1860 New Hebrides, Pacific Ocean.
Belatedly recalling that he was speaking to a British peer, McLeish pulled himself together and shrugged off his outburst. ‘Never mind that sordid story, my lord. How about another shot of my fine whiskey?’
Nearly choking on rising bile, Lord Alexander St. John forced himself to take his leave as politely as he would have from a London drawing room. ‘I thank you, sir, but as I sail on the morning tide so I must bid you farewell.’
He wanted to punch the bastard in his smug face after witnessing the disrespect he’d shown his daughter. He’d heard the stories of the man’s abuse of his daughter and his cruelty when dealing with his plantation laborers. If he’d remained in the same room as that vile man for another minute, he would not have been able to contain his rage. The only thing holding him back was knowing that McLeish’s moods were mercurial. Tonight, he had wanted his daughter to appear enticing but Alex feared the aftermath if he’d shown Lady Katharine any special attention. McLeish would do anything to leave these islands and return to London and becoming part of the St. John family would ensure he would be accepted back into London society, despite the cloud he departed under previously.
Relieved to escape the house without further conflict, he strode down the garden path lit by flares and walked away from the house. Once out of McLeish’s view, he turned into the gardens. When a soundless lips in a gesture of silence and beckoned Alex to follow. Wordlessly, they descended to the small cove where Tong Lee stopped and pointed. Alex could make out a huddled figure on the beach, staring fixedly out to the ocean. Not wanting to scare her, he cleared his throat softly to announce his approach. Nevertheless, she started in fright and fear.
‘It is only I, Alexander. Please do not fear me. I didn’t wish to alarm you, but I needed to be assured of your well-being before I sailed.’
1832 Ladies Riding Habits. Grey and Blue with Bouffant, or puffed, sleeves and matching hats. via La Mode.
Definition Bouffant: Type of sleeve that fits close to the body at the shoulder and the lower edge and is wider in the middle, forming a round shape. Popular in the Romantic Era, or from 1815-1840 ca.
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Do you need more factual and visual information for your historical fiction? History of fashion, music, peerage and customs in 18th and 19th centuries. Non-fiction series full of gorgeous pictures and engraved fashion plates. A visual history of fashion, music, peerage, social manners and customs from late 1700s to late 1800s, or 18th and 19th centuries.
ance”As the Duke of Sherwyn, you’ve entree into the best houses and social events.”
After a scowl towards the ceiling, he muttered, “Thanks to my stepmother, I’m forced into it. But what does my recent social popularity have to do with your current predicament?”
“In daylight, with other ladies, I can stroll about the streets. Visit shops, sometimes slip unnoticed into the twice-weekly stock auctions at the Hall of Commerce in Threadneedle Street. And I’ve already searched the desks of many of the mere misters and lesser peers of the lower orders of the consortium, as their houses aren’t guarded like fortresses.”
“Do you mean to say you entered these men’s homes and rifled their papers?”
“Well yes, but–”
“Are you mad?”
“I risked little, because those sort of houses cannot afford a footman guarding every passageway. Especially not on occasions such as those I attended, where every footman is needed to fetch drinks for belligerent guests. Slipping into those libraries was child’s play.” She sighed. “What I cannot do is visit the homes of the highest ranking peers to scour their correspondence for any that bears the special seal of the consortium. Nor secure enough privacy to copy any incriminating letters I may find. Someone always hovers, and watches, at those type of houses.”
He paced before her like a restless panther, an angry scowl pulling his face taut. His fine looks had always turned heads, but this brooding beast carried a lethal combination of strength and menacing masculinity. She shivered. His newly acquired arrogance of bearing enhanced, rather than detracted from, his magnetism, although this time, she knew to avoid his magnetic pull.
“You intend searching the houses of every peer in the city who is making money from stock shares?”
“No, no, not all of them. We’ve done a lot of research–”
“We?”
“My family have become quite adept at research. We’ve narrowed our search to gentlemen known to invest in railway expansions in a large way. Our final list is of those we consider to be involved in the inner, and most secret, tier of the syndicate. It contains eighteen names, the majority of whom are high-ranking peers.
“Bloody hell, Becca.” He ground the expletive out through clenched teeth. “You’re out of your depth. I’ve been involved in similar commercial groups. They’ll stop at nothing for the sake of money.”
“Nevertheless, we need certain details you may overhear at clubs about certain gentlemen having sudden windfalls. Or things gleaned at certain balls and soirees.
“Unbelievable.” Both hands went up in the air. “That’s certainly as clear as muddy water.”
“Clear or not, I’m asking you to trust me. To help me.”
She held out both hands, palms up, and hoped he wouldn’t notice their tremors. “With your assistance, I can verify more names. Collect proof of each one’s involvement and hand it over to Scotland Yard. Time is of the essence, as we’ve now less than two weeks.”
She watched him absorb, assess, decide. In under a minute, he guided her to his desk and seated her before it.
“Make a start. List the names of every man you suspect to be a member.” He placed writing materials before her. “Then list those you consider inner tier, and include their ranking.”
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1800-1870 ca. Stocking Purses, British. Beaded stocking purses crocheted in silk and steel beads,
with steel rings with tassels and fringes. via Victoria and Albert Museum, London, UK. collections.vam.ac.uk.
Definition Miser or Long or Stocking or Ring Purses: Long, narrow, tubular shape, often wider at ends and narrow in middle, which had a short slit opening. Popular in England and France from the mid-18th century through the early 20th century.
From the Curator Victoria and Albert Museum, London: Stocking purses are also known as misers’ or wallet purses. The majority were netted, but some were knitted or crocheted, like this one. Once worked, the elongated tube was put on an expandable purse stretcher to shape it. It was then sewn up, leaving a central opening, and squeezed through a pair of rings known as sliders, which were used to secure and separate the different coins stored at either end. It could be carried in the hand, bag or pocket, or tucked over a belt. Many stocking purses were made as presents, and were thought a suitable object to give to a gentleman.
Crochet is a type of needlework with an open, lacy appearance, which is formed with a hook and single length of thread making a series of loops, chains and knots. The technique developed out of ‘tambouring’, a type of embroidery, after the tambour hook began to be used to create series of loops, free from a ground fabric. This could then be used as a separate trimming, like lace, or made to form items like this purse. Crochet was thus added to the varieties of fancy needlework available to ladies, and instructions for making it can be found in manuals from the 1820s onwards.
1800-1870 ca. Beaded Stocking Purses, British #RegencyFashion #RomanticEra #HistoricFashion books2read.com/suziloveReticules
Richard, Earl of Winchester, groaned. Heaven save him, for lust had addled his wits. Contrarily, if he’d read similar thoughts on the face of any drooling young pup, he’d have leapt across the pews and planted him a facer. Embarrassed himself, and Lady Laura Jamison, with his possessiveness. The gossips would squeal with delight to see him break his own rules and behave like an obsessed suitor.
Far better that onlookers saw the relationship between him and Laura as sparring siblings because, in private, his indifference was becoming harder and harder to maintain. More so, when Laura studied him surreptitiously, or so she thought, and compared him to other men. When she recorded his suitability as her mate as part of her quest to ensure the survival of the human species. Blast the woman and her speculating eyes, because no matter how sexually innocent her assessments of his anatomy might be, his body leapt to readiness faster than any seasoned street walker lifted her skirts.
And damn his randy thoughts for creating so many pictures of them cavorting in his bed. In that arena, if nowhere else, he was certain their passionate natures would prove a perfect match. He clenched his fist at the thought of giving up something else. The intelligent and strong children their couplings would produce. Because if he had Laura’s body under him once, he’d be old and wizened before he tired of her.
The finger prodded her chest again. Gently yet insistently. But his voice softened. “And I, the man, and the duke, choose you. You, Lady Rebecca. Do you think I can’t decide for myself, for my family, for you and me, what’s best?”
“But that’s what I’ve always done. It’s always been up to me to work out the best plan for everyone and then make it happen.” “In the past, that’s what happened.”
“But even now, it’s up to me to keep everyone safe. You said yourself that neither my family, nor the society, could go on without my making these types of decisions. I’m always the one with the clear head. In time, you’ll see that I’m right to walk away from you when this is finished.”
“No, no. This isn’t finished by a long shot, sweetheart. There has to be some consolation in my life for taking on control of Julia and my brothers, for assuming the family titles and topping up our coffers.”
“I know how hard you’re working to succeed. But it’ll never work if you have someone like me in your life.”
“I don’t want someone like you, Becca. I want you.” This time his kiss was tinged with desperation.
“Answer me one thing.” Her eyes widened. “Do you love me, minx? Do I still hold your heart?”
“Stop! It’s unfair to ask me that. Leave, please, just leave.” Turning away, Becca wished him gone before he glimpsed the fat tears collecting in her eyes. It was crucial that she remain strong. Even if it broke her heart to do so.As he reached the door, Becca heard Cayle mutter, “I will have you, Rebecca Jamison. I will not stop until I find a way.”
She didn’t know whether it made her happy, or if it simply terrified her.
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1845 Woman’s Dress, Probably Made In England. Silk Taffeta and glazed linen plain weave. via Los Angeles County Museum of Art, California, USA. collections.lacma.org
