I’m so excited to be starting this series on my blog! I first started this series in 2015. For a time, I expected to release a few of these in 2016 and 2017 but my test run in the Regency Romance genre taught me how difficult it is to become visible. I had to focus on JAFF for budget reasons. My heart will always be in JAFF and about 98% of my story ideas start with the belief that the main characters are Darcy and Elizabeth. I have enough ideas to keep me writing in the genre for probably thirty years. However, I also have a creative desire to pursue writing that is not derivative of Jane Austen’s works but set in Regency England. Like Fantasy Friday, I will be going slow with this project. My goal is to have 500 new words each week. I won’t be publishing until all the stories are complete so this will take years. 🙂
I don’t have an official blurb for this story or this series. The premise of the series is that a group of school friends vowed to only marry for love when they witnessed its transformative powers on their most hated teacher. She, shockingy, becomes a duchess and is part big sister, part wise aunt as each girl enters the real world and finds how difficult it is to remain true to their ideals. I am mixing historical events from the Regency Era (1811-1820) with Romantic tropes.
The first novel, Tempting Scandal, will have a forced marriage and deals with Luddites (who you should recall from Sufficient Encouragement). Most of my stories will not have overlapping themes from my JAFF stories but this one does. However, it is not a rewrite (unlike Bridgewater Brides) so all words will be new.
I will also be using a different pen name. The last time I tried Regency Romance, I think it confused some readers and I mostly showed up with JAFF books. I’ve decided to keep Rose as part of my name for any genre I try. Harrison is after my hometown just as Fairbanks was after the town in Alaska in which I resided for a year.
That’s enough chat, don’t you think? Let’s get to it!
Sylvia Linwood scowled at the cobbled London pavement as she blindly followed her twin brother from their carriage to The British Museum. For one, she doubted the visitors who made their current passage so crowded had any mind for history and intellect. She had never seen a member of the ton show a sign of a brain in their well-groomed heads. Secondly, her brother had promised her they would leave for their estate this morning. Yet, here they were as far from their Yorkshire home as ever.
Owen was not a bad brother or thoughtless. He simply overextended himself while desiring to please everyone at once. The same morning he promised Sylvia they would return to Linwood Hall, he had told their friends they would meet at the Museum. If Sylvia did not care so much for her old school teacher, now the Duchess of Clifford, she would be more put out. However, Owen had a way of endearing everyone to him. His smiling face and sunny outlook on life had been their mother’s consolation while she lived and their father’s primary source of pride before succumbing to an early death. By contrast, Sylvia seemed formed to annoy both. Her mother bemoaned her daughter’s lack of interest in ladylike pursuits. Someone had to see to the estate. Mrs. Linwood had been too frail and Owen too fond of leisure and company. The ladies at Almack’s would have a heart seizure if they knew Sylvia acted as land agent for her brother.
“Keep up,” Owen called over his shoulder.
Sylvia had to take two steps for his one. “It is not as though I do not know the way,” she mumbled under her breath.
Some ladies, or rather all as she glanced around her, she supposed would walk arm in arm with their male escort. Sylvia had no notion for the tradition. Owen was nearby, and the streets crowded enough that she could not be accosted without witnesses or assistance. She had no physical malady requiring the aid of a gentleman’s arm. If they walked together, he must awkwardly slow, or she must rush. It suited neither of them. Besides, she had gone to the Museum countless times over the last four seasons. She knew every shop by heart. Nothing but an unlikely and sudden storm would surprise her.
A wall emerged before Sylvia, and before she could move aside, it crashed into her. A yelp escaped her lips as she stumbled backward. To ease her fall, her hands reached out to grasp anything they could.
“What the devil?” the wall spoke as the sound of fabric ripping garnered his notice.
He turned, and Sylvia was jerked by the motion and stumbled once more. It was a man, she realized. He grasped her by the forearms.
“Unhand me!” He pushed against her arms and almost threw her down.
“Sylvia!” Owen came running up to them. “You there! Stop him!” He shouted as he ran. “He has got my sister.”
A crowd circled around them just as Owen arrived. Why had no one come to Sylvia’s rescue? The man had quit attempting to toss her around, but Sylvia’s mind lagged with confusion and exhaustion from the exertion.
“Sylvia,” Owen panted between breaths. “Are you well? Why did none of you help?” He glanced at the witnesses. “Have you no common decen—Your Grace!” Owen hastily bowed.
Sylvia gasped at her brother’s words, and her eyes flew to the man with whom she wrestled. Taking in the expensive fabrics and fine tailoring, she let go of his sleeve so quickly she finally fell backward. Pain seared her backside as the crowd laughed.