Books We Love Insider Blog: Featured Author Rosemary Morris

My intriguing, classical historical romances, in which the bedroom door remains shut, are enriched with period detail.

I enjoy writing every day, researching my novels, visiting places of historical interest in the U.K, and time spent with family and friends. I also enjoy maintaining my organic garden, in part of which I grow my own, cooking delicious vegetarian meals, knitting and needlework.

Yvonne Lady of Cassio - a medieval saga.

Yvonne, Earl Simon’s legitimate daughter, and his illegitimate daughter, Elizabeth, born on the same night are as alike as two peas in a pod. Simon and his countess are ill-matched. He is a shrewd illiterate warrior, boisterous, selfish, and fond of hunting, who wants more sons. She is literate, pale of face, delicate, pious, charitable, and dreads being with child.

Despite those who love Yvonne and try to protect her, she suffers bereavement, disillusion and meets many challenges during a long, often bitter struggle before she is happy and at peace.

Cassio Castle. Winter, 1299

‘Simon sat by the hearth in his great hall waiting for news of Alice, his par amour’s delivery. With surprise, he realized that every day during the last three years, whenever he thought of a woman, fair Alice crept into his mind. When he thought of home, he pictured her standing at the door to welcome him. He grinned. Despite her low birth, her beauty enthralled him, and her charm rivalled that of any sumptuously gowned lady at court.

He admired his ambitious young par amour for exercising her right to claim an assart, which bordered the forest on the outskirts of Lovage Village. She had marked out an area large enough to support two cows, a few pigs, and some chickens, and, with her family’s help, had tilled her plot.

His thoughts wandered to Alice’s thatched roofed outhouses leaning against the side of the slate-roofed cottage. He felt more at ease in her home, built at his command, than here in his great hall with walls painted dull yellow, on which hung shields, tapestries, and painted cloths in bright hues.

Simon frowned. By now, the babe should have entered the world. He glanced around, aware of several of his hearth knights, whose glowering faces questioned him. Simon scowled. He knew his family and knights referred to his sweet Alice as the earl’s strumpet. God rot their souls in hell.

He beckoned to a squire. “Send for news to Alice’s cottage.”

“At once, my lord.”

Simon’s expression softened. How did Alice hold him in her thrall? Why did the best days of his life begin when she woke up beside him?

Minstrels sang of knights seeking the love of highborn maidens and virtuous ladies. He snorted at the thought. Those romantic ballads lied. A man like him did not expect to find love in marriage. Noblemen wed for heirs, land, and prestige. He groaned. God forgive him for his aversion to his milk and water wife and his delight in red-blooded Alice. She pleased him so well that since he took her as his mistress, the only other woman he had bedded was his wife, with the hope of fathering another legitimate son.

He hoped Alice would bear a son, one he could advance in the world. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. A man risked his life in battle, but birth, a woman’s sole province, endangered her life, and came in its own due time. He watched the fire die down to ash, grateful because his own lusty fire still burned bright.’

Far Beyond Rubies

Gervaise returns from India to England where he meets Juliana, the proverbial damsel in distress whom he will help.

Juliana, the late Baron Kemp’s daughter, does not believe her stepbrother, William’s claim that she and her sister are bastards. When Juliana meets Gervaise for the first time, to prove William lied, she has decided to go to London and seek advice from an attorney. Her long, difficult search for justice will be dangerous.

Riverside Estate. 1706

Ashamed of eavesdropping, Gervaise drew closer to the pavilion with the intention of announcing his presence. Feet pattered within. A young woman peered through an open window. Her pale, oval face looked troubled, and her coal-black hair was slightly disordered.

For a moment, Gervaise could not speak. The sight of her drew him back to India Her form changed to one he knew intimately, yet not in this lifetime. He recognised the mark of a crescent moon on her right cheekbone and sensed the love they once shared. A tremor ran though him. For the first time, he thought the Hindu belief in reincarnation was worthy of serious consideration. Yet despite the teachings of the Anglican church, what if-?

“Sir?” The lady’s indignant voice recalled him from his trance-like state.

He doffed his hat and executed his finest bow. “Gervaise Seymour at your service.”

Wednesday’s Child

Amelia Carstairs needs sense and sensibility to accept her late grandmother’s choice of her guardian, the Earl of Saunton, to whom Amelia was previously betrothed. Without any relatives or friends, she fears the future which, unknown to her, will reveal shocking truths.

Longford Place, Hertfordshire, England, 1816

Saunton replenished his glass with brandy. Confound it, in her long letter Mrs Bettismore explained she esteemed him because he allowed her granddaughter, Amelia, to end their betrothal.

‘Nothing,’ she wrote, ‘would have persuaded a less noble gentleman to agree to the termination of his betrothal to an heiress, who would inherit a great fortune. In my last will and testament, I appointed as my only grandchild’s guardian and one of her trustees. I am confident you will act with utmost good sense and propriety.’ To that burden, Mrs Bettismore added, ‘I hoped to live to see my dear granddaughter married to a gentleman with a faultless reputation equal to yours and, if God willed it, the father of my great-grandchildren. Should you wish to disregard the conventions, tie the knot with my granddaughter while you are still her guardian. To allay gossip if you do so, I have informed her other trustees of my wish.’

Outrageous! Since the only lady he had ever loved married he had never wished to replace her in his affection, and he did not wish to do so now.

Saunton paced up and down the library. Curse the vulgar Mrs Bettismore. He would not be outwitted by her from beyond the grave. He took several deep breaths to calm himself. Such anger and resentment might have cost him his life on the battlefield. Even now it would not serve him well. He halted in front of the window. Before him stretched the long drive. Absent-minded he noted it needed an additional layer of gravel to suppress weeds.

There were never enough funds to provide for Mamma and his siblings, to restore the house, to overhaul the tenants’ farms, repair the farm labourer’s cottages, and make the home farm productive. To make matters worse he could never turn away an honest man in need of employment. ‘Yet,’ taunted his inner voice, ‘if you married Amelia Carstairs-’ “No!” The word exploded from him. ‘But if you were her husband,’ the silent voice continued, ‘you could solve all your monetary problems and provide your sisters with dowries large enough to ensure they married well.’

Saunton ignored the devious voice. He must travel to Weymouth in the hope of arriving in time to attend Mrs Bettismore’s funeral. Afterwards, where and with whom would Miss Carstairs reside?’