Unwrapping: Wacky Wednesday - Giving Thanks ...

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. For those of us in the USA anyway and as always it gives us pause to think of all the things for which we're thankful - good health, family, friends and all things good. As I contemplated the coming day, it gave me further pause to think of the things we might not have had we not had such a close relationship with Great Britain even after we did that whole Revolution thing and told England where to go!

No hard feelings, of course, so today we have a good relationship with our distant relatives 'across the pond' and think kindly on them as we do all relatives who live far away.


As I began baking and cooking ahead some of the items that will dress our Thanksgiving table, I thought about that first Thanksgiving. It wasn't at all what it is today, it's even been recently confirmed that the Pilgrims didn't even have turkey on their menu ... can you imagine?  No pumpkin pie, either?  Shocking!

This made me wonder about where some of our Thanksgiving and holiday staples came from including decorations as well as foods. I was surprised to learn that we can trace some of our traditional constants back to Great Britain even after we threw them out.

Take our beloved CHOCOLATE, for example. Yes, it was a New World discovery but it was a Brit by the name of John Cadbury who developed an emulsification process that solidified chocolate into bars for before him, chocolate was consumed mostly as a liquid sweetened with sugar and milk.  Imagine the holidays without chocolate - shoot, imagine any day without chocolate. Thank you, Mr. Cadbury, a Regency man.

How many of you like to indulge in Mincemeat Pies for Thanksgiving and Christmas?

Well, we're talking British origins there for sure.  Mincemeat pie was originally derived from eastern recipes based on meats, fruits and nuts brought back to Great Britain by the crusaders but eventually evolved into the spicy all fruit and nut pie of today.  Much better without the meat. 

What would Thanksgiving be without the potato?

Yes, the potato was yet another New World discovery that was slow to be accepted by most of Europe but it was the brave citizens of the British empire, in particular the Irish, who took this simple spud and discovered its great use as a staple and farm crop. They were the ones who invented new ways to use it, particularly mashed. The potato became such an essential staple to the islands of Great Britain that the population grew substantially during the early 1800's eventually culminating in the great emigration from Great Britain to America when disease struck the potato farms of Ireland in 1845.  Who would ever have thought that the potato would be so instrumental in the expansion of our country's population.

Do you like to decorate your Thanksgiving table with a lovely centerpiece?

One of the flowers that I most associate with Fall and Thanksgiving is the beautiful Chrysanthemum. 

Chrysanthemums, often called mums, are of the genus (Chrysanthemum) constituting approximately 30 species of perennial flowering plants in the family Asteraceae which is native to Asia and northeastern Europe - Surprised?

Can you guess how they came to be in the Western World and Europe?

British explorers and merchants began traveling to the Far East where Chrysanthemums had been cultivated and grown by the Chinese since the 15th Century but may have been brought to Japan as far back as the 8th Century. The Japanese revered it as a Happiness Flower even giving it its own festival. It has long been the centerpiece of Japanese art and culture. Discovered in Asia by British merchants in the late 17th Century, the beautiful flowers were brought back to England where the short growing season proved perfect for the hardy yet delicately beautiful flowers to grow and flourish. 

I love Chrysanthemums and love that their origins in the western world start in England with their popularity growing during the Regency era so I included them in my own Work in Progress. Since I usually share an excerpt with you on Wednesdays, I thought I'd share the scene with you, hope you enjoy it:

“Miss Embry, may I say how beautiful you look this evening?” the Earl of Parkhurst remarked with a smile as he awaited his bride at the bottom of the great staircase. As she reached the last steps, he offered his hand to her. Rose shifted her nosegay from her left to right hand before she placed her free hand in his.

“Thank you, Lord Hawkings. Please, do feel free to tell me how beautiful I look.” She teased humorously as she flashed him a brilliant smile. Was it possible his compliments were sincere?

The man smiled with amusement as he allowed his eyes to take in her overall beauty. As he perused the whole of her stunning image, his smiling green eyes came to rest on the pearl that rested just above the creamy hills of lush flesh. Warm luscious flesh that he hoped to sample very soon.

A sly smile playing on his lips, he reached out and gently lifted the pearl. As he cradled the pearl in his fingers, the back of his hand brushed his soon-to-be bride’s exposed bosom as it peeked above the lace of her bodice. Rose gasped when she felt the warmth of his hand brush against her bare skin. “I’m glad you accepted my gift and you honor me by wearing it.”

“It is far too extravagant, milord.” Rose exclaimed nervously as her eyes dipped to the pearl resting in his long fingers. She blushed as the back of his hand pressed slightly against her bosom. He removed his hand and let the pearl fall back against her skin. The pearl suddenly felt cold against her skin after the heat of his hand. Expecting him to lower his hand, the Earl surprised her by reaching into her nosegay and pulling loose one of the beautiful pale yellow chrysanthemums. As he lifted it from the collection, he slowly slid it along her breast to her collarbone and along her neck before raising it to her nose. She inhaled its wonderful spicy scent without hesitation.

She saw the Earl smile before he pulled the flower away and tucked it into her hair above her left ear. He leaned forward as he did and whispered near her ear. “Only someone as beautiful as you could ever do justice to nature’s own beauty.” He lingered a moment and she heard the intake of his breath as he drew in her scent. Rose felt the warmth of his breath on her neck as he slowly exhaled. His cheek briefly brushed against hers as he paused to take another inhalation. He liked that she smelled of gardenias. It was even more delightful than the fresh bloom he had just tucked into hair. Gardenias was a familiar scent from his youth in Louisiana. Perhaps, he would tell her that later when they were alone.

Rose was shivering with nervous energy as she contemplated what to do about halting the proceedings so when she felt his cheek brush against hers, she reacted more out of instinct than rejection by taking a quick step backward. This man’s touch, his scent, his flirtations had caused a flush of heat racing over her body. Had he been another man, perhaps she would not have minded but his similarity to Hawke was becoming unbearable. She wanted the man to be Hawke not his arrogant cousin who was now attempting to woo her only moments from their vows. She was tempted to run back up the stairs and escape. She stopped herself from fleeing but when she glanced up at his lordship’s face, she saw hurt and disappointment there. Wondering if she had truly offended him by her reaction, she opened her mouth to apologize but too late. Lord Hawkings stepped back, straightened his waistcoat and spoke before she had the chance.

“Think of the pearl as a small token of my appreciation or payment if you so choose. You shall surely earn it.” His tone was flat, dry and full of annoyance not to mention cruelty. Rose nearly gasped at his reference to payment. He saw the shock in her face and regretted it immediately. He had forgotten the role he was playing and had not considered that Rose would not expect such an intimacy from a man she had only met the day before. She had injured his pride with her physical rejection. Perhaps this was a mistake after all. Had he really thought she might have feelings for him? He didn’t care. They had an agreement and if she refused him later, he would simply leave. Perhaps he would anyway.

“Sir, I wish a private moment with you, if I may?” Rose demanded politely in a lowered voice.

“You may have it after the ceremony for it is time to begin.” The Earl of Parkhurst was no longer in the mood to play at courtship. The sooner this charade was over the sooner he could return to his own life. He turned and walked toward the doorway leading to the ballroom. He turned sightly to find his bride had not followed. Impatiently, he crooked his arm and waited.

Rose watched him, she knew he expected her to follow but she contemplated running away instead. Could she really proceed with this farce? He’d dismissed her needs as if she was a servant. Was that what she was to be in his household? Fine with her, she decided. He needed a wife so she would be one, in name only. If the despicable man wanted an heir, he would have to get one from one of his village whores.

She saw him crook his arm. He expected her to take her place at his side. She hesitated. Seeing his niece's hesitation, William stepped forward, took her arm and led her to the Earl. “You are a vision of beauty, my dear. It’s a shame your father isn’t here.”

“Thank you, Uncle William. I wish he was here, too.” To save me from this wretched marriage, her brain screamed even as Rose gave her uncle a weak smile as she allowed him to place her arm in her soon-to-be husband’s. Her knees shook and the temptation to flee struck her again but before she could act upon it, the tall man at her side moved forward and her turncoat feet followed.  ---

Thanksgiving fills us with so many thanks. So tomorrow when you're sitting down to indulge in turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, and pie while enjoying the lovely chrysanthemum centerpiece surrounded by friends and family give thanks to the world for making it a lovely day. There's a little bit of world history on that table not just good ol' American ingenuity. Although, the turkey, pumpkin, sweet potatoes and bourbon are all ours.

Any Thanksgiving trivia you'd like to share or perhaps just a comment on the world or my story perhaps ... I'd be thankful to share it.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends, family and the world.  Happy Reading as always.

Unwrapping: Wacky Wednesday - Birthday Wishes to Gaelen Foley

Today is one of my favorite Romance author's birthday - Gaelen Foley. 
I hope you'll join me in wishing her a very Happy Birthday today and enjoy a treat from her wonderful Regency Romance, MY DANGEROUS DUKE.

MY DANGEROUS DUKE is the second in a series called the Inferno Club series.  The Inferno Club is a gathering of wealthy libertines and highborn rakes devoted to their pleasures and scandals.  Well, that's the way they are known to London Society but the truth is they have a much greater purpose.  London society suspects little of the danger that looms over England or the real enemies whom these select and powerful lords are secretly sworn to fight.

The Inferno Club series consists of three novels as of date but will soon be joined by a fourth which all who follow the series anxiously await. 

The first in the series is MY WICKED MARQUESS, Max's story or rather the Marquess of Rotherstone's

- the second is MY DANGEROUS DUKE, Rohan's story or rather the Duke of Warrington's

- the third is MY IRRESISTIBLE EARL,  Jordan's story or rather the Earl of Falconridge's

But today, in honor of Ms. Foley's birthday and because I promised you a man with secrets and a castle, we're going to visit with Rohan Kilburn, the Duke of Warrington.  So without further ado, let me introduce you to him in an excerpt from MY DANGEROUS DUKE by Gaelen Foley:



His expression inscrutable, Eldred the butler glanced at Kate, but was apparently too shrewd to ask any questions. He turned away, lifting his lantern high. "This way, please. The master is expecting you."

Their whole party followed as Eldred led them down a tall, shadowy corridor, all stone and aged plaster and carved dark wood. Kate stumbled along on her frozen feet, staring all around her. She had never been in a castle before, but it was hard to believe that anyone could actually live in such a place.

It was not a home, it was a fortress, a mighty barracks left over from the days of knights and dragons.

Everything was dark and hard, cold and threatening. Ancient weapons, shields and pieces of armor, tattered battle flags hung on the walls instead of paintings. There was not one cozy thing about it, yet perversely, despite its unwelcoming atmosphere, the castle's historical significance made her forget her dread for one or two seconds as her scholar's unquenchable curiosity was roused about the place, the battles it had seen, and all the other mysterious things that might have happened here over the centuries.

Then she noticed her captors becoming increasingly nervous.

"'Hoy, Eldred." Caleb leaned toward the butler as they trudged down a darkly paneled corridor. "How's his mood tonight?"

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"The Beast!" he whispered. "Is he in a foul temper?"

The butler eyed him in disapproval. "I'm sure I couldn't say."

"So, that's a yes," Calen muttered.

Then Eldred led them into a cavernous great hall with a soaring vaulted ceiling.

Darkness clustered thickly between arching beams. Moldering tapestries draped the side walls here and there. Overlooking the room, a small balcony - the ministrel's gallery - jutted slightly from the far wall.  Closer to hand, several pieces of thick, ancient furniture provided barren comfort.

Two black-clad guards, like those stationed at the gatehouse, were posted in the nearest corners. They stood at attention, as immovable as the ancient suits of armor that adorned the great hall.

The only real sign of life glowed from the blazing bonfire in the yawning fireplace, far away down at the dais end of the hall - and it was there that Kate caught her first glimpse of the Beast.

She knew at once that it was he.

The huge, crackling power of his presence filled the hall before he even turned around. His back to them, the Duke of Warrington stood before the fire, a towering figure silhouetted against the flames.

He was toying with a large, strange weapon with a long, notched blade, some sort of deadly cross between a lance and a sword. Balancing it on its tip, he twirled it slowly in a most ominous fashion.

Edred announced them with a polite cough. "Ahem, Your Grace: Caleb Doyle and company."

He lifted the weapon, resting the bar of its long handle on his huge shoulder.

Her heart leaped up into her throat as the iron giant slowly pivoted to face them. He paused, studying them from across the hall with a dissecting stare.

Then he began prowling toward them, his long paces unhurried yet relentless:  a medieval warlord in modern-day clothes. Each fall of his mud-flecked boots boomed in the hollow vastness of the chamber.

Kate's mouth hung open slightly as she stared at him in fear and some degree of awe.

Caleb whipped off his hat and took a couple of steps forward, gesturing to his men to do the same.

The smuggler's party advanced in cringing dread, with Kate in the center.

Her stare locked on the warrior duke as he sauntered closer.  She searched in vain for any sign of softness in the man, instead, a capacity for ruthless force emanated from him.  He was hard and dark and dangerous, intimidation incarnate.

It was clear he had just arrived, his wild, windblown mane of thick sable hair tied back in a queue. She studied him, wide-eyed.  The dark knotted cloth around his neck was nothing so formal as a cravat. His loose white shirt hung open a bit at the neck, disappearing into a black waistcoat that hugged his lean, sculpted torso.

Rain and sleet still dotted his black riding breeches, while the reddish firelight gleamed on the blade that he wielded so idly as he advanced, as though he'd been born with it in his hand.

Heart pounding, Kate could not take her eyes off him.

He appeared to be in his midthirties; she scanned his square, rugged face as he drew closer. He had thick, dark eyebrows with a scar above the left like the mark of a thunderbolt. His skin was unfashionably bronzed, as though he had spent years in sunnier climes. His nose was broad but straight, the grim set of his hard mouth bracketed by lines.

His eyes were terrifying.

Steeley in color and expression, they were narrowed with suspicion, their depths gleaming with a banked fury that she realized was waiting to unleash on the smugglers -  and might take out on her, as well, before the night was through.

Dear God, he could kill her easily, she understood at once. The man was huge, nearly six and a half feet tall, with arms of iron, and shoulders like the Cornish cliffs. He looked stong enough to lift a horse, while she only came up to the center of his massive chest.

No wonder the smugglers were terrified of him, despite Caleb's claim to the contrary back at the village.  Warrington had the imposing physique of a conqueror, and all the worldly power of the aristocracy's highest rank, save the royal family.

She tried to back away as the duke stalked closer, running a bold stare over the length of her.

"What's this?" he growled softly at Doyle, nodding at her. She reacted instinctively to his notice, pulling against her captors' hold in panic. She tried to run.

They stopped her.   [to be continued]

I fear you'll have to get your own copy of MY DANGEROUS DUKE by Gaelen Foley to find out what happens to poor Kate in the hands of the Beast.  Don't forget to get the others in the Inferno Club series including the fourth - MY RUTHLESS PRINCE - coming in December!

Happy Reading Everyone and Happy Birthday Gaelen!!!

                                  

Unwrapping: Regency Romance - The Beginning

19th Century England - Regency Romance conjures up images of ladies and gentlemen in fine clothes strolling the streets or attending a ball, all good manners and propriety. As Jane Austen potrayed it, the men would have been properly attired, displayed impeccable decorum around the ladies and the ladies would also have been properly attired with gloves at all times and displayed proper manners in regards to the gentlemen neither desiring nor ignoring their attention.
And so goes the way of the ton - which comes from the French term, le bon ton - pronounced more like tone than ton as in the measurement. The phrase le bon ton, meaning good manners or "in the fashionable mode" were characteristics held as ideal by the British ton. The ton dictated all that was acceptable in regards to fashion, etiquette, manners, social customs and nearly every aspect of social life among the aristocracy of 19th Century England including the monarchy.

A young lady would have been presented to society, usually at a ball, and only danced with respectable gentlemen who had been approved by her parents or guardian. She would have worn white in proper manner and gloves so that she never touched the skin of any gentleman to whom she was introduced or partnered with for a dance. Such were the rules of social interaction between single men and women under the watchful eye of the ton. 

Jane Austen was without a doubt the inspiration for all Regency Romance Novels written today for hers were the first and foremost in Romantic Literature stemming from the 19th Century. She lived that world and wrote about it. She created characters like the Bennett sisters as well as other strong female characters with whom every female reader could relate on some level and gentlemen like Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Wickham with whom every male reader could reflect upon to emulate or despise.

As we journey through the world of Regency Romance Novels, we will be reminded of the works of Jane Austen even though the writing is very modern in comparison. Today's Regency Romance writers give over to the audience yet take into consideration the landscape of the story. After considerable research and reading of their own, these wonderful and talented writers have created an environment that feels like Regency England.  The dialogue retains the sound of the era. The description of the clothing, the surroundings and in many cases, even what's served for dinner all lend to transporting the reader back to a time of elegance and societal reserve just as it was in Jane's time.

If you haven't read Regency Romance but are a fan of history, period piece movies, or just good stories, I hope you'll stay with us over the next month as we explore the elegant, well-mannered, yet under the surface steamy, world of Regency Romance Novels. I promise, in addition to beautiful romance stories, you'll also meet spies, rakes and men you'll find yourself imagining in your daydreams. Oh, fellas, if you're willing to take a ride with us, you'll meet some sword wielding, gambling, always ready for a fist fight kind of guys who might make you rethink the genre as well.  There are even some comedic moments that will have you laughing out loud.

Join us next time when we meet one of those Regency Romance writers who will have you rushing to upload or rushing to your bookstore to get a copy or two.  In the meantime, I'm wondering which of Jane Austen's works is your favorite?

I love all of Jane's works and even though PRIDE AND PREJUDICE is one of my favorites as I'm sure it is for most of us as we all wish to be as outspoken as Lizzie Bennett - I have a special place in my literary heart for EMMA. Perhaps because it was Jane's last completed work or because I seem to relate to her the most of all of Jane's ladies.

Emma was convinced that she had no real need for a man in her life for as she put it, "never, never could I expect to be so truly beloved and important; so always first and always right in any man's eyes as I am in my father's." After meddling in others' love lives, she found love in the most unexpected place, right at her side. When she was looking least to fall in love, she realized that she had already fallen in love with the man most suited for her, her best friend and the one whose opinion she regard most highly.  "She saw that there never had been a time when she did not consider Mr. Knightley as infinitely the superior, or when his regard for her had not been infinitely the most dear."

So which of Jane's Austen's works is your favorite? I hope you'll share your choice and reason with us - if not for us then for Emma ... I'm sure she would be delightfully amused.

Happy Reading Everyone!