Which Are the Correct Classification of my Novels?

I write novels set in times past. I agonise over how to describe them. The hero and heroine are imaginary but they are not 21st century people dressed in costume. The novels  are romances enriched with historical facts and  social history. My hero and heroine's bedroom door is never wide open. So, how should I describe my books? Are the historical novels, historical romances or romantic historicals? And which term is the best to describe them - traditional, sweet or clean? I want to send a clear message to potential readers.

Writing Targets - Cooking - Plum Cordial - Ice Cream - 3 Bean Bake

The weather forecast predicts rain so I shall cook after I finish this morning's writing targets. To start with I'm going to make plum cordial. I shall simmer the bullace, small wild plums with water until they are soft, then strain them through muslin overnight. Tomorrow, I shall bring the liquid to the boil add sugar, stir the cordial until the sugar has dissolved and then bottle it in sterilised bottles. I am also going to make several strawberry ice cream and at least two batches of mango ice cream which I shall freeze. (My ice cream maker is an excellent investment.) Finally I shall make a vegetarian large three bean bake with black eye-beans, cannelloni beans and freshly picked runner beans. I shall add deep fried cubes of paneer, an Indian cheese, which will soak up the flavours of the tomato and spices.

Early Morning Service and Today's Targets

I went to the early morning service this morning. I enjoyed the excellent sermon about appreciating others and thanking them for what they do. After all, what would the premises look like without the unpaid cleaners, the flower arrangers, fund raisers  and others who serve God. I left feeling energised and full of good will. On the way home I stopped at my daughter's house, then socialised wither her and my grandchildren instead of going home and getting on. I have a lot of writing to do if I'm going to meet today's targets. There's also 8 pounds of rather small plums in the fridge to be made into something, 3 cartons of double cream, a large punnet of strawberries and 2 boxes of mangos in the fridge. I plan to make strawberry ice cream and mango ice cream. Then there's the week's laundry to catch up on, and I'm baby child sitting this evening while my daughter goes out. Before I go I should pick the ripe plums from my tree and...and...and. Deep sigh. I doubt that I will accomplish all of today's goals.

Novel Competions

I entered a novel in two competitions and paid extra for the readers' comments. Well you know the saying you can please some of the people all of the time but not all of the people all of the time, it certainly applied to the comments. One reader praised my writing style but didn't like anything else about the novel. He or she couldn't identify with the main characters. Although I won neither competition the other reader really liked it. However, if I had depended on the first writer's opinion I might have given up on the novel.

Good Weather and Home Grown Vegetables

Today the weather in South East England is perfect - sunny with a pleasant breeze After writing for two and a half hours I ate breakfast in the garden. An hour later I picked pounds of runner beans, half of which I gave to a friend.

Before I went on holiday this year I transferred some of the six different varieties of tomatoes I grew from seed into pots. The rest I planted in a space in the front garden. The ones in pots haven't done very well. The outdoor ones have run wild without any care and attention. Today I began to prune them and discovered that the lower part of each plant is loaded with cherry tomatoes, plum tomatoes, salad tomatoes and a new striped variety. They are looking good pruned and tied them to bamboo canes. I incerely hope they won't be attacked by tomato blight.

The rest of the vegetable patches and the fruit trees are very productive this year. I'm looking forward to delicious apples, pears and plums.

Finding Time for Historical Research

Finding time to research historical facts by reading non-fiction.

Last night my five year old granddaughter had a sleepover at my house. This morning, as a reward for her excellent behaviour for the last month I took her to Gambados, an indoor play area. We were there for two hours. In spite of the loud background music, parents talking and many children having a good time, I got on with my research.

I read and put post it notes with remarks on pages of particular interest. An added bonus were the ideas for the plot and descriptions in my new clean Regency novel, Tuesday's Child.

Very Unwelcome London Visitors

According to my research, in the past, bedbugs were far less prevalent in the country than in the towns.

At the Bell Savage Inn in London, in May, 1782, Parson Woodforde recorded that in 1782, when he stayed at the Bell Savage Inn in London,  "I was terribly bitten by the buggs last night, but did not wake me." In 1786 while staying at the place he wrote that buggs pestered him so much that he slept all night in a chair fully clad.

Moving onto a much later period my great-grandmother stood the legs of her beds in bowls of paraffin to prevent bedbugs getting into the beds, and she swept underneath the beds every day.

And people talk about the good old days.

Horror of horrors, I've heard that in modern times bedbugs brought into the country from overseas have infested some London hotels. The thought of staying in one literally makes my skin crawl.

Research- Regency-Water Closets-Coaches

Today, we take lavatories, toilets, loos - call them what you will - and public conveniences for granted, unless we are 'in the back of beyond'.

While reading A Visitor's Guild to:Jane Austen's England by Sue Wilkes, I made a note of the following. After all, one never knows what will come in useful when writing historical fiction.

"Many people love travelling despite the discomforts, but you'll have to endure some discomforts if travelling far off the beaten track. A writer in 'The Monthly Magazine' advised their readers to ask their coach builder to fit a substitute 'for a water closet' when having a new closed-carriage built. In remote places like the Scottish Highlands some of the smaller stages have no privy attached; even the inns in little towns often have no conveniences where you can relieve yourself, except 'a dirty exposed' place."

Writing Technique for my New Novel

Really pleased with myself. I've kept to my target of writing a minimum number of words every day and have written the first 10,000 words of Tuesday's Child. On good days I exceed my target. I'm writing faster than usual because I'm leaving blanks re:historical details that I need to research. I have a comprehensive library of non-fiction books about the Regency Era so I should be able to fill in most of the blanks without much difficulty.
Rosemary Morris
Historical Novelist
www.rosemarymorris.co.uk

Bhagavadgita As It Is.Philosophy, Sentimentality. Fanaticism

At the moment I am re-reading The Bhagavadgita As It Is translated into English and with purports - by His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada. The following made an impression on me: "Religion without philosophy is sentiment, or sometimes fanaticism." Chapter Three Text Three.

The Regency and The Minuet

I enjoy historical research. Today I have been reading about dancing and music. In 1816 Thomas Wilson, a dance master, insisted the stately minuet should open a ball. In 1813 the Prince Regent held a ball that began and ended with a minuet. As far as I know, it was unusual to end a ball with one,
In towns such as Bath where there were many elderly people balls began with a minuet during the first quarter of the 19th century and, possibly, later.

Historical Research

It is all too easy to become careless about research when writing a novel whether it is contemporary or historical

I knew that young boys in the Regency wore dresses and ankle length drawers. However, I assumed they were breeched by the age of three.

The heroine in my new novel, Tuesday's Child, has a three and three quarter year-old son.

I researched children's clothes. Boys wore skeleton suits. The ankle length trousers fastened with buttons to a tight jacket that had a double row of buttons fastened down the front. Alternatively, the trousers were fastened to a shirt, so that the jacket could be left open to reveal frills down the front of a blouse, which had a wide collar edged with a frill.

I described young Arthur in his 'skeleton suit' and tried, unsuccessfully, to find out if the term was used in the Regency period.

After much more research I found out that boys were not breeched until they were about five years of age. Arthur now wears a  gown with a high waist and low neck, ankle length drawers, and white stockings. When he goes out he wears a top hat instead of a bonnet that girls wore.

I still need to research fabrics - materials, wool, cotton, silk, plain, sprigged, patterned or tartan.

As a historical novelist I try my hardest to be accurate. 

Rosemary Morris

http://www.rosemarymorris.co.uk

http://rosemarymorris.blogspot.com

Gardening, Rain, Mango Ice Cream, Cous-Cous Recipe, Delicious Lunch

By midday the rain poured down so I retreated indoors, having planted out lupins and sweet Williams I grew from seeds, which will flower next year. Unable to do any more gardening I made a batch of mango ice cream and put it in the freezer. After I emptied the dishwasher, cleaned and tidied the kitchen it was nearly time to have lunch. I had intended to make a salad but didn't brave the rain to forage in the garden. So I made cous cous. I put one third of a cup of cous cous in a saucepan and added one third of a cup plus a little extra of boiling water and a vegetarian stock cube. I stirred the mixture well. I then cut up the left over potato and runner beans from yesterday into small pieces and added two chopped, fresh apricots. After ten minutes I added this to the cous cous, heated it in the mircrowave and topped it with a generous helping of butter. For desert I couldn't resist some mango ice cream. As I say to small children. Yummy, yummy for the tummy.

My Guest Interview at Love Romance Cafe

Whenever I am interviewed online, I look at the webpage and think: Is that really me.

 Today my latest interview with Love Romance Café is at:-

 http://www.allyshields.com/7/post/2015/08/coffee-chat-author-interview-rosemary-morris.html

 Wow! My thanks to Ally and any of you who visit it.

 

Blood Test and an Apricot Tree

Mixed day today. The worst thing was a blood test. My veins object to parting with blood so my doctor uses a butterfly needle which was invented for premature babies. Afterwards I had a decaffeinated latte with my daughter before going to Homebase. The local branch is closing down so everything is on sale. I treated myself to a self-fertile apricot tree which will take 2 years to fruit. Pleased with the bargain I lunched with friends, had a natter and then went to the library. I put my feet up in the afternoon and am now child minding my daughters' children. The youngest, my five year-old granddaughter is playing on the wee with a loud running commentary and her brothers are playing on the wi fi. Mind you, their mother limits the amount of time they may spend on these devices. On reflection not a bad day in spite of the dreaded blood test before which I wrote my self-imposed number of words.

A Novelist's Plan for Today

Today has started well. I woke at 6 a.m., and drank a glass of water, for which my kidneys will thank me, before going outside and turning on the sprinkler to water the fruit trees. I then put all my white clothes in the washing machine and turned it on. Next I wrote 600 words of Tuesday's Child my new traditional Regency Romance, by then the washing was ready to come out of the machine, so I took it out. I nipped out into the garden and moved the sprinkler so that my curly kale, black kale, chard, brussel sprouts, lettuce etc., would be get plenty of water. Back indoors put the coloureds in the washing machine and turned it on, gave my  kidneys a treat with another glass of water and then returned to my laptop.

I'm looking forward to the rest of the day. When I finish dealing with 'writerly' matters I shall work in the garden and make a salad with home grown ingredients, one of which will be Russian salad made with potato, carrot and French beans from the garden. In the afternoon I'll read and then write etc. 

This evening I will attend the writing group that I belong to.

I propose and hope God will not dispose of my plans.

Review of Tangled Love:Early18thc Historical Fiction

 

Tangled Love by Rosemary Morris was short listed for the best romantic e-book at The Festival of Romance, Bedford U.K

 

 

5* review of Rosemary Morris’s Tangled Love on Amazon by J. Pittam.

I very much enjoyed this new author. Tangled Love is set at the turn of the 18th century it follows the fortunes of Richelda, poverty-stricken daughter of a now-dead Jacobite. Richelda is haunted by the childhood oath she made at her father's instigation, to regain their ancestral home. She knows she has little chance of fulfilling that dream - until her wealthy aunt promises to make Richelda her heiress. But there is a condition; she must marry the man of her aunt's choosing- Viscount Lord Chesney. Richelda's feelings for Chesney are ambivalent and her heart already belongs to her penniless childhood companion, Dudley.

Love and betrayal, misplaced loyalties, even the promise of a treasure trove make this a charming story with a well-rounded, believable heroine and a delicious hero. Rosemary Morris's attention to historical detail brings period and place vividly to life. More please.

 

Tangled Love is available from: MuseItUp Publishing, Amazon Kindle, Nook, Omlit, Bookstrand Mainstream, Kobo and elsewhere.

 

To view the book trailer, read the first three chapters and reviews please visit. www.rosemarymorris.co.uk

 

 

 

6th & final extract from Tangled Love:Early 18thc. Historical Fiction

Tangled Love by Rosemary Morris was short listed for the best romantic e-book at The Festival of Romance, Bedford U.K in 2013

 

Richelda has gone from riches to rags after the death of her parents. She has inherited Bellemont House in which she lives alone with her mother’s childhood nurse. Her aunt suggested Viscount Chesney should marry him. He has come to meet her.

 

 

Extract from Chapter Three

 

Hertfordshire - England

 

 

‘Elsie,” Richelda said to her late mother’s childhood nurse,” I am tired of struggling. I shall sell the estate to Jack, except for a snug cottage and a few acres of land for my own use.’

 ‘Sell Bellemont to His Grace!’ Elsie twined her work-roughened fingers together. ‘Lord above, my wits have gone begging? I’ve forgotten to say a visitor awaits you.’

 Richelda wiped her face on her coarse apron. ‘Visitor?’ She forced herself to her feet.

‘Yes, a fine gentleman, Viscount Chesney by name, is waiting for you in the parlour.’

Heavens above, he must be the man whose identity she mistook earlier on for Lord Greaves.

A long male shadow fell across the dark oak floor before the parlour door closed. She caught her breath. Either Elsie left the door ajar by mistake or her uninvited guest had opened it and eavesdropped.

After washing and changing, Richelda went down the broad flight of oak stairs.  Looking at Elsie, she raised her eyebrows.

Elsie nodded her approval and pointed at the parlour door. ‘He’s still in there. I’ll fetch some elderflower wine.’

‘No, come with me -’ she began, but Elsie, with speed surprising in one of her size, bustled into a passage that led to the kitchen.

He will not recognize me, Richelda reassured herself.  She mimicked her late mother’s graceful walk, entered the room and coughed to attract attention.

Viscount Chesney turned away from the window. He gazed at her intently. ‘Lady Richelda?’

She curtsied wishing she also wore exquisitely cut black velvet and silk instead of a threadbare gown fashioned from one of her mother’s old ones. He bowed and extended a perfectly manicured hand.

Ashamed of her rough hands, she permitted him to draw her to her feet. ‘You have the advantage of knowing my name.’ She looked into grey eyes reminiscent of still water on an overcast day.

‘Lord Chesney at your service, my lady.’

‘I am honoured to make your acquaintance, my lord. Please take a seat.’

He laughed. ‘Lady Richelda, although I did not introduce myself to you earlier, I hoped you would say you are pleased to renew your acquaintance with me.’

She tilted her chin. ‘You mistake me for someone else.’

‘I do not. Your eyes and voice are unforgettable.’

‘What can you mean?’

‘Why are you pretending to misunderstand me,’ he drawled. ‘Shall we sit?  No, do not look at me so distrustfully. I did not seize the opportunity to manhandle you earlier today. Word of a gentleman there is no need to fear me either now or in future.’

Somewhat nervous in spite of his assurance, she sat opposite him. While she regained her composure, she put her feet side by side on a footstool.

‘If you confess, I will not tell your aunt.’

‘My aunt?’ 

‘Yes, she wishes me to make your acquaintance.’

Her mother’s family shunned her. They feared being tainted by her late father’s politics. The viscount must have referred to Father’s only close relative, his sister, Lady Ware. ‘Aunt Isobel?’ she queried, suspicious because she knew her mother, born into a family with puritanical inclinations, despised Aunt Isobel’s frivolity.

He nodded.

‘But my aunt -’

Burdened by a tray, Elsie entered the room. She put it down and served them with elderflower wine, before she withdrew.

Chesney eyed his glass of wine with obvious mistrust. ‘Why did you sigh, Lady Richelda?’

She refrained from explaining she longed to eat something other than her daily fare of boiled puddings, flavoured with herbs, mixed with vegetables and served with or without game birds or rabbits, which Elsie sometimes snared. 

Bowstring taut, Richelda drank some pale wine. She looked at the viscount, whose posture depicted a man at ease. ‘Please taste this wine, my lord, although you might not be accustomed to home brewed beverages, I think you will enjoy its taste.’

He sipped some. ‘An excellent tribute to Elsie’s skill. She made it did she not?’  She nodded before he spoke again. ‘Tell me, child, how long have you lived alone with Elsie?’

 ‘Since Mother died nearly a year ago.’ The pain of her mother’s death always made her mouth tremble when she spoke of her.

‘Why did you remain here?’ 

‘I hoped to improve my estate. Oh, I know everything has deteriorated, but if I could -’

He concluded her sentence. ‘Transport oak to the shipyards?’

She widened her eyes. ‘Thank you for your excellent advice, my lord, I daresay you noticed my valuable stands of oak when you approached Bellemont?’

Although he chuckled, his eyes remained serious. ‘Never forget I do not allow anyone to play me for a fool, not even a hoyden of an actress, worthy of note though you are.’

Outraged by being called a hoyden for the second time, that day she stood. ‘Please leave.’

Viscount Chesney rose to approach her. Muscles across the breadth of his shoulders rippled beneath his coat, a testament to his tailor’s skill. When he put a hand on either side of her waist, she trembled. His lordship was tall, taller than Dudley. Her head only reached his throat. When she looked up at Chesney his breath warmed her forehead. She trembled again.

 

Tangled Love is available from: MuseItUp Publishing, Amazon Kindle, Nook, Omlit, Bookstrand Mainstream, Kobo and elsewhere.

 

To view the book trailer, read the first three chapters and reviews please visit. www.rosemarymorris.co.uk

 

Tangled Love:Excerpt:18thc. Historical Fiction

Tangled Love by Rosemary Morris was short listed for the best romantic e-book at The Festival of Romance, Bedford U.K in 2013

 

 

Chapter Two

London - 1702

 

Chesney stepped from Lady Ware’s spacious house into King Street, and walked towards Whitehall. Although the proposal to marry Lady Richelda took him by surprise, he gave further thought to accepting it. Yet he would not wait for Lady Richelda to come to town where she would doubtless parade in the latest fashions, powder and patch. Where did she live?  He searched his memory. Ah, now he remembered. She lived at Bellemont which Lady Ware had mentioned lay close by his newly purchased property. Why not hazard a journey there and cast an eye over both domains?

His stride quickened to keep pace with his racing mind. Was the young lady tall or short, plain or pretty, blonde or brunette, meek or shrewish, illiterate or well educated?

Cocksure, Chesney took her acceptance of his proposal for granted. After all, why should she refuse a well-educated, not ill favoured viscount?

He knew it was time to settle down and have a family.  If she proved suitable he would wed her. He would welcome her inheritance. For his part, he would try not to give her cause for complaint by ensuring she lacked naught. They would refurbish Field House, improve the estate and purchase a town house.

His inner voice nagged him. What of love?

For most people of his rank, sentiment had little to do with marriage. In fact, some said no lady concerned herself with the vulgarity of love or passion. A wife’s happiness and satisfaction should be derived through ensuring her husband’s comfort, good works, plying her needle and raising children.

He sighed. A man in his position must marry if only to father heirs.

 ‘Look an Adonis? Who is he?’ A high-pitched female voice interrupted his thoughts.

Chesney looked round at a powdered and patched lady with rouged cheeks who stared at him.

‘I don’t know, I think he’s a newcomer to town,’ her companion, a younger lady said in an equally strident tone.

Unaffected by their comments he laughed. Since his youth women commented on his height and his perfect proportions. He did not consider himself vain, but unlike some members of his gentlemen’s club, who took little exercise and overate, he fenced, hunted, rode and walked to keep his body fit.

The older lady inclined her head, the younger one winked before they went about their business.

Chesney whistled low. What would Lady Richelda think of him? He contemplated his future with pleasure. With a smile, he thought of London’s coffeehouses, theatres, parks, concerts and pleasure gardens. Lady Richelda’s inheritance, added to his more modest one, would ensure they could command the elegancies of life.

When he reached his lodgings, he summoned Roberts. ‘Pack, we leave for Field House tomorrow. Send a message to the stables. I require my coach at eight in the morning. Is there anything to eat?’

Roberts shook his head.

‘Order some mutton pies from the tavern. Do you want me to die of hunger?  Hurry, man, what do you tarry for?’  He clapped his hands, his mind racing with thoughts of the future.

Roberts bowed low. He straightened, regarding him with his face creased in familiar lines of despair.

 ‘What?’ Chesney sighed. Why did he always feel dishevelled in his manservant’s presence?  Roberts was only six years his senior but Chesney could not remember a day when the man did not wear an immaculate black cloth suit, a neat black waistcoat and unwrinkled stockings.

‘Firstly, my lord, the sooner you purchase a London House and employ a cook the better it will be. Secondly, with all due respect, my lord, your appearance grieves me.’

Chesney looked contritely at his black, buckled shoes and his white silk stockings splashed with muck from London’s filthy streets. He knew Roberts aspired to take the credit for him always being dressed to perfection.  ‘Do not despair, you shall have the pleasure of dressing me in fine clothes on my wedding day,’ he teased.

 

Tangled Love is available from: MuseItUp Publishing, Amazon Kindle, Nook, Omlit, Bookstrand Mainstream, Kobo and elsewhere.

 To view the book trailer, read the first three chapters and reviews please visit. www.rosemarymorris.co.uk

 

 

Tangled Love:Extract:Early 18thc. Historical Fiction

Tangled Love by Rosemary Morris was short listed for the best romantic e-book at The Festival of Romance, Bedford U.K in 2013

Extract from Chapter One
London - 1702

Chesney rapped his cane on the front door of Lady Ware’s London mansion. Sister of his late father’s friend he did not know her well. He wondered why she had summoned him.
‘Lord Chesney?’ Bennet, Lady Ware’s middle-aged butler, queried his lined
face both respectful.
Chesney inclined his head.
‘This way, my lord. You are expected.’ Bennet led him up the stairs to a beautifully appointed parlour on the first floor where he announced him to Lady Ware.
Chesney raised his voice above the barks of six King Charles Cavalier spaniels. ‘Your servant, Lady Ware.’
Lady Ware waved a hand at her little dogs. ‘Be quiet.’ Her ladyship inclined her head to him. ‘My lord, I am pleased to see you?’
Full glass in his hand, Chesney sat.
‘My lord, I shall come straight to the point. I summoned you to propose your marriage to my niece, Richelda Shaw. In all honesty, I assure you it would be to your advantage.’
While she waited for his reply, the petite lady patted her silvery hair with one hand. With her other hand she fluttered her fan which she peeped over girlishly. 
‘You flatter me, Madam,’ he drawled.
Lady Ware’s dainty shrug released her cloying perfume of lavender mingled with roses and vanilla. She snapped her fan shut then tapped his arm with it. ‘You are mistaken. I do not flatter you. I offer you and my niece a solution. Your fathers followed King James to France. You are gossiped about.  People eye you as distrustfully as I think my niece will be eyed when I bring her to London.’
 ‘Are you not gossiped about, Lady Ware? After all, your late brother, the earl’s conversion to the Church of Rome must place you and your family under government scrutiny. For my part, I thank God my father remained true to The Anglican Church.’
Lady Ware shuddered. ‘Do not mention that matter to me, my lord. I vow I had no sympathy with my brother when he became a Papist. All I can do is thank God he was not tried as a traitor and his head is not displayed at the Tower of London.’
Chesney shifted his position, smothering a yawn behind his hand before he made a cautious reply. ‘I am neither a Jacobite nor a Papist.  I apologize for mentioning the matter of your brother’s conversion.’
‘Some more wine, Viscount?’ 
He shook his head, leaning back to deliberately present a picture of a man completely at his ease.
Lady Ware arched her eyebrows. She sipped her wine. ‘All London knows I am a wealthy woman.’ She blinked the sheen of tears from her eyes. ‘My lord, ’tis cruel not only to suffer widowhood thrice but to also lose my only child.’
Acknowledging her grief, he bowed his head. ‘My condolences, Madam.’
‘Thank you.’ She dabbed her eyes with a black handkerchief. ‘My poor daughter’s death is my niece’s gain. If Richelda is obedient, she will inherit all my property.’
Her ladyship rested her head against the back of her chair. She opened her fan and plied it restlessly while she scrutinized him.
‘What do you think of my proposal, my lord?’
Chesney sat straighter. She had not minced her words. He smiled with his usual forthrightness. ‘As yet I have neither put myself on the matrimonial market nor made my fortune and title available to any lady who wishes to marry me.’
‘I hear you purchased Field House.’ She tapped her fan on the arm of her chair.
‘Yes, I did,’ he replied in a neutral tone.
‘Well, sir, I shall speak bluntly. My niece’s lands are adjacent to yours.
Through marriage, you would double your estate by acquiring my niece’s mansion, Bellemont House and all the land around it. As for my niece, she would become mistress of Field House, my childhood home.
He inclined his head curious now as to what the old lady’s motive was. Ah, did she want him to marry her niece because she had a sentimental attachment to his estate?
Undeterred by his silence, Lady Ware continued. ‘I know your circumstances. Though you have no close relative, you are saddled with a clutch of distant relations who anticipate your help to advance in the world.’
Devil take it, she was correct. His family looked to him for patronage.  They expected him to marry well and produce an heir. Confound it, not one of them had regained their positions, lands or fortunes after the first King
Charles’s execution. Fortunately, his grandfather’s marriage to a French heiress saved he himself from poverty.
 
Her ladyship’s Roman nose twitched. Her thin lips curved in a predatory smile. ‘You will consider the match?’

Reluctant to say anything she might interpret as his agreement to marry Lady Richelda, he nodded. ‘I will do no more than consider it.’
‘Good, I shall not press you further.’ She hesitated with her fan mid-air, only to flutter it agitatedly. ‘I prefer you not to tell anyone my niece is my heiress. When she comes to town, I do not want a flock of fortune hunters to approach her.’
‘On my honour, I will not mention it to anyone. By the way, when will Lady Richelda arrive?’ 
‘This week.’
He stood. Each of the small dogs wagged their tails, stirred and yapped for attention round his ankles. Deep in thought he ignored them. Although no thought of imminent marriage had entered his head when he arrived, he might change his mind after meeting her ladyship’s niece. It was time he married and if she proved pleasant enough, maybe -.
Lady Ware clapped her hands. ‘My poppets like you and, believe me, my lord, they are good judges of character.’
Chesney restrained an incipient chuckle at his sudden notion of her ladyship’s dogs tricked out in wigs and gowns to judge him. ‘I am complimented by their approval, my lady.’ He bowed and kissed her bejewelled hand. ‘As for your niece, only providence knows if she and I are suited.’
With a rustle of silk mourning Lady Ware rose. ‘I believe you and Lady Richelda are well matched.’
Tangled Love is available from: MuseItUp Publishing, Amazon Kindle, Nook, Omlit, Bookstrand Mainstream, Kobo and elsewhere.
To view the book trailer, read the first three chapters and reviews please visit. www.rosemarymorris.co.uk