Rachel Bailey is an escort/lady of the evening, she’s saving to buy the correct clothing to apply for work in one of the many manor homes either here in London or in the country. She just wants to not sell her body to live from day to day.

Lord Ernest Dalton has made a puzzling discovery, clothing he believes belonged to his sister. He’d been told his sister died as an infant, but the clothing is too big for that. After speaking with his mother he’s not convinced his sister is dead and begins a quest to find her that will lead to some interest encounters.

This is a favorite scene.

“You knew at once I was not from these parts,” he said. “How?”

“Your hands,” said Rachel. “They’re far too clean.” She paused in thought, then knelt beside the bed. She reached beneath the mattress and pulled out a small basket. She rifled through the contents, before handing Ernest a small jar of lampblack. She grinned, her eyes shining in the lamplight. “Here. Put a little under your fingernails. You’ll look the part in no time.”

Ernest chuckled. Obediently, he reached a finger into the charcoal and smoothed it over his skin and nails. He looked down at his hands. The hands of a miner, perhaps. He smiled.

“Better,” said Rachel, “much better.”

Ernest grinned. “What else?”

She hesitated. “Your hair. It’s too neat.”

He nodded knowingly. “I thought to mess it up. But the damned thing keeps falling back into place like it has a mind of its own.”

Rachel burst out laughing, a sudden, sweet sound that made his heart skip. “Poor you,” she said. “It must be a great trial to be Mr. Ernest Jackson.”

After a moment, Ernest found himself laughing too. He looked up at her. “Is there anything in that basket that might help me?”

Rachel paused in thought. “Face powder,” she said, “rose water…” She sat each bottle on the table. “A wash ball…” She leaped to her feet. “Wait here. I’ll not be long.” She darted from the room, leaving Ernest bewildered. From the tavern downstairs, he heard the loud crash of glasses and a roar of laughter. After a few moments, Rachel returned with a cooking pot in her hands.

Ernest raised his eyebrows. “What do you have there?”

She grinned. “Just a little lard. The cook was going to throw it out. I convinced her I had a far better use for it.”

She set the pot on the table and stood over Ernest, peering down at his thick hair.

“May I?” she asked, a little of the confidence suddenly gone from her voice.

Ernest nodded. Rachel dipped her fingers into the pot, then slowly ran her hands through his hair. At her touch, he felt a shiver slide down his spine. He swallowed hurriedly. He felt her work the grease through his locks, working them into an unruly mess.

All too quickly, she pulled away. She stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Oh yes,” she said, a cheeky smile on her lips. “Now you’re beginning to look as you should.”

She reached for the cracked mirror that hung on the wall and handed it to Ernest. He peered at his reflection and was unable to stop a laugh escaping. His auburn hair was wild and dirty, poking from his head at bizarre angles. In the mirror, he could see he had wiped a streak of lampblack across his chin. He looked oddly like another man. Who might he be, Ernest found himself wondering if he had been born into such a life? What adventures might he have had? Who might he have loved?

He put the mirror down and smiled up at Rachel.

“I’ll never be able to replicate such a thing on my own,” he said. “I shall have to come and find you each time I come back to—” He stopped abruptly, realizing how forward, how presumptuous his words sounded.

Rachel said nothing. She wiped her hands on the cloth she had brought from the kitchen and began to set the bottles back in her basket.

“Why?” she said suddenly.

Ernest blinked. “Pardon?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

Ernest hesitated. Ought he keep his reasons a secret? He didn’t want to, he realized. Not from Rachel Bell. He wanted to share. Wanted to tell her of that chest of clothes he had found in the wardrobe. Tell her of his mother’s lies. Of the things Phillips had heard George Owen say.

“I’m looking for my sister,” he said simply.

Rachel’s eyebrows shot up.

“I was told she died when I was a child. But I’ve reason to believe she is still alive.” It was the first time he had admitted such a thing aloud, and it made something turn over in his stomach.

Rachel slid the basket back beneath the bed and sat back in her chair. “I see.” She frowned. “You believe she’s here? In Bethnal Green?”

“No,” Ernest admitted. “But the man I’m looking for, George Owen, I believe might have information. He used to work as a gardener at my father’s house in Pimlico some thirty years ago. The last I heard of him, he was living out here.” He lowered his eyes. “I know it’s a long shot. In all likelihood, the man is dead. But I don’t know where else to start.”

“I don’t know George Owen,” Rachel told him. “But there are people I can ask. Perhaps someone may have heard something of him.”

Ernest met her eyes. “You’ll help me?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

He felt a smile in the corner of his lips. How refreshing it was to be spoken to this way. Spoken to without formalities, without how-do-you-dos and finely-whittled etiquette. For a fleeting moment, Ernest found himself wishing he really were that man with blackened, miner’s hands, and unwashed hair.

“Come back and see me this time next week,” said Rachel. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

Ernest smiled, his heart quickening again. Was it the possibility of his search progressing that was making him feel this way? Or was it the thought of seeing her again?

She had lit something inside of him that Ernest knew had nothing to do with finding Unity. He pushed the thought away at once. What point was there letting himself think about something that could never be?

Best focus on the task at hand. I have a mystery to solve. Something has happened to my sister. I will not let myself be distracted.
Scarlett Osborne. Their Lords of Nightly Lust: A Steamy Regency Romance (Kindle Locations 532-580). Scarlett Osborne.

Plenty of sparks fly between Ernest and Rachel right from the beginning. However, there is much to be done and she isn’t what one would consider a proper wife for the future Duke.

Another suspenseful tale with deceit, drama, tension and a sizzling romance.

5 Contented Purrs for Scarlett!

Catherine Barnet’s brother Robert has been imprisoned for horrible crimes and her home and lands sold to cover debts. She is grateful her Aunt Cornelia and her cousin Edmund, the Viscount of Featherstone are willing to take her in. Edmund and Cornelia are very protective of the Featherstone name and now their are whispers that Catherine must have been involved. To some that may seem logical since she lived with her brother, but he never treated her with kindness only the kind of distain most reserved for servants.

She does appear to have an ally in her cousin’s friend. Patrick Connolly, the Baron of Ramshay, understands her position. On his father’s death he inherited more than just his title, he inherited large debts. He’s more than a little interested in Catherine, but he’s willing to form a friendship with her until she’s ready to be courted.

When her brother requests her to visit him in prison, she turns to Patrick. He would get her the proper paperwork and escort her to the prison. She couldn’t let her cousin or aunt know what she’s doing. They wouldn’t approve.

Now Patrick has some new problems, the demands now made on his finances were bad enough that he needs to speak to the one person he knows hates him. That man blames Patrick for his incarceration in the prison, but he may hold the answers Patrick needs to extract himself from these further payments.

The opportunity to escort Catherine was just an added plus.

This is a favorite scene.

Lord Ramshay was waiting close to the visitor’s entrance, his hands dug into the pockets of his greatcoat and the collar turned up against the wind. At the sight of him, Catherine felt relief flood her. A sudden warmth began to bloom inside her.

How thoughtful that he might have waited for her so close to the entrance of the jail. How selfless that he might be willing to tarnish his reputation so she might not have to walk this street alone. His kindness brought fresh tears to her eyes.

He gave her a small smile. “Is everything all right, Miss Barnet? Is your brother well?”

Catherine tried to return his smile, but tears tightened her throat. “Robert is as well as can be expected,” she said, her words coming out husky and half-voiced.

“And the reason for his requesting your visit? Nothing is wrong, I hope?”

She shook her head. “My brother just wished to see I was getting by,” she managed. Her words were thin. Surely, he could tell she was lying.

But Lord Ramshay just gave a nod of understanding. They stood in silence for a moment, meeting each other’s eyes.

Catherine knotted her hands into her cloak. And for a moment, she was acutely aware of Edmund’s words.

“You know, surely, that Lord Ramshay has feelings for you…”

She dropped her gaze to the ground, unable to look at him. Perhaps he had had feelings for her once, but it would only be a matter of time before they faded away— if they hadn’t done so already. How could he care for her when she was standing outside Newgate prison, dressed in stolen servants’ clothes? How could he care for her when she had let her family’s house and land be sold? How could he care for her when she had stood back and watched while her brother had been dragged into the underworld?

The tears she was fighting spilled suddenly down her cheeks. She tried to cough them away, swiping at them with a clenched fist.

“Oh, Miss Barnet.” Impulsively, Lord Ramshay pulled her into his arms, and held her tightly against his chest.

Catherine felt her breath leave her. The shock of it was enough to halt her tears. Enveloped in his strong embrace, her heart began to race. She found herself sliding her arms around his waist and pulling herself against him.

This was wrong, she knew. If anyone were to see them, it would cause the greatest of scandals. And yet, how could something so wrong feel so intensely right? With her head resting against Lord Ramshay’s broad chest, with the steady thud of his heart against her ear, the sting of Robert’s words began to fade. A part of her longed to stay there forever.

Suddenly aware of herself, she pulled herself away, wiping away the last of her tears. She looked up to meet his warm brown eyes.

“Forgive me,” she coughed. “The visit… It was more difficult than I was anticipating.”

Lord Ramshay shook his head gently. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for, Miss Barnet. Please don’t apologize.” He glanced over his shoulder into the busy street. A crowd was beginning to gather outside the Old Bailey. “This is not a safe place for a lady to be,” he said. “You ought to go home and rest a while. Shall I find you a cab?”

Catherine shook her head. The thought of going back to Aunt Cornelia’s was unbearable. Being in Featherstone Manor just reminded her that her own family home was gone. Robert had gambled it away, and she had sat back and let it happen. Soon, yes, she would need to return to the manor. Would need to sneak back into the house and pretend she had been lying ill in her bedroom all morning. But she couldn’t do it yet.

“I just need to walk a while,” she told Lord Ramshay. “Clear my head a little.”

He gave her a short nod.

She felt suddenly, intensely grateful that he had seen fit not to question her. Not to probe into the reasons for Robert requesting her presence or harp on about how inappropriate it was for a young lady to be wandering the streets alone, as she felt sure Edmund would have done. For not the first time, she began to believe that Lord Ramshay truly did understand a little of what she was going through.

When he looked back at her, she saw that familiar shyness in his eyes. “Perhaps I might accompany you?” he ventured, looking at once both hopeful and uncertain.

Catherine felt a fluttering deep inside her. It began in her stomach and worked its way up to her chest, leaving her entire body tingling with energy. She did not know what this was. She only knew there was nowhere else she wanted to be other than in this man’s company.

“I should like that, Lord Ramshay,” she managed. “I should like that very much.”
Scarlett Osborne. Their Lords of Nightly Lust: A Steamy Regency Romance (Kindle Locations 5604-5642). Scarlett Osborne.

Her visit to her brother was painful to say the least, he blamed her for losing the lands as well as the rest of the estate. She had no say or choice in that matter, he still wasn’t taking responsibility for anything.

Patrick’s visit didn’t go much better than hers but he was grateful to be able to support Catherine. This experience brought them closer. Now Patrick realizes he’s going to need help from his friends, Edmund and Simon, the Marquess of Ayton to figure out what’s going on.

Questions lead them into the seedier parts of London, and the closer they get to answers the more danger they all find, including Catherine.

Plenty of intrigue, suspense, a simmer to sizzle romance and quite a few surprises.

5 Contented Purrs for Scarlett!

Joanna Bagley is a traveler, her family spends the summer on the Gresham Estate. When she was little the Marquess, Christopher would sneak away from the house and explore with her. When they meet again as adults, it’s a bit awkward but they manage to get past it. It’s Christopher who holds back though, he won’t compromise Joanna. He loves her and his parents would never consider her a proper candidate to be a dutchess.

Christopher is to do the season in London, under protest of course. However, there is a turn of events that has him agreeing to wed his father’s choice for him. That agreement comes with the release of Joanna’s father from the gaol, he couldn’t do anything to save the other two men from their fate. At least Joanna would have her father.

The choice the Duke makes for Christopher is a merchant’s daughter, Dorothy Coleman is wealthy but lacks the title her father would like. Only Christopher refuses to announce anything until the end of the season. The Lady Jersey takes a liking to him and invites him on an excursion of sorts to Bath. The thing that convinces him to go is the proximity to Stonehenge. If he is going to marry, he would at least see his Joanna one more time.

This is a favorite scene.

When they awoke, the sun was high in the sky, and they were cold. Christopher carefully wrapped the blanket around Joanna. They did not speak for a while.

“Joanna,” Christopher said, “You know it can’t end like this. I must see you again. And again and again, every day of my life. You’re mine now, and I won’t let you go.”

“But how, Christy?” She rubbed at her sleep-crusted eyes like a child.

“How much do you trust me, Joanna? Would you take a big risk, to be with me?”

“Anything, Christy. I’ll do anything you ask.”

He thought quickly. “Would you come to London? I’d leave my family behind and marry you there. If you’d have me, that is.”

“Oh, Christy, how can you even ask that? Of course. You know I want to be with you always. No one can separate us now. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

They kissed sweetly for a few minutes, kisses not of passion but of love.

“But how would I get to London, Christy?”

“Can you get to Domesday St. Osmund?”

“I think so. My Da got there on foot.”   Was that really only two days ago?

“There’s a daily stagecoach there to London. It costs about two guineas. I’ll give you money.”

“Christy, I don’t want your money.” She was so proud, his Joanna.

“Don’t be silly. You’re mine now. I have to protect you.”

“So I go to London. Then what do I do?”

“Ask the coachman to hail you a hansom carriage. Give him a shilling for his trouble.”

“A shilling. All right. Then where do I ask the driver to take me?”

A good question. She’ll have to stay with a woman— it would entirely ruin her reputation to do otherwise. But who? I can’t trust either of my sisters. Lady Jersey? No, she wouldn’t be too kind to a rival.

Suddenly an idea struck him. “Ask the cabman to take you to a place called the Empire. Go while it’s still daylight, not at night. When you get there, say you’re not there to work. Emphasize that very clearly, all right? You’re not there to work. You’re there just to visit an old friend of yours, by the name of Rosie.”

“Why do I have to make it clear I don’t want work? And who is Rosie?”

“Rosie is a very sweet girl who was once kind to me when I first came to London. But Joanna— I hope you won’t be offended by this, but— she’s a prostitute.”

“A prostitute! And just how do you know a prostitute, Christopher Albertson, bloody Marquess of Clydekill? Did you—  ?”

She was working herself into high dudgeon.

“No, I did not. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the only woman I’ve ever been with like that, and you’re the only one I want. Silly goose. My father insisted I see her. But I didn’t do anything. I just sat there and told her all about you. Tell her you’re Joanna. The Marquess of Clydekill’s Joanna.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Well, it’s true. Tell her that she needs to get me a private message at Gresham House that you’ve arrived. She’ll know it needs to be a secret. Tell her I asked her to find you somewhere respectable to stay for a little while until I can come to you— a good ladies’ hotel or something like that. It won’t be for long. Then we’ll get a special license and marry secretly— wait. You are eighteen, aren’t you?”

“Last June.”

“Good. Then we won’t need a parent’s permission.”

He walked over to his saddlebag and took out a wallet. “Here, Joanna. Here are banknotes for twenty guineas, and a few guineas more in smaller coins for coaches and such things. Tell Rosie that I’ll take care of her if she has to spend any money on you.”

“Christy.” Her eyes were wide. “That’s an awful lot of money. You could buy several fine thoroughbred horses with that much.”

“I don’t need any thoroughbred horses. I need you. Now tuck it all away, Joanna. Don’t lose it.”

They sat on the blanket for a long while after that, saying very little and just feeling the closeness between them. Then it was time to say goodbye.

He kissed her deeply, and he lifted her up onto her horse. “I love you, Joanna.”

“I love you, Christy.” And then she was gone.
Scarlett Osborne. Their Lords of Nightly Lust: A Steamy Regency Romance (Kindle Locations 10479-10517). Scarlett Osborne.

Of course it’s not going to be that simple and the conspiracy against Christopher thickens as he’s imprisoned by his father until his wedding day. Joanna is supposedly bought off, but she runs back to Rosie, the message she sends to Christopher is never received.

There is plenty of dealings going on and the worst is once Christopher becomes Duke. He is involved in his properties and good to all his workers. His wife not so much and her father isn’t any better.

Plenty of intrigue as this tale unfolds, I wasn’t sure Christopher would ever see Joanna again. This is quite the journey for both of them.

Intrigue and deceit with a sizzling romance that doesn’t die.

5 Contented Purrs for Scarlett!

Born in the Sunshine State of Florida, but of both British and Nordic descent, Scarlett Osborne grew up reading historical romances from the land of her ancestors. Fascinated with the British society of the 1800s and armed with a wild imagination, she obtained a degree in Creative Writing and immediately started her career as a Regency romance author.

A daydreamer extraordinaire, Scarlett likes to jump in the shoes of her heroines, immersing herself in her own stories, living the adventures that she wished she had experienced as a child. An avid reader and fan of the outdoors, Scarlett spends her free time either reading or going on long horseback rides along with her two sons.

Get lost in a land of enchantment, where adventure and love await around every corner…Scarlett hopes that through her heroes, you too will get to live a whirlwind romance in the Regency era, when fairytales were real and all dreams possible!