Several days after her arrival in London, Sophia followed the liveried footman through the ornate splendour of Haverford House paying little attention to the treasures around her. What could Her Grace mean by the cryptic comment in her note of invitation? I have someone for you to meet and a Read more…
Cedrica Grenford set her portable writing desk on the table. She had freshly prepared quills, a full bottle of ink, and neatly cut sheets of paper, each with the Haverford crest watermarked in the background. She took a deep breath and pushed her glasses farther up her nose. She was Read more…
The sun was setting on Saturday evening, and Rede was beside himself with frustration, before the Duchess of Haverford’s coach was finally seen tooling up the road to the castle. He was waiting when she entered the front door, and she greeted him with pleasure. “Rede, darling. What a lovely Read more…
This interview was written in 2015 in real time, and conducted in 1812 in book time. Eleanor, Duchess of Haverford, seldom consents to an interview. Though she lives, perforce, in the public eye—as wife to one of the most powerful men in England and mother to two of England’s most Read more…
Haverford Castle, East Kent, 1784 The Duke of Haverford did not bother with greetings or enquiries about Eleanor’s health. He flung open the door without knocking and marched into Eleanor’s sitting room, saying, “What is it, duchess? I have a great deal to do today.” Inwardly, Eleanor quailed as he Read more…
He was grinning broadly. “I never imagined… Are you sure, Mademoiselle?” He had both her hands now and was smothering them with kisses. “I cannot give you the life you have here. I could perhaps manage a small apartment. I have money saved, but it would not be what you Read more…
Before the day was over, the sons of the duchess had also arrived. Lord Aldridge had been expected, but Lord Jonathan Grenford was thought to be somewhere in Russia. His mama was delighted, of course, but if Lord Jonathan had not cheerfully pronounced himself willing to sleep on a trundle Read more…
She had not imagined such a result when she had written to the duke to beg a refuge for her father, his distant cousin, who was failing in health and confused in mind. Papa was an ill-paid country vicar with a lifetime habit of giving away whatever came into his Read more…
Eleanor had withdrawn to her private sitting room, driven there by His Grace’s shouting. Her son, the Marquis of Aldridge, was as angry as she had ever seen him, his face white and rigid and his eyes blazing, but he kept his voice low; had even warned the duke about Read more…
