Grandon Hall – an excerpt
Beaumont looked in the drawing room for Louisa. She must be outside. The doors to the terrace were ajar. She stood by the mermaid fountain her blue dress silhouetted against a bed of white roses. His pulse began to race. If only she could be his! When he was close enough the feel the fine mist on his face she turned toward him.
“Miss Mayville,” He bowed, then took her hand and kissed it. Her hand was soft and fit perfectly into his. She was so lovely. “Moonlight becomes you.”
She smiled, “I had hoped to speak to you, my lord.”
He gave her a questioning look.
“My cousin, Thomas is alive today thanks to you.”
“He was just a confused lad,” he said.
“Yes, and you understood that.” She gave him a tender look which eroded his crumbling defences.
“You are not going to be a countess,” he said still holding her hand. What would her lips taste like?
“That was never my dream. It was my mother’s.”
“Are you returning to little Ealingsford?”
“Yes. Tomorrow morning.” So soon.
An Orchid for Penelope – an excerpt
“Oh no!” she cried. She grasped the lip of the vase as the water poured down on her head and the front of her dress. The flowers began raining down on her.
“Someone please help me!” She heard the sound of running feet and then someone lifted the urn out of her hands.
“It’s all right. I’ve got it. You can let go now,” said a deep masculine voice in her ear.
Penelope looked up into the dark eyes of the stranger she had seen, riding by, on her first day at Brambley Court. Wiping the water from her face she gasped, “Thank you” as a hot flush coloured her cheeks. This was not how she had hoped to meet the man, soaking wet and standing in a puddle of water.
Not Quite a Lady – an excerpt
“May I have the honour of this dance, Miss Gillingham?” he asked bowing deeply.”
“Yes, milord,” Ruby flashed him a smile as she bobbed a curtsey. She could hear the violins softly playing the opening bars of her favourite waltz. This felt like a dream.
“If we do this in full dance position it will be easier, all right?” he asked.
Ruby nodded. This was so daring. She knew her aunt would disapprove but she wanted to know how to do the waltz properly, not just the modified open position. Berrington took her in his arms and Ruby felt her pulse pick up. She could feel his muscular arms holding her and suddenly felt petite, small even. How odd. being taller than most women of her acquaintance that was not how she normally thought of herself. The waltz music drifted over the night air. She could hear him humming softly along with it. How nice.”
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Melody of My Heart – an excerpt
“Rosteyne watched as Caitlyn seated herself beside the harp.Gently running her fingers over the strings, she made a few adjustments then began to sing. Her pure sweet voice carried the melody, weaving between thesoft strumming of the harp and filled the room with a musical tapestry. Rosteyne saw her in profile, the candlelightcasting an aura over her auburn hair, her high bosom rising and falling with each breath. He was entranced. Asthe candles burned lower, although loathe to break the spell, he rose reluctantly to his feet.”I must bid you fair ladies a good evening and be on my way to Tanglewood.”
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Cordelia, a delightful girl from Kent goes to visit her aunt in Yorkshire and falls in love with her neighbour, the gorgeous, young Squire Bolingbrook. Because of her own broken heart, her aunt doesn’t approve of him or his family.
Bolingbrook is being pressured to marry Sophia, Lord Sapperton’s daughter. He doesn’t like even her and dreams of a life with Cordelia instead. But Lord Sapperton covets his land to build a railroad and will stop at nothing to force the marriage. He declares that the betrothal will take be announced at the Midsummer Ball.
Cordelia is in tears. Can this news be true? And what is this rumour about Gretna Green?
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I was born in the magical city of Prague, in the Czech Republic, once known as the Paris of central Europe. I love old architecture, opera, classical music and vintage clothing. Perhaps latent memories of my early childhood are responsible. I have a degree in history and enjoy ferreting out obscure details of the lives of men and women who lived in centuries past. Writing about the Regency is my form of time-travel.
I would love hear from you. You can email me at firstname.lastname@example.org