifted eyebrow. Adelasia Dalla Santa Argenta was not a woman to make angry, especially not during Mass. Her wooden spoon would be waiting at home to beat your culo if you weren’t good. She had a reputation for sternness not only with her family but with the entire town. 

As the only trained midwife in Fonzaso and the villages surrounding, she had delivered every child Nina knew and had earned the nickname, La Capitana,  The Captain. It was said even the priest feared her. 

Nina could see her father, Corrado Argenta, through the heads and habits as he shifted from side to side. His eyelids drooped in boredom, but he glanced back from time to time to check on his wife and mother, both of whom he feared as much as the children did. Nonna Argenta, small and severe in her black dress and head covering, was the only one besides Onorina entirely consumed by the Mass. Nonna looks just like a strega,  thought Nina, missing only a broom to fly away on. 

Nina let out a relieved sigh when it was time for Communion. At last!  Mass would be over soon, and she couldn’t wait to be by the fireplace, reading her book after helping Mamma and Nonna prepare the polenta for supper. She walked up the marble aisle, inching forward behind the nuns, then knelt at the altar and held out her tongue, awaiting the body of Christ. Receiving the wafer, she gave the sign of the cross and stood to head back to her seat. The taste of creamy paper stuck to the roof of her mouth and she contemplated why God would want children to have sore knees and numb bottoms to get into Heaven. 

Passing rows of men knelt to pray after Communion, she saw the large Pante family filling two benches in the front of the church. Pietro, one of her sister’s classmates, leaned unceremoniously in the pew, trying to help his tiny brother fix his shoelaces, tied together so he would trip. A messy redhead crouched in the seat behind them was the likely culprit of the prank. The Pante boy finished helping his brother, then sat back on the pew, catching Nina’s eye and giving her a quiet smile. She hesitated before returning it. The Madonna was still watching her. I should be praying after receiving the body of Christ.  She returned to her seat, then knelt again, bruised knees on cold wood, to await the end of the Mass. 

“Fratelli e sorelle, ” Don Segala proclaimed after he had completed the liturgy. “I would like to ask for a special prayer today. Another group is leaving tomorrow for America. They will travel to Genoa and take a long ship ride. Signori,  please join me here on the altar.” The pews squeaked, echoing in the church as a group of five men and three boys walked to the front. To Nina’s surprise, the Pante boy was one of them. Was it possible such a young boy was going on that voyage?  There was an earnestness in the way he stood next to the other men who were a head taller than he was; his face was sombre. He stuck out a proud, lifted chin, smooth, unlike the others. A patched brown jacket, cut too wide, hung on his slender physique. I wonder how many brothers have worn that jacket before him. 

The priest called out each of the men’s names. “Lord, please bless these men and give them a safe journey to America. Allow them to prosper there and, if it is your will, bring them safely home to their families here in Fonzaso.” 

The parishioners united in an “Amen”. As Pietro returned to his seat, he peered back towards the Argenta pew, gave a wry smile, and nodded. Nina tried to see if he was looking at her or her sister, but Onorina was quick to bow her head again. The Madonna was watching her, too. 

Nina knew many men were leaving Fonzaso to find work abroad. She had overheard her father mentioning it to her mother – the emigranti –  but she never imagined such young people going. It unsettled her, and her heart raced as questions filled her head. Pietro Pante, who lived with his family a few streets down, who went to school with her sister, was leaving for America. 

America! 

The furthest she had travelled was to Padua with her mother, and Bergamo once. How exciting! What will happen to him?  What would it be like to sail on a ship, miles away, to a new country? To start life over far away from Fonzaso?  The Mass ended and the parishioners rose in song. Nina lent her voice with fervour and when she looked again at the Blessed Virgin, it seemed the Madonna was smiling at her. 

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Jennifer Anton is an American/Italian dual citizen born in Joliet, Illinois and now lives between London and Lake Como, Italy. A proud advocate for women's rights and equality, she hopes to rescue women's stories from history, starting with her Italian family.

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The Coffee Pot Book Tour presents The Assassins by Alan Bardos (Audiobook narrated by Jack Bennet)

Book Title: The Assassins 

Series: Johnny Swift Thrillers

Author: Alan Bardos 

Publication Date: (current edition) 15th February 2021

Publisher: Sharpe Books

Page Length: 376 Pages

Genre: Historical Thriller

The Assassins

By Alan Bardos

Audiobook narrated by Jack Bennett

1914.

Tensions are reaching boiling point in Europe and the threat of war is imminent. 

Johnny Swift, a young and brash diplomatic clerk employed by the British embassy is sent to infiltrate the ‘Young Bosnians’, a group of idealistic conspirators planning to murder Franz Ferdinand. The heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, in a bid to liberate their country from the monarchy’s grip.

Swift has been having an affair with his employer’s wife, Lady Elizabeth Smyth. Sir George Smyth dispatches the agent on the dangerous mission, believing that it will be the last he will see of his young rival.

The agent manages to infiltrate the Young Bosnian conspirators’ cell, helped by Lazlo Breitner, a Hungarian Civil Servant.

However, Swift soon realises that he may be in over his head. His gambling debts and taste for beautiful women prove the least of his problems as he struggles to survive on his wits in the increasingly complex - and perilous - world of politics and espionage.

Desperate to advance himself and with the lives of a royal couple unexpectedly in his hands, Swift tries to avert catastrophe.

‘A cracking read, highly recommended’ - Roger A Price 

‘Written with polished panache, it kept me gripped from the first to last. Five stars from me!’ - A.A. Chaudhuri

‘Part historical fiction, part thriller and part love story, this is a compelling and entertaining read’ - Gary Haynes

This book is available to read for free with #KindleUnlimited subscription.

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Also available on Audible

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Alan Bardos is a graduate of the MA in TV Script Writing at De Montfort University, he also has a degree in Politics and History from Brunel University. Writing historical fiction combines the first great love of his life, making up stories, with the second, researching historical events and characters. Alan currently live in Oxfordshire with his wife… the other great love of his life.

Despite the amount of material that has been written about the twentieth century there is still a great deal of mystery and debate surrounding many of its events, which Alan explores in his historical fiction series using a certain amount of artistic license to fill in the gaps, while remaining historically accurate. The series will chronicle the first half of the twentieth century from the perspective of Johnny Swift, a disgraced and degenerate diplomat and soldier; starting with the pivotal event of the twentieth century, the Assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, in ‘The Assassins’.

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The Coffee Pot Book Blog Tour is pleased to offer you The Custard Corpses by M J Porter,

 

Book Title: The Custard Corpses

Author: M J Porter

Publication Date: March 25th 2021

Publisher: M J Publishing

Page Length: TBC

Genre: Historical Mystery

The Custard Corpses

By M J Porter

A delicious 1940s mystery.

Birmingham, England, 1943.

While the whine of the air raid sirens might no longer be rousing him from bed every night, a two-decade-old unsolved murder case will ensure that Chief Inspector Mason of Erdington Police Station is about to suffer more sleepless nights.

Young Robert McFarlane’s body was found outside the local church hall on 30th September 1923. But, his cause of death was drowning, and he’d been missing for three days before his body was found. No one was ever arrested for the crime. No answers could ever be given to the grieving family. The unsolved case has haunted Mason ever since.

But, the chance discovery of another victim, with worrying parallels, sets Mason, and his constable, O’Rourke, on a journey that will take them back over twenty-five years, the chance to finally solve the case, while all around them the uncertainty of war continues, impossible to ignore.

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Author Bio:

M J Porter writes historical fiction set before 1066. Usually. 

This is M J's first foray into the historical mystery genre and the, relatively recent, twentieth century. 

M J writes A LOT, you've been warned.

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The Coffee Pot Book Club welcomes Dawn Empress: A Novel of Imperial Rome (The Theodosian Women, Book Two)

Book Title: Dawn Empress: A Novel of Imperial Rome

Series: The Theodosian Women, Book Two

Author: Faith L. Justice

Print/ebook Publication Date: 24th May 2020

Audiobook Publication date: 19th February 2021

Publisher: Raggedy Moon Books

Page Length: 354 pages

Audio Book Length: 12 hrs 41 min

Genre: Biographical Historical Fiction

Dawn Empress: A Novel of Imperial Rome

(The Theodosian Women, Book Two)

By Faith L. Justice

Audiobook narrated by Kathleen Li

As Rome reels under barbarian assaults, a young girl must step up.

After the Emperor’s unexpected death, ambitious men eye the Eastern Roman throne occupied by seven-year-old Theodosius II. His older sister Pulcheria faces a stark choice: she must find allies and take control of the Eastern court or doom the imperial children to a life of obscurity—or worse. Beloved by the people and respected by the Church, Pulcheria forges her own path to power. Can her piety and steely will protect her brother from military assassins, heretic bishops, scheming eunuchs and—most insidious of all—a beautiful, intelligent bride? Or will she lose all in the trying?

Dawn Empress tells the little-known and remarkable story of Pulcheria Augusta, 5th century Empress of Eastern Rome. Her accomplishments rival those of Elizabeth I and Catherine the Great as she sets the stage for the dawn of the Byzantine Empire. Don’t miss this “gripping tale” (Kirkus Reviews); a “deftly written and impressively entertaining historical novel” (Midwest Book Reviews). Historical Novel Reviews calls Dawn Empress an “outstanding novel…highly recommended” and awarded it the coveted Editor’s Choice.

***

An Excerpt From Chapter 11

Imperial Palace, November 415

“What do you think Pulcheria Augusta wants of us?” General Ardaburius asked his father-in-law as they strode into the palace. They made a sharp physical contrast: Ardaburius’ dark countenance and stocky body with Plinta’s fair features and tall stature. But they were closely aligned in military philosophy and bound by family ties. They were also close in age, his father-in-law being only a handful of years older. “Does she mean to strip us of our commands?”

“I think not. She could have done that by decree. This meeting feels different. I think she wants to see for herself if we of barbarian heritage have horns and hooves. It’s been fifteen years since that idiot Gainas rebelled against Arcadius and occupied Constantinople. He tarred me and all who share his Gothic heritage with treason and rebellion. I believe the Augusta is rethinking that policy. She has reordered the civil government to her satisfaction and I believe she turns her eyes on the military.”

Ardaburius nodded. “She would do well to put her best generals in the field with the Huns stirring up dust in the north and the Persians restless in the east. We have sat on the sidelines too long, while those of lesser talent moved ahead.”

Arriving at the imperial family’s personal quarters, they were relieved of their swords and knives by the guards. Ever since the incident involving General Lucius over seven years ago, no weapons of any kind were allowed in the emperor’s or Augusta’s presence, except for the imperial guards. Ardaburius understood the restriction but felt naked without his weapons. The guard opened an elaborately carved door onto an odd domestic scene.

The musky scent of incense pervaded the Augusta’s antechamber, tickling his nose. Ardaburius stifled a sneeze. He knew of Pulcheria’s pious ways but was unprepared for the monastic atmosphere of her personal space. There was little of comfort in the spare room; the only object of beauty, a personal altar and gold cross in a niche. The Augusta herself dressed in modest woolen clothes and wore the diadem over a linen hair covering as proof of her imperial identity. She sat on a plain chair, at a serviceable wooden table, dictating to a scribe. Two other girls, minus the diadem but similarly attired, sat on a divan, sewing and talking quietly. They must be the younger princesses, Ardaburius thought, watching them closely. They seemed at peace with their religious vocation, but he was glad his own daughter showed no such inclination. It seemed such a restricted life.

Ardaburius followed Plinta’s lead, making his obeisance before the young Augusta. She seemed innocuous, slender to the point of gauntness, plain of features except for the brown eyes, which sparkled with intelligence and something more. Curiosity? Ambition? It was not hard to believe she outmaneuvered Isidorus and his faction at the tender age of fifteen. The military had a tradition of young brilliant leaders going back to Alexander the Great. Had she been the eldest son showing such promise, no one would object. But…

“Generals, you may rise.” She nodded to servants who brought two folding camp chairs. “Please sit. You may speak freely in my sisters’ presence.” She indicated the two girls sewing. “They have little knowledge of war and politics but keep me company.”

Ardaburius now looked on the two younger princesses with some interest. It was unlikely they were there as chaperones. Was the Augusta grooming her sisters for a more active role?

The men seated themselves, accepted the offer of well-watered wine, and declined the offer of food. Ardaburius appreciated the light vintage from Southern Thrace but wished for something stronger. He was used to drinking his wine undiluted.

Once the niceties of hospitality were satisfied, Plinta bowed his head slightly and asked. “Augusta, we are honored you asked us to join you. How may we serve?”

“I hope you will serve me well.” The Augusta’s steady eyes speared each man.

Ardaburius straightened his shoulders. Good! He was anxious to be back in the first ranks after several years under suspicion because of his barbarian Alan heritage.

“You know I’m purging pagans and Jews from my brother’s government and the army,” Pulcheria continued.

“But only from positions of responsibility?” Plinta gave a sweeping gesture. “If you dismiss the non-Christian soldiers, you will cripple the army. Many worship Mithras. Most who are Christian follow Arius’ teachings.”

“An army of pagans and Arians. I sometimes curse the day Emperor Constantius sent those heretic priests of Arius to convert the barbarians. A few years delay and you all would be orthodox and save the empire much strife.” Pulcheria gave a sour smile. “You are a Goth, are you not? And your son-in-law an Alan? I assume you are Arian Christian, as well?”

“We come from those tribes and follow those beliefs, but we are Romans first. That is where our loyalty and duty lie.” Plinta frowned. “We have served the empire honorably…when allowed.”

“From what I hear, General, you are the best in the field and wasted in your current administrative duties.”

Plinta allowed a small smile. “I’m grateful for the praise and strive to live up to it.”

“I believe Anthemius erred in his caution these last several years. Your peoples have lived in the city peaceably for a full generation. I have faith in the civilizing influence of our dynastic city.” She raised an eyebrow. “And I am not so foolish as to cut the heart out of the army that protects my people. My Uncle Honorius made that mistake and has battled barbarians that Rome trained for the past eight years. Arians are still Christian, if unorthodox. We both believe Christ died for our sins.”

Smart girl, Ardaburius thought. I had feared you too bound to your orthodoxy to act with such pragmatism.

She turned to Ardaburius, as if reading his thoughts. “And you, General? Can you speak for yourself?”

“I have pledged my honor and my life to emperor and empire.” He bowed his head. “I will serve you faithfully in any capacity you command.”

“Good. These are your new assignments” She handed each of them a scroll, sealed with the emperor’s imprint. “Anatolius will command the Army in the East. You will each be given an army in the emperor’s presence. If you serve us well, there will be honors and rewards.” She looked directly at Plinta. “Possibly even a consulship.”

“There is no higher honor than guarding the city and the emperor.” Plinta bowed again.

“Thank you, Augusta. Your trust is all the honor I wish.” Ardaburius flashed a brief smile.

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Author Bio 

Faith L. Justice writes award-winning historical novels, short stories, and articles in Brooklyn, New York where she lives with her family and the requisite gaggle of cats. Her work has appeared in Salon.com, Writer’s Digest, The Copperfield Review, and many more publications. She is Chair of the New York City chapter of the Historical Novel Society, and Associate Editor for Space and Time Magazine. She co-founded a writer’s workshop many more years ago than she likes to admit. For fun, she digs in the dirt—her garden and various archaeological sites.

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