Did I mention winter is around the corner? We set our clocks BACK an hour on Sunday morning in many parts of the world (not you, Hawaii) which will mean I will be getting out of work at my county's Board of Elections in the DARK.
Well, that temporary job will end soon and no matter who is our next president, our lives will be different. This pandemic has made it hard for many and I feel books are one way to get an escape from all the craziness. The Earl's Treasure will be released on December 1st. Below is a sample chapter section. Enjoy!
Chapter
One
December
1816
A door slammed, and
Adele grabbed the top of her dressing table to keep from tumbling from the
cushioned stool. Her startled movement caused Violet to almost pull a handful
of her hair from the roots. Closing her eyes, Adele choked back a whimper.
“Be still, my lady. ’Tis only the wind. I fear
winter is making itself known.”
Adele shivered. Not from the gathering cold that
swept over the English countryside and seeped through the manor’s cracked
windows, but from the thought of venturing into the public’s eye tonight.
Light snow had started to fall that morning,
darkening her mood and making her rethink her plans. Breathing slowly and
pulling strength from deep inside, she concentrated on her young maid. Violet,
her dark red hair tucked beneath a white mobcap, hummed a Scottish nursery
tune.
The servant helped her dress for an invitation
she should have ignored. How unfortunate that Violet ran the hairbrush through
Adele’s long curls as if currying a horse. Since trying and failing to sell
enough personal effects to pay wages, she had no cause to complain.
However, a question scratched at her mind. In
lieu of wages, had Violet taken her silver mirror, the one her father had
presented to her as a wedding gift? Would her servants resort to theft without
asking for their wages first?
“There, my lady, yer hair shines like spun
gold.”
Adele huffed in exasperation as the maid tugged
and twirled and pinned her hair upon her head.
“Thank ye, Violet, though my hair is a tad too
dark to call gold. Why can I not wear it in a bun at the nape
of my neck as I normally do?”
“Nay, my lady! Yer a baroness! ’Tis fine for a
simple life at home, here at Maxwell Hall, but not for a ball at the Duke of
Bellmeer’s estate!”
“I suppose ye speak the truth, although I am
concerned the dress will not do me justice.”
“Doono’ fret. Let me help ye into yer lovely
gown.”
Adele had to agree the icy blue fabric’s beauty
thrilled her. “’Tis not even mine.” She’d traded several jars of homemade
blackberry jam with a neighbor for its use tonight. Violet clicked her tongue
and helped Adele to her feet.
The fledgling maid slipped the borrowed gown
over the long curls pinned atop Adele’s head. Adele fluffed the skirt and
smoothed the shoulder-baring bodice, then stood as still as a Lochmaben
Standing Stone.
From the corner of her eye, her image in the
cracked looking-glass atop her dressing table was less than flattering. The
gown itself was pretty, but two or three years out of fashion. She didn’t mind.
The rounded bodice cradled her generous breasts, but felt too loose in other
places.
A deep breath and a less than stellar smile
would keep Violet from fussing over her any longer, but Adele’s senses reeled
as the hour to depart drew near. Panic grew with every labored breath.
Ridiculous!
She had no reason to be afraid. Any excuse for
leaving Maxwell Hall ought to be a cause for celebration, not something to
fear. She had to go. She must thank Fanny Hartwell for inviting her to the
ball. The dowager duchess had spent months trying to coax her to return to
society and would welcome Adele’s presence, tonight.
“Although, staying home would be a lot less
trouble.”
“Did ye say something, my lady?”
Adele snorted.
She seldom talked anymore. Over the last few
years, she’d lived like a recluse and so unlike the lass of her youth. Fanny’s
ball, at her grandson’s nearby great estate, might turn into an opportunity to
end her loneliness. Meeting neighbors and nobles from London was a treat and
she would mingle, dance, and enjoy the company of ladies and well-dressed men.
Liar.
The sudden image of her late husband made her
stomach clench and her palms sweat with fear. Though dead for an entire year,
Rupert and his abuse still haunted her. Squaring her shoulders she swept his
face and pain-giving fists from her mind.
“Violet, ’tis time to find Godfrey.”
“Aye, he’ll drive yer coach to the duke’s
estate. How wonderful a time ye shall have! Dancing to the strains of an
orchestra, smiling and mingling with men and women in their finery?” Violet
twirled as if waltzing with an unseen man of the peerage. Within a heartbeat,
she had pirouetted like a spinning top into the hallway.
Praying Violet continued on her way to find
Godfrey, Adele slipped into a pair of silk shoes. To obtain something so
delicate she’d traded a basket of apples from her small orchard. There were
little enough stores to feed her and the servants through winter, but she
wanted those new slippers.
A curdling scream had her turn toward the open
bedchamber door.
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