Jude Knight's Blog, page 138

Dennis O’Kelly on Wanton Weekends

Today’s famous courtesan is not the beautiful horse, though Eclipse certainly performed extremely well as a stallion: 80% of thoroughbreds today carry his genes. No, our featured stud is the horses owner, one Captain Dennis O’Kelly (the rank was possibly self-granted, and certainly the promotion to Lieutenant Colonel by the time Dennis wrote his memoirs was entirely fictional).

Given Dennis’s way with a story, little is certain. He was the lover of one of London’s more prosperous madams (who he met while they were both incarcerated in Fleet Street for bankruptcy). He and she both did win their way back to prosperity fairly quickly, and Dennis did buy Eclipse, who went on to sire three of the first five Derby winners as well as many other fine racehorses.

Dennis’s story of how he got his start makes him worthy of a place at our event. He was working as a sedan chair man in London, carrying the front poles . One day, a lady passenger looked him up and down and liked what she saw. Shortly after, Dennis was approached by a woman who offered him a full time job in the same profession, but for a single employer. Imagine his surprise when he found his employer was the same lady passenger.

His surprise turned to delight when his new mistress sent him to wait for further instructions at a townhouse, where she joined him in disguise (and in precisely the sense you immediately imagined. “As this publication is intended for the virtuous, as well as vicious eye,” he says, we must conceal from the one, what the experience of the other may easily supply. Some hours were spent in mutual happiness.”

Receiving a purse of 25 guineas for his exertions, Dennis found it well worth his while to return, and over several months, he says, he saved a considerable sum of money. Gaining a taste for the highlife, he immediately lost it all again, and was arrested and thrown into prison, where he met “That well known priestess of the Cyprian Deity, that love and mirth admiring votress, to pleasing sensuality, the well known Charlotte Hayes, was then an inhabitant of the same mansion.”

He comments that his attributes soon caught Charlotte’s eye “and the same services soon obtained… the same kind remunerations.” He claims to have devoted himself for the rest of his life to Charlotte, and – while ‘Charlotte had many friends, it is true… Her affections were still centred in our Hero, and on him were all the pecuniary favours which she received from others, bestowed with unbounded liberality.’

They spent the rest of their lives together, though Charlotte continued to have many friends (by way of business), and rumour at the time said the same of Dennis. He definitely qualifies to be here.

A Dangerous Weakness extra: Volkov employs an investigator

This bit of fiction joins the hero of Embracing Prudence, a yet-to-be published work by Jude Knight, with the villain of Dangerous Weakness by Caroline Warfield, which is on pre-order now. Part two has been posted on Caroline’s blog today. Part one is here.

Konstantin Volkov

The lean, sour faced man ducked to enter the waiting parlour at the premises of Wakefield and Wakefield, Enquiry Agents, as he had been shown. His tight lips showed his disapproval. He stood in a room that looked nothing like rooms in a proper office should. Not only did the fabrics and small decorations show every sign of a feminine touch, but books, newspapers, and, worst of all, children’s toys cluttered the space. He frowned.

Konstantin Volkov did not question his decisions often. This time he did. Contacts described David Wakefield as ruthless. One reference called the man as cold blooded as a snake. This domestic clutter did not reflect an image of the sort of man he needed. Before he could examine that thought, a woman appeared to show him into Wakefield’s office. No proper business employs a woman clerk, he grumbled internally, but he followed in her wake.

David Wakefield

David Wakefield stood to shake his hand. The enquiry agent was shorter than Volkov, and finely built. But the grip was strong enough, and the calm brown eyes under level brows hinted at a man with confidence in his own ability. Still, his smile at the woman and her wink made Volkov uneasy.

I can’t afford to hire some weakling. If there were an alternative, I would leave. He didn’t. Volkov had run out of contacts in the seething underbelly of London and England’s port cities. The usual lowlifes were good at tracking drabs and pickpockets. They had proven to be no help finding a respectable woman, and Lily Thornton was as respectable as they get, at least on the surface.

“How may I help you?” Wakefield’s voice startled Volkov from his thoughts. Stay alert Kostya. Don’t be a fool. He employed his most charming smile.

“A woman, Mr. Wakefield. I need help finding one.”

Wakefield smiled back. “If you require match making, perhaps my wife—“

“No, no. I need to find a particular woman, one I plan to make my wife.” Oh I have plans for darling Lily, but they are not quite so proper.

Wakefield sat back and pinned him with a hard look. “The woman you plan to marry has gone missing? Why is that?” Volkov caught a glance of the ruthless steel underneath the genial exterior and controlled the urge to shiver.

“A foolish misunderstanding. She misunderstood something she overheard and has gone off in a fright. I need only find her and reassure her.”

“What of the woman’s parents. Have they not located her?” Wakefield asked.

“Her father has been detained abroad. She is alone here with only the dubious protection of a maiden aunt.” One with easily bribed servants.

“This woman’s name?” The enquiry agent’s hand poised over a sheet of foolscap as if to take notes.

“Lily Thornton,” Volkov said and immediately regretted it. He saw the flicker of recognition in Wakefield’s eyes and the moment the agent suppressed it. If he knows who she is, he will unravel the truth quickly.

“When did you see her last?”

Volkov had no answer. If he told the man about the Mallet’s literary salon, he would connect Lily to Glenaire’s sister and thus, to the Marquess himself.

Wakefield went on smoothly, as if he didn’t notice Volkov’s silence. “What is more to the point, when did you notice her missing?”

“When I called at her aunt’s yesterday.” Another lie. Volkov couldn’t get past Glenaire’s guards. Marianne Thornton’s feckless maid brought the information.

Wakefield looked at Volkov so long that Volkov began to sweat. “I will call on the aunt and see what I can discover,” he said at last.

Too late. Volkov could hardly tell him not too. “Thank you. That is a good place to start.” He shot quick glance at the door.

“Come back in three days, and I’ll tell you what I’ve found.”

Volkov rose and thanked the blasted agent. As he descended the steps he faced harsh reality. I’m out of options. I need to leave London and drop out of sight. He stepped lively down the road. Perhaps Portsmouth. The thought raised his spirits. He would get her yet.

His confidence might have taken a knock had he looked back to where Wakefield and his wife watched from the window. Especially had he heard their conversation.

“What do you think, Prue?” David slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“I do not like that man, David. Something about him makes my skin crawl.”

“He is looking for Miss Thornton. Isn’t she the diplomat’s daughter you talked to at Mrs Mallet’s salon?”

“Yes. The one whose name has been linked with Glenaire’s.”

David had heard something of the sort. But a commoner and the Marble Marquess? It seemed unlikely. “Is it serious, Prue?”

Prue shrugged. “He is a ducal heir. He is expected to marry accordingly. But… there is an electricity between them, David.”

“I imagine he knows she is missing,” David mused. “I wonder if he knows the Russian is after her?”

For part 2 of this original story, written just for Caroline’s blog tour, go to her website.

What has become of Lily? Find out in Dangerous Weakness, on prerelease now and published on 1 October.

David and Prue’s story will appear early next year in Embracing Prudence.

Dangerous Weakness

If women were as easily managed as the affairs of state—or the recalcitrant Ottoman Empire—Richard Hayden, Marquess of Glenaire, would be a happier man. As it was the creatures—one woman in particular—made hash of his well-laid plans and bedeviled him on all sides.

Lily Thornton came home from Saint Petersburg in pursuit of marriage. She wants a husband and a partner, not an overbearing, managing man. She may be “the least likely candidate to be Marchioness of Glenaire,” but her problems are her own to fix, even if those problems include both a Russian villain and an interfering Ottoman official.

Given enough facts, Richard can fix anything. But protecting that impossible woman is proving to be almost as hard as protecting his heart, especially when Lily’s problems bring her dangerously close to an Ottoman revolution. As Lily’s personal problems entangle with Richard’s professional ones, and she pits her will against his, he chases her across the pirate-infested Mediterranean. Will she discover surrender isn’t defeat? It might even have its own sweet reward.

Buy links (Kindle only)

US * UK * Canada * Euro * India * Aus

Meet Caroline Warfield

Carol Roddy – Author

Caroline Warfield has at various times been an army brat, a librarian, a poet, a raiser of children, a nun, a bird watcher, an Internet and Web services manager, a conference speaker, an indexer, a tech writer, a genealogist, and, of course, a romantic. She has sailed through the English channel while it was still mined from WWII, stood on the walls of Troy, searched Scotland for the location of an entirely fictional castle (and found it), climbed the steps to the Parthenon, floated down the Thames from the Tower to Greenwich, shopped in the Ginza, lost herself in the Louvre, gone on a night safari at the Singapore zoo, walked in the Black Forest, and explored the underground cistern of Istanbul. By far the biggest adventure has been life-long marriage to a prince among men.

She sits in front of a keyboard at a desk surrounded by windows, looks out at the trees and imagines. Her greatest joy is when one of those imaginings comes to life on the page and in the imagination of her readers.

Visit Caroline’s Website and Blog  *  Meet Caroline on Facebook  * Follow Caroline on Twitter

Email Caroline directly  * Subscribe to Caroline’s newsletter   * Dangerous Weakness Pinterest Board

Play in the  Bluestocking Bookshop with Caroline’s characters * LibraryThing  * Amazon Author

Good Reads    *    Bluestocking Belles

 

Caroline’s Other Books

Dangerous Works  A little Greek is one thing; the art of love is another. Only Andrew ever tried to teach Georgiana both.

Dangerous Secrets Jamie and Nora will dare anything for the tiny girl in their care, even enter a sham marriage to protect her. Will love—and the truth—bind them both together.

First lines on WIP Wednesday

Because I particularly like the first lines of the new story I started last week (tentatively called The Prisoners of Wyvern Castle — and yes, Carol Cork, this is your story), I’m inviting you all to share with me and the blog readers the first lines of any chapter of your work in progress. I usually say 7 to 10 lines, but I’ve overdone it today.

As soon as he said the last words of the blessing, the fat priest stepped towards them, a broad smile on his face. “May I be the first to congratulate your graces?”

But the man to whom Linnie had just been joined in the bonds of Holy Matrimony ignored the outstretched hands and whirled around to advance on Lady Wyvern, who stood behind them.

“Very well. I have done what you demanded. Where is she?”

“Penworth, your manners.” Lady Wyvern scolded, but the Duke of Penworth ignored her tone and spoke over the rest of her complaint.

“You promised to return her if I married Graceton’s sister. Well. We are wed. I want her back, Lady Wyvern, and I want her now.”

Lin was trying to make sense of it all. The duke had been forced to this marriage as well? By a threat? But to whom? Surely not… not his mistress?”

She stole a look at her half-brother, Baron Granville, who was openly amused. “Send the boy back to his rooms, Margaret, and my sister with him. His treasure is there, is it not? Oh do not fret, vicar. You will get your fee and your portion of the wedding breakfast.”

Nell Gwynne on Wanton Weekends

One Eleanor Gwyn (or Gwynn or Gwynne – they didn’t take their spelling nearly as seriously as we do) is something of a folk heroine. She was, even in her own time.

She was probably born in 1650 (or possibly as early as 1642). Her mother was the alcoholic proprietor of a bawdy house, and it is possibly she was herself a child-prostitute. Certainly by 1662, she had an acknowledged lover who paid for her rooms in a tavern near a newly opened playhouse.

Here, Nell and her sister sold oranges to theatre-goers, and here, less than a year later, Nell became an actress. She made her first recorded appearance on stage in 1665, in a dramatic part, but soon found her niche as a comedic actress, playing opposite Charles Hart, who also became her lover.

The theatres at the time had trouble keeping leading actresses, as the aristocracy delighted in tempting them away to be kept mistresses. In 1667, Nell became the mistress of Charles Sackville, then Lord Buckhurst.

In 1668, she began an affair with King Charles the Second (she called him her Charles the third), and spent less and less time acting, and more time with the King.

HSP185015 King Charles II (1630-85) and Nell Gwynne (1650-87) (oil on canvas) by Ward, Edward Matthew (1816-79)
oil on canvas
© Royal Hospital Chelsea, London, UK
English, out of copyright

She had her first son, Charles, in 1670. There’s a story that she demanded a title for him . Charles refused, and Nell hung him out the window, threatening to drop him. “Someone catch the Earl of Burford,” said Charles. I like the story, but I also like the alternative story, that Nell said to her son, “Come here, you little bastard, and say hello to your father.” When Charles objected to the word, she told him he’d given her no other name by which to call him.

James, her second child, was born in 1671.

Nell is remembered for her wit, as much as for her beauty. She died in 1687, three years after her eldest son was created Duke of Argyll, and two years after the death of her royal lover.

Parties on WIP Wednesday

I’ve been celebrating some milestones this week: my blog birthday, the ninth month of Candle’s Christmas Chair, and the half-birthday of the Bluestocking Belles.

So I thought for this week’s work-in-progress Wednesday, the theme could be celebrations, parties, or events. Do you have a ball scene? A wedding? A fair? A birthday party? A banquet? Post seven to ten lines, and don’t forget to share!

Mine is from the Christmas party towards the end of Gingerbread Bride in the box set Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem, currently on prelease from the Bluestocking Belles.

The kissing boughs had all been hung, making it perilous to traverse the house and garden. By the time the party started Mary had been kissed at least twenty times, all polite salutes on the cheek.

The party spilled all over the house and beyond: carols around the pianoforte in one of the parlors, silly games in another, a continual feast in the dining room, and dancing outside in the crisp night air. Mary managed to avoid being alone with Rick until almost the end of the evening, when he cornered her in a temporarily deserted parlor, most of the party out on the dance lawn in the garden.

“Mary.” There it was again. Her name, hummed in that beautiful voice of his, sounding like music. She turned her face upwards, tipping her cheek within easy reach, but he curved his neck as he bent, so his lips touched hers.

Happy birthday to my blog

Tomorrow will be one year to the day since my first blog post on this site. I had written half of the first draft of Farewell to Kindness, had just been to my first Romance Writers of New Zealand conference, and had tentatively told friends, family, and colleagues that I planned to be published soon.

Tomorrow is nine months since Candle’s Christmas Chair, my first published work, went live on Amazon and Smashwords. I wrote this novella while Farewell to Kindness was with the beta readers, to tell the story of two people who make a brief appearance in Farewell. In nine months, over 58,000 copies have been downloaded.

And tomorrow is six months since the launch of the Bluestocking Belles, eight very different writers united by a love of history and a history of writing about love. Whatever story you desire: sweet to steamy, from light-hearted fun to dark tortured tales full of angst, from London ballrooms to country cottages to oriental slums, one or more of us is sure to have a tale to suit your tastes and mood.

The Bluestocking Belles have some great birthday fun planned, so look for us on our blog, Facebook, and Twitter.

It has been quite a year.

I’ve published two novels, a novella, and some short stories. I’ve written 258 blog posts for this blog, and probably another 100 for other people. I’ve written a novella that is currently on prerelease as part of the Bluestocking Belles first box set, Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem, I’m half of the way through another novel, and nearly finished the first draft of a set of short stories that will come out before Christmas.

I’m a regular contributor to the fictional spaces Bluestocking Bookshop and the Belle’s Teatime Tattler, and a happy member of 10 Minute Novelists, Marketing For Romance Writers, and Writing Wenches. And I’ve not long got back from my second Romance Writers of New Zealand conference, where I won the Great Beginnings Award for the first 6,000 words of Farewell to Kindness.

A discount to say thank you

And to thank you for coming with me on the ride, I’d like to give you access to some discounts. Until 22 September, you can pick up Farewell to Kindness and A Baron for Becky from Smashwords for only US$2.

Just follow the links, select ‘buy’ and use the code on the buy page. While you’re there, collect Candle’s Christmas Chair while it is still free, and buy Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem for the prerelease price of US99c.

That makes two novels and 8 novellas for only US$5! Close to 1150 pages of reading.

Farewell to Kindness $2 with the code CS44Q

A Baron for Becky $2 with the code DC74X

Candle’s Christmas Chair permafree until December

Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem 99c until release on 1 November.

 

Belle Brezing on Wanton Weekends

I’ve another poet for you this weekend.

Belle Brezing is supposed to have been the inspiration for the character Madame Belle in Gone with the Wind. Born in 1860, raised by a drunken, violent mother and a series of stepfathers, she was seduced at 12, pregnant at 15 and married shortly after. Her husband left town after the murder of one of her two other lovers, and before the birth of her daughter.

At 19, Belle became a resident at a ‘bawdy house’, and so excelled in her new career that she started her own enterprise two years later.

She went on to open bigger and better houses until, in 1891, she opened her last and greatest.

In the book ‘Madame Belle: Sex, Money, and Influence in a Southern Brothel’, Maryjean Wall describes the opening night.

“Megowan Street had never seen commotion like Belle’s opening night in 1891. All varieties of horse-drawn vehicles pulled up in front of no. 59, dropping off male passengers wearing formal evening dress. Drivers shouted to their horses. Cabs departed as quickly as they had arrived, the drivers turning their horses sharply back toward the Phoenix Hotel to pick up more fares. In the trickle-down effect the evening had on the local economy, hack drivers made a small fortune in tips on this memorable night.

“Belle had invited physicians, lawyers, judges, horsemen, businessmen, and bankers to this fete. Sweet orchestral strains poured into the street every time the door opened to admit another caller. She had hired musicians for her opening, foregoing her mechanical nickelodeon. Her staff had prepared an elegant buffet. Her bar served the finest wines and champagne.”

Belle was highly successful, though she was also indicted more than any other citizen of Lexington.

She continued to run houses for the sale of entertainment for the next 25 years, until all the houses of disrepute were closed during the first World War by order of the army. By the time they opened again, Belle’s long-time lover and her sister had both died, and she lived out her retirement as a recluse until her death in 1940.

Belle wrote this poem in her teens, perhaps before she was wed.

Kisses

Sitting tnight in my chamber, a school girl figure

and lonely, I kiss the end of my finger, that and that only.

Reveries rises from the smokey mouth. Memories linger surround

me. Boys that are married or single. Gather around me. School boys

in pantalets roumping, Boys that now are growing to be young lands,

Boys that kiked to be Kissed; and like to give kisses.

Kisses. I remember them: Those in the corner were fleetest:

Sweet were those won the Sly in the Dark were the sweetest.

Girls are tender and gentle. To woo was almost to win them.

They lips are good as ripe peaches, and cream for finger.

Girls are sometimes flirts, and coquettish; Now catch and Kiss if

you can sin: could I catch both – ah, wasent I a happy Girl.

Boys is pretty and blooming sweetly, yea sweetness over their rest!

Them I loved dearly and truely. Last and the best.

Writing by Belle Brezing, Lexington Ky

Hero’s sidekick on WIP Wednesday

I’m late getting up my work-in-progress Wednesday post. Because, life. I’ve been thinking about all the people who surround the hero and the heroine, and I thought I’d make today’s post about them. Please bring us seven to ten lines of your work-in-progress that focuses on a secondary character. If your hero doesn’t have a sidekick, how about your heroine? And if neither them has a close friend and confidante, pick a piece about another secondary character.

Here are seven sentences from A Baron for Becky about the Duchess of Haverford. Not a sidekick, exactly, but certainly a significant secondary character.

The duchess ignored them both to focus on Becky.

She insisted on Becky sitting beside her.

“Are you keeping well, my dear? Are you eating?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Becky’s voice was so quiet Hugh had to lean forward to hear.

“You must eat several times a day, dear. More as the baby takes up more room…” she trailed off as Becky blushed scarlet. “And when do you expect the little one to arrive?”

“At Yuletide, Ma’am. Or perhaps early January.”

“What of sleep, Mrs Winstanley? Are you able to rest in the afternoons?” She turned to Hugh. “An afternoon rest is most efficacious for women who are increasing, Lord Overton. I will expect you to keep her in bed in the afternoon.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Hugh replied, blushing in his turn.

The Duchess silenced her sniggering son with a raised eyebrow.

Yu Xuanji on Wanton Weekends

Today’s post is about a concubine turned courtesan turned nun, who was also a poet.

Yu Xuanji lived in Chang-an, a province of China, in the late Tang dynasty (9th Century western). At the age of 16, she became the concubine of an official named Li Yu. Li Yu’s primary wife couldn’t stand the younger woman, and Li You abandoned her. She returned to life as a courtesan before taking holy orders as a Daoist nun.

Ironically, respectable women had no need to be educated, but courtesans must keep their clients entertained, and we remember Yu Xuanji today for her poetry – around 50 of her poems survive today, a fraction of her probable output. She is also remembered for her death. She was accused of murdering her maid, jailed, tried, and executed.

Was she the ‘Wild woman’ of later literature? Or a woman who refused to be confined by the expectations of her society and paid the price for it?

From this distance, we can only judge her by her work. Here is one of her poems, believed to be about beautiful young women.

Selling the Last Peonies

Facing the wind makes us sigh

we know how many flowers fall

spring has come back again

and where have the fragrant longings gone?

who can afford these peonies?

their price is much too high

their arrogant aroma

even intimidates butterflies

flowers so deeply red

they must have been grown in a palace

leaves so darkly green

dust scarcely dares to settle there

if you wait till they’re transplanted

to the Imperial Gardens

then you, young lords, will find

you have no means to buy them.

 

Danger in WIP Wednesday

At the cover reveal party for the Bluestocking Belle box set yesterday, we talked about heroines, and whether people preferred heroines to be rescued or to rescue themselves. Opinions varied, but it set me thinking about moments of danger. My novella for the box set is Gingerbread Bride, and my heroine is a strong-minded and determined young woman. Which doesn’t mean that she is always able to rescue herself!

So, for this week’s work-in-progress Wednesday, please post around seven lines that show your hero or heroine in a tight spot. The danger could be physical or emotional. You could show the rescue or just the crisis. You pick.

To kick us off, here’s mine. Mary is in a post chaise, the horses are bolting, and she has climbed out to see if she can stop them:

As she edged her way cautiously back to the door, a flash of movement behind the hedge to her left caught her eye. A rider? The hedge thickened again, and she couldn’t be sure. Another bounding lurch prompted her to move again, and she swung herself back inside to rejoin Polly—though not without a few extra bruises.

“The post boy is gone, and the horses are bolting,” Mary told Polly. “Stay in your corner and hold on tight. And pray that they run themselves out before we reach a bend in the road.”

Following her own advice meant she couldn’t see whether the glimpse she’d caught was a rider. Someone riding to their aid would be wonderful, but unlikely. Might as well wish for Rick to save her once again!