Showing posts with label #2 in series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #2 in series. Show all posts
Thursday, January 9, 2020
Thursday, November 1, 2018
Travels with Cerise, TV, research trips and scullery maids!
Later they ID it as Chequers, the home once of Winston Churchill, now the PM's.
Well! This one in the show is not the real Chequers! No!
It's Ham House, a marvelous 17th century darkly gorgeous brick home in suburb of London along the Thames! Built for the Dysarts, this home is a wonderful example of Stuart, early Georgian architecture and a wonderful place to visit.
The interior is rich with black walnut walls and tiled floors of many colors. Done in parquet designs too. Many of the furnishings are of the period, too, including a Queen's Bedchamber done in rich reds and gold.
One aspect of touring the house and kitchen gardens was for me the informative plaques describing servants' duties. Here for you is Mary Hobley's. Mary was a scullery maid. Do read about her work, her pay and her superiors.
Tuesday, August 14, 2018
Waterloo's heroes: men after our hearts in CHRISTMAS BELLES series! Debuts October 29
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| 'Capture of the Eagle' by Royal Dragoons, 1815, Battle of Waterloo, only capture of French Eagle by British cavalry. By William Holmes Sullivan, 1898 |
Outfitting a Waterloo hero for my CHRISTMAS BELLES series I spent many hours combing pictures of Waterloo period memorabilia, diagrams and more!
Here are a few for your enjoyment. First, the Victorian era painting by William Holmes Sullivan of the 'Capture of the French Eagle' by the Royal Dragoons. A dashing scene, this depicts the impression Sullivan gave of the cavalry unit that brought home the only French Eagle from that famous battle at Waterloo in Belgium. This uniform is that of my hero in THE EARL'S WAGERED BRIDE, Book 1, of CHRISTMAS BELLES. Here I imagine he looks like Luke Evans, but he is really Griffith Harlinger, Earl of Marsden! And yes, I really do have A Thing for Evans, so I show him to you in period and contemporary!
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| Luke Evans. Love the hair! |
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| Luke Evans |
Griff's other friend is Neville Vaughn, Viscount Bromley, a major in the Foot Guards, Coldstream Guards. Their uniform you see here too! Bromley is about to resign his commission and return home to his profitable estate. He hopes to take one of the charming Craymore sisters with him as his second wife! Look for him in THE VISCOUNT'S ONLY LOVE, BOOK 2. I imagine he resembles this charming man whom you know as actor Cillian Murphy.
Perhaps the biggest surprise in this series is a man who is charmingly handsome, in his mid-thirties, and is recently hired by the Countess of Marsden, Griff's widowed step-mama. Not only is Simms, the butler, (that's Octavian Simms please) droll, dapper and decidedly opinionated, but he spouts quotes of Shakespeare at any opportune moment. and like any self-respecting butler, he knows everyone everywhere, even the staff at Prinny's Royal Pavilion. And who, pray tell, represents Simms in our modern era? Why this super(b) man, of course. Another heart-throb, Henry Cavill! Just where did Simms acquire his marvelous education? And why, for heaven sakes, is he in service?
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| Cillian Murphy, or Neville Vaughn, Viscount Bromley |
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| Henry Cavill or Octavian Simms, Marsden Hall's butler |
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| 2nd Regiment of Foot Guards, Coldstream Guards Uniforms |
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| Uniforms of various Regiments, Waterloo, 1815. Note #1 and #2 Dragoons. |
Tuesday, June 26, 2018
I will discuss who went to Brighton, how it grew into a playground for rich aristocrats during Regency period, how it declined, then resurrected once more as a seaside resort for middle and lower classes who had half days off during the Victorian period!
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"An excursion to Brighton, 1820"Prinny travels to Brighton and his Royal Pavilion! |
The second in my Victorian series, THOSE NOTORIOUS AMERICANS, is currently only 99 cents! Get it now!
Want to go to Opera Garnier?
Drink champagne at House of Worth?
Dance at Moulin de la Galette?
Live in Montmartre with a charming sculptor?
You need DARING WIDOW!
Amazon: https://amzn.to/2sOjRXj
B&N: http://bit.ly/2sPn359 (digital)
B&N: http://bit.ly/2xYq74u (Print)
KOBO: http://bit.ly/2LrJLYw
iTunes: https://apple.co/2M8RGLR
Monday, January 15, 2018
Travels with Cerise, Part I: How I get great tidbits in my historical romances!
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| Cerise at Ham House, outside London |
The biggest challenge to writing historical romances is
getting all the facts right! The romance usually comes to you in a flash. The
hero appears, the heroine startles or the conflict between them lives for you.
But getting the details about their relationship correct and the setting is a
huge challenge. Research, not just those facts found in the pages of a thick
nonfiction tome, but those discovered on holiday abroad make my job as a writer
a delight!
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| My latest book based on research trips to Paris and Montmartre! |
Traveling to “imbibe” the setting and atmosphere of the
period is a great way to spend a vacation. I think so. I know many authors
do. Some go alone. Others take
their friends or spouses. Mine, thank goodness, is tickled to go. And because
he speaks French (and I speak German), we complement each other and get so much
done!
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| Pump Room, Bath, England |
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| Door from library to Duke's bedroom Ham House |
Luckily, he likes my choices of places to visit and things
to do. All of them, we research on-line and in printed references at home
months before we catch the plane. This May is our next vacation when we do the
Loire Valley for 3 weeks (and 12 castles, a vineyard and a monastery!) and then
back to Paris to eat well, walk and visit old haunts.
What can you learn by doing this kind of research on the
hoof?
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| Briska de Voyage at Vaux le Vicomte, south of Paris made by Fuller in Bath, England |
For one thing, you learn how far a house was from the center
of royal court! In this first photo, I stand before Ham House in what is now
suburban London. But in the early 17th century, this grand estate was far
enough from the capital to be serene and close enough to allow the owners (earls
of Dysart and Lauderdale) to respond to any summons from the monarch.
What you also learn from such a trip is a sense of terrain
and social intercourse. Ham House is on the river. Very close to two other
notable country homes, Ham sits so close, you can look across the river and
imagine how members of the families visited—or argued—or fell in love with
those nearby. You can also stroll through the kitchens (like the one where I’m
standing in Kenwood House) and marvel at the huge roasting pit. You can examine
the kitchen garden where the lady of the house painstakingly grew her
vegetables. You can enjoy the stillroom where cooks dried herbs or the dairy
room where maids separated cream and churned butter. You can admire the dolls
that were Queen Victoria’s when she was a child. Or note the splendor of her
bedroom when she visited Syon House. Even more intriguing is to stand next to
the figure of Prince Albert her husband in all his court regalia (as he is in
Kensington Palace) and note that he was rather short!
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| Queen Victoria's doll collection, Kensington Palace, London |
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| Regency Town House, Brunswick Square, Brighton |
You get to admire the true colors of a Regency library as at
Kenwood House. Or the splendor of the dining rooms in their formal table
service as in those at Syon House (owned by the dukes of Northumberland) and in
the Imperial Palais de Compiegne (Bourbon kings and Bonaparte emperors) in
suburban Paris. You go to Bath, as Jane Austen did, and have high tea in the
Pump Room, drinking ‘the waters’. Tasting it, you discover it’s rather metallic
and very unpleasantly warm! You go to Montmartre up on the windy hill in Paris
and note that the Moulin Rouge beckons. So does the Moulin de la Galette where
Parisians went to dance each night to escape their small rooms. Today, a
restaurant stands there, but you can imagine yourself waltzing…and you can
dream that your characters do too.
Farther up the Butte in Montmartre, you can enter the house
that Auguste Renior once rented. Now a museum, the house displays the atelier of many an artist who gladly
lived up in the suburb of Paris. Here the breezes cooled them and wealthier
citizens came to buy their paintings and their sculptures.
Walking along the streets of Paris, you can imagine what
hardship it must have been to walk the cobbles for miles in wooden shoes. Or
how comforting to climb into a smart Briska Voyage carriage (made in Bath,
England and now on display at Vaux-le-Vicomte, south of Paris). You imagine
sitting in the library at Spencer House looking out on Green Park, so close that
people would walk up and wave at the earls inside!
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| Atelier of artist, Musee de Montmartre, Paris |
You can see the effects of candles and smoke on the bright
Regency colors of the walls, turning them dingy. You can smell the old, fine
leather of the chairs and marvel at the original volumes of Ivanhoe
and Pride and Prejudice on the library shelves.
You can imagine your hero and heroine waltzing in the
ballroom at Syon House. Or see them strolling along South Moulton Street in
London to go to the dressmakers or the tailors. Or climb into the high tester
bed swathed in yards of stiff brocade as they retire for the night.
Painting with words without such rich sensations would be
creating from whole cloth, poor representations and bland.
Travel abroad adds color, enrichment and accuracy to our
novels. And aren’t you glad, authors take such time and care to show you what
life was like for those characters who ‘existences’ we choose to enrich by having
them fall in love?
Who is Cerise?
Cerise DeLand loves to cook, hates to
dust, lives to travel, read and write!
She pens #1 Bestselling Regencies and
spicy romances starring SEALs! Yep. She loves a dashing, hunky man paired with
a sassy woman.
Find Cerise:
Cerise DeLand's Amazon Author Page:
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0089DS2N2
Follow her on Twitter: @cerisedeland
Friday, November 17, 2017
A nibble of my new cherry? DARING WIDOW's charming rogue!
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| Pre-order now at AMAZON for half price! |
Money can buy
anything, can't it? Those brash Americans--their dollars and charms work
wonders. Until they learn that money can buy anything...but love.
FROM BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF ROMANCE FICTION, CERISE DELAND
Book 2 in THOSE NOTORIOUS AMERICANS series
Andre Claude
Marceau, Duc de Remy and Prince d’Aumale, finds Marianne’s joie de vivre enchanting—and her plan for a temporary affair with
him impossible.
He offers her one
night in his arms, and to his delight, she craves another. But he needs more
from her than a few hours of bliss. So when he shows her how to fill her days
with passions that complement those they enjoy together at night, Marianne must
choose.
Will she insist on a passing fancy? Or will
she abandon the terrors of her past to embrace a brighter future beside a man
who offers her a grand love affair with life?
Excerpt, DARING WIDOW, Copyright 2017, Cerise DeLand.
Marianne stood in
front of Number 10, her destination. A three-story stone structure with grape
leaves carved in relief into the frame, the building had two abnormally large
doorways. They appeared to be proportioned to receive a sculptor’s works. The
one with a large cut glass window seemed to be the entrance. Inside, the
concierge in a somber black suit spied her, hurried out and opened the door for
her.
The address was the
same as on the billboard. The plaque on the door proclaimed it as the “Gallerie
de la Cite.”
“The Duc de Remy’s
exhibit is here?”
“Oui, Madame.
Through the foyer and up the grand staircase.”
“Merci beaucoup.”
She sailed through the lobby and up the steps. Four other patrons casually climbed
the broad steps.
At the top, she
halted her in her tracks. A man and woman passed around her. But she stared at
the sculpture before her. It robbed her of breath.
Here upon a black
granite plinth stood a man of white Carrara marble, eight or nine feet tall.
All muscle and bone, honed by battle and hewn by strife, massively masculine and
robust, he was of such proportions that any other human would fall down in
honor of him. He stood in the center of the oval entry to the rest of the
exhibit, sunlight from a semicircle of windows shining on him, shadowing the
arc of a bicep here and emphasizing the indentation of a deltoid there.
Yet he did not
stand tall, but was hunched. His back was curled, bowed in new defeat. His hair
long and ragged, etched in the pristine marble to invoke its filth, shrouded
him to the waist. Ropes circled his torso and hung from his wrists. His noble
head hung lax from his corded neck as he stared at the nothingness before him.
The beauty of this
body was nothing to the grand agony of his face. She gasped at the sight and
could not look away.
She walked around
him and bent to face him. He looked at her, but beyond her. He was blind, in
torment. She drew back, aghast once more at the brutal honesty of what she saw.
This was a strong
man brought low. By loss. By self-destruction.
She ached with him.
Once proud, dynamic. A man others had once envied and emulated. A man so
capable, so honored and now, abandoned by others and most tragically, by
himself.
She stood for how
long she did not know. The power of him infusing her. And the power that he’d
lost draining her of envy and inspiring pride at Andre’s talent to portray him
so precisely.
Across the room,
beyond the giant, a young man in an apprentice’s smock tipped his head in
question. Not at her. But someone who stood behind her. He tipped his head and,
as if on signal, he departed.
Her skin tingled.
The hunger she’d
felt for months dissipated. She’d be sated now.
“Bonjour, ma
petite,” Andre said in that bass voice she heard in the bleak hours of her
lonely nights. “I dared not hope you would come.”
She closed her
eyes, wishing to hang on to this moment when he was happy to see her and she
was as delighted to see him. In this slice of time, there was none of her inner
conflict, no yearning to find him, see him, laugh with him. There was just
satisfaction. But it could not last.
Why not tell him
the truth? He had asked for honesty and he did not deserve
duplicity. He had only told her how he admired her and she had rebuffed him out
of…what? Not convention, no. But her own fear to allow such a strong man near
her heart or body. Perhaps even her own fear of her outrageous ambitions? She
faced him, and oh, the delight to see him again ran through her like cool water
after a drought. He was as tall, as magnificent as she remembered him. Perhaps
more so, since she had pined for him so badly.
“Bonjour, Andre.”
She gave him that, his given name as he had allowed her use of it. During these
past months, she’d thought of him that way, the sound of his name slipping
through her lips at night as she attempted to draw him. Andre. “I saw a
billboard and I could not stay away.”
He stood against
the white marble wall, the gold veins of the stone highlighting the gilded mien
of his own long waving hair. He had folded his arms and one leg was casually
crossed before the other. He wore a loosely cut black wool suit, a bright
vermilion vest, a white linen shirt open to his strong throat and a purple
kerchief tied at his neck. Every inch of him denoted the artist at his leisure.
“I’m glad I’ve
come. This—” she said and lifted a hand toward the statue, “—this is glorious.
I heard others speak of him but they did him no justice.”
He gazed at her
with hollow eyes.
“No words can,” she
went on, wanting to give him more praise and unequal to the task. “Will you
tell me about him?”
“Him?” he asked, as
if she had insulted him with the question.
She knew why. He
wanted her to ask about himself. And she would. She would.
He stared at her.
“You know who he is.”
She did. “Who could
not? To view him is to know. No pamphlet or placard need declare it.”
A light glimmered
in Andre’s blue eyes. “What do you see?”
“A man torn by his
own desires and ruined by his own misjudgments.”
His marvelous mouth
firmed. Pride lit his face. “And?”
“He will never see
himself again.”
“He did not truly
see himself before he was blinded.”
“A punishment,” she
acknowledged, “to fit his crime.”
Andre shifted, peering
at her with narrowed eyes. “There is another he will not see.”
Oh, yes. “He will never see her again.”
“The one who
betrayed him.”
She nodded. “The
one whose beauty he believed was soul deep.”
Andre pushed away
from the wall and approached the statue. “He must pay for his own failure to
perceive her true nature.”
“She was not equal
to him.”
He whirled to face
her. “That’s not what he believed. He thought she was the most beautiful
creature he’d ever seen.”
“The beauty was
outside. Her core was hollow.”
“He pays for his
miscalculation,” he said.
She dropped her
gaze to the floor, anxiety eating her that they spoke of more than the statue
or the Biblical story of the blind man and the woman he had loved so unwisely.
“Do you think she
pays?” he asked, his deep voice wistful.
She raised her face
to consider the statue’s tortured expression. “Delilah?”
He waited.
“Oh, yes. She
forevermore will hate herself for her own failures and unworthiness.”
Andre took her by
the wrist. “Come with me.”
Her pulse jumped.
He led her down a
hallway and into a room where he shut the heavy wooden door and drew her into a
room crowded with bronzes and plasters, scattered about on tables and shelves.
Two ivory overstuffed chairs stood in one sunlit corner near a sumptuous black
velvet chaise longue.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Want a RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE? Cerise DeLand gives you one! Her newest #Regency!
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RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE, Regency Romp #2
NOOK http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rendezvous-with-a-duke-cerise-deland/1120376422?ean=2940150598065
KOBO
Coming within days!
iTunes
Coming soon!
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But Hugh Lattimer persists in courting her despite the scandal that surrounds her—and the innuendo that could ruin him.
Can she escape her past and embrace a future as Hugh's duchess?
Or will the man who murdered her father ruin her future once and for all?
RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE is #2 in my REGENCY ROMP series, starring a lovely young composer who sells her music so that she can escape her dreadful life with a vengeful aunt and cousin.
This series stars a full cast of delicious, devilish noblemen who were once or who still are agents for the Crown.
RENDEZVOUS's hero is Hugh Lattimer, once a soldier and Wellington's aide, later a diplomat at the Congress of Vienna. Hugh knows secrets few even dare to whisper...and he knows how ruthless his own comrades and his former foes can be.
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Amazon: http://amzn.to/1hWjg79
ARe:
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Hugh has a giant task before him from the first day he meets lovely, impoverished Anna in a piano shop. She seems to be a nonentity. No one knows her well, not even the man who manages her musical commissions for her. Hugh goes to Justin Belmont and his wife Kitty, a society maven, to ask for help in discovering who the charming composer might be. (Justin and Kitty's story is LADY VARNEY'S RISQUE BUSINESS.)
Hugh calls upon his other friends, too, to help him. Victor Cameron, the Marquess of Cameron, and Dexter Elgin, Viscount Elgin use their contacts to learn just who Anna Fournier might be.
I hope you will join me for RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE...and stay tuned for the next in the series, MASQUERADE WITH A MARQUESS!
Find Cerise:
Cerise's website: http://cerisedeland.com
Cerise's Blog: http://cerisedeland.blogspot.com
Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cerise.deland
Follow me on Twitter: @cerisedeland
Goodreads: Cerise DeLand
Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/frenchcherryred
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Tea and Temptation with 4 Regency authors, Sept. 25 TONS of fun and SWAG! LINK here!
LIKE us now on our FB page!
Put it in your calendar!
Come September 25 from 12 p.m. EST/9 a.m. PST when 3 of my buddies join me as we serve TEA AND TEMPTATION and loads of fun and prizes!
When Sabrina York, Delilah Marvelle, Dominque Eastwick and I celebrate rakes, rogues and spitfire women on the ton, you'll want to be there for the digital book prizes, a tiara, a gorgeous mask and a wine bag...plus more more more!
Yes, we are celebrating:
- the release of my new Regency, RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE
- plus Delilah's NIGHT OF PLEASURE
- Dominque's THE EARL AND HIS VIRGIN COUNTESS
- and Sabrina's DARK FANCY!
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Come for virtual tea and crumpets (in the form of Crush-it SWAG) September 25 NOON EST/9 PST on Facebook for a party with Regency authors, Delilah Marvelle, Dominique Eastwick, Sabrina York and me, Cerise DeLand!We’ll talk about why we love to write Regency romances, why you love to read them (LOL!) and then we will shower you with prizes for showing up and playing along with us!What prizes do we have?One lucky person wins one of these:Sabrina brings one of her tiaras! (Wow! Look at those pix! I covet one! My old one is tarnished.)Dominque has created a FAB.U.LOUS mask! (I would look great in that. At my next ball, natch.)Delilah gives us a pair of historical dice, c. 15th century. (Yep. They are doing the 69, gurl.)And me? I’m gonna give you all the goods for a wine party, alone, with someone else, in your bathtub. You name it. But no wine. (Against state regs to ship that. But you can still party!)Each of us celebrates the release of one of our Regency novels. Dominique soon debuts THE EARL AND HIS VIRGIN COUNTESS. Delilah talks about A NIGHT OF PLEASURE. Sabrina has a few stories to tell you about DARK FANCY.And I debut RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE. This full length Regency stars a Cinderella and a prince of a guy, Hugh Lattimer, Duke of Kendal.Ready for the blurb?Anna Fournier never intended to fall in love. Not with any man. Especially not a duke. But Hugh Lattimer persists in courting her despite the scandal that surrounds her—and the innuendo that could ruin him.Can she escape her past and embrace a future as Hugh's duchess? Or will the man who murdered her father ruin her future once and for all?Ready for that nibble of Cerise’s new cherry?Of course!Here is Hugh Lattimer, Duke of Kendal as he meets Anna for the first time.Copyright 2014, Cerise DeLand. All rights reserved.Hugh Lattimer closed the door of the piano shop, sighing in relief at the warmth. He’d spent the last five years freezing his bits to nubbins in every damn parlor and palace from Vienna to Paris to London and he was sick of the deprivation. Nearly three decades of war on the Continent had leveled more than the forests. It had destroyed men’s daily lives and reduced them to rats huddled together in the rubble of their existences. He had seen it firsthand on the torn battlefields, in the shambles of the towns—and in the hearts of men, women and children high-born and low.He unbuttoned his greatcoat and looked around for the proprietor.In the far room, he heard murmurs of a conversation and then spied the owner of the establishment. “Ah, there you are. Guten morgen. Good morning, Herr Breyer. How are you this cold day?”“Your Grace.” The pudgy shopkeeper beamed at him and inclined his head in greeting. “I am well. And you, sir?”“Quite well.” In the far room, someone at the keys filled the air with a melody new and refreshing.“I am happy to see you again. May I take your coat? Have my frau make you tea?”“Nein, Herr Breyer. Danke shon. I will not stay long. But came to make my decision.” Here twice last week to examine the pianofortes, he had been torn between one of Viennese manufacture and another completed in Munich. The Viennese had been hand tooled by a man whom Hugh had come to know socially when he had been posted to the Austrian capital after Napoleon’s surrender. The Munich piano though interested him for its larger keyboard. The tune emanating from the far room had him pausing to listen. “Who is that at the keys?”“A young lady has come to buy sheet music for her cousin. The song she plays is—““Pleyel?” Hugh named the popular composer and went quite still, struck by the facile ability of the pianist in the far room. The song she played was airy, ethereal, yet of quick tempo and complex.“Ja, Your Grace.”The piece demanded someone who could be bold and attack the keys with alacrity, yet caress them when the mood changed. Hugh had not heard anyone play so well since he was stationed in Stuttgart and the Austrian composer Hummel had graced a consulate meeting with his newest composition. “Astonishing. She is quite accomplished.”“She sight reads very well.” Breyer nodded, pleasure on his face. “The piece is new to her just now. And I must tell you that she plays the Stein pianoforte from Vienna, Your Grace.”Hugh lifted his chin, listening to her with concentration. “Does she? How wonderful.”The German rocked on the balls of his feet, clasping his hands before him, closing his eyes in contentment.Hugh drifted toward the inner room. He moved quietly, drawn as he was by the melody that spoke of eloquent delight, a pastoral scene, perhaps, or a meeting of lovers. The woman at the piano was absorbed in her effort. Eyes upon the sheets, leaning forward now and then to ensure she read the notes correctly, she swayed in a tempo that spoke of her devotion to conquer the song.Absorbed in her challenge, she did not notice him. Her bonnet, a brown leghorn of straw, capped her dark red curls, and the brim cut her side view. Unseen, Hugh could admire her at leisure. He reveled in her rapture as she opened her mouth on execution of one passage or wrinkled her brow at another. She ran her hands along the keys, strident or delicate, as the notes required. She cast up the lieder as it’s composer would have admired—with flair and panache. And at the end, she widened her eyes, and sat back on the stool, hands to her lap, sighing in satisfaction at her own accomplishment.And Hugh applauded.She startled, turned and snared him in her amber gaze.That striking color, he had not expected. Hazel would have been his first assumption because it would complement the river of rich auburn that was her hair. Grey, even, to match the faint tones of pink on her cheeks or the blush on her lips. But the tawny was riveting.“Sir?” She cast glances from him to Breyer.The proprietor scurried forward, clapping himself. “Wunderbar, wunderbar. Permit me to introduce you.”Hugh strode forward himself, ignoring the demands of etiquette. “Allow me to say how marvelous that was.” How gorgeous you are. How accomplished.“Oh, I—I thank you, sir.” She managed to get to her feet, pushing back the stool and clasping her hands together. “I dabble—““On the contrary, you are a musician of talent.”“She composes,” Herr Breyer said with as much pride as if she were his prodigy.“Do you? How enchanting.” He stood over her now. She was taller than most women, the top of that terrifying hat reaching his chin. She was lovelier than most, too, her complexion flawless ivory and brightened by the warmth of the shop’s fire. Or was she flustered by his surreptitious observation of her?Whatever the cause, he wanted her at ease.“Forgive me for startling you.” He took her hand and stunned as she was, she let him. “I do not usually shock women.”Those compelling eyes of hers melted to mellow tones, even as she sought to retrieve her hand from his. “That is good to know, sir.”Hugh kept her hand in his. “I had told Herr Breyer long ago I wished to hear someone play this instrument who had the ability to draw out its full potential. I did not expect my wish to be fulfilled by accident nor to see such a lovely woman do me the honor.”“Oh, sir, thank you. You are too kind.” She blushed, her cheeks turning a delicate rose.The porcelain perfection of her skin suffused with a fair tint that inspired him to imagine her breasts budding, her body bare to him. He smiled at her, hopefully covering his magnetic attraction to her with some politesse. Certainly, her talent and her beauty belied her diminished means. She was a study in dramatic contrasts. And soldier, spy, peer of the realm that he was, he was rarely fascinated by a person. Hardly ever by a woman.“I have heard many play,” he told her, “but few with such verve.” Or beauty. “And Herr Breyer tells me you have not seen the composition before you sat down here to play.”“That’s true,” she admitted with a modesty that pleased him. Humility was not a quality many young women cultivated, though God knew, most should. She attempted again to pull back her hand.Reluctantly, he let her go. “You must have had a good teacher.”“I did, sir.” She clasped her hands together, her expression only briefly showing relief at her escape. “My mother was accomplished.”“She must be very proud of you.” To play so well is such a rare quality among those in society. And most young women use it as a lure to secure a fine match. “I would be, were you my daughter.”She looked him over so intricately that he was certain she meant to buy him and serve him on a platter for supper. “Sir, you are not old enough to have a daughter.”“Old enough,” he corrected her with a grin. “But not capable.”She blinked, shocked at his risqué inference.He shook his head, grimacing but apologetic. “I am not married, you see.”“Ah.” She inhaled, joining in on the joke. “I am certain that is a challenge to every young lady in London.”He sent her a look of pain.She laughed shortly, her mirth a vibrant match to the contralto of her speaking voice. Then she turned her attention on Breyer. “I must go, sir. I will buy this lieder and any two others you suggest.”The shopkeeper took a step toward her, while Hugh warned himself not to stare at her. Not to scare her off. “Will you play them before you buy them?”“Oh, no, thank you.” Her gaze flittered from Breyer to him.He had flustered her.Good. The feeling is mutual.Breyer advanced toward her. “But your cousin needs a simple song.”“She does.” She feigned a smile at the little German, but she returned to focus on Hugh—and her golden gaze lingered there in his. “But I trust your judgment, Herr Breyer.”“Please,” Hugh pleaded, “do stay. It’s rarely that one can hear another play and enjoy it.”Her face lit with a sudden glee that transformed her into a glittering beauty. “I not only agree with you, sir, I have suffered myself.”“Have you?” He took her hand once more and she allowed him the pleasure of holding her in his care. Why have I never suffered with you? Why have I never seen you in the same salon? “Pity.”“Yes,” she said on a breathless whisper that fell over his skin and seeped inside him like good Scots whisky. Her gaze locked on his until she roused herself and yanked away. But she put a hand to the piano, as if to steady herself. “I must go.”No.She firmed her mouth. “Herr Breyer, if you please, I will buy my sheet music and leave.”“But—but your aunt and cousin await you, do they?” Breyer asked hope in his tone.Was the German stalling her? Hugh examined the man. Of course, he was. Perceptive of him to detect my interest.Hugh had to learn her name. Where she—“No. I am out today on my own. But they will expect me shortly,” she told him as he disappeared into the back storage room. “You know how they are.”“Ja, Ich weiss.”But I don’t. “May I escort you to the tea shop across the street? It is very cold outside and—““Thank you, sir, but no.” She strode toward the entrance to Breyer’s back room and called to him. “How much will the music cost, sir?”Hugh put his hand on her wrist. She was the most extraordinary creature he had met in a long time. The endless parade of women who strolled past him, whether by chance or by his mother’s plan, bored him to a raving madness. They had neither wit nor voice other than what their mamas had inculcated. The alternative, a paid companion, was not to his taste either. He’d sampled a few of those abroad and the affection endured for a fortnight or so, then turned shallow. And while he was interested in a quick relief to his manly urges now and then, the prospect of lying down in a bed with a woman he didn’t care for while standing up, did not appeal.“Permit me to offer my carriage and to escort you home.”Her attention drifted from his hand to his eyes. Her own gaze swam in his, and he longed to place his lips there upon her lovely lids, to allow her long red lashes to tickle his lips, to allow her perfect skin to rest beneath his mouth.“Thank you,” she murmured, that deep voice of hers brushing his senses. “I mustn’t.”“Why not?” He heard himself. His voice was a plea, a prayer.Beneath his fingertips, she suffered a frisson. Worse, she looked desperate. “I should not take up with a gentleman.”He had never frightened a woman before. Chastened, he tried to soothe her with a lopsided grin. “I doubt you take up with men who are less than that.”She stiffened. “I take up with none at all.”RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE, Regency Romp #2NOOK http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rendezvous-with-a-duke-cerise-deland/1120376422?ean=2940150598065KOBO Coming within days!iTunes Coming soon!LADY VARNEY’S RISQUE BUSINESS, Regency Romp #1ARe:Find Cerise:Like me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cerisedelandauthorFollow me on Twitter: @cerisedelandGoodreads: Cerise DeLand
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