Just look at her. She belongs in a ballroom. Fiery hair, dark eyes, ivory skin. And her gown.  Is that charmeuse? Such a striking shade of blue! And just look at those darling semi-opaque sleeves with sapphire piping. 

Golden Heart finalist Heather Snow

Well yes I am, Albert. I’m downright puffed up with pride today to be hosting Golden Heart Award finalist Heather Snow. Her first novel, Sweet Enemy, will be out in mere days!

<squawk!> Contradiction! <squawk!>

Sweet and enemy? You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But then you wouldn’t be reckoning on chemistry! And chemistry is precisely what I wish to ask Heather’s heroine about today. Oh, there’s Heather with Lady B over near the ratafia bowl. But Lady B seems distracted by that handsome young gentleman with the black hair and gorgeously dark blue eyes. (I pause to stare at him. And stare…)

<squawk!> Task at hand! <squawk!>

Albert, there is no other task more important than staring at gorgeous gentlemen in evening finery. At least not in this ballroom.

The bird hops onto my shoulder and I head over to Heather.

Heather: (gesturing to her glass, whispers) It’s spiked!

Me: Really? Who knew? So, congratulations on your debut!

Coming February 7

Heather:  (looks quizzically at me) Katharine, my debut was more years ago than I care to—oh! You mean my publishing debut! (blushes) Sorry, we sciency-types can be so literal. Thank you. I’m very excited that Sweet Enemy will be in bookshops in just over a week now.

Me: Okay, I’ve been dying to ask Miss Liliana Claremont, the heroine of your new novel, about chemistry. She is an amateur chemist, right?

Heather: (glances around) Don’t let her hear you say that. Liliana studied with her father, an esteemed chemist, and then with one of his colleagues, so she’s actually quite learned. She’s only considered an amateur because the male establishment of the Royal Society refuse to acknowledge that women are capable of understanding complex scientific theory or making any worthy contribution to the world besides babies.

Me: Old fuddy duddies! Some men couldn’t see a woman’s intelligence if it bit them in the beakers. But you know, I’m really so incredibly jealous of Liliana for her expertise.

Heather: Jealous of Liliana? (glances over at the black haired, blue eyed god I’d been staring at)

Me: (tearing my gaze away from him again) Mm, yes. You see, way back when in school, I was a Total Disaster at chemistry. (whispering) This may have had something to do with the junior class Bad Boy who happened to be my lab partner and wrote love poetry on my Chemistry textbook. But don’t tell anyone. I’m supposed to be the Good Girl around here.

Heather: (also whispering) Love poetry?

I still have that Chem textbook. (Of course I do!)

Me: (still whispering) You know that song “Crazy Love” by Poco?

Heather: You mean Poco as in “It happens all the time, this crazy love of mine, wraps around my heart, refusing to unwind”? (She’s still whispering because I am, so sweet) On your Chem textbook? The junior class Bad Boy?

Me: Yes! See? Instant C in that class.

Heather: (nodding) I do see.

Me: But that’s why I’m dying to ask Liliana a question. Did she come tonight?

Heather: Yes, but… (Lowers her voice, which intrigues me. Why should she need to whisper?) She’s actually busy… well, snooping through an earl’s house at the moment, if truth be told.

Me: Snooping through an earl’s house! She sounds positively intrepid. We love intrepid around here!

Heather: But that’s another story… (clears her throat and pastes a sociable smile on her face in case we’re being observed) Maybe you can ask me your question. She and I are pretty well acquainted.

I remember none of this. None. Nada.

Me: Okay, I remember that there are Periodic Tables and beakers and chemical compounds and stuff like that. But what I really want to know is what Chemistry has to do with… chemistry?

Heather: The “crazy love” kind of chemistry?

Me: The kind that, for example, might have a Lady of Science who is bent on finding a secret stash of documents in an earl’s house instead losing her mind in the arms of that Very Hot Earl who should by all rights be her enemy.

<squawk!> Example not chosen at random. <squawk!>

Heather: (aside to Albert) I’ll say.

My favorite kind of H20

Me: In school we learned about H2O and CO2 and all those good mixes of chemicals, but my Chem teacher always said we shouldn’t mix volatile chemicals together. In romance, though, there’s nothing more delectably explosive!

Heather: Oh, I agree.

Me: So you’re saying…

Heather: Just that the chemistry of love is potent stuff, and it works within our brains in such a way that we are often powerless against it. Take poor Liliana, for example. She emphatically does not want to fall in love with Geoffrey. And yet, after one kiss, she can’t seem to stay away from him, despite her own intentions. (Tips her head to the distractingly delicious black-haired man, at whom — I note — Lady B is still staring. He has marvelous legs.)

Me: Wait! That’s Geoffrey over there? Oh, I think I’m understanding the whole chemistry-chemistry thing a whole lot better.

Heather: Indeed. And as learned as Liliana is in the science of chemistry in the Regency period, she can’t possibly understand what we now know—that in the early stages of lust, infatuation and romantic love, our brain chemistry becomes quite literally like one suffering from addiction…or mental illness.

Me: So when you said “crazy love” kind of chemistry, you meant literally! That explains a lot.

Heather: Just so! See, that junior class Bad Boy was onto something, penning Poco into your Chem book. But look, here comes Liliana now, and (stands on her tip toes in her dancing slippers. Ooh, they match her dress gorgeously, don’t they?)  I do believe Geoffrey has spotted her. Come. (Clasps my elbow and pulls me closer to the earl so we might observe the action.) There’s nothing like a live experiment to get the best results.

Look how quickly Geoffrey makes his excuses, leaving Lady B in mid sentence and heading toward Liliana. Lady B’s eye glimmers as it meets mine. She knows exactly what’s going on, bless her romantic heart.

Heather: Here’s where we can really see chemistry at work, Katharine. You see, as much as Liliana doesn’t wish to fall in love with Geoffrey, he feels quite the same about her. You’ve heard about his cause, of course…

Me: You mean the bill he’s championing to win aide for ex-soldiers coming back from the wars to no jobs or homes? I adore a hero with a noble cause!

Heather: (nodding) Me too. As a war hero and newly belted earl, Geoffrey’s got some political capital he can put to work. But to make the kinds of changes he’d like, he needs a savvy, connected Society hostess as a wife… which Liliana certainly is not. (whispering again) And, since we’re on the subject, I must confide that the reason Liliana has been snooping around the earl’s house…

I lean in.

Heather: …is that she’s looking for evidence that someone in Geoffrey’s family killed her father.

Bang! (Ulp!)

Me: (gasp) But the scandal—

Heather: (nodding) —could ruin him politically, yes.

Me: I see the problem. Problems.

Geoffrey reaches Liliana and bows before her, sweeping her into an Allemande. The smiles that light both their faces make my heart ache. It’s clear, despite everything aligned against them, these two feel something mighty powerful for each other. 

Heather: See? Chemistry. They both know they are wrong for the other, but they can’t stay apart.

Me: Hm. (I know how it goes when beakers collide. One or both of them could end up with a broken heart.)

Heather: (Noticing my concern, smiles) Don’t fret, my friend. I have a sneaky feeling Geoffrey and Liliana will find their way to a happily-ever-after.

Me: I’ll bet you do! (Geoffrey and Liliana slip out the doors onto the terrace, out of sight, and I feel that satisfied smile coming on that new love always inspires — the more explosive the situation, the bigger my smile. I take Heather’s arm and lead her back to the ratafia.) Let’s have another drink and you can tell me what becomes of them…

Dear guests, let’s make some explosions today! What elements mixed together result in the perfect romance reaction? I’ll give it a try: Dangerous, mysterious man + Smart, determined woman + Passion + Laughter = LOVE. Now it’s your turn! Design a romance compound in a comment below and you’ll be entered to win a copy of Heather’s Sweet Enemy. I’ll draw the winner with our randomizer tomorrow morning.

So, the other day my random Internet clicking led me to this candle.  I was pretty tickled by the simple existence of this thing, let alone the product description:

THE MAN CANDLE — Finally, a candle that smells as cool as you.

…Like an idealized version of what a man could smell like, given proper hygiene and grooming.

The same company offers candles in scents like Bacon, Whiskey, Fresh Bread, and Campfire.  Unfortunately, they all seem to be out of stock at the moment, but there are promises of new supplies in 2012.  Let’s hope!

Anyhow, it made me think about all the scents used to describe heroes and heroines in romance.

The sense of smell is very visceral.  Once I heard someone explain that the olfactory nerve is actually the shortest connection to the brain–meaning, the sense of smell is more immediate and directly perceived than other senses.  I’m no scientist, so I don’t know how true that is, but it seemed logical.

Being a writer makes me extra aware of how unique and precise smells are, among all the other things we perceive and describe.   If I write “He saw a pine tree,” every reader will imagine a slightly different pine tree.  If I write, “He smelled pine,” every reader knows exactly what I mean.

But what does “man” smell like?  (In optimal conditions, heh.)  Obviously, the makers of The Man Candle have their ideas.

In the past, I’ve associated scents like leather, linen, soap, starch, pomade, shaving soap, and cologne with my heroes.  Subtle nods to the idea of hygiene, I guess.   Then there are the beverages: whisky, ale, rum, brandy.  And yes, I’ve used pine.  Sandalwood, cedar, and other woodsy scents are common.  There’s also that generic idea of the scent of “clean skin” or “male musk”.  :D

With heroines, I’ve gone for the usual lavender, rose, verbena scents for some.  Others have smelled like lemon or herbs or clover.  I’m noticing a botanical pattern here–which makes sense, since femininity and nature are so often symbolically linked.

But I think what we romance authors are doing with all these descriptors is just trying to get at that visceral reaction of  ”Ooh, s/he smells gooood.”  Right?  Because that’s a powerful, very romantic, response.

What scents do you associate with men, women, or romance in general?

Ever read a scent description that made you shake your head and say, “What?”

As it’s At Home week here at Lady B’s, I have invited a special guest for tea. I’ve been a huge fan of Jennifer Haymore ever since she taught me how jealous a man could get over a woman’s bare ankle in A Hint of Wicked. Her bio mentions that she grew up on the Big Island of Hawaii, where she surfed, learned how to fly airplanes, raced bicycles, and developed a love for sailing. But I don’t think I shall mention most of that to Lady B, as explaining airplanes and surfing might derail us from the other special guests that Jennifer has brought with her.

Sabrina: Lady B, may I introduce the fabulous authoress, Jennifer Haymore.

Lady B: Miss Haymore. A pleasure.  And what do you excel in, Miss Haymore? Yesterday, Miss Maclean and Miss Randol were quite diverting on the matter of Constantinople. Only last week, Miss Dare and Miss Collins introduced me to a new parlour game. And Miss Neville is particularly fond of an entertainment called “Project Runway.” Or have you brought me some dashing hero with excellent legs? I do hope he is charming.

Lady B is lounging on her chaise longue, and plucking at bon bons. One for Albert, one for her. And so on. I’ve never, in all the last seven months, seen her quite so indolent. It’s as if she’s become very used to being entertained.

Sabrina: No, Lady B, none of the above. Jennifer has a new book coming out next week. Secrets of an Accidental Duchess.

Lady B: Accidental? Are you quite certain? Every Duchess I’ve ever known has schemed her way to the position

Sabrina: Well, let’s see. The synopsis of the story:

With her pale hair and slim figure, Olivia Donovan looks as fragile as fine china, and has been treated as such by her sisters ever since a childhood bout with malaria. But beneath her delicate façade, Olivia guards a bold, independent spirit and the kind of passionate desires proper young ladies must never confess…

It was a reckless wager, and one Max couldn’t resist: seduce the alluring Olivia or forfeit part of his fortune. Yet the wild, soon-to-be Duke never imagined he’d fall in love with this innocent beauty. Nor could he have guessed that a dangerously unpredictable rival would set out to destroy them both. Now, Max must beat a Madman at his own twisted game-or forever lose the only woman to have ever won his heart.

Lady B: Wait… Donovan? If these are the correct Donovans, I am related to them through their maternal grandfather. However, I’m not entirely certain it’s a connection I should acknowledge. There is something a bit unseemly about the whole situation with Lady Stratford.

Unseemly?

I nod wisely. Even though I wasn’t in London at the time, it’s common knowledge(At least for anyone who has read Confessions of an Improper Bride) that the eldest Donovan sister, Meg, broke off an engagement a year ago to marry Lord Stratford, who had had a rather scandalous affair with Meg’s twin sister(now deceased) years earlier.

Jennifer: Oh, what a tangled web those Donovan sisters weave!

 

Lady B: Sounds suspiciously similar to scheming to me. Of which I would approve, naturally. And didn’t that other sister… Phoebe Donovan? Elope?

Jennifer: (clears throat) Yes, well. Lady B. I’ve have the Donovan sisters with me.

From between Lady B’s thumb and forefinger, a rolled sweet drops down into the tin amidst a cloud of powered sugar. Both Albert and I watch it attentively.

Lady B: Here?

She looks around the room, and I follow her gaze. It’s filled—as usual during an At Home.

But just across the way, we can see four young women: Three blond, voluptuous beauties followed by a slighter, smaller young woman. If it weren’t for the fact that she looked so much like the others, I might have thought she was the maid.

Jennifer: may I introduce my characters? This is Meg, Lady Stratford; Phoebe, Mrs. Harper, and Miss Jessica Donovan. And this is Miss Olivia Donovan, of course.

Ah! So the maid is our newest heroine.  She does have a rather delicate façade.

Lady B: (peering at the young women through her lorgnettes) Hm. Well, then. I hear you hail from Antigua?

 

Serena: That’s right, my lady.

Antigua

<<Squawk>> Antigua! <<Squawk>>

If a parrot can sound excited, Albert certainly just did. Which makes me wonder from where Lord B procured him? Perhaps he is an Antiguan bird?

Lady B: It’s very…blue. What was it like living there? What with all the mosquitoes, I imagine you prefer London’s gentle society immensely.

Vs. London

Jessica: Oh yes, it’s SO much more exciting in London than it could ever be in Antigua. There was so much saltwater there. And there are so many fine gentlemen here.

 

Lady B: (narrows eyes) Is that so?

 

Phoebe: Indeed it is. Like my husband, Mr. Harper. (Glances at Serena) And Lord Stratford, of course.

 

Lady B: (dryly) Of course. (A bit more enthusiastically) Well, there certainly have been a parade of fine gentlemen through my ballroom this season. And yes, Lady Stratford, I do believe I recall that your husband has excellent legs. (turns to Jessica) So, Miss Jessica. Do you plan to follow in your older sisters’ footsteps? What famous scandal will you spark?

 

Serena: I truly hope she won’t spark any scandals at all.

 

Lady B: Really? With you as a sister? And look at that glint in her eye. I daresay she’ll be the worst of the bunch.

Jessica does have a glint in her eye. And now I’m hopeful curious if she’ll have some sort of scandal.

Olivia: (finally stepping forward, speaking in such a quiet voice, we all have to strain to hear her) I’ll watch out for Jessica, my lady.

 

Lady B: I didn’t see you there, girl. You’re so…diminutive. What did you say?

 

Olivia: I’ll watch out for my sister. Whatever happens, I’ll keep her from suffering the way Serena did.

 

Lady B: Will you?

I am not entirely certain if Lady B is disappointed or amused.

Olivia nods solemnly.

Lady B: (sounding very clearly satisfied) As I said, scheming! The best Duchesses always scheme on behalf of others.

<<Squawk>>  Albert leaves his perch, making a beeline straight for the sisters. They all gasp in fright and leap away, save Olivia. Albert alights on her arm, and bird and lady contemplate each other for a long moment.

<<Squawk>> Duchess! <<Squawk>>

 

Lady B: Well. Clearly, there is one sensible girl in this family of Donovans. If Albert likes her, I approve.

So do I! Especially because Jennifer has given us a deeper glimpse into just what makes Olivia tick, in the prequel novella Once Upon a Wicked Night!

Jennifer: Yes, Once Upon a Wicked Night is a short story about Olivia’s very first London ball. You should like that, Lady B. Aren’t you fond of balls?

 

Lady B: Naturally I am fond of balls. And I find them the best medicine for retiring young ladies. A good ball and the right man can bring out the sparkle in anyone.

Ooh, a very interesting theory of Lady B’s. What do we think, denizens of the Ballroom? Can quiet, and as Lady B points out, diminutive Olivia be brought to heroine status by the right man? Or as one of four, is she destined to always be out-shined by her sisters? And what about you, do you have a sibling? Which of you is the more scandalous? Jennifer will generously be giving away a signed copy of Secrets of an Accidental Duchess to one of our readers!

I began desperately asking to read Anna Randol‘s debut in the summer of 2010, when her editor told me that she’d recently acquired a fabulous book set in Regency-era Constantinople. “What?!” said I, “I want to read that! Now!”

Sadly, I don’t get everything I want, when I want it (much to my constant disbelief and dismay), and so I had to wait an AGE. Through the COLD WINTER of 2010 and DISMAL SPRING of 2011, and even through the summer of 2011, when the wait became much worse because I was TAUNTED with the AMAZING cover of this book. I mean, are you kidding me with that cover? It’s stunning!

But finally, in the autumn, I had the very great pleasure of reading A Secret in Her Kiss. Which was everything I had hoped it would be. Clever and unique and so perfectly Regency even as it was exotic and different and terrific. And, of course, I invited Anna to visit the Ballroom. And meet Lady B. 

—

Lady B: “Miss MacLean? I thought you said you were bringing someone new this evening?”

Sarah, looking about: I did, Lady B. She’s here somewhere.

Lady B, sharply: “Well, shouldn’t she be here–here? After all, she has not been introduced.”

Sarah: I think she might be nervous.

Lady B, barking: “Whatever for?”

Sarah, dryly: I can’t imagine.

Lady B: ”I don’t know what you’re implying.”

Sarah: She has to be close by. She wouldn’t disapp–

Anna peers out from behind a potted plant.

Sarah: Ah! Here she is! Lady B, may I–

Lady B: “You there, girl. We have not been introduced. Moreover, since it is my ball, I find such a situation rather havey-cavey. You aren’t Lady Plimpinton’s niece, are you? There are rather a lot of young ones in that family.”

Albert flutters over to perch on a branch. <squawk>Breeding rabbits!<squawk>

Sarah waves Anna out from her hiding place, whispering: “She can sense fear. Stay firm.”

Anna, quietly: Um…no. I am an authoress.

Lady B, loudly: “Another one? Dear me. And why are you whispering? I cannot hear you over the creaking in Lord Solten’s corsets.”

Anna, peering over to the other side of the room: I am avoiding someone.

Lady B: “I make it a point never to avoid anyone unless it is my third cousin Reginald, never could tolerate him. Straighten your spine. Stiffen your lip and stop hiding like a ninny.” (Gives Anna a good long look through her lorgnettes) “Now. Who exactly are you?”

Anna: (remembers her manners and bobs a quick, awkward curtsey) Miss Anna Randol, my lady. I am the author of A Secret in Her Kiss. It’s my debut.

Lady B: “And from whom are you hiding?”

Anna: My heroine, Miss Mari Sinclair.

Lady B: (follows her gaze) “Why would an authoress hide from her own—Good gracious. What is that woman wearing?”

Anna: She’s wearing a traditional Turkish caftan. She prefers it to English gowns. I think it’s the trousers underneath.

Lady B: “Indeed. She does not appear at all comfortable. Indeed, she appears irate?” She turns to Sarah: “Miss MacLean, why is it that you are always bringing strange creatures to my balls?”

Sarah: “I find it rather difficult to control myself.”

Lady B: “I think it’s time you try.” She turns back to Anna. “What is the girl’s problem.”

Anna:  Well, Mari may be a bit upset that I accepted Sarah’s invitation without her permission. Mari had no desire to leave Constantinople. She was kind of in the middle of a mission for the British government. She hides pictures of Ottoman forts in her drawings. It’s essential to gaining Greek independence she tells me.

Lady B: “She lives in Constantinople? Once again, most unusual. Who are her people?”

<squawk> Istanbul is Constantinople! <squawk>

Lady B: “Really, Albert. You must stop squawking nonsense words. Have a lobster patty, darling.”

Anna: Her mother was a Greek rebel but her father is Sir Reginald Sinclair, an archeologist of some renown. I know it isn’t the usual setting for a historical romance, but Mari is not a usual heroine.

Lady B: “Sir Reginald! I spoke to him once about covering up the male forms on all that old pottery he brings back. Most… shocking…of course I only look at the legs, but who is to say others aren’t more…curious?”

Sarah: Who, indeed.

Lady B, scowls at Sarah, then returns her gaze to Mari: “But I must say, Miss Sinclair seems a little too annoyed. I would think she’d welcome a break from all the intrigue.”

Anna: (stares at her slippers) Well, there might be a certain gentleman we left behind in Constantinople. You see, the British were afraid Mari was going to stop working for them so they sent Major Bennett Prestwood to ensure she completes the drawings they needed. And while Mari resents him, he is a tall, blond, Adonis.

Lady B, perking up: “Nice legs?”

Anna: The nicest.

Lady B: “Not as nice as Lord B’s.”

Anna: Of course. I meant to say, the nicest outside of Lord B’s.

Sarah, aside: Nice save.

Anna: Thanks. Back to Lady B. Perhaps a bit weary from war, but did I mention he was secretly a poet? Not that he’d admit it, of course. I think it embarrasses him.

<squawk> Roses are red. Violets are blue. Ratafia is sweet and so are lobster patties!<squawk>

(The door to the ballroom flies open and a rugged army officer in a Rifleman’s dark green uniform strides in, the hard line of his jaw tense with worry.)

Lady B: “Your warrior poet, I presume.” (Pulls out fan as she surveys him.) “I would like to point out that he doesn’t look happy to be at my ball either.”

Anna: (shifts uncomfortably) Someone may be trying to kill Mari. It’s why she wanted to quit drawing. Bennett’s a bit overly protective. You should hear him talk about his sisters. (Bites her lip) Maybe I should have told him where we were going. He takes his orders to watch her very seriously.  He puts duty above all else.

<squawk!> I’ll be watching you. <squawk>

Lady B, intrigued: “Is he going to shake Miss Sinclair or kiss her?”

Anna: Well…I’m not entirely sure. Things can get rather…heated between those two. Perhaps this would be a good time to take our leave. Mari doesn’t take orders well and Bennett can’t stop giving them. And Mari does have one final fort she has to draw despite the fact that the Ottomans may know her identity.

Lady B: “Perhaps your characters would be more pleasant at my balls if you were a little kinder to them. Keep that in mind for next time.”

Anna: They are happy by the end of the book. Does that count for something?

Lady B: ”Perhaps—Oh, my…”

Sarah: “Well. That solves the kissing or shaking question.”

–

Dear Friends, a marvelous Monday to you all! Lady B. is so pleased to be holding our first At-Home Week here at the Ballroom Blog. The creme de la creme of Regency Society will be gracing us with their presence this week, and it is my great honor to present to you all my dear friend, the tres magnifique Alexandra Hawkins!

Alexandra Hawkins is renowned for the red-hot rakehells in her USA Today bestselling Lord of Vice series (St. Martin’s Press). Trust me, she has a particular genius for the care and handling of bad boys. For those who haven’t read them yet, the four titles in this series so far hint at the intensity and sensuality to be found inside the gorgeous covers: All Night with a Rogue, Till Dawn with the Devil, After Dark with a Scoundrel, and the latest installment, her brand-new January 2012 release, Sunrise With a Notorious Lord.  Take a peek!

Yummy!

Dashing, decadent, and deliciously seductive, the notorious Lords of Vice indulge their every desire—from dusk until dawn…

Christopher Courtland, Earl of Vanewright—known around London as “Vane”—is the very picture of a rich, handsome ladies’ man. Why shackle himself to just one lady when he’s free to sample them all? In spite of his own mother’s attempts at matchmaking, Vane has sworn to stay single. Until he has a chance run-in with Miss Isabel Thorne…

A modest and refined beauty, Isabel is a lot more brazen than she appears. When a pickpocket tries to make away with Vane’s bejeweled snuffbox, Isabel attempts to thwart his escape…and manages to steal Vane’s heart. But the harder he tries to seduce the sharp-tongued, strong-willed Isabel, the more she resists. Now it’s up to this tried-and-true bachelor to find a new way to play the game…or risk losing the one woman who’s ever captured his heart.

Gaelen: Alexandra, thank you so much for coming to be with us for our first At Home week! Congrats on the grand success of your new book. I see the Lords of Vice are once more heating up the USA Today list! Congrats!

So, one of the things that grabbed me right away when I read the blurb on the new one–aside from your latest sexy bad boy hero–was when I noted that this story has one of those types of characters we so love in Regency novels – the classic matchmaking Mama. 

Indeed, I see you were very fortunate to be accompanied (chaperoned?) to the Ballroom today by Lady Netherley herself, Vane’s mother. Lady B, I believe you and Lady Netherley have been acquainted for years, is that correct?

Lady B: We have.  Lady Netherley has always had a knack for determining who among Society’s young people would make a suitable match.

Lady Netherley: My dear Heliotrope, you are too kind.  (sniffs into her handkerchief)  I knew the moment I met Isabel that she was the perfect lady for my son. But it was a herculean task, since he had the foolish notion of attempting to remain single.

Gaelen: What a trial that must have been for you, Lady Netherley. Do tell us about it!  But wait, your son is here, is he not? WOW, is that Lord Vainwright? I daresay. Hubba, hubba.  

Lady B: (Awfully nice calves on this young fellow, what?) Lord Vanewright, my dear young man, you are new to our company. Do come overe here, and bring your young lady with you (if you can manage her! – spirited gel, I hear). Tell us a little more about yourselves. If you’re not too reticent as so many gentlemen are in speaking in matters of the heart, perhaps you would tell us where you first met your lovely Isabel.

Vane (visibly uncomfortable): London.

Alexandra:  I believe Lady B is pressing for a few more details.

Isabel:  We met in a dressmaker’s shop.

Vane:  From her ladyship’s expression, you might as well have confessed that we met in a brothel.

Isabel:  Rubbish!  Lady B is an excellent judge of character.  (turning to address Lady B)  You see, there was an unfortunate incident with a pickpocket—

Vane (sighs):  She also has sharp ears, love.  I’m certain she has heard a few wild tales about the Lords of Vice.

Isabel (dismisses his words with a careless wave):  Malicious gossip.

Alexandra:  No, actually, most of it is true.  (ignores Vane’s gesture to remain silent)

Isabel:  Regardless, it was at Lady Netherley’s insistence that my sister, Delia and I were in the shop on that particular day.  It all began with a letter that I had received from the elderly marchioness.  We had called on Lady Netherley several times during her stay at her cousin’s house in Cotersage and she seemed to enjoy our afternoons together.  Needless to say, I was thrilled when she encouraged my sister and I to come toLondon.

Alexandra:  You were desperate, Isabel.

Isabel:  Obviously.  It was a difficult time for our family.

Vane:  Just one more thing my mother failed to mention upon her return toLondon.

<Squawk! Any means necessary! Squawk!> Albert circles overhead, showing off his plumage to the new guests, to now avail. Vane and Isabel can’t take their eyes off each other.

Isabel:  And who in this room would blame her?  You were being rather difficult about this matchmaking business.

Vane:  Difficult?  Isabel, my mother was conspiring with everyone from my former mistress to you!  I had every right to feel unsettled by her latest mischief!  (Vane glares at Alexandra)

(Alexandra shrugs)

Isabel:  Anything that sweet woman did, she did out of love for her only surviving son.  You are remarkably blessed to have a mother who frets and thinks only of your happiness.

Lady B (nodding somberly): This is quite true.

Vane:  You failed to mention to Lady B that my mother told you that your sister Delia was the perfect lady for me.

Isabel (frowning):  Well, it’s true that Delia had a role in Lady Netherley’s grand scheme.

Vane:  Do not allow my mother’s guileless expression to fool you, Lady B.  Lady Netherley is a cunning opponent.

Lady B: Ha! Woe to the man who underestimates a lady. Or a mother doing what she thinks best for her young. Even if they are all grown up (with wonderful limbs, I daresay)

Gaelen: Sooo, was it love at first sight?

Vane and Isabel:  No.

Alexandra:  Yes.  They were just too stubborn to realize it.

Isabel:  A bold statement, considering the man was fondling his mistress behind the closed curtains at the back of the shop.

Vane (a pained expression on his face):  I was trying to get rid of her!

Isabel:  She was giggling, and I believe you growled several times.

Vane:  Christ!  (silently appealing to Alexandra for assistance)  I was suffering from indigestion.

Alexandra:  No, he was just being a Lord of Vice.  (she leans over and pinches him on the arm)

Vane (mumbled curse):  What the devil was that for?

Alexandra:  For lying.  Isabel is correct.  You were fondling Miss Corsar and contemplating much worse.

Vane:  Enough about Miss Corsar!  I never gave the silly woman another thought after meeting Isabel. 

Alexandra:  I know.  Like I said—It was love at first sight!

Gaelen: Perhaps we should pause and contemplate this…

Gaelen: Alexandra, I cannot wait to read this book. This series has been flying by and earning rave reviews. Now, most people don’t know this, but you were the first friend I ever made in the romance world back in the day, when we were both unpublished and gazing at all those “goddesses” (the published authors at the Georgia  Romance Writers conference) and going, “Wowwww, do you think that could ever be us??” And generally laughing at what seemed like a pie-in-the-sky goal back then, but hey, ya work hard enough and throw in a little luck, and have good friends to help you keep your sanity along the way, and you never know what you can accomplish, right??

So, because I’ve known Mz. Hawkins for QUITE some time, I know a thing or two about her that doesn’t show up in her bio. Such as: Alexandra Hawkins is a woman of many talents, most of them in a creative direction. For example, she is a FABULOUS cook. Not that you’ll ever hear her brag. But Oh. My. God. I have seen birthday cakes she has made for her kids over the years that look like they should be on the Food Channel. She is also a talented artist/painter, with a green thumb, who was a serious trained dancer in high-school, and is one of the most disciplined writers in the field. Even better, she is one of those No Excuses people who never whined about not having the time to write, boo hoo hoo, but stayed up til 3 in the bloody morning after putting her kids to bed when they were younger in order to MAKE the time to write. For crying out loud, woman, is there anything you can’t do?? LOL

Alexandra:  Oh stop—You’re going to have me blushing like one of my heroines!  I’ll admit that I have a strong creative drive and have a tendency to hold nothing back when I take on a project.  LOL, and those cakes were incredible!

How long has it been since that first GRW conference?  Eighteen years?  Back then, the notion of becoming a published author did seem like pie-in-the-sky.  I had just moved from Illinois to Georgia with my husband and eighteen-month-old daughter and the conference was another sign that I was committed to writing a romance novel.  How lucky that I had a future NYT’s bestselling author practically living across the street from me!

 Oh, and for the record, I might have been disciplined, but I was moving at a turtle’s pace.  Gael wrote her first manuscript and was sending out query letters long before I finished mine.  When she sold her first book, her phenomenal success gave me hope that I might become a published author one day.  I’d break out into a rendition of Bette Midler’s “Wind Beneath my Wings” but that song always makes me cry.  You know I love you!

Gaelen: Awww! Well, I could rave on about how much I love this gal (and her books!) but what else should our Ballroomies know about you?

Alexandra:  I live in northern Georgia with my husband and three teenagers.  Hmm . . . One of my goals is to master Photoshop.  I like to create my own promo materials so when I’m not working on a manuscript, I’m playing with art software.  Historicals are my first love, but I could see myself writing a paranormal or fantasy.  World building sounds like my kind of fun.

Gaelen:  No wonder you’re so good at it! I can totally see you doing that, btw. And how long have you been writing, my dear?

Alexandra:  Since I was a child.  I’ve always loved creating short stories and poems.  It wasn’t until I was in my twenties that I considered writing a novel.

Gaelen: When did you first discover romance novels?

Alexandra:  My senior year in high school.  A friend brought her sister’s romances novels to school and I was hooked.  Traditional Regencies were my favorite.

Gaelen: You really have a knack for tapping into the classic Regency vibe that is getting rarer these days. You’ve always been accurate about the language and the clothing, in particular, and I always notice, reading you, that your other creative outlets must get channeled into your writing, like the very specific, artist-eye details with which you nuance your descriptions. It’s very cool.  So, what inspired you to create the Lords of Vice?

 Alexandra:  The idea for the series originated from the seven deadly sins.  While I was working on the proposal, I switched from sins to vices, but kept the number seven.  I’m having a blast writing stories for my Regency bad boys!

Gaelen: And it shows!! So, what’s next for you?

Alexandra:  Saint’s book is scheduled to be released this summer.

Gaelen: Awesome! Everybody, I have super news…Alexandra is going to be giving away three autographed copies of her Lord of Vice books. Yaaaayyy!! So, leave a comment and you’ll be entered into the computer-randomizer drawing.

In the meanwhile, I just wanted to say that along with your bad boys (which I know we are always happy to discuss at length. cough cough, pun intended – woot!) I love the matchmaking angle in this book. Matchmaking is alive and well these days, not so much from meddling mammas, but matchmaker websites! (OK, fess up, has anyone here ever tried one of those? Details, people. What did you think?)

If not, have you ever played matchmaker, or benefited from an introduction by someone else who was matchmaking for you? (Whether you liked it or not! LOL.) The Ballroom loves “deliciously juicy gossip” so come on, spill, spill, your matchmaking stories!!

I started the week getting grumpy at the British historian Simon Schama for his article on the PBS series Downton Abbey. I happen to love Downton Abbey; he doesn’t. That’s OK. He’s perfectly at liberty to turn up his nose at this classy but soapy drama about the aristocracy. Not everyone enjoys the shenanigans of hot lords. Certainly not Prof. Schama who thinks the series services “the instincts of cultural necrophilia.” Whatev. I think Simon should chill. It’s not like hot lords are still running the country.

It's Saturday and we don't have to do anything. Wait, that's just like every other day.

But then he attacked Downton for being too cheerful, even suggesting that it was unrealistic for Matthew to return from World War I alive. Excuuuuse me, Simon. Yes, WWI was a hideous pointless slaughter, but not everyone was killed. Lots died and lots returned, some in better shape than others. If the writers of this fictional drama want a character to survive, that’s their prerogative.

And then he really pissed me off with this statement:

 …history’s meant to be a bummer, not a stroll down memory lane. Done right, it delivers the tonic of tragedy, not the bromide of romance.

Fighting words. I bet I know what Simon thinks of romance novels.

The week ended on a more cheerful note with a piece at msn.com by writer and psychologist Debra Holland entitled Life Lessons from Romance Novels. She makes some very good points about how romance reading helps women. Plus you should see the book covers that illustrate her argument. Nicely chosen, Debra (or random MSN deputy editor). Is it possible you have ever visited The Ballroom?

And then there’s Jeremy Rifkin. Rifkin is an economist who teaches at the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School. He acts as an advisor to the European Union and several European governments of varying political persuasions. Without getting in too deep, he believes that individuals have to work together to solve the world’s problems. In The Empathic Civilization he discusses how psychological factors impact economic development. And – surprise, surprise – he says that romance novels have played their part in the historical growth of human empathy.

Women helped men learn how to love and express intimacy … In the Romantic schema–visited repeatedly in romance novels–the conquest is reversed. The hardened and insensitive male is wooed by the nurturance and affection of the female. She senses the intimate qualities long buried inside her mate and by creating a sense of trust and affection is able to bring them out–to melt his heart.

Rifkin sees women as teaching the male “empathy.” And, interestingly he credits the romance novel, going back to the eighteenth century, with not merely recording this female-male influence, but with actually causing it. He says reading novels provided the impetus for woman to demand more sensitivity in men.

I’ve grossly over-simplified Rifkin’s thesis, but I’m getting one clear message. Romance novels are good. Romance novels will solve the global economic crisis and bring about world peace. So what we need to do is get more men to read romance.

Do the men in your life read romance. And if not why not? What should we do to encourage men to read more romance, thus bringing about peace, prosperity, and the end of static cling?

It’s a new year and it seems to be off to a rollocking start, what with Gaelen’s Duke enlisting new recruits and Manda Collins visiting with her highly entertaining Regency wordlibs. And we mustn’t forget that we almost met Lord B!

Or at least Sarah almost did. But I assume she would have reported gossip about the mysterious man in great detail.

However, since Lord B is unavailable (pointedly accusing look at the general area I last saw Lady B), I’ve had to enlist the appearance of another, more reclusive, and possibly mysterious gentleman.

I say possibly mysterious because the first time we were introduced to this gentleman, it was through his mother, and what grown man can maintain any proper dignity and glamour after his mother calls him by a childhood diminutive?

And yes, for all of you who have followed along since the fall to my (quite distant) relation Mary’s great experiment in marrying off her son, I am speaking of Captain H. J. G. Martin, or Georgie.

Let’s recap, shall we?

• Scarred and darkly handsome war hero. Check.
• Crumbling, northern castle in which he’s locked away himself and his wounded soul. Check.
• Unwillingness to marry or to even socialize with local society. Check.
• One meddling mother who desperately desires grandchildren. Check
• One meddling mother who considers placing an advertisement in a London paper in hopes of solving the trouble with Georgie. Check.
• One meddling mother who decides perhaps a mistress would be a good intermediate step to awaken any latent interest in women in her strangely abstinent son, and advertises for one! Check.
• One actress applying for said position…Hearsay!

It’s been quite a while since Mary last visited us. I think it was before Christmas and likely Thanksgiving (yes, an American holiday). I have to admit, I wasn’t entirely sad to see her return up North. However, being a curious and rather meddling author myself, I decided to drag George down here to visit the ballroom and report on events.

But please, Ballroom denizens remember that we are attempting to ferret out information about his situation without revealing his mother’s actions!

Excuse me just one moment as I… pull an impassively glowering giant of a man into the room with the sort of strength only a romance author has. (And before you question me, to glower impassively is a uniquely romance hero trait and there is no other description as appropriate for this particular stony expression. Or maybe it’s just that scar that’s twisting his mouth that confuses the issue.)

I have to say something.

“I know your mother.”

Eyes stare at me. It’s like he’s having a silent tantrum that I pulled him out of his ornate mancave.

“When she mentioned that her dear Georgie was back from the war, I knew I had to meet you.”

 “John.”

He speaks! Oh, speak again, bright angel.

“I thought your name was George. I mean, that’s what I…um, your mother, named you.”

 “John is my third name and I prefer it.”

I actually prefer it a bit, too, considering that George Martin together is far too reminiscent of many other well-known men. A man must have some space to be himself, to live his own name. (I stop myself from web-searching “John Martin.”)

“Well, then, John—”

“Captain Martin.”

Oook. The proverbial frost on those two words has created a wall of icicles between us.

“I’m a relation, John, distant or not, and above all, I am an author. Do not quibble with me!” Perhaps I’m not as frosty, but I can be extremely managing when I like. But he looks rather unaffected. I wonder if his superiors in the army had this sort of trouble with him.  At the very least, he will eventually be humbled by the love of a good woman. That much I can control!

The silence in Lady B’s ballroom continues to grow, at least in this small corner of it. After all, there is still the orchestra and the conversation of dozens of society’s best, but somehow Captain H. John (Georgie) Martin manages to ignore them all.

“In any event, Captain, I thought it might be best if now, just before your world falls into extreme turmoil, you shared with us a bit of your current state of affairs. Such as, what exactly do you do all day in that castle of yours? Mope?”

“You have your facts in disorder, Miss Darby,” he says rather curtly, but I’m simply happy he’s talking at this point. “My world is perfectly ordered. And I keep it that way.”

I’m glad he’s so obstinately certain in his ability to control his own world. It will make his fall that much more sweet. However, I dislike this obfuscation. Perhaps one of you will have the right approach to break the ice and make him more forthcoming. Questions for the Captain?

Tessa: I’ve invited a new friend to the ballroom today! Lady B, may I introduce Miss Manda Collins, yet another authoress of colonial extraction. Manda and I were talking about how we haven’t played parlor games in ages, and Manda is so very clever. She suggested… Well, you tell them, Manda.

Manda: Thank you so much for introducing me to your charming coterie, Tessa! I vow I haven’t seen a more lively crowd since the tiger got loose at Sally Jersey’s circus-themed rout! What I have in mind is much tamer, but no less amusing. It’s a word game called MadLibs.

Lady B: More madness in my ballroom? I should have known, coming from you, Miss Dare.

Tessa: (aside) Actually, these aren’t really Mad-Libs. Because Mad-Libs are a trademark. So these are Word Libs from Wordlibs.com. (clears throat) Manda, can you explain to Lady B just how this new parlor game works?

Manda: Well, you take a passage of prose and remove the nouns, verbs and adjectives. Then you make a list of nouns, verbs and adjectives. And place them in the slots left blank in the passage of prose. And the new ones render the paragraphs…that is to say…

Lady B: I may require an example.

Manda: Excellent idea. Here’s a very simple one, from the teaser for Miss Ashe’s first installment in her Falcon Club series.

(Note: Clicking “Create story” will take you to the WordLibs site to see your result. To share it with the rest of us, highlight and copy the text, then click “Back” to paste it in the comments!)

When a _____ Loves a Lady

Read the real blurb here!

Tessa, giggling: Oh my goodness. I can’t wait to see all our guests’ variations! Here was my result:

A Melon fleeing society, a Sparkly lord bent on seduction, and a Fantastical little village covered in Fudge.
What could be more Mawkishly scandalous?

Manda: I love it! Are you getting the idea now, Lady B?

Lady B: I believe so. But I think a more thorough sample may be in order.

Tessa: Manda, why don’t we use the blurb from your debut, How to Dance with a Duke?

How to ______ with a Duke

Read the real blurb for How to Dance with a Duke.

Lady B: Oh! This is excessively diverting. Miss Dare, I agree. Miss Collins is clever indeed.

Albert: squawk[EXCLAMATION!]squawk

Tessa: The best part is–more ratafia you drink, the better it gets. Let’s have one more, Manda! Perhaps we can set Miss MacLean in our sights.

Manda: Absolutely.

A ______ by Any Other Name

Read the real blurb for A Rogue by Any Other Name.

Tessa: Manda, thank you so much for coming by today and bringing us such an entertaining diversion! I can’t wait for How to Dance with a Petri Dish, er Duke to hit the shelves!

One of the great advantages of writing historical romance fiction is that it tends to age better than contemporary-set stories. The historical tales, I think, have a longer shelf life because they don’t have all the contemporary-world cues like current fashions, buzzwords, and the passing tech fads of the day, that eventually make a story feel dated.

If The Count of Monte Cristo, (Touchstone Pictures, 2002) is any example, this is clearly just as true of movies as it is of books. This film is now ten years old and is as fresh and beautiful a movie as ever. (As one wit online quipped: “Dumbledore teaches Jesus swordfighting.” Who could resist that??)

I was lucky enough to catch it on the Ovation Channel the other day when I was worn out from my book deadline, and the Regency-era scenes gave me all the writing mojo I needed to get going on the final push to finish my book. Check out the trailer:

REASONS TO WATCH OR WATCH AGAIN:

1. It has a happy ending.   (I don’t know about you, but I run from tragic endings like the plague.)

I'll dance with you if she won't, Count.

2. It starts in a wonderfully rendered world of 1814 with Napoleon on Elba. (Although those cliffs are apparently County Wicklow, as it was filmed in Ireland!)

3. The gorgeous Jim Cavaziel. Of course, you may feel a little weird as I did, admiring his hotness as Edmond Dantes after seeing him as Jesus in the Passion of the Christ–! But as the Count, this is a guy who knows how to make an entrance. You fall in love with his vulnerability as he’s trying to wrap his mind about being unjustly imprisoned through the treachery of his so-called friend. Later, when he’s turned into a rich badass, I love his luxurious greatcoat thing that he wears throughout the second half of the movie. I gotta say he would fit right into the Inferno Club. *g*

Yay! He shaved the beard...and so they all lived HEA.

4. Wonderful historical details throughout… the carriages, the furniture, the weapons, THE CLOTHES… speaking of which, check out this Six Degrees of Separation about the costumes used in this movie.  I had no idea these Regency costumes got passed around so much in the entertainment world. Who knew??

From http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0245844/trivia:

The white polka dot dress with ornate floral pattern on the bodice that Dagmara Dominczyk (Mercedès Iguanada) wears at the office of Monsieur Villefort is the same costume Julia Sawalha (Lydia Bennet) wears while observing Wickham horse riding in Pride and Prejudice, and Ruby Bentall (Mary Bennet) wears to the Meryton Assembly Ball in Lost in Austen.Share this Hide options

 

The beige dress with paisley bodice worn by an extra on the Marseilles wharf early in the film is the same costume Sabina Franklyn (Jane Bennet) wears at Longbourn in Pride and Prejudice, Rachel Fielding (Mrs. Benson) wears in Princess Caraboo, Julie Cox (Annabella Milbanke) wears to read Byron’s poetry book in Byron, and Freema Agyeman (Tattycoram) wears on the Marseilles wharf in Little Dorrit. The same costume is also worn by a guest at Fanny’s wedding in Miss Austen Regrets.

 

The red paisley waistcoat Luis Guzmán (Jacopo) wears in the final scene is the same costume Chris Gorell Barnes wears in The Regency House Party, Dan Stevens (Edward Ferrars) wears for Edward’s arrival at Norland in Sense & Sensibility, and JJ Feild (Fred Garland) wears in The Shadow in the North.Share this

 

The green and brown silk gown Helen McCrory (Valentina Villefort) wears to Albert’s party is the same gown Natasha Little (Augusta Leigh) wears when Byron escorts her to the ball in Byron, and Victoria Hopkins wears on the lawn with Lisa Braund in The Regency House Party.

5. Swordplay, fight scenes, derring-do… what you always wished you could see Mr. Darcy do to Wickham, but of course, The Jane would never show such a thing. Alexandre Dumas pere does. Huzzah!

 
 6.  One of the things I love about this story (which BTW was said to be Mark Twain’s favorite book) is the spiritual dimension it goes into as a counterpoint to its physical vigor. God comes up a lot as Edmond Dantes tries to understand why this injustice has befallen him and what he’s going to do about it. Spiritual ideas are further explored when he befriends an elderly priest in prison. Played by the great Richard Harris, Abbe Faria is a true Rennaissance man, a priest, scholar and former soldier, who gives the illiterate Dantes an education worthy of a gentleman while in prison. It is also the Abbe who clues Dantes in to the location of the treasure that will allow him to transform himself into the Count of Monte Cristo. 

"Dumbledore teaches Jesus swordfighting"

I really appreciate this movie because it is such an inspiration to me personally in the kinds of stories I like to write. We are fortunate that Hollywood saw fit to make so many beautiful Jane Austen movies in recent years, but my personal hankering in Regency tales involves more action/adventure and danger/derring-do than the kinds of stories Austen was interested in telling ~ throw in an earnest spiritual search ~ crashing highs and lows of emotion ~ and I’m in heaven. The Jane movies (Colin Firth et al) strike me more like soft, gentle watercolors full of charm and subtle wit, whereas the Count of Monte Cristo comes at us with bold colors and strong contrasts of dark and light. That’s the kind of story that helps to put me in touch with what I want to achieve in my own small way as a writer.

What movies inspire you? Whether period movies or writer-themed movies…is there a go-to film that you watch when you need to remember the “mood” or “feel” of what you’re doing as a writer? Or just inspire you about life? 

So, You Think You Want To Be A Regency Spy…

Any Excuse To Gaze At Daniel Craig

Good day, friends. Um, I don’t want to scare anybody, but now that Book 4 of the Inferno Club series is newly released out into the world, the Duke of Warrington is here to try to recruit some new agents for the Order of St. Michael the Archangel (AKA The Inferno Club).

The boys have done their duty, you see, and they want to go home and enjoy a peaceful life with their wives. So, His Grace asked me to let you all know that we are putting the call out for any studly heroes you might have lying around that need something do to.

Warrington: Foley!

Me: Sir, yes, sir!

Warrington: Would you take this seriously, please?

Me: Sorry, Rohan. (Thinking His Grace is living up to his nickname as the Beast….hardass)

Warrington (with an impatient growl): All right, people, listen up! It takes years to develop the skills necessary to become a highly effective Order agent like myself. However, a natural aptitude is necessary. The right temperament and attitude for the spy life will be the innate foundation that our training will build on. I’m here to test your aptitude for this noble calling. Answer the questions below to the best of your ability. Then we shall see if you are really Order material. RIGHT! Have at it, then, maggots!

W: Got that? Easy, right?! Let’s take a good hard stab at a few more.

W:  Now you’re catching on, aren’t you?

Me: I don’t like the one about the dog.

W: Hey, we’ve got to weed out any possible Prometheans. We’ve got a whole different psychological quiz for suspected villains. But, let’s continue. Time is money here, people.

 W: Looking lively, people, I’m impressed. Onward…

W: All right, not bad. Now we’re going to test your brains a bit and your knowledge.  Foley! I see you whispering in the back with Neville and the other ladies! Don’t make me come back there.

Me: You don’t scare me. I wrote you.

W: EXCUSE ME?

Me: Gulp. Nothing. Sorry, do continue, please. (Note to self: Avoid arguing with 6’4′ domineering warrior-duke.) 

W: Now, we’ll be in touch with anyone who seems remotely capable of being turned into an uber-agent like me and my colleagues– 

Me: Excuse me, Your Grace! If I may, I have one for you, that I think our guests will also enjoy taking a crack at.

W: Hit me.

W, frowning: That’s a trick question, isn’t it?

Me, with a smile: Not really. So, how did we all do?