Sweet Saturday: Love's Refrain #4

Welcome back! I've got yet another excerpt from Love's Refrain, which is currently in edits and will hopefully be released soon!

Laura and Juliet handed their shawls to the young servant tending the door and entered the brightly lit ballroom as their names were announced. They greeted their hosts and then separated when Juliet spied a group of friends. Making her way to the group of chaperones seated in the corner, Laura took a pastry from a passing waiter’s tray. She’d eventually have to make her way to the buffet since her own dinner had been quite sparse. True to form, Juliet had at the last moment decreed her dress unfit to wear, and the entire household had been turned upside down searching for a solution to her wardrobe difficulty.

Juliet looked lovely in her pale yellow gown, and the garland of flowers the maid had fashioned set off her dark hair perfectly. Already heads turned among the young men congregating on the other side. As she settled in her seat, Laura’s thoughts went back ten years to her own season. She’d been so young and naive then, full of hopes, dreams, and romantic notions.

There was one who figured prominently in her memories. One gentleman had stood out among all the others — a tall, handsome, elegant young man. He had been stylish yet not vain. His hazel eyes shone with intelligence, but he listened politely to what others had to say, those expressive eyes indicating genuine interest. Through experience, she knew he was a graceful dancer, yet he seemed content to spend time discussing the weather with the chaperones. There had been no one else like him.

And then, as if she had magically recalled him from her memory, he was there. Andrew Bradford had considerately brought a plate of treats for his mother, the dowager Countess Covington, whose regal presence held court in a seat to Laura's right. The man was as handsome as she remembered. His voice as sonorous and soothing as it had been when he'd held her in his arms for one magical dance. Ten years ago, she'd fallen in love with Andrew, but he'd fallen in love with her friend, Lady Priscilla. And so she'd had to watch as he'd courted and then wed another.

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Sweet Saturday: Love's Refrain #2

Welcome back! I'm continuing to share from my next release, Love's Refrain. Lord Covington's mother, eager for her son to remarry, has just revealed that she has accepted an invitation to that evening's ball on his behalf:

Expelling a groan, Andrew excused himself and stalked from the room. He knew he'd eventually give in and accompany his mother to the ball. There would be no peace for him if he didn’t. But he would need several hours to himself before he'd be able to face the carnival he'd find at the ball. Finding solace in his office, he sat, rested his elbows on the surface of his father’s carved mahogany desk, and cradled his aching head in his hands.

He was so weary of his mother's constant harping about heirs. If he should die without an heir, the estate would go to his young cousin, Nelson Something-or-other. That was good enough for him. Why couldn’t it be enough for her?

He had nothing against the state of matrimony. His first marriage had been pleasant, and he'd enjoyed coming home each day to someone who waited there for him. And he would have loved children, too, if there had been any. But his poor wife had not survived even a year of marriage to him, and he wasn’t in any hurry to subject someone else to it.

He took a deep breath, willing his nerves to relax. Fresh air, that's what he needed. Getting up, he fumbled with the latch and opened the windows. The hinges creaked in protest, having sat unused for the winter.

Andrew had just settled back in his chair when the most beautiful music floated through the open window. At first, he thought it was his imagination. But the uplifting of his soul was not imagined. The smile on his face was real, as was the voice he heard.

Quiet at first, as if the singer tried to hide it, the smooth soprano melody was barely discernible. But gradually, the singer gained confidence, and the volume grew, to Andrew’s delight. The song was one familiar to him — a Scottish air his nanny had sung to him when he was small — and he absently hummed the melody along with the singer. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Suddenly, the weight of his worries drained away. The dull ache in his forehead eased, and he breathed more easily.

Who was the mystery singer? The voice was cultured, and had the maturity of a woman, but without the force of one trained for the stage. Still, the music was pleasing to his ears, and to his world-weary soul. He settled back to enjoy the performance.

But as soon as it had begun, the singing stopped. An undistinguishable voice called out a command, the singer responded, and footsteps receded away from him. And as the volume of her footsteps decreased, so did his state of euphoria.

Silently, he thanked the singer for providing a welcome respite from his daily drudgery. It had been a pleasant interlude, but now it was time to return to his life and responsibilities. With a rueful twist of his mouth, he sorted through the day’s correspondence.

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Sweet Saturday: Love's Refrain

Image credit: glopphy / 123RF Stock Photo

Welcome back! Since we're starting a new month, I thought I'd change things up and share an excerpt from my new regency romance novella, Love's Refrain, which is slated for release sometime this summer. Here's the opening scene:

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Andrew Bradford, Earl of Covington, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He needed to calm himself before speaking, lest he invoke the wrath of the person perched gracefully on the settee before him. His mother, the dowager countess, inspected the lace on her new gown.

"Come now, Andrew," she chided. "Your wife has been gone nine years. Certainly long enough for a proper mourning period. It's past time you remarried."

"I've no interest in remarrying, Mother."

"So you've said. But the fact is, you need an heir. Andrew —" She reached out a hand to stop him when he turned away from her. "I know Priscilla's death hurt you. But you are still here. Brentwood Manor needs an heir. And you need someone to help you go on living." She paused to let her words sink in.

"Andrew, I only want to see you happy. You need a companion, someone to be your champion, someone to listen to you and help you achieve your goals."

"I could get a dog," observed Andrew.

Ignoring her son's sarcasm, the countess continued. "Andrew, dear, I know you blame yourself for leaving Priscilla alone so soon after you married. But you were doing your duty to your country, fighting on the Continent. No one can say you abandoned your wife. She was always —delicate. You did your best, and the household staff took good care of her. It was not your fault."

Andrew shook his head in disbelief, but the countess carried on.

"The season is just beginning, and there are hundreds of lovely young women just looking for a dashing earl," she reminded him. "Tonight, Lord and Lady Kentridge are hosting a ball. Go and dance, make some young chit happy."

"Mother, I have better things to do than attend a ball."

"Of course you do. But I've already accepted on your behalf."

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