Why the Regency is Romantic - STALLIONS

Why the Regency is Romantic - STALLIONS 

Stallions are the embodiment of virility and power…and the regency was dripping with them. The Regency world ran on horse power, from high perch phaetons to farm wagons…and just like today’s sports cars, the quality of your engine spoke volume about the person.

What tonnish miss’s heart wouldn’t be set a flutter to see a handsome rogue pull up outside her address in a crest-emblazoned barouche, with coachman and liveried footman. From matched bays to high stepping hackneys the expense of keeping such an equipage was stunning… a distinct aphrodisiac. Such conspicuous wealth was not so much equivalent to a Porsche or Lamborghini but to owning a private helicopter with a personal pilot on constant standby. But then again, any self respecting heroine would see through such shallow materialistic values to the man beneath.

From hours in the stallion’s saddle our hero would have finely toned thighs. Chances our she’d get a good appreciation of this and other assets within his skin tight ‘inexpressibles’, showing every contour and plane that left little to the imagination.

And if our heroine is strong minded enough to resist a splendid physique, perhaps the skill of controlling a powerful beast between seat and heel would give her pause for thought. The power of mind over body, of man over horseflesh, of the beast between his thighs might have made her stays feel uncomfortably tight… There’s definitely something about men and horses…what do you find attractive in a man? Do please comment below.

Excerpt from ‘A Dead Man’s Debt’.

[Lord Ranulf Charing has received an urgent summons to return home.’]

...an Arab stallion danced in circles round the stable lad. Granite clouds towered in a brooding sky. A yard door slammed and the wild eyed stallion reared, dragging the lad off his feet. Then a down draught tugged the horse’s flowing silver-white mane and tail, as with flared nostrils he backed across the yard, hooves, like flints, striking sparks from the cobbles. The boy clung to the reins, more fearful of letting such a valuable horse bolt than of being trampled. The grey plunged heaven wards, a silvery ghost against a charcoal sky, then struck the ground, the massive muscles of his rump bunching to rear again just as a dark figure rounded the corner and entered the yard.
“Sir have a care, your horse….” The shouted warning was stolen by the wind.
Lord Ranulf Charing grunted, reaching out a hand to gentle the plunging beast. As if he’d cast a spell, the horse calmed and with a snicker rubbed his velveteen nose against his master’s coat to exhibit an understanding between man and horse that eluded Ranulf amongst his own kind.
At the age of thirty, tall and of muscular build; Lord Ranulf Charing was a man not given to suffering fools; his expression a habitual frown, with wide unreadable lips and brown eyes so dark as to be almost black. The impression of the young Lord being part devil and part shadow was heightened by his dress which was entirely black; from neckerchief and lawn shirt, to riding breeches and kerysmere outer coat. In short, Lord Ranulf Charing was in mourning and it suited him.

‘A Dead Man’s Debt’ is available from most eBook stores including
Amazon,
Fictionwise and
Smashwords.

To find out more visit: http://graceelliot-author.blogspot.com

Grace thank you for your wonderful blogs.  Best wishes for your book.  The title draws me in completely and is now topping my wish list. :-)

Why the Regency is Romantic - ROGUES AND RAKES

Why the Regency is Romantic - ROGUES AND RAKES

Regency men were dangerous! For a lady to alone in their company meant risking her reputation, such was their potency. And in return, men had to be protected from their insatiable urges to ravish the nearest well born lady…and so the bastion of the gentleman’s club was born. A place where men could do mannish things together, where testosterone dripped from the chandeliers.

At his club a rake was safe from the distraction of women, this outrageous segregation allowed him to boost his virility through wagers and gambling. Within those hallowed walls men discussed business, politics and sports, topics totally unsuited for feminine ears - because Regency men were real men, taught from an early age that crying was soft and emotions were for sissies.

And talking of romantic, there are few things more appealing than a well dressed man, and regency men were the epitomy of good taste. Urbane and yet masculine in breeches and top boots, shirt, neck cloth, waistcoat and finely tailored tail coat. The aptly named ‘unexpressibles’ were a close fitting trouser shaped to the leg – what better to show off a finely toned thigh or hint at masculine prowess! Rakes prided themselves on being well groomed, so how delightful for our heroine to slowly undo a cravat that took hours to tie.

And let’s not forget the romance of good manners; of escorting a lady, opening doors, pulling out chairs, is a seduction in itself. How much more thrilling then when a hitherto perfect gentleman behaves badly….need I go on?

How about you? Do you secretly relish men being in charge or is that a big turn off? I’d love to know, please leave a comment.

Excerpt – ‘A Dead Man’s Debt.’
With his hawkish features set in a scowl, Lord Ranulf Charing settled deeper into the embrace of leather armchair. In no mood for company he’d retreated to his London club, secure in the knowledge that there at least he was safe from female pursuit. He stretched out his long legs, his attention fixed on a glass of fine brandy. With a square jaw, shadowed cheekbones and unreadable dark eyes, Charing exuded the air of a man not wishing to be disturbed.
A valet peered nervously into the Reading Room then withdrew, electing instead to throw the unsuspecting messenger into the lion’s den. With the innocence of youth the lad entered, gawping at the yellowing, tobacco stained oil paintings on oak paneled walls and with trepidation approached the reclining figure. For his part Lord Charing was well aware of the antics of the footman and was secretly pleased by his efforts to discourage interruption. As the gawky youth cleared his throat, a muscle twitched on Ranulf’s cheek as he fought the urge to grin.
“A message for Lord Charing, Sir.”
Lazily Ranulf extended a hand. “I am he.”
The boy passed over the sealed letter as if it were a hot coal. In return Ranulf pressed a silver coin into his palm and winked. Startled, the lad’s eyes grew even rounder.
“T’ank you very much Sir. T’ank you indeed.”
But the moment had passed and Lord Charing’s face was once again all hard plains and sharp angles.
“Be gone.” With a flick of the wrist the boy was dismissed.
Recognizing the Cadnum crest, Charing took a slug of brandy and broke the seal. His eyes skipped over the text; the writing hurried and uneven, the parchment bordered with black.
“Make all haste…gravest concern…deteriorating health…”
As Charing lowered the missive, the lamplight caught a moment of fleeting vulnerability, but then his wide sensuous lips set into a hard line as habitual coldness reasserted itself.
“Bolton,” he barked. In an instant the valet’s head appeared round the door. “Bolton with all haste send word to saddle my horse.”
“Very good Lordship.” Bolton bowed obsequiously. “Will there be anything else Sir?”
“Pen and paper…I must get word to my valet that I leave London immediately.”
“Consider it done, sir.” Bolton backed hastily from the room, avoiding his lordship’s eye.

‘A Dead Man’s Debt’ is available from most eBook retailers including:-
Amazon,
Fictionwise and
Smashwords.

To find out more visit http://graceelliot-author.blogspot.com

Join me tomorrow for my final,  post on Why the Regency is Romantic – Stallions.

Why the Regency is Romantic – SATINS AND SILKS.

Why the Regency is Romantic – SATINS AND SILKS.

Hello again!
As a modern woman I take equality for granted, but the girly side of me can't resist the allure of the silk gowns and gorgeous fashions of the Regency period.

“Mrs Powlett was at once expensively and nakedly dress’d.”
Jane Austen in a letter to her sister.

How much more sensual can you get than wearing a fabulous silk chemise next to the skin? And how daring were drawers with no gusset (even if this was for the decidedly unromantic purpose of making chamber pot use easier.) Not to mention stockings held up by silk ribbons - ripe for an experienced male hand to slip undone.

But I’m getting ahead of myself – let’s start with that essential Georgian and Regency article the hat. Even this item is romantic – a wide brimmed bonnet shaded the face, preserving that perfect ivory complexion, whilst the addition of a veil spoke of mystery and hidden identity. And then there was what you headwear revealed about you. A woman wishing to be taken seriously might wear a lace cap, ribbon trimmed bonnets spoke of innocence and ostrich plumes or turbans proved you a regency fashionista.

And the gowns.

Gowns for every occasion and time – morning, walking, riding, evening and ball gowns. And the fabrics – whisper thin muslin, clinging lawns, semi-transparent cottons, whispering silks and luxurious satins. Each gown high waisted with a tiny bodice, the wearer’s stays cunning thrusting the bosom upward so make a maiden seem a siren.

And then there was the act of getting dressed…or undressed. Designed to make the wearer helpless with lacings and rows of tiny buttons down the back, again the scope for seductively undressing the heroine is mouthwatering, and the equally evocative risk of being caught half dressed just as tantalizing.

What do you think? Would you like to live in the regency or are you happy to savor it from a comfortable distance? Do share you thoughts in the comments below.

EXCERPT – A Dead Man’s Debt.
Easing kid leather slippers from aching feet, she rolled down her stockings, the air cool against her bare skin. Stretching her toes Celeste hoped that from sheer fatigue, if no other reason, she might sleep well for the first time in a month.
A cursory tap and, without waiting for a reply, the door opened.
“Evenin’ Miss.” Amy bustled in with a lighted candlestick, the faint aroma of boiled cabbage clinging to her skirts. “I thought as yer’d be needing this- sitting in the gloom an’ all.” Protecting the flickering flame with a cupped hand, she placed the candle on the dresser, the licking flame deepening the shadows.
“Thank you.”
“There’s a chill in the air Miss. Would yer like a fire set?”
“No need. I intend to retire directly.” With a humph Celeste struggled to reach the row of tiny pearl buttons at her back. “But please help me off with this gown. Honestly! Why fashion dictates such impractical garments is quite beyond me.” Only in her heart Celeste knew that women of her station were destined to be helpless.
“But if yer had yer way Miss, us lady’s maids would be out of a job.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
Amy’s fingers worked nimbly down the delicate fastening until the silk sheath slackened and whispered to the floor. Celeste braced against the bedstead as Amy tugged at stay laces until the knots gave way and Celeste filled her lungs for the first time all day. How she ached to sink between cool linen sheets, her eyelids pleasantly heavy, closing under their own weight. In a chemise Celeste stretched and arched her back, shaking away stiffness.
“Shall I brush yer hair Miss?”
“Please.”
With a sleepy nod Celeste settled at the dressing table. The weight of the chignon pulled at her scalp and it was sheer bliss as Amy deftly plucked out the pins, releasing the thick chestnut curls to tumble down about her shoulders…

A Dead Man’s Debt is available from most eBook retailers including
Amazon,
Fictionwise and
Smashwords.

To find out more about the author visit: http://graceelliot-author.blogspot.com

Please join me again tomorrow I post on Why the Regency is Romantic – Rogues and Rakes.

Please welcome back Grace Elliot

Grace, thank you for coming back and sharing some more with us over the next four days.

Why the Regency is Romantic – THE SEASON.
Hello there and a big thank you to Sherry for making me feel so welcome.

My name is Grace Elliot and I lead a double life. By day I am a veterinarian and by night I write historical romance. Now that isn’t quite as odd as it sounds because I started writing as a de-stress from the emotionally draining side of veterinary work. As an avid reader, my aim is to write the sort of page turning, lump in the throat romances I love to read.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, explaining why I find the regency so romantic, and first off its ‘The Season.’

In purely factual terms the Season took place between New Year and August, peaking after Easter and over the summer. The actual dates varied according to when Parliament sat, which in turn depended on sport.

“The sessions of Parliament cannot be held til the frost is out of the ground and the foxes begin to breed.”

The Season was a round a social events that any young lady out to snag a good husband must attend. To snare such a man you had to attend the right events such as the Derby (for which Parliament adjourned), Ascot, the Royal Academy Exhibition, the Henley Regatta and cricket at Lords. The mark of a successful season was to be admitted to Almack’s – the exclusive club run by fearsome high born ladies who had the power to make or break reputations.

So why was the Season romantic? Well apart from the gorgeous balls, so much was at stake. Finding a husband was no casual task but the work of a social mastermind; from daring gowns, epic hairstyles and witty conversation, to being seen in the right company everything must be just so…and not a hint of scandal. What better setting for intrigue and heartbreak could a writer ask for?

In Georgian times marriage was a commodity people traded for mutual advancement…so what of true love? If our heroine sets her sights on an unsuitable match, a rogue that makes her heart race, how to protect reputation? How resourceful must our heroine be with her fearsome Mama breathing down her neck? For a writer the obstacles to true love are just delicious and part of why the Regency is so romantic.

So what eras do you read and why? I’d love to know, do please comment below.

EXCERPT – ‘A Dead Man’s Debt.’

(Exiled in the country, Celeste writes to her mother.)

“Celeste chewed her top lip and frowned. It simply wouldn’t do. She’d never liked half-truths and platitudes and wasn’t about to start now. Breaking the inky meniscus, wiping the nib she began again in bold lettering.

Dear Mother,

If you thought to teach me a lesson by sending me to the country, it is one poorly learnt. I will not change my opinion of the odious Earl of Crumbourne, no matter how excellent a match you consider him to be. Further more, my sojourn here has granted ample time for reflection and I remain resolute that marriage is not for me. It is my determined and final decision to remain unattached…

She shivered, suddenly vulnerable, as unwelcome memories sprang to mind; of Lord Crumbourne with his greasy slobberings and mutton chop breath. Bile rose in her throat as she remembered scratchy bristles against her neck and his odor of onions. What an idiot she’d been, feeling sorry for that fool! It had been so insufferably hot in that ballroom, when he’d suggest a turn round the rose garden it had all seemed so innocent, just a gentleman concerned for a lady’s comfort. A chaperone seemed unnecessary… presumptuous even…with a family friend.

Once out of sight of the lighted windows, his clammy hand had tightened on her shoulder, catching her by surprise. When he’d run a hand behind her head to force her mouth towards his, her first reaction was that it was a jest. When he’d rammed his tongue past her gritted teeth and kissed her it had been a most unpleasant shock.

Then when he’d crushed her against a wall, bearing his full weight against her hips, her blood had run cold. His mouth smothered, sucking air from her lungs. She’d squirmed to get away but he’d tightened his grip. She panicked as cool air flooded round her knees, his free hand lifting her skirts. The shock of his rough probing, his thumb pressed into her inner thigh had given her strength. As her protests were muffled by his lips, instinctively her knee jabbed sharply up into his groin. The result was immediate and satisfying. He’d released her and crumpled like a leaf.

Later Estella had written to her that Crumbourne walked with a limp for a full week afterwards. In a strange way he had done her a favor. It would take a while for the gossip to subside and until in effect she’d been banished from London by her mother, who apparently approved of his lordship as a match. With a sigh Celeste set the quill aside.

The more she thought about the future, the more she knew the restrictions of marriage were not for her….”

A Dead Man’s Debt is available from most eBook retailers including

 Amazon,
Fictionwise,
Smashwords

To find out more about the author visit: Http://graceelliot-author.blogspot.com

Join me tomorrow when  I post on Why the Regency is Romantic – Satins and Silks. 

Debut Author spot - Please welcome Grace Elliot

Please give a warm welcome to  historical romance author Grace Elliot, whose debut  novel, ‘A Dead Man’s Debt’    .

Author Bio. 
Grace Elliot leads a double life as a veterinarian by day and author of historical romance by night. Grace lives near London and is addicted to cats, acting as housekeeping staff to five mischievous moggies.

Grace believes intelligent people need romantic fiction in their lives as an antidote to the modern world and as an avid reader of historicals she turned to writing as a release from the emotionally draining side of veterinary work. Her debut novel ‘A Dead Man’s Debt’ is now available from most eBook stores including Amazon price $2.99.

What created your interest in history? And why did you choose the period to write in that you have?
I discovered the wonders of history whilst pregnant with my second son. It was a difficult pregnancy and I spent a lot of time resting and reading. By chance I picked up an engrossing book by Margaret George called ‘The Autobiography of Henry VIII.’ That the novel was based on fact was a revelation…but how could this be so when the book was so interesting? I then read my first non-fiction history book outside of school, and fell in love with the past. History books became an addiction…they occupy all available wall space at home…and research is the best excuse yet to buy more!
‘A Dead Man’s Debt’ is set in the regency period. There’s just something about the late Georgian era that lends its self to romance: men’s fashions were so dashing, woman dressed in flimsy silk gowns with tiny bodices, it was a time of strict manners when reputation was everything…just ripe for the romantic novelist to take advantage of!

How much time do you spend on research before you start writing?
There are two types of research. Firstly, that general to the regency era and secondly, facts pertinent to the story I’m writing.
I constantly read non-fiction for pleasure and so the general research looks after itself. Each novel requires specific research, such as what plays were popular that year, or what style bonnets were in vogue. I keep a hardback spiral bound notebook for each WIP (Work in progress) and during the first draft note down what’s needed and research the details as I go.
I couldn’t bare not to write every day. I’ll never be a writer who researches everything first and then, with all the facts in place, starts to write.

How much plotting do you have to do before you start writing?
My writing method is that characters come first; I decide on the hero or heroine, what makes them tick and their back story. From there I decide what circumstances they fear most…and guess what….plunge them right into that situation.
My characters write themselves, my task is to get inside their heads and anticipate their feelings and reactions…getting to know them inside out is the key to letting their voices speak on the page. When I’m ‘in the zone’ to steal a sporting reference, the words flow straight from the characters mouths and my fingers are just the conduit that lets it happen.

Why did you choose historical romance?
It’s the escapism of romance, and especially historical romance, that does it for me. Real life is tough, and as a working wife and mother I’m constantly busy, with little time to myself. My work as a veterinarian is also very stressful; making life and death decisions several times a day and dealing with the emotional consequences for owners can be draining, to say the least. And that’s where both reading and writing romance comes in. It’s my escape from reality, a means of detaching myself from the cares of the present and unwinding. I’d go so far as to say that most intelligent people could do with reading romance, as an antidote to the modern world.

If you could make one life-impacting change to the historical period you write about, what would it have been?
I’d stop the practice of blood letting and make midwives wash their hands!
For so many centuries doctors were pretty useless, and for whatever misguided reasons, bled their patients (perhaps to make it look like they were doing something!). How totally crazy is the idea of draining blood out of a weak and seriously ill patient? Madness! Likewise, the importance of hygiene was appreciated and many women died needlessly after childbirth from fever, because midwives and doctor didn’t bother wash their hands before gynaecological examinations.

If you didn't write, what would you like to do?
Read!
Or, if I wasn’t allowed a book (or kindle!) I’d go for a jog. …then come back and read.

What are you working on now?
You can’t beat a good historical romance for page turning, escapism and I hope my next novel ‘Eulogy’s Secret’ lives up to this.
‘Eulogy’s Secret’ is a story about hidden identity, dangerous assumptions and prejudice. Our heroine, Eulogy Foster, has a secret that could destroy lives…but will she keep that secret if, in the telling, she could win the man she loves?
Once again set in the Regency, this book is the first in a series of three, about very different brothers, and will be available later this year.

Book Blurb: ‘A Dead Man’s Debt’ by Grace Elliot.
Celeste Armitage has a plan…and that plan doesn’t include marriage.
After deliberately humiliating a suitor, Celeste’s despairing parents exile her to the country. But once there she discovers a sketch book of daring nude studies and is shaken to find the artist is her hostess’s eldest son, Lord Ranulf Charing. This darkly cynical lord is exactly the sort of dissipated rogue she despises most…if only her blood didn’t heat at the thought of him…
Nothing is as it seems. Lord Ranulf’s life is a façade. Only he can save the Charing’s from disgrace as a blackmailer seeks to ruin his late brother’s reputation. But just as Ranulf dares to open his heart to Celeste, the fury of his nemesis is unleashed… facing him with the stark choice between true love and family duty. However when Celeste guesses the truth behind his rejection, Ranulf underestimates her resolve to clear his name and in so doing places the woman he loves in mortal danger….

Excerpt:
So be it. Ranulf gritted his teeth as he grasped the leading leg and pushed. It was like fighting against a brick wall, the calf barely moving. A lamb was difficult enough, how much more so a calf? Just as he was wondering if one man was strong enough, a shower of pebbles rattled down the bank. Concentrating on the calf, he barked.

“Don’t just stand there. Get down here!”

“I beg your pardon!” A woman’s voice answered.

With a flash of annoyance Ranulf glanced upward.

A wide eyed young woman in a straw bonnet peered down. “I say, is everything all right?”

“Does it look all right?” Muttering under his breath, all he needed was some sensitive Miss fainting on him. “Go! Fetch help from the house.”

He saw her hesitate, biting her top lip. “But you need help now.”

A contraction clamped around his arm as the cow's tail switched across his face, stinging his eyes like a cat-o-nine-tails.

In a flurry of muslin and lace the Miss slid down the bank, landing with a thud in the ditch.

“Ouch.” She rubbed her ankle. Ranulf glared back, dark eyes flashing.

“You should have gone to the house.” Damn it all, she could make herself useful then. “Hold the tail aside.”

Pulling a face she limped over. Ranulf's eye lingered for she merited a second glance. Of middle height with a tidy waist and curves where God intended them, she appeared quick witted and bright eyed. Without further ado, she stripped off her gloves throwing them onto a bramble bush. Long, sensitive fingers grasped the muddy tail. Practical, Ranulf thought, silently impressed.

“Why didn't you go for help?”

“There wasn't time.” Her bonnet slipped backwards, revealing a quirky face with a pointed chin, her lips finely drawn with an arched cupid's bow. The sort of face an artist could lose himself in, all shades of the sea to be found in deep emerald eyes framed by a tangle of chestnut hair.

Ranulf tightened his grasp and pushed. Sweat beading his brow. The calf retreated an inch.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was gentle and calm, if somewhat deep for a woman. Ranulf guessed it would be husky in bed, whispering over a pillow after a night of passion. Her eyes were on him - deep green eyes, lively and entrancing. Suddenly he remembered that he was undressed to the waist, her curious gaze on his skin as he was gripped by the idea of those lily white hands gliding over his naked chest, her almond shaped nails digging into his skin. He shook away the thought, trying to remember her question.

All innocence and interest she watched, blushing faintly in a charming way and yet, he realized, no wilting flower. He shook his head. The woman had asked a question, damn it. He would answer.

“The calf is breech.” He grunted, “I need to push her back into the womb to turn her…” He wanted to shock this stranger, to test how bold she truly was. She stared back, biting her top lip, exaggerating her snub nose.

“Ah!” Her gaze met his.

“Think of the calf as a carriage in a narrow driveway. To turn it around you push it back into the stable yard…”

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing.” He growled.

Throwing him an angry look, she anchored the tail with a log and scrambled round to the beast's head. After a moment‟s thought, she placed her pelisse under the cow's head stroking the broad nose and crooning words of comfort.

“She's relaxing.” Ranulf's arm was numb from the contractions. He fell forward, as the first leg finally slid back into the womb. "That helps." His hair had come free from the ribbon, falling thickly about his shoulders. He glanced at the Miss. She was leaning forward, her bosom straining against a tight bodice, a satisfying cleavage between her breasts. He swallowed hard. She was odd looking, he decided, not exactly beautiful but eye catching none the less. Her face showed character, determination…and her complexion too healthy to be fashionable, rosy cheeked and peppered with freckles which with a hint of sunlight burst into a profusion.

The Miss was glaring at him now, her skin glowing bright pink. Had he been staring? His heart raced as he returned to the calving.

To find out more visit http://graceelliot-author.blogspot.com
or visit her web page http://www.graceelliot.webs.com/
You can buy A Dead Man's Debt HERE ~ HERE ~ HERE ~ HERE

:-) Grace, I love cats too. Thank you for joining us here and sharing information on your fascinating book.