The Saturday Broadsheet, with all my writing life updates, is now available at the link at the bottom of this short post.
In this issue of the Broadsheet you will find:
Info about what is posting on my blog. (As if you didn’t know, right? LOL)
An update on my current writing project.
Info about several books that are on sale.
And in the story connections section, you will find some illustrations of characters in and a few lines from a Shakespearean play that appears in one of my books.
I came across this song used with some clips of period drama men on YouTube, but that video would not let me share it on my blog other than as a link >> this link. So, I searched for another video with this song that would let me share. (That’s obviously the video below. ;))
I could just see the lovely Miss Grace Love, from Her Secret Beau, singing this song to her romantic hero. It seems to be the style of song she would like. (Not that she would sing it in company, of course, but definitely in private. She’s sneaky like that. LOL)
Her romantic hero is Walter Blakesley, and he’s the sort of gentleman who would enjoy having this song sang to him in private. (Because he enjoys Grace’s mysterious side. He did call her his mysterious angel in the chapter from which the excerpt below is extracted.)
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Fashion Plate (Ball Dress). England, London, March 1, 1825. Hand-colored engraving on paper. Rudolph Ackermann (England, London, 1764-1834). Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
I couldn’t resist giving a longer excerpt today as this exchange is just too fun to shorten any more than I did. 🙂
“I am sorry,” she said softly, “but I was hoping for someone else to claim my hand for the next dance.” Her cheeks grew rosy.
“No one has asked you,” Shelton muttered.
“No, but if I give this dance to Mr. Blakesley then I will not be free if another arrives to ask.”
Roger Shelton’s brow furrowed. “You did not mention this before.”
“Because I did not know the gentleman’s name. One must not speak of a hope to dance with someone to whom she has not been introduced.” She cast a glance in Mr. Norman’s direction. “However, that is no longer a problem.”
“Norman?” the question flew out of Walter’s mouth.
Grace’s head bobbed up and down. “Though it is forward to even admit to it.”
Forward was not the word Walter would use for it. “Well, then, Norman, do not keep the lady waiting.” Walter knew his tone was less than gracious.
Grace put a hand on his arm but then withdrew it quickly. “Do not be discouraged, Mr. Blakesley. It is not that I do not wish to dance with you. It is just that I had hoped to speak to Mr. Norman.”
“You had?” Roger echoed the question in Walter’s mind.
“Yes, I would like some advice.” Her hands were twisting in a nervous sort of fashion. “About a condition.”
What was she about?
“You wish to speak to him because he is a physician?” Mrs. Shelton’s tone was incredulous.
Grace’s head bobbed up and down as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. Walter would put ten pounds on it that the chit was lying.
“You did not know he was a physician until just now,” Mrs. Clayton said.
“But he looked like one,” Grace declared.
“He looked like one?” Skepticism filled Roger’s question. Apparently, no one else quite believed Miss Love’s story any more than Walter did.
I selected this video to pair with a chapter of His Irreplaceable Belle, which publishes tomorrow, because that Touches of Austen story contains touches of Jane Austen’s Persuasion.
The late afternoon sun felt wonderful and warming as Fritz turned his face towards it. The brightness that filtered through his eyelids was restorative. It had always drawn him forward from his often deep ponderings with a cheerfulness that was unparalleled by anything else, save for the smile of a particular lady.
However, he was not sitting in the garden to think about Belle. He was here to clear his mind and turn it towards the task at hand – finding a wife who was not Belle.
He drew a deep breath and released it. But neither the freshness of the spring air nor the intensity of the sun could chase away the dark shadow of sadness that passed across his heart at the thought.
“Mr. Norman.”
Fritz straightened himself and opened his eyes. “Mrs. Blakesley.” He stood.
“Please call me Grace. I think we will be good enough friends for such familiarity.” Grace Blakesley took a seat on the bench next to where Fritz had been leaning backward and enjoying the sunshine. “My husband does not mind if you call me by my Christian name, do you, Walter?”
Walter Blakesley chuckled as he shook his head. Was there a happier man in all of Bath? Fritz was certain he had not seen one – not even Mr. Clayton and Mr. Shelton, who were each, without a doubt, happily and contentedly married and awaiting the arrival of a child, shone quite like Blakesley did. Joy effused every part of Blakesley’s person.
“You may call my wife whatever she wishes for you to call her.”
“I hate to disappoint your wife, but I may have to insist upon Mrs. Blakesley,” Fritz said. “I assume you will not be discharging me as your physician, Blakesley, will you be?”
Blakesley guffawed. “And give up the best physician in Bath? I think not!”
A rather grumbly part of Fritz’s mind wished that people would stop referring to him as the best physician.
“Then, I assume you will also call on me if Mrs. Blakesley should ever be in need of care?”
“Of course.” The answer was given without a moment’s pause.
“In that case, Mrs. Blakesley, I will have to insist upon calling you Mrs. Blakesley. It would be too improper for us to be on friendlier terms.”
Mrs. Blakesley scowled. “I do not see why it should be considered improper.”
“There are many strictures which might seem ridiculous and yet we must abide by them. I would not wish to be thought of as unprofessional or lacking in decorum in any fashion.”
Mrs. Blakesley’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, yes, right. I completely understand.” She paused to peek at her husband who had finally taken a seat next to her rather than standing and surveying their surroundings.
The man was incurably curious.
“Mrs. Blakesley is a lovely name,” his friend’s wife said happily. “I quite like it.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Blakesley said.
“As am I,” Fritz inserted before the two with him forgot he was there.
