Hey!
I’m doing to the Raven Blog Talk radio show on Wednesday (May 28th) night. They have changed to nights and last I heard it was on at 11PM eastern time. If I’m off on the time, I’ll update right away.
I have only had one experience with the radio format since Shaking Off the Dust came out. That was fun, but a little funny too. When the program ended she and I continued to talk and didn’t realize it was still going out over the airwaves. That sort of thing seems to be a theme in my life, staying too long and being inappropriate. I’m joking about that, or am I? Some times it feels like the party ended a long time ago, so why am I still hanging out waiting for the celebration to start up again. Old party girls find the lazy boy to wait for it start up again.
I wish that the readers of SOTD, were the ones asking the questions. So, I’m going to ask any of my readers to make a list of questions they have for me or about the book that I can send to Mandy and Michelle before the interview. Or you can send it to them. As readers, you questions might be much more pertinent to what someone who has never read the book might want to know to convince them it is worth their time and hard earned money.
I can answer any number of questions, some of which I send in, but I’m not good at coming up with those lists. I know the book and about me, but I don’t know what might be interesting for you to know. As you may have noticed I tend to share my thoughts on any number of things. So help me out here. If you send in a question that gets used during the Raven interview I’ll send out a prize. Something even greater then the shopping lists prize, they both got toilet paper. (mauaaahhhh!!)
I’m working tomorrow for the holiday. Let me know how your weekend went.’’
Rhianna
Hi, I’ll try and come up with some questions and send them to you.
I’m working tomorrow too.
I usually have holidays off, but this time, not.
We did yard work and fired up the barbi for the first time since we bought it. Grilled salmon, with corn on the cob and baked potato.
Toilet paper? Woohoo! You’re lucky I live far away. I haven’t TP’d a house since forever and this would give me the perfect excuse!
Comment by MB (Leah) — May 26, 2008 @ 1:01 am
Looking forward to having you on the show!
Comment by Michelle Pillow — May 26, 2008 @ 1:03 am
LOL… Oh boy, we’re always running out, so toilet paper is GOOD! And I’ve never TP’d a house… hmmm, maybe it’s time to investigate new avenues of fun, eh?
I’ll also try to come with some questions… that’s so cool that you’ll be on the radio.
Our holiday weekend was last weekend… that’s good because it was a much nicer weekend then than it was *this* weekend. Not complaining mind, at least it’s not hot!
Comment by KathyK — May 26, 2008 @ 5:41 am
LOL… Hey toilet paper’s good… I’m always running out. Mind I’ve never TP’d a house before… hmmm, maybe it’s time to add that to my repertoire of FUN things to do, eh?
We had our holiday weekend last weekend ~ up in the north here ~ and that’s a good thing, ’cause it was a very nice weekend; great temps, not too hot and lots of nice sunshine. This weekend, on the other hand, has been gray, gray, gray and chilly… I’ve been wearing socks and I NEVER wear socks unless it’s winter ~ just goes to show.
That’s cool that you’ll be on the radio… I’ll also try to come up with some questions.
Comment by KathyK — May 26, 2008 @ 5:46 am
Ummm… sorry?
Comment by KathyK — May 26, 2008 @ 5:46 am
I got my sorry ass out of bed at five am to go into work and ends up they didn’t need me, so I did an hour or so of office time and came on home. It is a nasty, rainy, no fun kind of day here.
I watched CNN headline news at six am and they were playing a memorial day song and I’m all teary eyed before I ever left the house. Dang, I need to put on my big girl panties.
HI KATHY!
Sounds like you picked the right weekend to do all the fun outside stuff, it sure isn’t the day around these parts. I picked up a hot chocolate and pupkin slice at the star bucks on the way home for me mum and I. It was very tasty.
Oh, tp is good for so many things, but there’s something else included too.
Rhianna
Comment by Administrator — May 26, 2008 @ 3:54 pm
HI LEAH,
Sorry you have to work. Though, I should have worked anyway, but I have finally reached the stage and the job where I don’t have to do holidays. Isn’t that great? So, I better take advantage while I can. I feel like I could take a long nap today. Trouble is that if I do, I won’t sleep tomorrow and that alarm clock is rude and relentless about disturbing my sleep. Damn them alarm clocks all to hell
In honor of memorial day, I thought I’d put up an excerpt from the historical that I am working on, you’ll get the
memorial day thread as you read it. It is in the works and unedited.
The Late Wife
Hubert Wynsheth, Marquess of Warfleigh, stepped out of his carriage before his groom jumped down to open the door. Ignoring Simmons’ frown, he headed toward the docked ship. While still many yards from the ship’s officer, a small flash of white, followed by a second, came dashing towards him.
The first of the hurtling streaks stopped just short of Warfleigh, the smiling face of a child perhaps five or six, shone up at him before crashing into his legs when a second child, obviously his sister, collided into the boy.
Hugh stood tall and solid to this onslaught, trying not to smile. “May I ask where your Nanny is?”
The boy ignored his question. “Your Lordship, we’ve been waiting over an hour for you. Mama was worried her letter didn’t reach you. I told her that no Earl was going to not meet the ship that his own brother was on, especially him being injured at Waterloo. That’s just nonsense.”
“Hugh, Julia. You will be punished for running away from Tobias.” The woman spoke softly, but the stern tone did not bode well for the two children.
“But it’s Lord Butterworth, the Earl of New Ripple,” the boy said plaintively.
“You are mistaken Hugh. Take your sister’s hand and return to the ship deck with Toby and Daniel.”
Wynsheth appreciated the slim, but curvaceous figure of this soft-spoken woman. She was wearing widow blacks and a lace veil fell from the crown of her hat to her shoulders. He was intrigued by what might be behind it, but at that moment he was more interested in if she was a schemer, trying to extort coin from his best friend Lord Albert Butterworth.
“Your lordship,” she said giving an abbreviated curtsy.
“He’s not coming, the Earl of New Ripple. He retired with his family to their estate directly after his brother’s memorial service.”
The woman behind the veil laughed softly.
Wynsheth felt a thrill run through his body. There was an odd familiarity about the sound. It sparked a memory he had buried years ago. Unwilling to recall the guilt, he let the comfort of icy superiority push aside the thought, straitening his spine, he glared at the woman.
“Perhaps you might explain to the man lying upon the stretcher on the deck of this ship that he is not who he claims to be.” She turned to walk up the boarding plank.
“Madame, I am not your servant. I will not follow you blindly onto that ship. But I will warn you that the Earl of Butterworth has suffered a great loss and I will not allow you to add to that suffering.” His voice was cold.
“Your lordship, if you would but take two minutes from the boredom of your life, you will discover Daniel Butterworth is indeed upon this ship and then you have my permission to restore him to the bosom of his family.”
Wynsheth was stunned into silence, disturbed only by the gasps of the ship’s officer behind him and a bark of laughter poorly covered in a cough by his man Simmons.
“What is your name Madame?” He finally bellowed.
“My children are not fifty yards away, you will moderate your voice. I don’t care if you are the Marquess of Warfleigh, there is no excuse for boorish behavior. I am Mrs. Rowley, follow or not, I must return to my children.” Her hands began to shake as she touched the rail stepping up to the deck.
Simpson moved closer to the Warfleigh. “Your lordship, look at her hands.”
Wynsheth was already moving up the plank, catching up to this infuriating woman in three brisk strides. “And who are you to speak to me in such a manner?”
She turned slowly looking up into pale green eyes, his black hair curling over his brow and ears in the evening fog. He watched her eyes travel from his slightly crooked nose to the jagged scar that ran from his eyebrow to his jaw line.
Hugo stared at the conveniently veiled woman, her posture slightly cowed. His eyes raked her from head to toe, taking in the worn black gown and lack of a ring upon her finger. What did she want from Albert Butterworth., more importantly why was he moving towards her as if a magnet were drawing him closer.
“Come Madame, not so quick to speak now?” He asked coldly.
“I did not realize you had difficulty hearing, My Lord Warfleigh. I am Mrs. Rowley.” She gave a formal courtesy. “Did you hear me that time?” She said loudly.
His eyes filled with something that bordered along anger, but there was also a hint of interest. He turned to glare at Simmons, who was laughing quietly.
“I’ve been noticing I have to repeat myself lately,” Simmons said wiping the smile off his face. “He’s not but twenty-seven, but all those years as a sharp shooter in the war, with the cannon’s and such, well M’lord, it might just be your hearings going.”
Warfleigh could see that Simmons was enjoying his perilous turn in conversation. “Mr. Simmons, I believe I have a new groom who has been eyeing your position, I will interview him in the morning, I expect he will be willing to keep his opinions to himself.”
Without waiting for further conversation she strode across the deck to a long bench on which a stretcher lay. Her two children stood back, obviously afraid of the Marques, but unwilling to move further from their mother.
“Geneva?” A soft hoarse voice said from the stretcher, “I could have sworn I heard Hugh Wynsheth bellow. Am I hallucinating again?”
She turned and bent over the stretcher. “No Daniel, you ears are good, unlike The Marques. Lord Wynsheth has come to bring you the rest of the way home.”
Wynsheth moved so quietly that the children and their mother had to step back or be knocked down as he came to the stretcher. He stared down into a face he knew, pale and shadowed by pain, a face now gaunt and terribly thin. He could not deny it was indeed Daniel Butterworth.
Turning to Mrs. Rowley he bowed. “I apologize for my rudeness. It almost excuses your manners.” Then he turned to Daniel. “Your family is going to celebrate for a lifetime. Shall we get you home?”
Daniel opened his hollowed eyes, “Hello Hugo, where’s Bertie?”
“He’s at the estate grieving the loss of his baby brother, so are Helena, Charles, Bernard, and Edward. Damn Boy, it’s good to see you.”
Wynsheth turned to Simmons, the ships officer, who followed quietly at a distance and a man that stood off a short distance from them, his face hidden in shadow under a dark black hat and scarf. “We will put him in my carriage.”
The woman in the veil stepped in front of Daniel, blocking the way. “His wounds are not healed and if he sits up at all it will be quite painful. We ran out of laudanum halfway through the voyage here. He will need to travel on the stretcher.”
Wynsheth stared at the veil, wondering what the woman looked like. There was something about the voice, her height, the way she held herself, all setting off warning signals in his mind. But perhaps that was because it also made him think of tearing off that veil and discovering every intimate detail of what was underneath.
Simultaneously, attracted and annoyed by her boldness and in an act of pure masculine aggravation, his large hands circled her small waist and lifted her away from blocking his access to Daniel. “Thank you Madame, I will keep that in mind.”
She gasped and stamped her foot. “How dare you.”
Hugo touched Daniel’s shoulder, “Danny, we need to move you to the top of my carriage. How are you doing?”
“Hugo, I’m quite fatigued. Do you mind if I rest a while?” His eyes drifted shut again.
“We’ve been here waiting for hours. The ship’s officer would not let us stay within the ship. He will not fit in a Hackney, not without injuring himself more.” She said in a fierce voice. “If you put him on top of the carriage someone will need to stay with him at all times.”
“Of course,” Wynsheth said. “Perhaps you and your children should remove yourselves to my carriage now.” It was a command in a voice not used to brooking augument.
“We will await a hackney to take us on our own journey.” She stood her ground, obviously determined to supervise Daniels removal to the coach.
“You took it upon yourself to care for Daniel, the job is not done until he is in the care of his brother. You will stay with him at his brother’s townhouse until the Earl returns. That is if you want your reward?”
The widow Rowley took in a breath so loudly that it almost choked her then stepped in front of Wynsheth and slapped him hard across the cheek. The sound echoed against the metal ship. She raised her hand to slap him again, but he caught it and pulled her very close to him.
His voice was in her ear. “Don’t do that again. We don’t have time for your bad temper, when Daniel needs to be tucked inside a warm bed. Perhaps that is what your problem is also.” He drawled, and then pushed her back, catching her hand at the wrist.
It was then he saw the scar on her palms, a ragged X had been cut into her hand and his thumb slid across it as his fingers reached up to push aside the cloth that kept her expression from his searching eyes.
Completely incensed the widow raised her hand to strike him yet again, until he had no choice but hold her off.
Simmons interceded by capturing her by the waist and held her back from the Marques. “Come to the carriage,” the groom pleaded softly as if her were talking to one of the matched grays that he was used to calming down. “He’s a nobleman and forgets himself sometimes. Don’t let him tease you.”
The children launched themselves to their mother and began to kick Simmons in the chins. The man wearing the hat and shawl came forward and placed a hand on Simmons’ arm and nodded he instantly let go of Geneva.
Wynsheth was stunned by his own behavior. What was it about this woman that heated his temper and blood? He would be shocked if anyone had ever accused him of not showing proper respect for a lady and he was very sure this female was quality. They needed to get her away before he did anything else ungentlemanly.
“Hugo, what has happened,” Daniel opened his eyes.
Wynsheth shook his head at the look of fear and anger on the children’s faces.
“He’s a bad man, Mama.” The little girl said in a whisper. “We can’t let Daniel go with him.”
“Rest Daniel,” he said in a gruff voice.
“Come children, we will await Toby on the dock.” Walking with her back straight and head held high, the widow headed to the carriage.
The Marques ordered the ships officer to enlist a couple of more of his crew while Daniel was wrapped securely in another blanket that Simmons found in the carriage and then was gingerly placed a top the carriage and secured. Coins were given to each crew member.
Mrs. Rowley’s’ groom ignored the offered coin, though he bowed to the Marques and took a rather small portmanteau from one of the crew members and set it on the back of the carriage.
Chapter
Simmons held open the door and motioned for Mrs. Rowley to board the carriage.
Geneva knew she should not go near the Marques again. He must have sensed something about her, which was the only explanation for his outraged behavior and hers. She entered the spacious carriage because he was right. Daniel needed to be settled into a comfortable bed and she would only be delaying that if they continued to be at loggerheads.
Toby sat on top with the Marques and Daniel. The drive was quite long, for they traveled slowly, trying to avoid the ruts to minimize Daniels discomfort.
Julia and Hugh sat on either side of Ginny. “Mama, London smells bad. Brussels was not so smelly. I am hungry, but I don’t like the smell,” Juliana said in a whine.
“Yes, it smells of fish and not very clean? Daniel must be upper most in our minds though, until he is safely turned over to his family. After we are sure of his comfort, we can go directly to an Inn and find our own warm dinner and bed. I think we will sleep for two days straight. Would you like that?”
Scarred hands stroked their pale white blond hair as their heads snuggled into her lap, eyes closed in exhausted rest. She stared blindly in front of her as she assessed the situation. So often while she carried them, she’d prayed that they would be her husband’s children, but their blond hair and ice blue eye color were the antithesis of his curly dark brown hair and sea green eyes. They were the children of the man who attacked her and left her to die.
She’d spent five years away from England trying to forget how much she loved her husband. Her father’s skill as a surgeon a testament to the fact she survived from her wounds, only to discover she was with child. He decided to let her husband believe she’d died rather than to force them all to live in shame. Her children would never know the truth of their conception. And so she became the good widow Rowley, a distant niece and housekeeper to her father. Tonight she would pass through London hidden in the teaming aftermath of Waterloo then quietly disappear into the countryside to grieve for her father and the life it might have been.
It was most unworthy of her to cling to the thought that the perhaps fate had placed the only man she ever loved upon the dock this night, her husband, now the Marques of Warfleigh. It was silly to cry. She quickly pulled her veil back and dashed away the tears.
It would be good to settle down, she’d followed her father to war since her youth and had seen enough suffering and death for a lifetime. She often wondered why her father did not return to England to settle. He was the second son of an earl and had lands settled on him by his brother. Upon his death those lands went back to his brother, but a small house came to her and enough money for them to live comfortably away from war and danger. She would learn to enjoy the solitude of the country. She would do what ever it took to make her children happy.
Comment by Administrator — May 26, 2008 @ 4:44 pm
Very nice! I’m really intrigued by this story.
Comment by MB (Leah) — May 27, 2008 @ 12:24 am
I started out reading sci fi and fantasy, the first romances I read were historicals. So, in my heart I adore georgian and regency period romance. I love this story.
Rhianna
Comment by Administrator — May 27, 2008 @ 12:58 am
Hi Rhianna, that was a really nice interview.
Comment by MB (Leah) — May 29, 2008 @ 4:05 am