Jillian Chantal

This week, the writers of Tuesday Tales are writing to the word prompt round. We are still in my Regency tale.  Enjoy and be sure to check out the other tales here.

When James returned to his quarters after the boxing matches, he was surprised to find his mother seated at the round table near the window where he usually made notes in his journal before retiring for the evening. He’d picked up the habit in the army when he didn’t know if he’d love to see another day and wanted to jot down thoughts in case of his death. He still had the habit even though he wasn’t in mortal danger any longer.

Being slightly winded still and sure he smelled like sweat, he was a bit disconcerted to find her there calmly sipping tea. He stopped short of pulling off his soiled shirt. “Mother. What has happened to lead you here to lie in wait for me?”

She carefully set her cup in its saucer. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Bemused, he pulled out the other chair and sat. “Tell you what, ma’am?”

“Have you made an offer to Charlotte Marlowe?” Her hands clenched together on the tabletop. He was fascinated by how red they were becoming.

“Why would you think I did such a thing?”

“Answer the question, James.”

She spoke to him as if he were a child again. Anger surged in his breast. “What if I did, Madam? Would you punish me or make me break it off?”

To his utter shock, tears pooled in her eyes. “If you’ve done something as foolish as that, I couldn’t —or should I say, wouldn’t—ask you to go back on your word, but I must tell you, I’m very disappointed in you.” She stood so quickly, the cup of tea jostled in the saucer and spilled out onto the table. It trickled across the wood and some fell to the floor.

They both stared at it for a long moment.

His mother finally said, “That quite sums it all up, doesn’t it?” She walked toward the door. Her shoulders slumped which frightened him. She always held her posture erect and perfectly. “I’ll leave you and allow your man to assist in making you presentable.”

The word prompt for the week for the Tuesday Tale authors is year. Since I’ve been only sharing Honora’s angst in my Regency tale, I thought I’d share a bit of her being happy since the whole book isn’t a downer. 🙂

Be sure to check out the other tales here

After making a ninny of herself, Honora needed time alone. Lord Cavanaugh had appeared completely aghast at what she’d asked him to promise. He even had a coughing fit to avoid making the vow. Not that she thought he was an unkind man—not as she had that night at the ball—but why he couldn’t make a promise caused her consternation. To say nothing of the embarrassment.

She hummed under her breath as she curried the horse, content to be alone for a while and trying to put the conversation behind her.

Wishing she’d asked Lord Cavanaugh what he had planned for the houseguests today so she could craft a reason she couldn’t participate, she finished up with Aloysius and placed the brush on the table outside his stall.

Honora rubbed his nose. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Sneaking out of the stable and across the yard, hoping not to be seen, she made it all the way to the side door but was stopped by the man she met at the ring toss game. “Where have you been? Have you found a young man who strikes your fancy?”

She surely didn’t want a rumor of that sort getting out. Searching her mind for how to deny it without sounding coy, she took too much time as he added, “If you have, I’ll never tell. I’d be very happy for you.”

Relieved he wasn’t looking for something to gossip about she said, “I’ve only met one young man here who I’m interested in a relationship with.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Good on you. Best wishes.”

“He’s about four years old, I believe.” Honora grinned. She didn’t usually say whimsical things and found herself enjoying it.

His eyebrows shot even higher. All the way to his hairline this time. “Four?”

“Yes. He’s lovely with chestnut hair.”

“What?”

“His name is Aloysius, he lives in the stables and is about sixteen hands high.”

The man playfully grabbed his chest. “You scared me there, Miss Honora.” He smiled. “I didn’t know you were so witty.”

“I didn’t either.”

At that, he threw his head back and laughed.

This week’s Tuesday Tales word is appropriate for the day- it’s gift.  We are still in my Regency story.  The ladies of the house party are doing needlework while the men are off doing “men” things. 🙂

Check out the rest of the tales here

Honora wished she could tell if the countess was angry or frightened. It was hard to tell since it could be either. She didn’t know the lady at all really but she’d seemed very kind when they had tea together. This was an altogether different side of the lady. One that didn’t seem as calm and settled as the other one.

As soon as the countess was out of the room, Charlotte moved to Honora’s side. She knelt down and practically hissed at her. “What kind of game are you playing? You and I both know you aren’t making a sampler for me. Why are you trying to embarrass me?”

Without answering, Honora pointed at the sampler.

Charlotte gasped. “You really are doing that?”

The sampler had roses and ivy around the edges and a space at the top with no name. Charlotte’s name was under that blank space and Honora had half-finished the words she intended to put below. The “happily” was there. All she had left was the “ever after” and the groom’s name.

It was intended to be a surprise wedding gift, but now that was ruined.

“You all must come and see this.” Charlotte waved the others over.

Is she trying to embarrass me now?

Several ladies crowded around. They all oohed and aahed and then the questions about the groom’s name came again.

Her sister put on the appearance of enjoying the teasing, but Honora could tell by the glittering of her green eyes that she was angry. Angry that Honora’s work was appreciated for its beauty and also angry she herself had called everyone’s attention to it. As well, the teasing without a true proposal had to be annoying to Charlotte. She could pretend to be coy about it, but the truth was, no one had declared for her.

Honora knew this was all growing into an ugly confrontation when they were finally alone. She wanted nothing more than to be off this estate and safe at home where she knew all the best hiding places. Charlotte’s wrath had caused her to learn those over the years. She had no chance of escape here.

This week’s word prompt for Tuesday Tales is persuade. Our heroine is still in the clutches of the man who grabbed her as she was out riding.

Be sure to check out the other tales here

Honora shuddered. She was truly out alone in the dark with a madman.

His shaking with the effort of holding her and practically giggling like a girl loosened his hold under her breasts.

Taking the opportunity to try again to get away as she was now willing to risk being in the dark by herself instead of with him and his nefarious plans, she lurched her body to one side.

She was almost successful in falling off the stallion on her head. As she dangled off the beast at his belly, Charles kept the animal moving as he held her by the waist. He loosened his grip and she slid more.

Letting out a squeal, but refusing to beg to be saved, Honora bit down on her lip to suppress her terror. If she fell now, she’d either be crushed by the horse or crack her skull on the hard ground. Neither was a good option, but she would absolutely die before asking this man for assistance.

“Had enough, Miss Honora?” He asked with another chortle. “All the blood rushing to your head should be making you dizzy by now.”

Honora didn’t want to say anything, but he was right. She was becoming sick to her stomach.

Before she could do more than grunt, he hauled her back up against him. “I know you can’t seem to mind what I tell you to do and you’re truly testing my patience, but we cannot arrive where we’re going with you acting foolish.”

Hope surged in her breast. For him to make that statement, he had to be taking her somewhere there were people. Perhaps she could persuade one of them to help her get away. Even if they were in his employ, surely they would pity a poor maiden who was silly enough to be caught out on a foolish quest to get home.