I've never done this before, but thought I'd give it a try (face screwed up in terror) -- posting an excerpt from
Snowbound Seductions, which released 12/16/16. So here goes -- hope you enjoy and feel compelled to link to the purchasing options. If not, that's okay, too.
Excerpt from "Snowbound Seductions" --
CHAPTER
ONE
Huntington
Ridge, England
Early
December, 1814
"I can't stand this boredom any longer!" Lady
Alexandra Chase, young widow of Sir Jonathan Chase and sister of the Duke of
Huntington, jumped up from her chair and paced the gloom-filled room. Her
cousin, Hettie Neville, followed her movement, left to right, right to left,
until she thought she'd faint from dizziness. But that didn't stop Hettie from
snatching another tea cake. She munched lazily while Alexandra flounced about.
After so many years, Hettie was used to her cousin’s melodramatic ways.
Alexandra stopped and turned to her cousin.
"How
can you stand it, dearest? It's been over a year since your husband died. And
for me, it's been almost three."
Hettie
nodded, but said nothing, all the while eyeing the last tea cake. As she gazed
up at Alexandra with large blue eyes, she slipped the cake onto her china
plate. Rainy days and gloom always increased her appetite. Alexandra spun on
her heel and faced the mirror that hung on the wall of the morning room,
inspecting her complexion and teeth intently.
"We've
been cooped up here in the country without nary a dance or an outing in months.
And now my brother is heading home from London, and that will simply put
another nail in our coffin. We are doomed, Hettie, doomed to a life of
widowhood and boredom!" Alexandra threw herself into the chair opposite,
her clear gray eyes squinched up in a most unbecoming manner. Both women sighed
as they watched the incessant rain dribble down the windows, casting further
gloom over the two young women.
"Well,
dear, I would rather be doomed with you than anyone else, if that helps,"
Hettie muttered, smoothing her skirts of black bombazine. Frederick Neville,
her husband that was, had been the village vicar and she missed him terribly.
Well, not terribly. Actually she had become quite adjusted to having the
vicarage to herself. But now something loomed on the horizon that worried her.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a much-folded piece of paper.
"What's
that?" demanded Alexandra, eyeing the wrinkled paper. Then she noticed
Hettie's bottom lip quivering, the tears that threatened to spill over onto her
plump cheeks. She leaned forward and took her cousin's hand.
"Oh,
come now, it can't be all that bad. Tell me what's bothering you." Alexandra
was not a patient woman, but now was not the time to push Hettie.
"Well,
you know that my uncle, the bishop, granted me leave to stay at the vicarage
until he could find a replacement for . . . for . . ."
"For
Frederick?" Hettie nodded vigorously, wiping a tear with the back of her
hand.
"And?" Sometimes Hettie’s reticence could drive
Alexandra to the brink of madness. She waited, counting to ten. Then she would
pelt her with a pillow.
"I
received this letter yesterday from a Reverend Oliver Pierce. He's asking when
I can vacate the house as he wants to be settled in before Christmas. He is a
widower and has a young child." Now Hettie began to wail, letting the
flood gate of tears open. Alexandra poured a fresh cup of tea and, on second
thought, went over to her sewing basket and pulled out a slender silver flask
from under the linens. She slipped a bit of brandy into Hettie's cup and handed
it to her,
"Drink
up, dear. It will do you good." Hettie slurped up the tea and took a deep
breath.
"What
shall I do, Alexandra? It's not possible for me to find a new home and move by
then. And he mentioned coming in a few days to 'inspect' the vicarage. How dare
he? What does he think we did to it? Punched holes in the walls and ran pigs
through the parlor?" Behind her hankie, her eyes searched desperately for
another tea cake.
Alexandra
was glad to see a spark of fire in Hettie's eyes. She poured more tea and
another dribble of brandy, then did the same for herself. They sipped in
silence, each brooding over their different plights.
"I
have it, Hettie!" Once again Alexandra jumped up and began pacing,
although this time she weaved a bit to the right. This only made Hettie dizzy
again, trying to follow her back and forth. Hettie hiccupped, blew her nose
delicately, then sniffed.
"You
have what?"
Alexandra
grabbed her hands and laughed. "You shall move in with us. We have plenty
of rooms to spare at Huntington Ridge. You could have the entire east wing, if
you want." Hettie's eyes lit up.
"Do
you think Cyrus and William would allow that?" Hettie was afraid of
Alexandra's rascal of an uncle. He drank, he rode, he hunted and always smelled
of dog, sometimes leaving trails of dog hair throughout the ancestral
estate. She lowered her voice a bit more and whispered, “And what of the
Duke?” Although cousins, William was a force to contend with and he was such a
stickler for peace and order.
"Oh,
men! What do I care?" Another dribble of brandy was shared, and then
Alexandra continued, albeit wobbly, with her route about the room. She stopped
suddenly and glared at Hettie. Was she seeing double? Of course not.
"Between
my uncle and my brother, my life has become an endless grind of taking care of
their wishes, their demands. I propose that we break free and issue some
demands of our own."
"Demands
of our own?" Hettie whispered. Oh, this did not sound good. Mutiny was not
something Hettie looked forward to. "Are you sure?" Her stomach
rumbled loudly. She could feel the tea and brandy sloshing about inside. Hettie
did not think well when hungry. She pouted. "What kind of demands?"
Alexandra
stopped and stared up at the ceiling, but that proved to be spinning a bit -- or was she? She giggled. "We will declare our
independence, just like they did in the colonies."
"And
with what money, pray tell? I have a meager annuity that Frederick left me,
plus some funds from my grandmother. That's not much to live on, you
know."
Alexandra
screwed up her face, thinking hard. She knew she'd come up with something, but
right now she felt a headache building behind her eyes. "Give me time.
I'll find some way that we can free ourselves from this drudgery. After all, we
deserve it, especially during the holiday season."
The
two women fell silent once again, more from the effect of the brandy than from
the lack of anything to discuss. The clock ticked and the rain fell. Alexandra
reflected on their earlier lives when they both had been married and happy.
She
had married at nineteen the Baronet Sir Jonathan Chase, recently graduated from
the Royal Military College, and had several years of married life before he was
shipped off to the Peninsular War. Within six months she found herself a widow.
Because of straightened finances, she was forced to sell the townhouse in
London and move back to Huntington Ridge to live with her uncle and her
brother.
At
first it was what she needed -- to be surrounded by all that was familiar and
reliable. But once her period of mourning was over, she grew restless. She
missed the life of London, the parties, the officers and their wives, the young
cadets in training who would stop by the townhouse for tea and sympathy when
her husband had been alive. Now life seemed to stretch endlessly ahead, months
and years of the same, dull routines. No dancing, no kissing, no . . . well,
one could not bear to think of that when there seemed little hope of
experiencing it again -- love, passion, those sweet times of being chased
around the parlor and up the stairs, romping under the covers. Alexandra rubbed
her temples, willing the dull ache to disappear.
Now
she organized the household of Huntington Ridge, took care of the bills and the
servants, while her uncle galloped about the countryside and her brother buried
himself in London throughout most of the year, making money and traveling on
diplomatic errands for the Crown.
Hettie's
plight was even worse. Married to a childhood sweetheart, she had thrown
herself into the life of a vicar's wife, doing good deeds and aiding those in
need of succor. Frederick had been a somewhat staid fellow, and Alexandra had
often wondered why there had not been any children as her cousin was quite
pretty and full of life. And then Frederick upped and died of influenza, gone
within days, leaving Hettie with nothing but a pitiful annuity and a dim future.
What
were they to do?
There
was a knock on the door and the butler stepped into the room. "The
Countess Roberge to see you, milady." He bowed and then skipped back a
step as a tall, commanding woman glided into the room in a ripple of silks and
furs with a small dog perched in her arm. She was a striking older woman with
pale blond hair piled high above a face serene and gracious, with a set of
flashing blue eyes.
"Ah,
my sweet, it has been too many years since I've seen you!” Alexandra broke into
a smile and leaned in to hug her old friend and neighbor, the former Lady
Caroline Lambert, now the Countess Roberge. Hettie stood slowly, gathering her
equanimity about her as best she could. She vaguely remembered the Countess
from earlier days, but their orbits had not crossed all that much in the past.
"What
are you doing back in England?" Alexandra eyed the woman's silk gown and
matching fur-trimmed pelisse, which the Countess casually slung about her
shoulders. The countess rapped her on the arm with a hand-painted silk fan that
must have cost a small fortune.
"Could
you have Hudson build up the fire, dear? I'm still not adjusted to the damp and
chill of England in December. In southern France it would still be quite
warm." She gave a little shiver to emphasize her words. Alexandra tugged on the bell pull and gave
the butler instructions; also, to bring in a fresh pot of tea and more cakes.
Hettie's eyes lit up at the thought of a warm fire and more cakes.
The
Countess leaned forward, "I have such news, such a sad story. Do you want
to hear of my woes and miseries?" She settled herself on the divan,
spreading out the silks and lace, her face a study in sweet sorrow. She patted
the seat next to her. "Here, come sit by me, Alexandra. And you, too, Hettie. You see, I do remember
you." Hettie edged her way to the
chair across from them, keeping her eye on the tiny dog with the bulging eyes
that lay in the woman's arm. Nasty bit, that thing. She sincerely hoped it didn't
have a penchant for tea cakes.
"Woes
and misery? Odd, Hettie and I were just dwelling on similar thoughts. What
happened?" Alexandra leaned forward, always loving a good chin wag,
especially with someone new. "And
what do we call you now? Countess? Lady Caro?" She discreetly slipped a
bit more brandy into her tea cup and waggled it under her guest's nose. Lady Caro nodded, then giggled like a school
girl.
"Oh,
I say, you are wicked, Alexandra. But it is so damned gloomy outside. One needs
something to warm one's toes, don't you think?" The older woman settled
herself back into the deep upholstered sofa, then put the small dog down on the
Aubusson carpet. It proceeded to piddle, then edged its way toward the tea
cakes. Hettie gave it a slight shove with her foot.
"Well,
you know that Meredith and I moved to the continent after Sir Edward's death.
And after roaming around in Paris for a bit, we headed to the warmer climes
near the Mediterranean. And do you know what?" Dramatically, Lady Caro
paused in her story, leaving the two young women hanging on her words.
"What?"
Another slip of brandy was passed around, and the sound of sipping filled the
room.
"I
met Count Jean-Luc Roberge, a most handsome, manly man, if you know what I
mean." She winked. Both women leaned further forward, intent on her next
words.
"And
after a whirlwind romance, we married. Of course, I made certain that Meredith
was agreeable to the marriage."
''Was
she?"
"Most
agreeable. And Jean-Luc adored her, as well. We were quite content until last
year when he contracted some kind of fever. Oh, it was terrible yet quick. Not
anything like Sir Edward's slow and painful demise, if you recall." Alexandra and Hettie nodded. The little
silver flask was passed around as the three women pondered that time years ago.
"How
is Meredith? She must be, what? Twenty-one, twenty-two?" Alexandra
remembered a skinny little girl in old leather boots tramping around the
stables, following her brother about the place like a puppy.
"My
Meredith is twenty-three and quite the young lady. Although this past year, she
has been somewhat melancholy. To be expected after her father's death, and then
Jean-Luc's. That is why we've returned to England. I feel she needs to be back
home at Lambert Hall and among friends and neighbors."
Lady
Caro paused and eyed Alexandra and Hettie. "And you? What have you been
doing with yourselves." Before the words were out of her mouth, the young
women pounced on her with a list of woes, ending with their agreement to defy
the men of Huntington Ridge. She clapped her hands in glee.
"Oh,
goodness, you are the brave ones, aren't you? And what does your brother and
uncle say about all this?" Silence. She cocked her head to the side.
"You haven't discussed any of this with them yet?" Two heads shook
vigorously. "When did you plan on breaking the news then?" More silence as Alexandra gazed up at the
ceiling and Hettie blew her nose loudly.
"I
see." Lady Caro slowly stood and moved toward the mirror, making some
adjustments to her richly-patterned turban. It truly was time to dump the thing
since it hid her full head of still very blonde hair. She turned and studied
Alexandra. "Where is your uncle, dear? I thought I'd just visit with him
for a few minutes, perhaps mention the need for a celebration now that Meredith
and I are home again." As her words sunk in, Alexandra jumped up from her
chair and grabbed Lady Caro's hand.
"Oh,
would you? Could you?"
"But
of course. I think our best maneuver is to gain Cyrus' approval; then we will
attack William upon his arrival. When is he expected?"
"Next
week, perhaps sooner. He never announces his arrival. He just appears."
"Well,
let's see how much we can plan in the coming days -- a small, intimate dinner
at Lambert Hall, perhaps, followed by the village fete. And, of course, no
holiday would be complete without a Holiday Ball, don't you agree?" She
turned and dropped her reticule and cloak on the sofa, then primped in the
mirror. "Why don't you both come tomorrow after breakfast, and we'll start
work on the guest lists? I'll see that Meredith joins us, too. Now, I must see
Cyrus before I leave."
As
Lady Caro made her way down the hall towards the library she could hear whoops
of laughter ring out from the morning room. It was good to hear laughter at
Huntington Ridge. Years back it had always struck her as such a gloom-filled
place.
End of Excerpt
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