The Illusion of Desire released!

The Illusion of Desire has been released!

I am very pleased to let everyone know that my latest mystery in the Second Sons Inquiry Agency series of Regency mysteries is finally available, at least if you have a Kindle or other ebook reader that can access Smashwords. I expect the paperback will follow soon, as well as distribution to BN.com for Nook readers and the iStore for Apple. It is always such a joy--and relief--to see a new book on the shelf.

The Illusion of Desire is the fourth book in the Second Sons Inquiry Agency series and features a new inquiry agent, Captain Nicholas Ainsley. I plan to write another Pru and Knighton book for the series this summer, which will be the fifth in the overall series and the third for Pru and Knighton. They are going to Europe for their honeymoon and unfortunately, run into a great deal of trouble on the way.

Here is the blurb and a small excerpt from The Illusion of Desire.

Blurb

The war with Napoleon may be long over, but Captain Nicholas Ainsley is still feeling the effects in his

maimed left arm and need for justice. In a stroke of luck, he gains employment as an inquiry agent for the famous Second Sons Inquiry Agency, but his first case is a troubling one. The Earl of Taunton is killed and Nicholas soon finds not one but far too many suspects. On the night the earl died, a pair of thieves broke in and stole the jewel-encrusted murder weapon. Some believe the thieves killed Taunton during the robbery, however Nicholas uncovers others with even stronger motives for wanting the earl dead. Taunton had a penchant for provoking jealousy and rage in those around him and hiding his more illicit activities behind a series of illusions including his relationship with his supposed mistress, Kathryn Whitethorn-Litton.

Kathryn had excellent reasons to trade respectability for a tenuous place in the earl’s household. She believes her father’s death at Taunton’s country estate years ago was not the natural one the earl claimed.

Was Taunton’s murder related to that far older mystery, or was his stabbing an act of desperation? The riddle tests Nicholas’ mettle and his willingness to rip away the veils of illusion surrounding the earl’s life to reveal the truth.

Excerpt

In this scene, Captain Ainsley is questioning Kathryn Whitethorn-Litton, the murdered man's supposed mistress. While Kathryn was not in the house when the earl was killed, she was on a mission that she dare not reveal to the Captain.

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Kathryn laughed. “Why should they? No. They will not, and I will not give you their names. Why are you questioning me?”

“Please, I beg your indulgence. Let me confirm, then, that the last time you claim to have seen Lord Taunton was last night at nine p.m.?” Captain Ainsley asked.

“Yes, of course. Ask Harry if you don’t wish to bother Lord Taunton. He can confirm that I have told you the truth. He and Taunton spend a great deal of time together. If you wish to know who spent the evening with Taunton, you must ask Harry.”

“I have spoken with Mr. Silsbury. He indicated he heard a woman speaking with Lord Taunton late—sometime after midnight, I believe.”

“He could have been requesting water for a bath.” She shrugged. “Did Harry say he heard me?”

“Yes. He indicated it was your voice.”

“How could he? I was not here at midnight.” She sighed and felt the stirrings of impatience. “If you are concerned about this matter, then you must ask Lord Taunton. He can surely tell you what you want to know and identify the woman he spoke to last night. Although I am quite sure he was simply asking a maid for some everyday item like a towel or fresh soap. It is not unheard of, you know.”

A few moments of silence followed this, and once again her confusion stirred. Why did he persist in asking her about Lord Taunton?

“You must realize, surely…” His words trailed off. He studied her, a speculative gleam in his brown eyes.

More and more, she had the feeling that she was unaware of something terrible. There was some fact she ought to be aware of and yet she was not. What had happened while she accompanied Mary Dudley? The sensation of missing a critical point grew almost unbearable. Her fingers twisted together in her lap, stiff and damp.

“Lord Taunton is no longer in a position to answer my questions.” Captain Ainsley leaned forward, his right hand gripping his knee. “He died last night.”

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I hope you enjoyed the small snippet. If you are interested, here are the links for the book on Smashwords and Amazon:

Amazon:        http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IKY4BO4

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/411220

Thanks and have a great week!

Gardening and Writing

Gardening

Oops, someone forgot to pick the veggies for a while. Sigh. But I did manage to harvest almost 2 quarts of garlic (2 qts of cleaned garlic cloves, to be exact) and a whole BUNCH of zucchini. As you can see in the background, I ended up using a lot of it for pickles. Then I took some more and made flour-less zucchini muffins.

I'm very pleased with the pickles. We are trying to cut out sugar and this particular recipe has no sugar at all in it. It's a spicy pickle with hot pepper flakes and garlic and we've already eaten one jar. What makes it even better is that you don't have to go through that long hot water bath canning process. You clean the jars (fill with boiling water until ready to use), prepare the zucchini and while you're doing that, boil the vinegar with the spices for 5 minutes. Then fill the jars and pour in the boiling vinegar. Of course you have to store them in the refrigerator, but that's okay with us. I got the recipe from Eatsy at this link.

 For the zucchinis I did not use for pickles (I made 12 pints of pickles) I made zucchini bread with almond flour. Okay, actually, I turned this into zucchini muffins because we like them for breakfast.

I got the recipe for that from comfybelly.com at this link. Of course, I modified it just a wee bit to add a little more spice because we really like our spices, but the basic recipe was from comfybelly.

So, if you are overrun with zucchini or squash, you might look into making either pickles or bread. My sister likes to make zucchini cake, but as I mentioned, we are trying to cut down on sugar and gluten, so we're not doing the cake thing. However, if you make those muffins, they are like mini carrot cakes and are absolutely wonderful for breakfast with a dollop of cream cheese. In fact, I almost prefer them to most cakes at this point.

Writing

I've been working extra hard on my writing lately and for those who are interested, I'm still taking my net proceeds from The Vital Principle and donating them to the Red Cross for the tornado victims. I haven't earned as much as I would like (I'd at least like to give $500) but every little bit helps.

For my fans, the second Prudence Barnard/Knighton Gaunt mystery, The Dead Man's View, is in the final stages and should be out in August. Pru and Knighton were first introduced to readers in The Vital Principle, and I hope folks will enjoy their continuing adventures. In The Dead Man's View, Pru discovers she has a second cousin and goes to visit him, only to have him die within a week of her arrival. The coroner believes her cousin committed suicide, but Pru finds clues that lead her to believe otherwise and she writes to Knighton to gain his assistance in proving her cousin was murdered. 

The wonderful cover artist, Amber Shah, is working on the cover for The Dead Man's View and has even done a new one for The Vital Principle to give it a "make over." Here is a "proof" of the newly redesigned cover for The Vital Principle. It is not final yet, but it will give you an idea and show her wonderful work.

I'm torn at the moment between two of her designs for The Dead Man's View, but hopefully I'll have a new cover to show folks soon!

Next year, I hope there will be a third Pru and Knighton mystery as they are going to go on a trip to Europe and once more, they are going to stumble upon a dead body during their travels...

In the meantime, the Second Sons Inquiry Agency is getting a new detective and I'm writing chapter five even as we speak. It's tentatively called: The Illusion of Desire and like The Vital Principle, it deals with some difficult topics but there are dashes of black humor that I hope readers will enjoy.

For readers of my contemporary mystery, Whacked!, I'm editing a second manuscript (I don't have a title yet) in preparation to sending it to my editor at Five Star. The new one is also set in the small town of Peyton, NC, and features Kelly Harmony. Kelly is suspected of killing her roommate and then torching the apartment to cover up the crime and it doesn't help matters when she finds a stranger's dead body in her new home. This is the first of what will be several mysteries featuring the Harmony family in Peyton, so cross your fingers that my editor likes it.

On the novella front, I wrote a sweet Regency novella last spring and submitted it to my editor at Highland Press, as well as my first sweet Western romance novella. I hope she likes at least one of them and decides to include it in one of the upcoming Highland Press anthologies.

Finally, my paranormal romance, A Fall of Silver, is on sale for one more week at $.99 so if you are interested, you might want to jump on it now before it goes back to its normal price.

That's all the news and I hope to write another blog soon on the craft of writing, as well as keeping up better on my progress with the art of writing.

Enjoy the summer!

Gardening in August

It’s hot—really hot—and the hardest thing this time of year seems to be keeping ahead of the weeding. The weeds seem to grow even without water or care, while the other flowers suffer as the weather reaches the highest temperatures. Last year, we had a drought, but this year, it's been raining every afternoon. That's terrific for my roses, but not so great on the weeding front as we're literally taken over by weeds. We are particularly plagued by pink purslane (Portulaca pilosa L.). It’s related to that wonderful and very colorful annual Portulaca (moss rose) and some folks have decided to stop trying to weed out purslane as it does have a lovely, bright hot pink flower about ½” across that opens during the day.

You can see from this picture that it has reddish stems and less clearly, rather “succulent” leaves. This specimen is getting ready to bloom, but isn’t quite there yet.

Some have been known to use purslane in salads as it contains more Omega-3 fatty acids than any other leafy vegetable. In antiquity, it was one of several pot herbs that “should be sown in April” according to Theophrastus (4^th century BC). Pliny advised wearing it as an amulet to expel all evil due to its healing properties. It is known as Ma Chi Xian in China and has been used in traditional Chinese medicine for dysentery and topically to relieve skin abrasions or insect bites.  However, it also contains oxalate, a compound implicated in the formation of kidney stones, so I personally do not include purslane in our diet, particularly since our variety of purslane is not the yellow-flowered variety one commonly uses in Europe in salads.

So you see, what is one man’s weed is another man’s sought-after herb.

And it’s hot enough now that I’ve decided not to make any real attempt to eradicate purslane from our garden. I’m very fond of it growing over the edges of our brick walkway, so I think I won’t worry too much about pulling it out.

This is, of course, the time of year when marigolds really come into their own. I’ve always loved marigolds and adore all the new varieties available. There is even an off-white one that is absolutely terrific as a “bridging” plant between the hot colors of late summer marigolds and the mums of fall, which often include rich rose and burgundy. And don’t forget the plants with colorful foliage like coleus that come in everything from lime green and white to deep burgundy. They can also be used effectively in planters and gardens. They are beautiful all summer, even when other plants have stopped blooming, since they are grown for their foliage. They do need to be pinched back, though, to keep them busy.

Late July and August is also prime time for verbenas, as shown in this photo. The plans are blooming powerhouses and will attract hundreds of butterflies and hummingbirds. They come in a variety of colors, including delicate pinks as well as hot orange and pink combinations. If planted in good soil with the occasional watering, they will grow as high as your waist in one season. Folks in USDA gardening zones 7-10 will find verbenas will grow as perennials as long as you remember not to cut them back too far in the winter. The hollow stems will fill with water and freeze, thereby killing the plant, if you forget.  Nonetheless, this is an extremely easy to grow plant that requires virtually no care and will survive if you forget to water for a few weeks.

If you grow roses, don’t forget to water them and feed them to prepare for another glorious season of bloom in late August-September. Remove any hips (dead flowers) to encourage bloom production. Old wisdom said to clip off spent flower sprays down to the first 5-leafed leaflet. I simply pinch off the hip, leaving all leaves on the stem. Leaves are good—they are the energy factory for the plant—so the more leaves you can leave a plant, the better.

Hope you are enjoying your summer garden!

Stay cool in the dog days of summer and don’t worry if you let a few weeds intrude. Just tell anyone who comments that they are an herb you meant to grow there.

Finally, although the nearby cotton field has another month to go before the cotton "balls" form, this time of year always reminds me of my second Archer family Regency romance, I Bid One American. The heroine is a "fish out of water" as an American heiress living in London. If you want a light, funny read with a touch of mystery, you might check it out. And yes, those white things on the cover are cotton...

Thinking About the Fall

Most of you are probably wondering why I suddenly diverged from writing about writing, books, history and those types of things to gardening. The fact is, I love gardening almost as much as writing, so I thought I'd share some of the information I've gathered over the years. There is also the odd circumstance that my rose gardening and researching roses led me to set some of my mysteries (A Rose Before Dying, Smuggled Rose,  and The Necklace, to name a few) in the period when rose gardening really started coming into its own (early years of the 19th century).

Although we are firmly in the middle of summer, it will only be a few weeks before the weather starts cooling off. That means, now is a good time to line up and even order plants or seeds you want to plant in the fall.

Which brings me to the real subject of this blog: Fall Rose Planting. :) You knew I'd get there, one way or the other, right?

Fall is a Great Time to Order Roses

Fall is a wonderful time to order and plant roses.  As the weather cools, you can start thinking about what new roses you’d like to see blooming in the spring.  By ordering--and planting--in the fall, you give your roses a chance to “dig in” and get settled over the winter in their new location.  When spring arrives, they will be ready to put on a wonderful show for you.

In North Carolina, fall planting has an additional benefit in that we often start getting a great deal more rainfall.  This rain and the cooler weather will help your roses put down good roots to support extra blooms when the weather warms up in March and April.

If you’re considering taking this advice, there is a new category of “Earth Kind Roses” that Texas A&M University has been using to designate roses which stand up to insects, widely varying soil conditions, and minimal care.  The program has been used to find roses which can be used in areas, such as between roadways, where they will have to survive with very little cosseting.

A few of the roses identified as EarthKind follow.  They span a range of rose classifications and there are sure to be some which would do very well in your garden.

Belinda’s Dream:  Shrub rose with medium pink, very double flowers.  ARS rating of 8.4

Caldwell Pink:  Polyantha rose with lilac pink flowers, height up to 4’.

Else Poulsen:  Floribunda, medium pink, semi-double with 10 petals.  ARS rating of 8.1.

Katy Road Pink:  Also called Carefree Beauty, Shrub rose with medium pink blooms of 15-20 petals.  ARS rating of 8.7.

Knock Out:  Shrub with blooms that are a red blend, single flowers.  ARS rating of 8.6.

Marie Daly:  Polyantha rose in medium pink with an ARS rating of 7.6.

Mutabilis:  Hybrid China rose with single flowers (5 petals) that start out pale yellow and age through pink to deep rose.  ARS rating of 8.9.

Perle d’Or:  Polyantha rose with double flowers that are a yellow blend.  ARS rating of 8.4.

Sea Foam:  Shrub rose with white flowers which are double  ARS rating of 8.1.

The Fairy:  Polyantha rose with light pink, double blooms.  It has some (slight) fragrance.  ARS rating of 8.7.

The list of EarthKind roses has been expanding recently to include the following roses, as well:

Cecile Brunner:  Polyantha with double, light pink flowers.  ARS rating of 8.4.

Comtesse du Cayla:  Hybrid China rose with semi-double blooms that are an orange and pink blend. [Picture on the left.] ARS rating of 7.0.

Duchesse de Brabant:  Tea rose with light pink flowers consisting of approximately 45 petals.  ARS rating of 8.6.

Marchesa Boccella:  Hybrid Perpetual rose with light pink blooms that are very fragrant.  ARS rating of 9.1.

Marie Pavie:  Polyantha rose with white flowers which are double.  ARS rating of 8.9.

Mrs. Dudley Cross:  Tea rose with double flowers in a yellow and pink blend.  ARS rating of 8.3.  In North Carolina, this rose can grow into a very large and well-formed bush, about 6’ by 6’.

Reve d’Or:  Noisette rose (that in my personal experience can very well take over a small building in one season).  The blooms are pale yellow and double. [Picture on the right.]  It has an ARS rating of 9.4.

Souvenir de St. Anne’s:  Bourbon rose with light pink, fragrant blooms.

Spice:  China rose classified as an Old Garden Rose.  Spice is blush pink and is very fragrant.  It grows from 3 to 5’ in height.

 Roses Unlimited is a great source for "Earth Kind" roses, so I hope you'll check them out.

Planting Roses

Planting roses in the fall is really not much different from planting in the spring, except you do want to ensure you use a good, thick coat of mulch.

Select a site which has both good air circulation and at least six hours of sunshine.  There are a few roses, such as Rambling Rector which will grow into trees and can withstand some shade, but they are the exception and even they will do better with more sunshine!

Make sure you prepare your beds while you wait for your roses to be delivered.  It is never too soon to prepare a bed since having good soil is a key element to healthy roses.  If you can, get the Agriculture Extension Office to test some soil samples to make sure you use the proper amendments.  Good drainage is critical.  No roses like to stand in water.  If you have clay or slow-draining soil, you can add organic matter and gypsum to help condition the soil.

When you get your roses, be sure to water them well.  Dig a hole twice as deep and twice as wide as the container in which they are growing.  Plant your roses at the same depth in the ground as they were in their container.

After you dig the hole, mix the soil you removed fifty/fifty with organic matter and soil conditioners, such as alfalfa meal or cottonseed meal and gypsum.  You can also use the fine, bark-like soil conditioners to break up clay soil.

Trim back any broken or damaged stems, but leave healthy leaves if you plant before November.

Top dress with three to four inches of mulch to allow for good drainage, moisture retention, and weed control.

Once your roses are planted, don’t forget to water them (unless the winter rains have already begun, in which case you can sit back and relax).  Water deeply at least once a week; two to three inches of water is recommended.  Try not to get the leaves wet when you water, particularly in the fall as the cooler nights can promote diseases such as black spot.

You will not need to fertilize your roses in the fall, that task can wait until spring.

 Duchesse de Brabant, a Tea rose and one of the EarthKind roses that do well in the North Carolina area.  “No spraying required!” [Picture on the left.]

Interestingly enough, Duchesse de Brabant was one of Teddy Roosevelt’s favorite roses, and he frequently wore a bloom from this wonderful rose in his lapel.

Alba Roses - Fragrant Old Garden Roses

Old Garden Roses - Alba

I thought I would continue writing a few blogs about one of my favorite plants: roses. Some of you may have already noted this obsession of mine, considering some of my books such as Smuggled Rose or A Rose Before Dying so this blog shouldn't really be a surprise. I do love roses and history.

So here you are...a short article about Alba roses.

Alba roses are classed with the Old Garden Roses (OGR), which are generally considered to be roses hybridized or introduced prior to 1900.  The 1900’s marked the beginning of the era of the Hybrid Teas, which are the most popular roses today. OGR’s have been around this long simply because they are worth growing and are survivors.  The majority are intensely fragrant and extremely attractive when in full bloom, and the Alba roses are no exception.

Alba roses are extremely ancient and during medieval times, the white roses were often associated with the Virgin Mary.  Many rose historians speculate that the Alba rose class arose from crosses between wild Dog roses and ancient Damasks (which will be covered in the third article).

The Alba class of roses are fairly large shrubs with bluish gray leaves and white or pale pink flowers.  Albas bloom once, generally in summer, and are wonderfully fragrant.  The entire bush can be covered with blossoms during the flowering period and will fill the air with their heady perfume.

They do not need to be sprayed and do not suffer from blackspot.  They are, in fact, one of the toughest and easiest of all the roses to grow.  They are extremely tolerant of imperfect growing conditions including:  bad soil, light shade, and insufficient water. However, if you live in the hot and humid South, Albas do struggle in that climate and seem to prefer cooler climes.

The most common characteristics of the class are:

• Thorny stems.
• Soft, bluish gray leaves.
• Buds are long and graceful, with long sepals.
• The bushes are generally quite large (average 7’ tall).
• Somewhat shade tolerant.
• Colors range from white through light pink.
• They require no pruning and will flower well, year after year, by only removing the dead wood.

A few Alba roses include:

‘Great Maiden’s Blush’ ancient.  This is one of my favorite roses and is a gorgeous soft pink.  The shrub can reach almost 8 feet and will sucker if grown on its own roots.  The glorious flowers are very double with pale pink outside petals with a deeper pink in the center.  The flower will gradually fade to white as it ages.  Very rich fragrance. 

Rosa alba ‘Semiplena’ ancient.  ‘Semiplena’ is another large shrub, known to grow up to 8 feet tall.  It has pure white flowers, semi-double, with a rich scent.  It has been grown frequently in place of Damask roses, to produce Attar of Roses.  It will grow even in partial shade.

‘Jacobite Rose’ (aka Rosa alba ‘Maxima’) – ancient origin.  Rosa alba ‘Maxima’ can grow up to 7 feet tall, with graceful, arching branches.  The flowers are pure white and some may have a touch of pink in the center.  Good fragrance

‘Céleste’ late 18^th century.  It reaches 7’ tall and sports semi-double flowers in rose pink color with gold stamens.  The roses are particularly delicate in appearance and have an interesting elongated, slender bud.  The flowers are exceptionally fragrant. 

‘Félicité Parmentier’ known since 1834.  This Alba is one of the shorter, and therefore more useful shrubs that reaches 4’.  It has double flowers in pale pink set off by a green button eye.  Good fragrance.

‘Mme Plantier’ Plantier, 1835.  ‘Mme Plantier’ is another tall shrub which can even be trained as a small climber (approx. 8-9’).  It has lovely double flowers in creamy white.  The buds are red-tinted prior to opening.  As with the other Albas, this one has a good scent.

These are just a few varieties.  All the Alba roses are well worth the garden space and require minimal to perform exceptionally well. They aren't that easy to find, but Pickering Nursery is a good source for these and many other OGR.

Happy Gardening!

And speaking of gardening...Oriana Archer in the first of the Regency series of books about the adventures of the Archer family is also a fanatical gardener. (Hmmm, wonder how that happened?) If you want to find out more about her and the cursed family necklace she discovers, check out The Necklace.

Sample Sunday: The Bricklayer's Helper

It's sample Sunday again! This time, I'm giving you a small taste from my Regency romantic mystery, The Bricklayer's Helper.

What would you do if you were a young girl, orphaned during the early years of the 19th century? Without a family and references, there were pitifully few jobs for women, leaving them to face desperate lives of thievery or prostitution.

Sam faces this terrible situation in The Bricklayer’s Helper.

Her story was based on the actual life of Catherine Wilson, who was orphaned at fourteen and bravely refused to accept the social restrictions of her day. She donned her deceased brother’s clothes to find work under the name of John Thomson.

An orphan like Catherine, Sarah finds herself alone when a suspicious fire burns down her home with her family trapped inside. All she can remember about the horrific event is the warning to “run and hide.” Fighting to stay alive, Sarah cuts her hair, dons the garb of a young boy and obtains a job as a bricklayer’s helper. This disguise allows her to remain safe for nearly thirteen years.

Unfortunately, work takes her to London and a man from her past recognizes her. He arranges a meeting with her, only to be murdered before they can speak. Desperate that she may be vulnerable, Sarah hires an inquiry agent from the Second Sons Inquiry Agency.

However, Sarah is not too sure about the inquiry agent she's assigned. William Trenchard may be competant to fumble his way beneath a lady’s skirt, but can he discover who murdered her family? Despite her doubts, Sarah hires him, hoping to survive long enough to uncover the killer.
Unfortunately, their decisions may prove to be dangerous to their hearts…if not downright fatal.

Book: The Bricklayer’s Helper

In the scene below, Sarah, in her guise as Sam Sanderson, has gone to meet a man from her past, unsure what secrets he will reveal about the fire that destroyed her family.

Excerpt from The Bricklayer’s Helper
 
She glanced around, trying to listen over the pounding of her heart. No one shouted. No one except the major showed any interest in her—other than sheer annoyance when she impeded the smooth flow of foot traffic.


Major Pickering raised his hand, his eyes intent on her face. She took a slow step forward. Then without warning, he stumbled. His hand fell to his side. His gaze wavered. A look of confusion passed over his thin face. Glancing down, he pressed a hand to his side. And as he brought his palm up in front of his face, his legs buckled beneath him. He fell sharply to his knees, and with a shudder, he raised his head. His gaze once more met Sam’s as his mouth worked soundlessly.

A sense of urgency sent her running forward, hand outstretched. Alarmed by the pallor of his face, she tried to reach him to hear the words he uselessly mouthed. Then, although she couldn’t be sure with the jostling men between them, he shook his head slightly in warning. A spasm twisted his features.

Sam stopped and watched in agonized horror as he slowly crumpled, face down, onto the pavement.

A passerby dressed in black bent over him. His quick hands patted the major’s back and sides.

Several men trying to pass turned and exclaimed in surprise.

“What’s wrong?” one said, his voice carrying above the crowd.

“Drunk—”

“No—murder!” another man yelled. “Fetch the constable! This man’s been stabbed!”

------
I hope you enjoyed the excerpt!

Christmas Spirit

I know, I know, I've been a very bad person and haven't posted to my blog in a while. But I have an excuse (besides hurricane Irene, which is also a good excuse and I'm using it). I've been working frantically on a new holiday mystery novella called "Christmas Spirit". In fact, I'm getting ready to send it to my editor tomorrow (phew).

And right now, I'm trying to decide about a cover. Here is one candidate. It's actually very good about capturing the feel of the book because Eve, the poor heroine, has to plow through the snow with her mother and maid in tow when their carriage breaks down. And when they come to a house, they discover that the owner has been murdered! In fact, he was found with his throat cut just moments before Eve and her mother (and maid, let's not forget the maid) arrive.

Horrors!

Was it the ghostly apparition they glimpsed as they struggled through the snow? Or was it the guests, Mr. Danby and his father, Lord Wolverton? Or Anatoly, the flamboyant cook?

Will Eve and her mother survive long enough to find out?

Who can say, but stay tuned for more info about "Christmas Spirit" as we get closer and closer to a release date (hopefully, sometime in November).

Here is another cover option (to the left).

Let me know which one you like better. I can use all the opinions I can get. I have no clue.

Then, I'll be hard at work on the next Pru and Knighton mystery, which follows up their story from "The Vital Principle". Pru has found another dead body and this time, the victim is related to her and she's convinced he did not commit suicide as everyone else claims. She's sure it's murder and asks Knighton for his assistance in proving it. I've got the first two chapters written, but haven't even settled on a title, yet.

Some of you who also read paranormals will be interested to know that I've also submitted "A Fall of Silver" to The Wild Rose Press. Wish me luck. That will be the second book, following hard on the heels of "Vampire Protector". If that submission goes well, I'll be working on the third manuscript, tentatively entitled "Smoke" and featuring the redoubtable Theresa Blackstone, who had guest appearances in both "Vampire Protector" and "A Fall of Silver".

Lots of irons in various fires. Despite that, I'm going to desperately try to do better about keeping the old blog going.

In the meantime, let me know what you're up to now that the weather is starting to cool down.

Guest Author: Dara England

Please welcome Dara England! I had the temerity to ask her if she would write a blog after I found her books and downloaded every single one of the to my Kindle. I loved her writing and really wanted a chance to host her.

She graciously agreed, and not only that, she is sponsoring a contest. If you stop by and leave a comment here, Dara and I will pick a winner. You'll receive an ebook by Dara, and I'll tell you, if I hadn't already bought all her books, I'd be tempted to cheat and keep the book for myself.
So here she is!

Dara England

Many thanks to Amy for agreeing to have me as a guest on her lovely blog.

Something I’m often asked lately is why I’m pursuing indie publishing after having been previously published in more traditional forms. There’s no short answer to this so I’m going to go with a long one. That’s right, get comfy because this girl is going to share her entire publishing background, such as it is.

In The Beginning …

After years of writing fiction in the hope of getting published “someday” I finally got up the nerve to start submitting my work. Only to small webzines and print magazines no one had ever heard of but at least it was a start. Seeing my work up on the web and knowing other people were reading it was fun and it gave me confidence, as well as the chance to hone my skills.

But that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the real dream, just the smallest taste of it. I learned about the possibilities opening up in the e-publishing world and, although the idea of e-books took some getting used to at first, decided to give it a try. I submitted to a number of digital first presses and was eventually picked up by an up and coming small press called Lyrical Press Inc.

I still knew very little about the small press world and hadn’t had the sense to do much research before submitting. But I got lucky this time and LPI turned out to be a great first home for me and my books. They were professional, easy to work with, paid on time, and I didn’t have to deal with any of the nightmares it’s so easy for a first-timer to get sucked into.

Oh, Sweet Rapture!

But my dream was still traditional publication. Or legacy publishing. Or New York publication. It goes by many different names but you know what I mean. I wanted to see my books in stores and libraries. So when I heard of an opportunity to submit for a Running Press anthology, I jumped at it. And shockingly, at least to me, they wanted my story!

My experience with this second publication was a good one and seeing the Mammoth Book of Irish Romance in bookstores everywhere was beyond awesome. Whenever I stumbled across it someplace new I’d stop and pick up a copy and hug it. Or just stroke the cover. Let’s just say I probably looked like a crazy person to all the bookstore employees and the shoppers around me.

The Depths Of Despair

But New York, alas, still didn’t throw it’s gates open wide for me. I wrote a new book, sent it on the agent rounds and got a lot of interest. One agent even agreed to send me a contract but shortly thereafter her agency closed its doors and I was left still unrepresented. I was tired and frustrated at the endless rounds of queries, submissions, partials, fulls, rejections… Everywhere I went agents and editors talked about the tough market and all our communications ended the same way. They just weren’t confident enough that they could sell my book.

I returned to publishing with digital first presses but I kept an ear to the wind. And about this time I began to hear whispers of the potential for success in the self-publishing arena. Well, this was nothing new. I’d been hearing this kind of talk for years and had always dismissed it as nonsense. Everybody knew what self-publishing was, right? Just hand-selling a few copies of your little book to family and friends and anybody else you could beg or guilt into buying a copy. Self-publishers were largely derided and I was one of the persecutors. Just call me the Biblical Saul/Paul.

What’s This Indie Thing About?

But then something changed. Several authors I knew began to come out and “admit” to trying their hands at self-publishing e-books. These were “real” authors, people whose business sense I respected. They were New York published, for heaven’s sake! And yet, they were finding indie-publishing on the side lucrative. They kept their New York contracts and they continued to write for digital first publishers like Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Carina Press, Spice Briefs, Red Sage, etc. But they were also finding time to put out some indie works and were reporting impressive sells numbers.

Cue inspirational music. This was the moment a light bulb went off over my head and I realized I could be building a reader base with indie publishing and pursuing New York at the same time. It wasn’t an either-or situation. What was more, thanks to the lower cost of producing an e-book versus a print book I could experiment with this whole indie thing at little expense.

Testing The Waters

Ok, I’d wised up and it was time to dip my toe into the water. I wrote something new, something I hadn’t tried before. A historical mystery novella set in Victorian England. I titled in Accomplished In Murder. I had always enjoyed detective stories but this was the first time I’d had the nerve to write one. Previously I had written things I thought would sell well, mostly paranormal romance. But it was time to break out and write something my heart was in, something I actually enjoyed for its own sake.

Thanks to my major obsession with hanging out on writers’ forums all these years I’d made a lot of connections with people involved in the publishing industry. I knew a number of formatters, editors, cover designers, etc. I hired Lauren Dee of Daisy Cakes Creative to edit my manuscript because she came highly recommend by other writers I trusted. Also she was reasonably priced and I didn’t have a huge budget. I lined up Lucinda Campbell of L.K. E-Book Formatting to format my e-book because I didn’t trust myself to do it properly and I was determined my first effort at an indie book would look professional.

The Big Experiment

With surprising ease, I uploaded my e-book to the usual venders and sat back expecting to watch the dismal numbers creep in at snail speed. Instead they…well, not exactly rushed in, but came in at a respectable and sedate pace. I had studied other’s statistics and was prepared for the long haul. I thought, “I’ll sell five copies the first month, ten copies the next, and wait for the snowball effect everybody talks about”. Instead, I easily surpassed my meager expectations on the first day my book was available for purchase.

At this moment, about a month out from my first indie release, I’m sitting in Amazon’s Top 100 list of best-sellers in the Historical Mystery Category. I’m also respectably situated on the Women Sleuths list. I have no idea how long this good fortune will last but I’m enjoying the ride.

As to the big question, will I be doing it again? Heck, yes!
Dara England
http://www.daraenglandauthor.com/

Accomplished in Murder


Murder was never so refined…

When her holiday on the coast of Cornwall takes a deadly turn, it is up to Drucilla Winterbourne to uncover the dangerous secrets the inhabitants of Blackridge House will do anything to conceal. But can a proper young lady from London society comprehend the dark motives of a killer?

Accomplished In Murder is the first in a series of historical mystery novellas featuring intrepid Victorian heroines up to their bustles in crime. These works are only loosely connected and can be read in any order.

Length: 17,000 word novella.
* * * * * *
Contest
Please be sure to leave a comment to win a free copy of the ebook, Accomplished In Murder.

What Compels You To Read?

What attracts you to a book? Why do you read?
Those questions are fascinating to me, and there are almost as many answers as there are blades of grass in the world.

For me, reading is a chance to explore other "modes of life," other cultures, discover new things, new words, vicarious thrills, see how others solve problems, and most of all, explore what it is that makes a human being tick.

Unlike a lot of readers, I avoid the heart-warming, the tear-jerkers, the super-woman heroines who weigh 90 lbs but stand 5'8" tall in fancy high-heels and tailored suits. Or the fun-loving hippy-chick who lets her emotions rule her beautiful life. I seek out the books about the overweight, the irrascible, the bitter cynics, misfits, the sarcastic, geeky, uncool loners who never fit in and know they probably never will. Those who like to think logic drives them but are often surprised at how many times obscure, deep-seated needs made the decisions for them. And they weren't good decisions.

Could it be that I bond more strongly with those I perceive to be like me? (I shudder to think what that says about me.) Or those who are portrayed with qualities I'd like to emulate? Is that part of what drives a reader to select certain books, certain authors over others? It's an interesting question and may in part help us understand why certain authors reach mega-stardom and others, who may even be better writers in the same genre, simply don't find a wide audience. Are the truly popular able to tap into the psyche of the "fat middle of the bell curve" of humanity (instead of the skinny ends), creating characters and incorporating themes that speak to most people?

To a large part, that may be true. The authors who can tap into the zeitgeist will undoubtedly do well.
For me, there are definitely values, themes, and characters that draw me into their stories and cause me to buy every book I can find about them.

The Inspector Rutledge series by Charles Todd, for example. This series of mysteries is set in England, right after World War I. It's a period when a shell-shocked population saw their world change forever in fundamental ways. The war itself was traumatic, but layered on top of that were changes brought about by technology. Cars were replacing horses, for example. Civilization was shifting into high gear. It was the start of an era we would recognize as the roots of our modern times.

While the shift is undoubtedly fascinating, what really draws me is Rutledge. This is a man who I can truly respect. He's been through horrific events during the war and returned home, shell-shocked and scarred both physically and mentally. His fiancee leaves him and his life is in tatters. And yet...instead of laying about whining, he returns to the work, hoping the challenges will give him time to pull himself together and heal. He shows enormous integrity and courage, as well as the drive to work through adversity instead of just giving up. He typifies all the qualities I admire most. He is why we will forever call those men and women who lived through the first half of the 20th century, the Great Generation. No one from that period would even think of eliminating cursive writing from school because it's too difficult to teach. (Okay, I had to add that, sorry.)

In contrast, I also read The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson every year, sometimes twice a year. WARNING: SPOILERS. The main character draws me in as strongly as Rutledge and in many ways, she is much like him. She is also damaged and that damage leads her inexorably to her fate. I love the understated, vicarious chills of this horror story. There is no blood, no unspeakable acts of torture. It is more subtle and in may ways more horrible because of that. It is filled with irony. Eleanor is a character we can sympathize with, and perhaps even admire. She has sacrificed her own happiness and independence by spending most of her adult life taking care of an invalid mother. Exhausted by years of coming to her mother's call, day and night, she accidentally sleeps through one, final call. The one call that turns out to be the one she should have answered, for her mother dies. Ironic. And Eleanor can never quite forgive herself for that.

Then at last, she has one opportunity to find happiness and show her independence by taking her first vacation ever. At Hill House. Where whatever forces await her recognize that buried guilt and prey upon her. Her first attempt to find happiness, to show independence, results in...well. Ironic.

In contrast to that, are the works of P. G. Wodehouse. Particularly his stories set at Blandings Castle. Blandings Castle is the seat of Lord Emsworth. I adore Lord Emsworth. Mostly because he loathes his children, his family and only wants to be left alone to fatten up his champion sow, the Empress of Blandings. He makes me wonder how many parents really feel about their children, particuarly after said children reach the ages of around 13-25. I suspect Lord Emsworth isn't the only one who'd like to see them locked away and forgotten during that period. I wouldn't have blamed my own parents one bit if they felt like that. In fact, I can't understand how they avoided doing just that when I was in my teens.

As for my own writing...I find that I can't even start a book unless I have some pretty good conflict going and can include at least one irrascible, possibly down-right mean, character and a bit of comic relief. That's why so many of my stories end up with those elements somewhere around the middle when the going gets tough and I need a laugh or two to keep going.

My themes vary, but many have elements of "being trapped" in them, like Eleanor is trapped by her noble quality, her ability to sacrifice her happiness for others, and her guilt at failing her mother at the most critical moment. In my latest mystery, A Rose Before Dying, many of the characters are trapped in a variety of ways, both internally and externally.

Sir Edward is trapped by his lameness and circumstances. Someone may be trying to implicate him in a series of murders. In his efforts to extricate himself, he traps his nephew, Charles Vance, into investigating.

Charles Vance is trapped in a murder investigation by duty, a deep sense of honor and his love for his uncle.

As a woman in the early years of the 19th century, Ariadne Wellfleet is trapped by Society and legal obligations. She's engaged to be married to a man she does not like and restricted in her abilities to alter her situation for the better. She has a rose hybridization business she loves, but if she breaks her engagement she may lose it all.

This theme of entrapment is something I enjoy exploring, so I seem to return to it time and time again.

I'll leave you with two things: a question to ponder and a brief blurb for A Rose Before Dying.

What themes and characters intrigue you--why do you read?

And now...a word about A Rose Before Dying.

Only Sir Edward had the motive, the opportunity, and a garden full of the identical roses sent to each victim before their death.

The first victim was Sir Edward’s ex-mistress, a woman who threw him over for a younger man. After receiving a mysterious rose, she dies while alone with Sir Edward. Then a second rose is delivered and a deadly game commences, where roses are the only clues to save the next victim.

However, Charles Vance, Earl of Castlemoor, refuses to believe his uncle, Sir Edward, could commit the murders, even when the renowned head of the Second Sons Inquiry Agency warns him there may be some truth behind the rumors. "The roses are Sir Edward’s attempt to cast suspicion elsewhere." "Misdirection." Or so the whispers say.

Convinced he can prove his uncle’s innocence, Vance enlists the aide of notable rosarian, Ariadne Wellfleet, little realizing his actions will involve the Wellfleet household in the killer’s game.

Before the week is out, another rose is delivered.

Sample Sunday: A Rose Before Dying

It's Sample Sunday, which means it's time to gives folks a sample of one of my books. This time it will be my latest mystery, A Rose Before Dying which was just released this month.

A Rose Before Dying

Only Sir Edward had the motive, the opportunity, and a garden full of the identical roses sent to each victim before their death.

The first victim was Sir Edward’s ex-mistress, a woman who threw him over for a younger man. After receiving a mysterious rose, she dies while alone with Sir Edward. Then a second rose is delivered and a deadly game commences, where roses are the only clues to save the next victim.

However, Charles Vance, Earl of Castlemoor, refuses to believe his uncle, Sir Edward, could commit the murders, even when the renowned head of the Second Sons Inquiry Agency warns him there may be some truth behind the rumors. The roses are Sir Edward’s attempt to cast suspicion elsewhere. Misdirection. Or so the whispers say.

Convinced he can prove his uncle’s innocence, Vance enlists the aide of notable rosarian, Ariadne Wellfleet, little realizing his actions will involve the Wellfleet household in the killer’s game.

Before the week is out, another rose is delivered.

And someone else is missing.

Excerpt
In this excerpt, Charles Vance, Earl of Castlemoor, is convinced by his desperate uncle, Sir Edward, to help him prove his innocence in the death of his mistress. Sir Edward had originally gone to his friend, Knighton Gaunt, the founder of the Second Sons Inquiry Agency, but he has now had second thoughts about involving an outsider. The only thing they have to go on is a spray of Lady Banks roses and a few taunting notes.

“Is this our only clue, then?” Charles arranged the two calling cards in front of him before gently rewrapping the spray of yellow flowers. “Did anyone see the flowers delivered?”



“No. The butler found the first bundle on the stoop when he opened the door for Lady Banks and Sir Edward to attend church services. They assumed I’d left it there as a surprise when I arrived.”


“Surely the accident didn’t occur on your way to church?” Charles asked, appalled.


“No—no. We went for a walk. Later. In the garden,” Sir Edward said. “There was a shot. She fell into my arms…”


After a moment of silence, Gaunt picked up the threads of the story to spare Sir Edward. “The second note and rose were left at the French doors leading to the garden.”


“Inside the house?”


“No. Outside,” his uncle said.


“And no one saw anyone?” How was that possible?


“No. No one but me. The servants said no one but me had visited or been in the garden. The constable did his best. He questioned several of the lads—known poachers—but they all had witnesses to verify their whereabouts at the time. Then he had to look elsewhere. By then, the whispers had started. I was alone in the garden with her. They said I did it. I was the only one there.”


Charles touched his uncle’s shoulder. “Nonsense. Obviously, someone else had been there. Had she argued with anyone?”


“No!” The single word exploded from his uncle’s white lips. “No. She argued with no one. This was—inexplicable. Inexcusable. She was an innocent victim. I—I believe it was aimed at me. The taunting flowers—what other reason could there be for those bloody roses?” He voice rasped with barely suppressed emotion. “He killed her—so they weren’t meant for her. The flowers were a message to me.”


“Why?” Charles glanced away from the pain in his uncle’s face, trying to drag the conversation into less terrible channels. “Who would hate you so much? Who do you suspect?”


Sir Edward took a deep, shuddering breath and then straightened. He shrugged. “No one. I can’t imagine who would hate me so. Or treat Lady Banks with such callous contempt. It’s beyond comprehension.”


The thought of shooting a woman for the purpose of bringing pain and suffering to another man was difficult for anyone to accept.


It took Charles a few moments convince himself it was possible for a man to be that cold, that malicious. “Have you any other information? Perhaps a list of those who bear you malice?”


His uncle shook his head, his gaze fixed on the floor.


Charles glanced at Mr. Gaunt. He wanted to question him to see what the man might have to offer in his professional capacity. Surely he had some relevant experience. Something that might bring light to the awful events.


“Please, Lord Castlemoor…Hoopes was right, after all. I should have gone to you, first.” His uncle interrupted the silence in a rush as if he could no longer bear the company of his own thoughts. “Whatever scandal is flushed out is best kept within the family. You must see that.”


Scandal? Charles’s gut clenched. What skeletons did his uncle know about, that might creep out of the family’s closet?


Certainly, none that he wanted Gaunt to chat with.

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Hope you enjoyed that brief snippet of A Rose Before Dying.
Best wishes for a successful week ahead!

Guest Writer: Bruce Macbain

I love mysteries set in ancient Rome and Bruce Macbain's are some of the best. He also writes for Poisoned Pen Press, which I have a special fondness for, since I remember sharing dozens of their mysteries with my father. In fact, I doubt I would write mysteries if it wasn't for those books my dad passed to me whenever I stopped by his house.

So I hope you'll enjoy meeting Bruce and hearing about some of the fascinating research he's done for his mysteries.

Wandering wombs and talking snakes?

There are some strange and untraveled byways in the ancient world that even professional historians (which I was for many years) rarely tread. Having now turned to writing historical fiction, I am happily exploring some of them.

By way of introduction, I should say that I have written a mystery set in first century AD Rome entitled Roman Games (Poisoned Pen Press, 2010) and am now at work on its sequel, The Bull Slayer. My hero is Pliny the Younger, Roman senator and letter writer extraordinaire, assisted by two other well-known literary figures, the poet Martial and the biographer Suetonius. But it isn’t about them that I want to talk today.

In Roman Games, Pliny’s fourteen-year-old wife, Calpurnia, is having a difficult pregnancy (this much is fact: Pliny mentions her miscarriage in one of his letters). We don’t really know who her physician was but I have put her in the capable hands of Soranus of Ephesus, who was just beginning his career in Rome in the 90’s AD. This young Greek doctor was to become, in the words of his modern translator, “one of the most learned, critical, and lucid authors of antiquity.” Little is known of his life except that he was born in the province of Asia (modern Turkey) and trained in Alexandria. He wrote on many medical subjects but his most influential work was the Gynecology. The following small sample of chapter headings shows the range of this fascinating work:

• What Persons Are Fit to Become Midwives

• Up to What Time Females Should Be Kept Virgins

• What Care Should Be Given Pregnant Women

• What Grows Inside the Uterus of a Pregnant Woman

• Whether One Ought to Make Use of Abortives and Contraceptives, and how

• How to Recognize the Newborn That Is Worth Rearing

• On Difficult Labor

• On Hysterical Suffocation

Hysterical suffocation is the condition of the lady Amatia, a guest in Pliny’s house. Soranus, who is attending Calpurnia, witnesses this lady’s sudden attack of convulsions and volunteers to examine her with a bronze speculum that resembles an implement of torture. Emerging from her bed chamber after a few minutes, he announces triumphantly, “…the lady’s womb is precisely where it should be!”) Soranus was, in fact, one of the few ancient physicians who questioned the common belief that female hysteria was caused by the womb (Greek hysteron) becoming detached and “scampering around like a kitten chasing a ball.” Treatments for the condition generally involved applying evil-smelling substances to the nose or sweet-smelling ones to the nether regions in order to lure the madcap organ back to its proper place. And, despite Soranus’ considerable authority, this continued to be the prevailing theory for centuries among (male) doctors whose imaginations got the better of their common sense.

For anyone interested in the history of medicine, or of women, his book makes interesting reading. (There is a translation with good introduction and notes by Prof. Oswei Temkin [Johns Hopkins University Press] available on Amazon.)

If Greco-Roman medicine has its amusing side, so too does religion. In The Bull Slayer, I introduce a character who is based on one of the most brazen—and successful—religious charlatans to be found in any age: Alexander of Abonoteichus. This man’s astonishing career is described for us by Lucian of Samosata, a Greek writer of the 2nd century AD, who knew him personally.

From obscure beginnings in the ignorant backwater of Paphlagonia, Alexander invented and propagated an oracular cult which took all of Roman Asia by storm and gained enthusiastic adherents even in the highest levels of the aristocracy. As Lucian tells it, Alexander was a “handsome man with a touch of divinity about him….his eyes were piercing and suggested inspiration…his voice sweet and sonorous.” He wore his hair in long curls, dressed in dazzling white, and carried a scimitar in honor of the hero Perseus from whom he claimed descent. But he had a “temperament compounded of falsehood, trickery, perjury and cunning.” Versatile, audacious and adventurous, he “never made a small plan.” When confronted by skeptics, he would foam at the mouth and feign divine madness.

His shtik was elaborate and impressive. He worked with an immense tame serpent (the totem animal of Asklepios), which he wound around his body, concealing its head under his arm. What the audience saw was a fake head made of painted canvas, serpent-like but vaguely human, whose jaws were moved by pulling invisible horse hairs. Through a speaking tube made by joining cranes’ windpipes together, a hidden confederate would voice the oracular responses to people’s questions.

And how did Alexander know what answers to give? The gullible (which included nearly everyone) wrote down their questions on tablets and sealed them with wax. Behind the scenes his many accomplices—he had a huge organization of attendants, inquiry agents, oracle writers, secretaries, seal forgers, and interpreters—removed the seals, read and then resealed them. Run-of-the-mill questions, often relating to health, got standardized responses. But other questions revealed that the writers were up to illegal activities. In these cases he didn’t return the packet with an answer but held on to it and used it to blackmail the sender. Between the drachma he charged for each answer (people often submitted dozens of questions at a time) and the blackmail, Alexander got to be a very rich, and a very dangerous, man. Lucian, who was a thorough-going skeptic, did his best to expose him, tricking him in various ways with phony questions, but nothing availed against his popularity.

Lucian, by the way, is an interesting figure in his own right. We know little of his personal life but he wrote amusingly and insightfully on a wide range of topics. His “True History” recounting a trip to the moon, is the world’s earliest science fiction story. His “Dialogues of the Gods” pokes gentle fun at the traditional myths. And his essay, “On the Death of Peregrinus,” is the biography of still another religious charlatan—a wandering philosopher who, for a time, became a Christian. Peregrinus learned their “lore”, assumed the role of prophet and lawgiver in one of their synagogues, and was revered as a god, “next after that other, to be sure, whom they still worship, the man who was crucified in Palestine because he introduced this new cult into the world…” Eventually, the Christians caught on to him and tossed him out. He ended his life in 161 AD by publicly burning himself to death at the Olympic Games. (These and other essays of Lucian can be found in several available translations.)

As I began by saying, it’s the less-known, out-of-the-way corners of the ancient world that interest me the most. I hope I’ve shone a light into a couple of them and enticed you to explore them for yourself.

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Thanks, Bruce! I hope folks will check out your book and your terrific website at http://www.brucemacbain.com/ .

Sample Sunday: A Rose Before Dying

It's Sample Sunday and I'm offering an excerpt from my latest mystery, A Rose Before Dying. This is the second mystery in the Second Sons Inquiry Agency mystery series and although Mr. Knighton Gaunt, the founder of Second Sons, is involved, the main investigator is not an inquiry agent at all, it's an earl trying to exonerate his uncle.

It's 1821 and Sir Edward Marlowe has been accused of killing his ex-mistress, Lady Banks. His nephew, Charles Vance, Earl of Castlemoor, is convinced his uncle is innocent and decides to investigate. The killer has left a taunting note and a rose, indicating that another murder will soon take place. Charles has taken the rose to an expert in hopes of identifying it and preventing the tragedy.
-------  

The butler stared at the card and then intoned, “Lord Castlemoor, Miss Wellfleet.”


She wiped her hands on a towel resting on the table and faced him. A tan apron covered the front of her dress from neat collar to hem, and dark, rich earth liberally smeared it in long, sweeping streaks.

“I’m afraid we must disappoint him.” She stared at Charles, but her movements placed the lamp behind her and left her face in darkness. Her expression was hidden, but the light behind her set her hair on fire. The thick coils glowed deep, golden brown in a halo around her shadowed face.

“Are you sure Mr. Lee sent you? Here?” she asked.

“Yes, quite sure.” Charles had the uncomfortable feeling that Mr. Wellfleet was either gone from this house, or worse, from this world. “I take it Mr. Wellfleet is unavailable?”

“You might say that,” she said dryly. “He’s been rather unavailable for the past six months. My father, Mr. Wellfleet, is dead, my lord.”

“I’m sorry. However, I assure you Mr. Lee did send me. And I freely admit it may have been my fault to assume he sent me to speak to Mr. Wellfleet.” His voice slowed as he realized his hopes had faded along with the daylight. Mr. Lee had sent him on a fruitless mission to see a man who had died months ago.

Bitter anger gripped him, clogging his throat. He stared at the woman, unable to speak through his frustration. Someone would die—and soon—because he was unable to identify a single, ridiculous rose.

“Is this your daughter?” she asked, breaking the silence. Her lovely face remained impassive as she eyed the little girl.

“What? No—good heavens, no.”

“Then…who is she?”

“Her name is Rose.” He bit the words off, thinking furiously of a way to identify the next target. There had to be a way, even without knowing the true name of the rose.

“And did you bring her here for a reason, my lord?”

“Well, her name is Rose,” he replied absently.

Rosa collina, Lee had said. Someone named Collins? That had to be the answer.

“I see. So you thought you could plant her in the garden, perhaps? Next to the chrysanthemums?” She paused as if in thought. “Well, Mr. Gibson dug a new bed this morning. I suppose we can plant her there, assuming she will fit. What color are her blooms? I hope they aren’t too garish. I was planning a display of pale pinks and murray-purple in that particular spot. It’s too late to change now. I’ve already begun planting.”

He stared at her only to realize that despite her solemn expression, her hazel eyes glowed with laughter. She looked at the small girl clinging to him and smiled.

Rose stared back, her blue eyes wide before she nodded and said with firm resolution, “Pink.”

“You’re sure? You look rather like one of the mad Gallicas to me. Perhaps you’re a rich red streaked with a few patches of the palest-of-pale pink?”

The little girl shook her head vigorously before stepping over to Miss Wellfleet and taking her hand. “Pink. I’m pink.”

“Then I just may have the perfect bed for you.” Her wide mouth trembled with suppressed mirth. She glanced back to Charles. “Since it seems, despite all appearances and the company you keep, you aren’t quite mad after all.”

She clearly wasn’t convinced of his sanity, however.

He flushed. “I beg your pardon. But truly, I didn’t know where else to take her…”

“And just where are her parents? Her mother?”

“She’s an orphan.”

“That’s certainly convenient, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied stiffly.

She sighed and dipped a corner of the towel into a small, tin pitcher of water on the table. She washed a smudge of dirt from the girl’s cheek, revealing the soft, rosy skin. “Do you even know who her mother is? Or was?”

“Yes. She resides just a few blocks from here.” If she could joke about the situation, he could, too.

“Where?” she asked warily. “Oh, you mean St. Michael’s, I suppose.”

“Yes. At least, that’s what I understand.”

“The orphanage—”

“Workhouse. Would you really ask me to take her there?”

She studied him. “No, I suppose not. But you—”

“I can’t keep her.” He paused. “Can I?”

“It does look odd.” The speculative gleam in her eyes brought out their rich brown color. “And most improper. What I don’t quite understand is your concern for her. Why, out of all the dozens of children wandering the streets of London, did you choose her? Are you certain she’s not yours?”

“No. In truth, I never knew of her existence before today,” he replied honestly. “I just stumbled over her and brought her along.” He raised his hands in a helpless gesture. “There’s no compelling logic or reason.”

“I see. However, I fear I must ask again, are you sure she’s not yours?”

“No. Truly. I never meet her until today.”

“That’s hardly convincing, is it?” She asked in her driest voice.

“I assure you, I don’t have a passel of…well, love children, wandering the streets of London.” He flushed with embarrassment. The hot color deepened when he realized she seemed just wayward enough to believe he was more embarrassed that he didn’t have a vast collection of by-blows, than he was by the suggestion he had only one.

Despite his best efforts to educate himself about females, they remained mysterious and largely incomprehensible at best.

This disadvantage struck him disagreeably.

“I couldn’t just leave her to starve.”

“This is most irregular, my lord. Any decent woman would flatly refuse to accept an orphan thrust upon her by a stranger—even one who is an earl.” She sighed. “However, I’m tired and perhaps not at my most sensible. So I suppose she can stay—”

“Thank you!” He leaned forward and almost gripped her hand. “I sincerely appreciate it.”

Miss Wellfleet folded the towel with restless hands. “May I ask if your sole reason for coming here was to divest yourself of Rose?”

“No—no, of course not.” He pulled out the small bundle containing the rose. He knew it was useless, her father, the rose expert, was dead. But he couldn’t stop a small spurt of hope. “I’d like to identify this rose. Do you recognize it?”

“I supposed you’re only asking me as a last resort. Because my father is no longer with us.” She held out a peremptory hand. “Let me see it.”

Her face was a smooth, expressionless mask. However, he detected traces of tired resignation at the implication that she could not be expected to have the depth of knowledge exhibited by a man.

When he placed the limp spray in her palm, she held it up to her nose and breathed in several times with closed eyes, cupping the flowers in her hands. Then she gave it a cursory examination before pulling the petals off of one flower.

“Stop!” He reached over to wrench it out of her hand. She turned her shoulder, blocking him. “What are you doing?”

“Counting the petals. Why?”

“You’re destroying it! How shall I identify it if you ruin it?”

She held it out. “Take it. Plant it, or allow me to root it. Or graft it. If it grows, you can ask your friend, Mr. Lee, to identify it in two or three years from the shape of the bush and bloom habit. Most men who grow roses agree that it takes at least one cycle of blooming to identify a rose with any assurance.”

“Two years!”

“Yes—if you want to be sure. And isn’t that why you wish to identify it? So you can purchase a specimen for your own garden?”

“Yes—but…”

“Yes?”

He gazed into her coolly discerning eyes and realized she was aware that he was not being open with her. But given Mr. Lee’s reaction, he could not bring himself to tell the complete truth. The rose wouldn’t last long enough to find another master gardener, assuming he could even locate one in London. “It’s…a wager. Silly, I know, but one of my friends said I couldn’t identify this rose.” The tips of his ears burned.

“I see.” Her eyes grew colder. “This is all a wager?” She glanced at Rose.

“No, of course not. Not Rose—she’s not part of it.”

Miss Wellfleet’s fingers pushed the petals into a line on the table and hovered over them. Thirteen petals, thin and wilting, spread in a tattered line. The slender spray was dying. The small, tight buds had already blackened and hung limply. His chest tightened with frustration.

Then with a theatrical gesture that suggested more defiance than scientific inquiry, she ripped apart the remaining flowers. She arranged the petals in three parallel lines, one for each flower. The roses didn’t all have the same number of petals. The first had thirteen petals. The next had eleven. The final rose had seventeen.

After examining what remained of the stalk, the yellow stamens, and leaves, she looked at him.

Although she didn’t precisely shrug, there was a quality in her expression that spoke of disdain when she said, “Rosa Collina fastigiata.”

“That’s it?” His tired disappointment reminded him of the lateness of the hour. Useless. He needn’t have come here at all. Lee had it right the first time.

“Well, yes. What were you expecting?”

“Something…more. A name…”

“That is a name.” Irritation sharpened her voice. “Or Flat-Flowered Hill Rose, if you prefer an English one.”

“You’re sure?”’

Her eyes hardened. “As sure as I can be from this small spray.” She flung the petals and twig onto the table. “No one can be absolutely sure without seeing the bush and knowing the growth habit and bloom cycles. Have you any idea how many roses there are?”

“I—”

“That’s why your friend made a clever wager—if wager it was. My lord. And if the true wager wasn’t bringing that girl, Rose, to a spinster plantsman.”

“No. Truly, I apologize. I sincerely appreciate the name. And Rose was an accidental meeting on my way. She was nearly killed in the road a few blocks from here. I couldn’t just leave her—for God’s sake—she’s just a child!”

“No, I don’t suppose you could,” she replied grudgingly. One of her slender hands rested on the girl’s lank hair. “It’s late. You have your name. I hope you win your wager.”

With a coolness he deserved but saddened him nonetheless, she gestured for him to leave. The butler, Mr. Abbott, waited just outside the French doors to the greenhouse. His silent presence ensured Miss Wellfleet had never been truly alone with Charles. Somehow, this reminded him of how attractive he found her, and he flushed when he caught Mr. Abbott’s curious gaze.

However, his embarrassment faded as he remembered his purpose.

A life could be saved if he interpreted Rosa Collina fastigiata properly.

How many people named Collins lived in London? Unless the clue rested with the English name, Flat-Flowered Hill Rose. Did this blossom point to a location instead of a person?

Time was slipping away.
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A Rose Before Dying is available at Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords.