by Lauren Royal
Feeling happier than she’d thought possible, Chrystabel linked arms with her new father-in-law. “Obviously, it was a Christmas miracle.”
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To see more of Chrystabel and Joseph, look for the three Chase Brides series books about their daughters! The first one is The Viscount’s Wallflower Bride. Please read on for an excerpt.
If you’ve already read the rest of our Chase Brides series, you might enjoy reading about descendants of the Chase family. Start with Alexandra, Book 1 in our Regency Chase Brides series. In the following pages, you’ll find an excerpt for that book, too!
If you'd like to learn more about the real people, places, and events in The Cavalier’s Christmas Bride, turn the page for Lauren’s Author's Note...
BONUS MATERIAL
Author’s Note
Explore the Chase Family World
Excerpt from The Viscount’s Wallflower Bride
Excerpt from Alexandra
Books by Lauren & Devon Royal
Contest
About the Authors
Acknowledgments
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
Dear Reader,
Oliver Cromwell is one of the most controversial figures in British history. Depending upon viewpoint, he’s been described as both a regicidal military dictator and a revolutionary hero of liberty. But few people today would support his decision to ban Christmas.
Following the execution of King Charles I in 1649, England was ruled by Parliament. Prior to the end of the English Civil War in September 1651, three months before this story starts, Cromwell had become the country's de facto leader. He was officially Lord Protector from 1653 until his death in 1658.
Cromwell and his fellow Puritans believed that everyone should lead their lives according to a strict interpretation of the Bible. They felt it was their mission to cleanse the country of decadence, and their decrees affected all aspects of society.
They believed that women and girls should dress in a “proper” manner. Dresses that were too colorful were frowned upon, and those that weren’t modest were banned outright. Makeup was banned: Puritan soldiers actually scrubbed off makeup seen on women in the streets. The theaters were all shut down. Most sports were banned. Swearing was punished by a fine for the first offense, and repeat offenders could be sent to prison.
But most controversial of all, the Puritans regarded Christmas as a wasteful, “popish” festival that threatened core Christian beliefs. Nowhere, they said, did the Bible claim God wanted Christ’s birthday celebrated—and so they set about banning all activities relating to Christmas, including going to church on Christmas Day. Shops and markets were ordered to stay open on December 25, and everyone was expected to go about the day as if Christmas didn’t exist.
The government outlawed every last remnant of Christmas merrymaking. Christmas carols were banned. Christmas puddings were banned. Christmas decorations were banned. In London, soldiers were ordered to patrol the streets and take, by force if necessary, any food being cooked for a Christmas celebration. The smell of a goose roasting could bring wrath down upon a family.
Like Chrystabel’s family, however, many people continued to celebrate in secret. And in not-so-secret, too, especially as the years of Cromwell’s Protectorate went on. Semi-clandestine religious services were held on Christmas Day, and the secular elements of the holiday occurred more and more often. On Christmas Day in 1656, Members of Parliament were unhappy because they’d got little sleep the previous night due to the noise of the neighbors’ “preparations for this foolish day,” and because that morning they had seen “not a shop open, nor a creature stirring” in London. Many writers anonymously argued in print that it was proper to celebrate Christmas and that the government had no right to interfere.
At the Restoration in 1661, when King Charles II returned to claim his throne and all legislation from 1642-60 was declared null and void, Christmas was celebrated with much joy and wide popular support. And it’s been that way ever since.
On a much less serious subject: The oldest mulled wine recipes do not have orange or lemon or any other fruit in them. But many modern mulled wine recipes do. We like to think that someone like Joseph might have first tried adding those ingredients!
Most of the homes in our books are modeled on real places you can visit. Tremayne Castle was inspired by Thornbury Castle in Gloucestershire, which is twelve miles from the city of Bristol, just where Joseph’s castle is in this story.
Thornbury Castle was built during the reign of Henry VIII, by Edward Stafford, 3rd Duke of Buckingham. But he didn’t get to finish it, and he wasn’t able to enjoy it for long. At the time, Buckingham was one of few peers with substantial Plantagenet blood, and he felt he should be in line for the throne. After a disgruntled servant betrayed him to the king, he was arrested for treason, tried, and executed on Tower Hill. King Henry claimed the castle for himself and spent ten days there while on his honeymoon tour with Anne Boleyn. It remained royal property until the death of his daughter Mary I, when it was returned to the duke’s descendants.
The beautiful Church of St. Mary the Virgin is next door to Thornbury Castle, and there used to be a timber bridge connecting them. Although the bridge itself is long since gone, bits of evidence remain.
Is there a priest hole at Thornbury? No one knows for sure, but there are rumors there’s one to be found—and several secret panels have been discovered at Thornbury, so it doesn’t seem terribly unlikely. On the south side of the castle, part of the outer wall extends in a U-shape that’s divided down the middle into two rooms. Curiously, one room is larger than the other, and the suspicion is that there may be a priest hole in the blocked-off space. Thornbury also has a tunnel that starts by the former dungeon (now the wine cellar), runs beneath the courtyard, and comes up by the old castle well.
Thornbury Castle is now a luxurious hotel. Castle accommodations aren’t ever inexpensive, but Thornbury’s prices are more reasonable than most. If you’ve ever dreamed of staying at a castle, I highly recommend this one. It is absolutely gorgeous inside, and you might get to stay in Chrystabel’s bedroom with the curved oriel windows like I did!
I hope you enjoyed The Cavalier’s Christmas Bride! If you haven’t read the rest of our Chase Brides series, you might want to start with the three books about Chrystabel and Joseph’s daughters. The first one is The Viscount’s Wallflower Bride. Please read on for an excerpt.
And if you have read the rest of our Chase Brides series, you might want to read about descendants of the Chase family—in which case you should check out Alexandra, Book 1 in our Regency Chase Brides series. Please read on for an excerpt as well as more bonus material!
Always,
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READ ABOUT CHRYSTABEL & JOSEPH’S OLDEST DAUGHTER IN…
The Viscount’s Wallflower Bride
The Chase Brides
Book Five
Lady Violet Ashcroft grew up sheltered in the countryside, far from the dashing gentlemen of the co
urt—and that’s how she likes it. Here on her family’s beautiful, quiet estate, she needn’t fight off suitors who are only after her sizable inheritance, or play second fiddle to her prettier younger sisters. Love and marriage aren’t for everyone, and sensible Violet would rather spend her days improving her mind than risking her heart. Until a rather dashing gentleman shows up next door…
Ford Chase, Viscount Lakefield, has had it with women. Who’s got time for them, anyway, when there’s important work to be done? Fresh out of Oxford, Ford is ready to devise his first world-changing invention. All he needs is some peace and quiet on his neglected country estate, where there is no family to nag him and, most especially, no women to distract him—until he’s thrown into the company of the intriguing Lady Violet…
Read an excerpt…
England
July 15, 1673
ST. SWITHIN’S DAY. Well, it was fitting.
Ford Chase stared out his carriage window at the miserable, wet landscape. According to St. Swithin’s legend, if rain fell on the fifteenth of July, it would continue for forty days and nights. Not that Ford believed in such superstitious swill. But today it seemed almost plausible.
This was shaping up to be the worst day of his life.
The carriage rattled over the drawbridge and into the modest courtyard of Greystone, his brother’s small castle. Cold raindrops pelted Ford’s head when he shoved open the door and leapt to the circular drive. Drenched gravel crunching beneath his boots, he made his way down a short, covered passageway and banged the knocker on the unassuming oak door.
Benchley cracked open the door, then slipped outside and shut it behind him. “My lord, what brings you here today?”
“I wish to speak with my brother.” Ford frowned down at the small, wiry valet. What was he doing answering the door? “Will you be letting me in?”
“I think not,” Benchley replied in a surly tone Ford had never heard him use before. “I’ll fetch Lord Greystone.” And with that, he disappeared back into the ancient castle.
Shivering, Ford stood open-mouthed in disbelief. Well, this treatment certainly fit in with the rest of his day. Rain dripped from his limp brown hair to sprinkle on the stones at his feet. Deciding he needn’t ask permission to enter his brother’s home, he reached for the latch.
The door opened, and his brother stepped out. He looked haggard, his face a pasty gray, his green eyes and black hair dull.
“Colin? What the deuce is going on?”
“Illness. Measles, we think. Thank goodness you’re here.”
Ford pulled his surcoat tighter around himself. “Come again?”
“Amy is ill, along with Hugh and the baby. And half of the servants. One of them died yesterday,” Colin added grimly.
“Died?” Ford’s gut twisted as he thought of Amy—Colin’s lovely, raven-haired wife—and their wild four-year-old son, Hugh, and the baby, Aidan…all dead.
“It’s not so bad as all that,” Colin rushed to assure him. “The poor maid was eighty if she were a day, and the disease went straight to her lungs. Amy and the children will recover.”
Ford nodded, noting his brother looked worried, but quite calm. ”Good. I’ll keep them in my prayers.” He shook more water out of his hair. “At least you won’t be falling ill. Do you remember when all four of us caught measles on the Continent?”
“I could hardly forget.” Moving like an old man, Colin leaned gingerly against the doorpost. “But what does that have to do with now?”
“At a Royal Society lecture, I learned one cannot fall ill with the same disease twice,” Ford explained.
“I’ve had measles more than once.”
“Not true measles, the one with the high fever. Spotted skin is a symptom of many different conditions.”
“If you say so.” Colin shrugged, but his face showed a hint of relief. “Still, the fever is dreadful, and Jewel has yet to suffer measles. True measles, as you put it. Will you take her with you—away from here—before she succumbs as well? It would ease my mind, and Amy’s too, I’m sure. The worry is doing her no good.”
Alarm bells went off in Ford’s head. Take his niece? Where? And…how? What was he to do with a little girl? Instinctively, he began backing away. “Uh, I only stopped by to let you know I’ve left London and will be at Lakefield for the foreseeable future—”
“Perfect.”
“—working on my watch design. I…I just wanted to be alone for a while. You see, Lady Tabitha has eloped.”
“With the rest of the family off in Scotland, I was at my wit’s end deciding what to do. I was about to settle Jewel in the village. But this will be much better—”
“Tabitha eloped,” Ford repeated loudly, stopping in his tracks.
Didn’t his brother care that he’d had his heart trampled today?
“She eloped?” Colin blinked, then shook his head. “My sympathies, Ford, truly. But what did you expect, man? After so many years—how long had you been courting her, anyway?”
“Since…well, I was ten when we met. But we weren’t ‘courting,’ as you say, until…sixteen or so? I gave her that little ring—”
“Sixteen! So now, at twenty-three, you’ve kept her waiting seven years, with nary a whisper of a serious proposal—”
“I told her we’d marry someday. In a few years.” Tabitha had always been Ford’s perfect match—his pretty and spirited childhood friend had grown into a flawless beauty with a sparkling wit. Together at court, they’d reveled in an endless round of lavish balls and entertainments, and while Ford was away at university, she’d busied herself with whatever it was women liked to do, leaving him plenty of time for his pursuits. Parfait. Or so he’d thought. “For heaven’s sake, she was hardly a spinster at twenty-one. And as you said, I’m only twenty-three—”
“I married at twenty-one.”
“You were in a hurry to have children.”
“No. I was in love.”
“So was I! So am I, that is.”
“You really have no idea why Tabitha gave up on you, do you?” Colin rubbed his eyes. “I know you don’t want to hear this, baby brother, but it’s time you grew up. Maybe Jason and I coddled you too much.”
From beyond the passageway, the patter of rain filled their sudden silence. Ford’s hands wanted to curl into fists, but his brother was obviously weary, so he thought it best to ignore Colin’s unfair remarks. Doubtless the poor fellow had spent sleepless nights watching over his wife and sons—exactly why Ford wasn’t ready to settle down himself.
“You look tired,” he said. “You’d best get some rest.”
His brother heaved a sigh. “I’d rest easier if I knew you had Jewel. You’ll take her, won’t you? Just for a week or two. Maybe three. Until the illness has run its course.” Colin twisted the signet ring on his finger, narrowing his eyes. “Why are you hesitating? I need you.”
Ford stifled a groan. What on earth would he do with a five-year-old girl? He loved Jewel, of course. He loved all his nieces and nephews—even boisterous Hugh—and had learned to enjoy the role of uncle. But bouncing a baby on his lap or entertaining a child with a simple card game was one thing. A few moments of fun before returning the little one to its parents. Completely different from being responsible for a child all on his own…
“I’m not hesitating.” Ford shoved a hand through his wet hair. “I just don’t know how…”
Colin’s eyes went wide. “Did you think I’d expect you to care for her on your own? Heaven forbid.” His lips quirked as though he might laugh, but he covered it with a cough. “I’ll send Lydia along with her.”
Ford longed to wipe the patronizing look off Colin’s face—but not nearly enough to refuse his offer. With Jewel’s very competent nurse at her side, Ford wouldn’t have to do a thing. He could just poke his head into Jewe’s room and say hello every once in a while before returning to his laboratory.
“You won’t have to do a thing,” Colin went on, echoing Ford’s thoughts
. “You can stay cooped up with your toys all day, if you like.”
Irked that his brother had guessed his thoughts, Ford gritted his teeth. “They are not toys, they’re instruments of—”
“Relax, brother. I meant no disrespect to your little hobby.”
Ford grunted. “Why do I even bother?” he wondered aloud.
“How should I know?” Colin retorted. “I’m just a regular human, incapable of grasping the complexities of your genius. Why, talking to me must be like trying to communicate with a toddler.”
“Criminy, I—”
“Maybe that was your problem with Tabitha.”
Now Ford’s fingers did curl into fists. He’d never pretended to understand women. No scientific analysis in existence could decipher that code.
But science wasn’t the only thing he understood.
And he hadn’t had a problem with Tabitha!
And he was finished with this discussion.
“Of course I’ll take Jewel,” he said, hiding his fists behind his back. “Her company will be delightful.”
And he wasn’t lying. Just now, anyone’s company would be preferable to that of his deuced brother.
VIOLET ASHCROFT cleared her throat and held up her book. “’To say that a blind custom of obedience should be a surer obligation than duty taught and understood…is to affirm that a blind man may tread surer by a guide than a seeing man by a light.’”
“What is that supposed to mean?” her youngest sister, Lily, asked, busily stitching her tapestry in the grayish light from the large picture window. Lily probably had little real desire to know what the quote meant, but she was unfailingly kind. And Violet would never turn away from anyone willing to listen.
She hitched herself forward on the green brocade chair. “Well, you see—”
“Why do you care?” their middle sister, Rose, interrupted. Rose cared little for anything that didn’t have to do with dancing, clothes, or gentlemen. Tossing her gleaming ringlets, she looked up from the vase of flowers she was arranging. “It’s nothing but a bunch of gibberish, if you ask me.”