Choose Your Own Romance!

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Hmmm...what to write next?

Dear readers,

Can I interest you in a story telling experiment? I'll provide a chapter of an original never-before-published story each week if you help determine the course of the story. Just read. Enjoy. Vote on what happens next. Choose your own romance adventure!

Our heroine shall be Lady Charlotte Brandon who devoted readers will remember from her scene-stealing antics in A Groom Of One's Own and other Writing Girl books.

 

~Chapter One~

 

Lady Charlotte Brandon was Trouble and no one knew that better than the Right Honorable Jameson Archer-Rhodes. Born just a few years apart and raised on neighboring estates James knew her—and her antics—very well. No one was more amused by them than he. Highlights on the long list of "Lady Charlotte's Disasters" included (in his opinion):

The occasion in which she replaced all the sugar with salt at a house party hosted by her mother, the duchess of Hamilton and Brandon. Charlotte had been seven and blamed the incident on her wicked imaginary friend, Millicent Strange, who was frequently guilty of all manner of horrible acts.
The occasion in which she'd been sent home from Lady Penelope's Finishing School for Young Ladies for "disappearing" all the embroidery supplies. She took full responsibility in a "your welcome" letter to her fellow students and faculty. To this day, she never revealed where the supplies had gone.
The occasion in which, when called upon to sing at Lady Strathmore's musical, she sang bawdy, obscene songs—in French. It was a verse or two before anyone caught on. And when they did….

James shook his head, grinning at the recollection. One thing could be said for Lady Charlotte: she was never boring. Maddening, yes. Terrifying, indeed. Boring, never.

When he spied her at the Lady Winterbottom's Ball with a wicked grin on her face, he knew she entertained some sort of dangerous thought. Even after years away, he could tell.  James threaded his way through the crowds to discover what madness she was up to.

Her face brightened into a happy smile when she saw him.

"Good evening, Lady Charlotte. You are grinning wickedly. I confess I am terrified, but intrigued," James said, as if he'd seen her this afternoon, when in fact he'd been abroad for the past four years.

"Well hello, James. Lovely to see you after all this time," she replied easily. "I quite feared you perished on the continent. Drowned in a Venetian canal, suffocated in a brothel, or tumbled from the Leaning Tower of Pisa."

"So you are smiling because I have returned safe and sound, only to find myself in the treacherous ballrooms of London's haute ton."

"Yes, that. And…" Charlotte conceded and then she leaned in close to him. Being a man, he glanced down at her bodice. Charlotte had changed since he saw her last, he noticed. "…The Tattooed Duke is here!"

"The Tattooed Duke?"

"I see you are very newly returned if you don't know. He's back after ten years abroad and reportedly covered in tattoos. I am grinning wickedly because, like the rest of the people here, I am imagining him in a state of undress."

James coughed. Shocked. She smiled, that wicked Mona Lisa smile of hers, and nodded at one barbaric looking gentleman in particular, who seemed to be sparring with a woman in a crimson dress.

"Lady Charlotte, I am appalled. I knew you had a mind prone to devious and scandalous thoughts but…" James said, his voice trailing off. When he'd left, Charlotte hadn't yet made her debut. She'd been a schoolgirl and now…she was no longer a schoolgirl. That much was plain.

"James, I did not expect you to return from the Continent such a prude. If that is the case, you clearly did not stay long enough," she lectured.

"Lady Charlotte, even you have no idea," he murmured. He almost crowed in triumph when he saw her blush. Why it mattered that he made her blush, he knew not.

"What brings you back to London?" she inquired. "At long last, I might add. Most gentlemen's grand tours last only for a year and you've been gone for four at least."

"Did you miss me?" He asked, with a rakish grin.  Charlotte rolled her eyes.

"You presume too much. I heard rumors about you, James. Is it true you have returned to find a wife?"

"If I said yes?"

"Rather dull of you, James. But never fear, I shall help you," she rested her hand on his arm affectionately. His heart raced. Her "help" would certainly lead to new additions on the list of "Lady Charlotte's Epic Disasters."

"That is precisely what I'm afraid of," he replied.

"So the rumors are true? You can confide in me, James." Charlotte said this in such a smooth voice, with such a tempting smile that his lips parted as if to tell her the truth…against all logic and reason. One did NOT confide in her.  And yet…

 

Should the rumors be true? Dear readers, take your pick from the options below, and I'll write the next installment accordingly!   

 

            ~ The rumors are true! He's seeking a wife. Charlotte, of course, shall play matchmaker. Whether he wants her to or not.

            ~ The rumors are ruse! He's really on a secret spy mission. Charlotte, of course, will assist him. Whether he wants her to or not.