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I’m new to this blog so perhaps let me tell you a bit about
myself. I write historical romance as A.M. Westerling and my friends know me as
Astrid. I live in Calgary, Canada and am a huge fan of the Calgary Stampeders
and Calgary Flames because yes, I’m a homer. 😊 (I
love pro sports because to me, that IS reality television and I have been known
to spend a Sunday or two watching NFL football as well…😉) Hmm,
what else, I’m married and have two wonderful sons, two
delightful daughters in law plus Tilly (left) and Arlow, my grand dogs to show for it.
I’m a chemical engineer by education and worked in Alberta’s
oil and gas industry but now I’ve left that and can do the things I really
enjoy – like researching and writing my books. I love my garden and I absolutely adore camping off the
grid. I like yoga and I like my spin class and I love a good British detective
series. A girl of simple tastes, really.
I’ve published 5 books with BWL Publishing, the first was my Regency romance "The Countess' Lucky Charm" which is the book I'm spotlighting here today. Now I’ve
snagged a spot on the BWL Publishing Authors blog so it seems I’ve hit the big
times! It’s not my first foray into blogging, I did participate in the BWL
Publishing Canadian Historical Brides blog spot. Here’s the link if you want to
see what I’ve been up to there:
bwlcanadianhistoricalbrides.blogspot.com/
I don’t write serious novels and I certainly don’t claim to
have written the Great Canadian Novel. What I write is romance, pure and
simple. Boy Meets Girl then Boy and Girl must overcome obstacles to get their
Happily Ever After. Throw in a little history and there you have it - escapism
from the realities of every day life and that’s what I call entertainment.
Now I’ll share a little secret with you. On August 8 of
this year, I guest blogged here and submitted a Regency short story that I’d
written a number of years ago. Much to my surprise, my publisher emailed me a
couple of hours later and told me she’d loved the story and could I possibly
turn it into a three book series? She even came up with the series title – The
Ladies of Harrington House. Well, could I?! Of course I could!
The opening scene in the book is the Aug. 8 blog spot so
you might want to nip back there and take a read. Today’s excerpt is the second
scene of Sophie, Book 1 of The Ladies of Harrington House:
Sophie
handed the reins to Hobbs, the head groom. He tipped his cap, revealing a
thatch of red hair matching the freckles scattered across his cheeks, before
fishing in his pocket for a carrot. He handed it to her. “Looks as if you’ve given Dancer a bit of a
ride,” he said.
She
held out the carrot and the mare’s lips rippled across her palm before snagging
the treat. “It was a beautiful day for it and I’m afraid time ran away from
me.” That wasn’t really the truth. Her encounter with Bryce Langdon had left
her feeling unsettled and she’d tried to ride away the feeling. She stroked
Dancer’s nose. “You’ll give her a good rub down?”
“Of
course,” he replied. “And I should warn you, your mother’s been searching for
you and is in quite a state. Sent one of the footmen out here to see if you’d
returned yet.”
Sophie
groaned. She’d really hoped to make it to the sanctuary of her room to change
before catching her mother’s notice. The entire household was in an uproar over
tonight’s dinner party. Lady Harrington’s evenings were always a success and
invitations to them were highly sought after. That success didn’t come without
a price – Mama ran herself ragged organizing to the tiniest detail. Every last
bit of silver must be polished, every last candle in the sconces must be
replenished and Harrington House dusted and polished from top to bottom. Her
mood wasn’t always the best at these times and the family had learned to stay
out of her way. “Thank you, I shall pay heed.” She patted Dancer one last time
before waving at Hobbs and turning away.
She
darted across the cobblestones that paved the courtyard between the stables and
the house and slipped into the kitchen door. As expected, pandemonium reigned
in the kitchen and Sophie knew better than to interrupt. Mrs. Winston, the
cook. The woman, red faced and perspiring, tossed her a distracted glance then
focused again on what looked to be buttered apple tarts.
No
sooner had Sophie stepped into the hall than she heard her sister Leah’s voice.
They were three – Sophie, the eldest at twenty, Leah, two years younger and
Catherine, two years younger again.
“You’re
in for it,” Leah said, waggling her finger at Sophie. “Mama’s been looking for
you for the past hour.”
Sophie
rolled her eyes skyward. As usual, Leah was her impeccable self, not a hair out
of place and her peach colored muslin frock freshly pressed and tidy.
Not
like Sophie. Despite her attempts to re-pin her hair, most of it hung loose
down her back and the sea water had left damp stains on the skirts of her
riding habit. She bunched them forward so her sister wouldn’t notice. “We all
know how she ties herself in knots when she’s entertaining.”
“Particularly
this evening as we are to welcome our new neighbor, Lord Langdon.”
Whom
I’ve already met, she thought and a frisson of excitement tickled her scalp
when she remember the admiring look in his dark eyes. “Yes, I know,” she said
aloud.
“What
do you suppose he’s like?” Louise’s face grew dreamy. “He’s said to be ever so
handsome and he’s unmarried. Do you suppose he’ll fancy one of us?”
Sophie
snorted. “Don’t expect Papa to agree to us marrying anyone at this time. You
know he’s said we’re to wait until we’re twenty-one.”
“I
don’t know why,” Leah pouted. “Abigail Penner had her season at eighteen and is
already engaged to be married while we are stuck here in Cornwall.”
Where
I much prefer to be. “It’s not so terrible. There are shops and tea rooms
and a theatre close by in Truro.”
Leah
gave her an incredulous look. “You? What do you know of the shops?”
Sophie
made a wry grimace. She fooled no one, visiting the shops was not her favourite
form of pleasure. She much preferred outdoor past times such as riding or
archery. If she must be indoors, then she filled her time with reading or
sketching. Needlework made her head ache and her fingers were like sausages on
the pianoforte that graced the sitting room. “I’ve heard tell that some of the
establishments are as fine as any that can be found in London.”
Leah
frowned and gave Sophie a push. “You’d best find Mama.” Her grey eyes were
earnest. “Or she’ll have your head.”
Sophie
nodded and headed towards the staircase leading to the upper floors. With any
luck she could shed her riding habit and its telltale stains.
Halfway
up the staircase, Catherine flashed past her heading downstairs, blonde curls
bouncing with every step. “Where have you been?” she threw over her shoulder as
she reached the bottom. “Mama’s in a state and nothing will do but she must
speak with you.” She didn’t wait for Sophie to respond but darted into the
library.
To
hide, Sophie could only presume, and she picked up her pace. Mama must really
be annoyed with her this time if both Leah and Catherine issued warnings. She
reached the first landing and had her hand on the railing of the stairs leading
to her room on the next level when Lady Evelyn Harrington’s voice rang through
the air.
“Sophie.”
Mama’s
annoyed tone couldn’t be ignored. Drat. Sophie’s heart sank and she cast a
longing glance up the stairs. She’d not make her escape after all. She turned
and spied her mother advancing on her like a square-rigged frigate. Plump and
petite, her stature belied an iron will. A few wrinkles haloed her blue eyes
and a few grey hairs shadowed her blonde hair but she was still attractive and
Papa adored her. She still looked much as she had when their family portrait
was painted soon after Catherine’s arrival. It hung over the staircase with
other Harringtons past.
“I’d
ask where you’ve been for most of the afternoon but I see you’ve been wading.”
Her mouth tightened and she pointed to the hem of Sophie’s skirts. “I can only
assume your boots are also wet because I can’t imagine a daughter of mine being
so foolish as to splash about barefoot where others might see you. And please
don’t tell me you went down to the beach. It’s not safe with all the smugglers
sullying our coast.”
Sophie
clasped her hands at her waist. “No Mama, I didn’t go to the beach. I was hot
so I dipped my toes in the creek behind the mill.” Heat crept up her neck and
into her cheeks and she hoped she didn’t look as guilty as she felt over the
fib. Thankfully she said nothing about Sophie riding out without a groom to
accompany her so Hobbs must have kept that to himself.
Lady
Harrington sniffed. “More than your toes, I’d say. But never mind that for
now.” She smoothed an imaginary stray hair. “The Earl and Countess of Blackmore
will be joining us this evening, as well as Vicar Sinclair and his wife and of
course Lord Langdon. I have in mind a small entertainment.”
“Entertainment?”
Sophie dug her fingers into her palms. Please no, not the pianoforte. Despite
hours at the keyboard, the fugue by Bach she’d been working on for weeks resembled
the screeches of a tom cat rather than anything musical.
Her
mother smiled. “I’m not deaf, I’m not expecting you to play. I had thought
Catherine could accompany you while you sing. Your voice is more than
passable.”
“Sing?”
For Lord Langdon? How could she look him in the face after their encounter this
afternoon?
“Yes,
sing. I suggest “Greensleeves”. It’s a lovely piece and your sister has
mastered it admirably.”
“Sing
Greensleeves?”
“You’ll
find the music on the bench. If you’d been home sooner, you’d have had more
time to practice.”
“But
-.”
Her
mother raised a manicured finger. “There will be no excuses from you. I intend
to make a good impression on our guests, particularly our new neighbour. I
understand he is a barrister of some note.”
“I
see.” A barrister. A man who earned his living. That explained his comment that
he was no drawing room fop. A small burst of admiration flushed her cheeks
anew. Most men she knew, including her father, contented themselves with
overseeing the management of their estates. But perhaps Langdon didn’t have an
estate before purchasing the neighboring property. That would explain his foray
into law and if he were as successful as her mother implied, he’d done well for
himself to become a landowner.
“Besides,”
continued her mother, “it’s a good opportunity to practice the entertainment we
shall offer once we are in London for your coming out this Season. We shall
host evenings where you will sing, Catherine shall play and Leah will read her
poetry.”
“I
don’t want to come out in London. I’m quite happy here in Cornwall.”
“Nonsense.
How are we to find you a suitable husband otherwise?”
“I
don’t fancy being paraded about like a prize thoroughbred and given away to the
highest bidder.” Sophie tried to keep the petulance from her voice but failed
miserably judging by the frown on her mother’s face.
“Paraded?
Given away? It won’t be like that at all. We’ll find a suitable young man and
soon enough you’ll be inclined to accept his attentions, you’ll see. Perhaps
someone like Viscount Weston.” She slanted a glance at Sophie. “His parents are
ever so charming and you could do far worse.”
I
doubt that very much, she thought. Giles Weston might be considered a catch and
she might be able to overlook his pimpled face and yellowed teeth however once
she’d seen him whip his horse until the animal bled. That cruel streak she
could not overlook. Nonetheless arguing with Mama would lead nowhere. Once she
made up her mind, there was no changing it. Sophie bit her lip. Best to say
nothing.
Lady
Evelyn stood on tiptoe and kissed Sophie’s cheek. “Do wear your lilac frock
this evening. It brings out your eyes.”
“As
you wish.” Well, at least that was one thing they could agree on. Until now,
she’d not had the opportunity to wear her newest frock. She loved the white
silk embroidered flowers along the hem and indeed, the lavender shade made her
green eyes a deeper hue.
Her
mother sailed off, leaving a rose scented breeze behind her and a befuddled
Sophie clutching the carved oak railing of the stairs. Not only was she to
reacquaint herself with Lord Bryce Langdon this evening, she must sing for the
man. How was she to do that without bursting into giggles of embarrassment?
By
making sure she sang as well as she possibly could. After she changed, she’d
search out Catherine so the two could practice as Mama had suggested.
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