Exclusive Excerpt from DANCE WITH A DEVERELL

Coming tomorrow - a new Victorian novella featuring another branch of the Deverell tree.

* DANCE WITH A DEVERELL*

Do you dare?

The following is an exclusive excerpt to whet your appetite. Enjoy and have a great weekend!

***

He must have broken in via the servants’ entrance; then likewise gained forceful and illicit access to the butler’s pantry, where he now rummaged about, in his shirt sleeves and via the light of one candle, sorting through wine bottles, as if he owned the place.

Launching herself forward, she thrust the poker at his back, between his audacious shoulder blades. “Stop where you are, fiend! How dare you trespass on the Earl of Beaufort’s property? I have a gun, and I shall not hesitate to use it, so don’t move. Put up your hands!”

The man’s shoulders flexed and then he went still. “Which is it, ma’am?” he growled. “I don’t move or I put up my hands? Can’t do both.”

With her free hand she fumbled in the moonlight for a knife. “Hands up, of course, where I can see them.”

When he slowly followed her orders, setting the candle down on a shelf and raising both arms high over his head, she saw that his right hand was covered in blood, which dripped down the sleeve of his shirt.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” she demanded, breathless.

“Friend of the family. I was invited.”

Well, she knew that was a lie. Of course, he could have no idea that she was a member of that family to whom he claimed an acquaintance, and he was the sort of person she would remember, even from behind, she thought glumly.

Lest you think her merely appreciative of wide shoulders and a firm, well-shaped buttock, this stranger in her butler’s pantry also possessed a very strong and unusual aura. Since she was a child, Ainslie had suffered a peculiar sensitivity to the life force around other people; the vigor of their spirit and the wisdom of their soul. Or sometimes it was the power and light of those angels protecting them that caught her attention. Whatever it was, this sensation caused her to be shy of crowded places. Anxious never to incur the earl’s wrath, or to be seen as mentally unstable by Society, she did her best to ignore these distractions of otherworldly phenomena. She always tried to follow the rules as they were set down for her; to never venture outside the limits of what was proper; to be seen as “normal”. But certain unusual impressions could not be ignored, and his was one that would have felt its way to her in any company.

 No, she had never met him before, or she would know it at once. “How did you get in?” she managed tightly.

After a short pause, he drawled in a wry tone, “Through the door. I assumed that was its function.”

“Who let you in?”

“I let myself in.”

“You mean to say you broke into this house.”

“Didn’t want to wake anybody by ringing the bell, did I? You should thank me for taking the trouble and being considerate.” Oh, yes, there was a decidedly cheeky edge to the scoundrel’s manner. As if he was accustomed to getting away with bad behavior, but would not particularly care if he was caught. He held his hands up, as she’d commanded, but there was no trepidation in his voice or comportment. He sounded more amused than anything.

“Where does that blood come from? What have you done?”

“It was an accident.” He hiccupped. “Fell into some glass. Out there.” When he moved his head in a nod toward the door, candlelight touched his profile, painting the edge of an aquiline nose and high cheekbones, upon which his black lashes were long enough to cast a shadow. The side of his mouth quirked as he swallowed another hiccup and swayed slightly. “Don’t fret, ma’am. I didn’t cut the night-watchman’s throat. The injury is all to myself.”

“A consequence of traveling about in the dark, young man! Why are you here in the middle of the night?”

“Brandon invited me.”

“Brandon? Do you refer to Lord Brandon Beaufort?”

“That’s the fellow.” He turned fully around then, not waiting for her permission. “He’s a—” A look of surprise passed over his tanned face, immediately followed by a frown. “Who are you?”

His impertinence left her devoid of words and breath for a moment. Still brandishing the poker in one hand, and a carving knife in the other, she finally exclaimed, “Even if that is true, I very much doubt Lord Brandon invited you at midnight, and without warning anybody to expect you. Explain yourself to me, sir, before I call out the dogs and let you confess your deviant motives instead to the Justice of the Peace!”

He put his head on one side and his gaze took her in slowly, thoroughly, inch by inch. “No need to get your petticoats all twisted up. I suppose you might say that Brandon didn’t actually invite me. Not in so many words. But he owes me five guineas and I’ve let the debt stand long enough. I need that money now. So he should be expecting me. Not my fault if he isn’t.”

His voice had a certain melodious quality— deep, smooth and unhurried. It brought to mind a cup of hot chocolate with something stronger secretly stirred into it, to be enjoyed on a snowy evening beside the fire.

Ainslie belatedly remembered that she wore only her nightgown with a day wrapper thrown hastily over it. But her hands were full and the best she could do was shrink back a step, retreating from that silver patch of moonlight and dressing herself in shadow. “If you had business with Lord Brandon Beaufort, you should have waited until a respectable hour and called at the front entrance. Like any proper and decorous visitor.”

“I would have.” When he smiled in a drowsy, drunken way, it softened his face. He moved forward, apparently not put off by her weapons. “But I stepped on some glass and fell into a pit. Cut my damn hand climbing out again, as you see.” Hiccup. “I came in here to find some brandy or whiskey.”

“Drink? If you ask me, you’ve imbibed enough of that already, young man.” Since the iron poker seemed not to have the required effect, she set it down on the kitchen table and used that free hand to clasp the sides of her wrapper together. But she retained the knife.

“It’s not for drinking. It’s for my hand,” he explained. “To seal against infection.” His eyes turned sad, eyelids drooping. “It hurts, ma’am.”

He looked like a boy then, as his eyes pleaded for her sympathy. Impudent villain! An associate of Brandon’s? Yes, he could be, she supposed, for he was younger than she had thought originally when she first saw the back of him.

But… wait a minute…what had he just said?

“My pineapples!” she cried. “You smashed the glass in my pineapple pit?”

He shrugged. “If that’s what you call that big bastard hole with a glass lid out there.”

“You ass! My precious tropical plants should be cosseted and cherished!”

He pouted and lifted his wounded hand again. “What about me?”

“You? What about my pineapples in the cold night air?”

“It’s July.”

“And England. Not the Bermudas!”

“Damn silly place to dig a hole.”

“I’ll dig a hole wherever I like.”

“You might have put a fence round it then.”

“I don’t expect people to be stumbling about in the dark out there, uninvited.”

“I only came to see Brandon, as I said.”

“And as I said, you should have waited until daylight. Who goes visiting in the dark of night?” Only a scoundrel up to no good, she thought.

“I need my five guineas, don’t I?” he hissed.

“It couldn’t wait?”

“No, it can’t. It’s my money and I want it. I earn my living, unlike your precious Lord Brandon Beaufort.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man. Who do you think you are?”

“The name’s Ramses Deverell,” he replied, jaw jutting out, feet apart and hands on hips. “Who the bloody hell are you?”

As if he had any right to ask, when he was the intruder and apparently there for money. She had absolutely no obligation to tell him anything. In fact, she should have shrieked at the top of her lungs to summon help by now.

But…

“My name is Ainslie,” she heard herself saying.

“Ainslie?” he tested the name on his tongue. Through narrowed eyes, he studied her again. “You’re not the kitchen maid, are you? And you’re not the cook either. Or the gardener.”

“How do you know?”

“Oh. I can tell.” A decidedly wicked smirk curled across his lips and, even when it was gone from there, it lingered in his eyes, like smoke from a recently extinguished flame. One snuffed by a gasp of breath. She almost heard a wanton sigh, floating through the air. “Your skin is too fine and clean. Soft too, no doubt, and sweetly tasting.”

“How dare you!?”

“Is it a crime to compliment a woman?”

Why did she not tell him who she was and that she was the lady of the house? Perhaps, if he knew she was the Countess of Beaufort, he might carry her off over his shoulder and hold her for ransom. He was, after all, an irreverent Deverell— and just like all the others, he had turned up where he should not be. He had barged in, defying locks, gates and barriers. Who knew what he might do next?

“You are beautiful,” he said. “Was I supposed not to notice? I’m a man with two eyes and all other parts complete. Even if I am slightly soused.”

“Only slightly?” she muttered, bemused.

“Falling into your trap has sobered me up considerably.”

“It’s a pineapple pit, not a trap.”

“Well…” He grinned again, a flash of white teeth in the moonlight. “It caught me for you, didn’t it?”

She wouldn’t want Brandon to be in trouble with his father and the earl would most certainly not approve of a Deverell acquaintance, nor would he condone his sons gambling, or being in debt. Better, therefore, if she dealt with the matter herself and kept this strange event from becoming known to her husband. She understood now, of course, why she was the only soul disturbed by the trespasser, for that pineapple pit was just below her bedchamber’s open window. It was not, after all, a supernatural force that woke her from a deep sleep and drew her downstairs, even if she had, at first sight of him, been tempted to think so.

Ainslie squared her shoulders. “How do I know you speak the truth about your purpose here, Mr. Deverell?”

“Look in my coat pocket.” He jerked his head to where the muddied garment was slung over a Windsor chair beside the table. “Inside pocket.”

Still holding the knife in one hand and keeping her eyes upon the intruder, she did as he instructed, feeling her way cautiously into the folds of his dark blue frock coat. A note, retrieved from the pocket, revealed a signed IOU from her step-son to “Ram. D.” It was definitely Brandon’s handwriting.

“So you see, whatever else I am, I’m not a liar. In fact, I’m honest to a fault, so I’ve been told.” He yawned and scratched his head with his bloodied hand, thereby making more mess. “You may now apologize to me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“For doubting my motives, holding me at knife point, and threatening to set the dogs on me, when all I wanted was my five guineas. An amount I am owed and entirely justified in collecting. But you suspected me of villainy at first sight, just because I do not look the same as all Lord Brandon’s other friends. I am not like all the other nobs, toffs and son-ofs, so you leapt to conclusions. Consequently, I declare myself offended.”

“I leapt to—you’re offended? You broke into this property in the dead of night, young man. You’re very lucky I didn’t seize a hunting rifle and shoot first before asking questions.”

He lowered his arms and gave an amiable shrug. “Fair enough. We’ll call it even then.”

She stared at him, trying to catch her breath. “You are in possession of considerable gall, Master Deverell.”

“So I’ve been told. With my wits and your beauty we’d make quite a formidable pair.” He grinned. “You ought to run away with me. Tell you what—” He rubbed his chin with the uninjured hand. “I’ll forfeit those five guineas his lordship owes me and take you instead to clear his debt. I reckon I could carry you over my shoulder easy enough.”

“I should like to see you try.”

“Is that a challenge?”

 ***

Copyright Jayne Fresina 2022.

DANCE WITH A DEVERELL is available now for pre-order and you can read it tomorrow, January 28th. 

(Images: Candlelight Study by Ozias Leduc 1893, and The Glory of Womanhood by Thomas Benjamin Kennington 1856-1916)

Character Showcase: Ramses Deverell

 He is the eldest son of Commodore Justify Deverell and Anshula “Sunny”. As a young boy he joined the navy, following in his father’s footsteps and eager to make something of his life. He is ambitious and driven, but when home on leave, he always finds time for play. And he takes his role as the eldest child very seriously. While his father is away at sea, Ram sees it as his duty to take care of the family and make sure that his mother has everything she needs.

One day, he decides that Sunny is looking tired. What she requires— he determines— is a new frock. Something fashionable, pretty, and a little frivolous. Something she would not spend money on for herself. So, he sets about arranging it for her. Firstly, he must collect a debt of five guineas, owed to him by his friend, Lord Brandon Beaufort.

Thus, he finds himself on the Beaufort country estate one night, rather worse for wear after a few ales at the local hostelry. And while trampling around in the dark, he manages to fall through the glass of a pineapple pit belonging to the countess.

It is a moment that will not only change his world forever, but hers too.

At the beginning of their story, he is seventeen— a young man with strong views and a rebel’s heart. He knows what he wants out of life, and he means to get it. He is bold, brazen and fearless.

But by the end of their story, he is thirty— an ill-tempered, scarred fellow, soured by the misfortunes of fate, made bitter by disappointment and tragedy. He has closed himself off from society and the pleasures he once enjoyed. Where once he thought he had his world by the unmentionables, he now feels as if it’s the other way about. The world has turned on him. He focuses all his attention on work, which now provides his only satisfaction.

When he has time on leave, he simply wants to be left alone and so he hides away, where folk cannot stare at his scars and point. The last thing he needs is to escort his little sister to a ball, but his mother claims to be ill and enlists his help to take her place. Furthermore, she has sent his best friend, Brandon, to make sure Ram doesn’t let them down.

Between them, they will push, prod and poke him into a bath and then a clean suit of clothes. He can make all the beastly grunts he feels necessary, but they will lure him out of his dark cave tonight. One way or another.

Because maybe the woman he once lost will be there too tonight. She’s a part of his story that is left undone, and despite his fiercest efforts, he’s never been able to forget her.

Maybe— just maybe— it isn’t yet the end of their story, after all.

 

**

Find out what happens this Friday, the 28^th of January, and pre-order your copy here.

Character Showcase: Ainslie, Dowager Countess of Beaufort

 

She was born, Ainslie Ingram, only child of Lochlan “Lockie” Ingram, Baron of Obergowrie. Raised in a rural environment by her eccentric father and with no mother or governess to guide her, she led an innocent, but solitary life until, at the age of eighteen she endured an arranged marriage to the Earl of Beaufort.

He was a widower, many years her senior, who already had two sons by his first marriage— the eldest of whom is only two years younger than Ainslie. The earl was a strict, cruel man, who believed that his wife was just another of his possessions— part of his estate. And he decided that she had much to learn. She was young and unsophisticated, having never been out in society and living all her life in the country with her inattentive father. But for the Earl of Beaufort this was useful— or so he thought in the beginning— since she was an empty vessel to be filled with his ideas and opinions; to be molded into the sort of wife she should be; the sort of wife he expected. When she dared object or question, his young wife received a stern correction, dealt by the sting of his cane. Just like his sons, or any servant who met with his displeasure.

So when the earl dies, Ainslie’s first emotion is relief. By then she has a daughter of her own, and she intends to raise this girl with all the love, guidance and kindness that she herself never knew. Ainslie also makes it her mission to help her stepsons find their own happiness in life too, and to improve, as much as possible, the lives of those who live and work on the Beaufort estate. As a widow she has a fresh start. For the first time in her life, she is not under the thumb of any man—be it a father, or a husband. And she’s very much enjoying her autonomy. She’s learning to live; learning about her true self. She’s even begun to read, in secret, about something they call “Rights for Women.”

The only problem is, a certain Ramses Deverell— seven years her junior and far too wild for his own good— has taken it into his head to pursue Ainslie. She’s not sure why, or what he hopes to achieve by trying to get under her skin. Or her petticoats. She’s heard about the wagers he and his friends make in regard to seductions, so perhaps she’s just another bet. Whatever he’s up to, it must be mischief and nothing but trouble for her. He’s already trampled her pineapples. What next?

Ainslie wants to lead a respectable life without the slightest rumor to endanger her daughter’s future. She’s always done what she’s told is the right thing. She knows what her place is in the world and what is expected of her. Ainslie’s revolution will not happen overnight. Besides, it’s her daughter’s turn now and her place is in the background.

Apparently, that wicked, scandalous Deverell is slightly insane. Or, perhaps, he simply doesn’t care about rumor and gossip. He has always shown a complete disregard for the rules and a hearty irreverence for the class system. He’s a rebel and incredibly arrogant. It’s easy for him, of course. He’s never been put in a cage. He's always done— and had— whatever he wants.

Yes, he’s amusing, playful, handsome and clever, but he’s too young for her, too reckless and too tempting. And even worse than all that, he’s a Deverell. Need anything more be said?

They should never have met; it would be better for both of them, if they never meet again.

Ainslie has never been in love before. Would she know it, if she felt it? And by the time she does— by the time she’s ready for her own revolution— will it all be too late?

Find out on January 28th. Order your copy of DANCE WITH A DEVERELL here

(Image: Portrait of a woman by Sir Frances Dicksee 1887)

Character Showcase: Lord Brandon Beaufort

 

He’s the younger son of the Earl of Beaufort and therefore “the spare”. As a boy, he was destined for the church. That was his stern father’s plan, which nobody dared question. But Brandon has other dreams, and when he befriends Ramses Deverell he learns how to use his own voice and is encouraged to stand up for what he wants. Through Deverell's support, he finds the necessary courage and confidence in himself to become an artist.

Their friendship is forged at boarding school, when the boys are eleven. Ramses is not much of a scholar, so Brandon attempts to help him learn. But after only a year, Ramses decides to save his family the cost of that education and follows his own father’s footsteps into the Royal Navy. The two boys might have gone their separate ways then, but instead they stay in contact and whenever Ramses is in England on leave, he meets up with Brandon. After nineteen years, their bond is as strong as ever, and each time they are in company together, it’s as if they’ve never been apart.  They know everything about each other— even the things they think they’ve kept secret from the world.

Many people warned him never to trust a Deverell, but Brandon knows how lucky he is to count Ram as his oldest, most loyal friend. There is nobody else in his life so outspoken, fearless and driven; nobody else who could have opened his eyes to another world and new possibilities. Oh, Ram can be trouble at times, certainly— and likes to raise eyebrows. But Brandon knows how to handle the fellow’s moods and eccentricities, and he would stand up for Ram, no matter what, just as his friend has always done for him.

Brandon Beaufort doesn’t let anything ruffle his feathers. He was once a nervous, lonely, quiet boy, very much in his elder brother’s shadow and tormented by a cold-hearted, callous father. But he has grown up into a man who is finally happy in his own skin. He is calm in any storm, and a gentleman in any crisis.

Even so, don’t be fooled by that angelic face and his kindly, generous nature, because when pushed he can be just as mulish and tough-skinned as his notorious comrade.

Especially when he’s needed to pull his friend back from the darkest abyss.

“Do-gooder,” Ram calls him.

But like any knight in shining armor, Lord Brandon Beaufort believes in fighting for love.

And since his best friend once helped him find the way to happiness, he plans to repay the favour.

  Meet Lord Brandon Beaufort in DANCE WITH A DEVERELL

Happy Reading!

(Image: Portrait of a Young Gentleman by George Dawe, 1819)

Character Showcase: Lady Emilia Beaufort and Little Hat

 In DANCE WITH A DEVERELL, the hero’s little sister, Hatshepsut, is about to attend her first proper ball. She’s eighteen and has just completed her schooling at a modern, progressive ladies’ seminary, where she met Lady Emilia Beaufort, who has this to say about her:

“She’s the cleverest girl I ever knew. She speaks several languages, can identify all the parts of the human body and knows fifteen different ways to incapacitate a man. I suppose you’ll turn your nose up at her now though, just because she’s a Deverell and her father bought her mother at a bride sale for six pounds.

But I’m not going to stop being her friend just because of that name. She can’t help the family she’s born into, can she? Some of the other girls put their noses in the air and look down on Hattie. She says that Deverells don’t care what people say about them, although, I think sometimes it does make her sad and she tries not to show it. I shared my marshmallows with her and she showed me how to knee an offensive gentleman in the groin. That’s how we became friends.”

 All her brothers call her “Little Hat”, which she now finds exceedingly annoying. At her age she thinks they ought to drop the “little”, but as her protective, eldest brother says, “Hatshepsut, even when you are fifty, you will still by my little sister.”

Well, he might think her still too young and silly to know anything, but tonight Hattie has a surprise in store for her brother.

*

Hatshepsut is the only daughter of Commodore Justify Deverell and his wife Anshula (“Sunny”). With four older brothers, she’s grown up having to shout to be heard and fight to be noticed, but her large, loud family is one full of love— even if it’s often shown in peculiar ways. She has been raised in an unconventional home, where she is encouraged to speak her mind; to be confident and fearless. She might lack a little feminine grace and polish, but she doesn’t particularly care about the rules that society tries to impose upon her in any case. She’s a woman with her own ideas and plans, and a few stuffy old men are not about to stand in her way.

*

Lady Emilia Beaufort’s upbringing has been very different to that of “Little Hat”. Her father, the Earl of Beaufort, was already an old man when she was born. He was very strict, cold and often cruel: a man who believed there was no place for laughter or warm emotion in a “decent house and family”. He preferred his children to fear, rather than love him, and he believed in corporal punishment for anybody who dared question or displease him in any way.

Fortunately for Emilia, her father died when she was only six. Since then she has been raised, sheltered and cosseted by her devoted mother. She’s grown into a good-natured, but rather naïve girl. With only two, much older half-brothers, she has never had a real friend of her own age, so her bond with Hatshepsut has opened her mind and her life to new experiences. She is not yet as bold as her friend, but she’s learning how to be brave. She’s also learning how to shock her mother, who has no idea of the surprise Lady Emilia and Little Hat have in store for her tonight!

**** Find out what these two young ladies are up to in DANCE WITH A DEVERELL. Coming January 28, 2022! AVAILABLE NOW FOR PRE-ORDER**** CLICK HERE FOR AMAZON

(Image: Chatterboxes, by Thomas Benjamin Kennington, c. 1912)

DANCE WITH A DEVERELL

 Coming on January 28th, 2022, for your entertainment - a new Deverell novella...

"DANCE WITH A DEVERELL"

***

He knew, the first time he saw her, that she was the only woman in the world for him.

She knew, the first time they met, that he was the last thing she needed in her life.

***

Even before she hears his name— before he’s even turned around to look at her— Lady Beaufort knows this young man is trouble. On a quest to collect a debt of five guineas, he has trampled her precious pineapple plant and broken into her house in the dead of night. Who knows what he might do next, given half a chance?

Like most of his notorious family, Ramses Deverell is not a man to let locks, walls or society’s rules get in his way. He doesn’t care about the class divide either and believes that money, opportunity and respect should be earned. He knows what he wants; he’s determined to get it.

And when he meets Ainslie Beaufort, he’s still young enough to think he can change the world for both of them.

*

 But while he sees no boundaries and sets no limits for himself, Ainslie has been raised in a life full of constraints. From her tightened corset laces to her censored conversation; from her concealed opinions to her confined emotions, she’s well-trained in what is expected of her. She knows her place in the world, and she knows the penalty for straying from it. Above all, she does what she must to protect her daughter, for her proudest achievement is motherhood, and what she doesn’t need is this wildly charming, infamously incorrigible male, endangering her reputation. As well as her pineapples.

Yes, he’s amusing, playful, handsome and clever, but he’s too young for her, too reckless and too tempting. And even worse than all that, he’s a Deverell. Need anything more be said?

No, she will never kiss him, whatever premonition he claims to feel in his bones. Nor will she ever dance with him.

They should never have met; it would be better for both of them, if they never meet again.

For her daughter’s respectability, this lady will sacrifice her own desires.

But to dance with the woman he loves, this Deverell will walk through fire.

 

Check back here for release date news and teasers!

Thanks for reading.

Jayne