The Art of Deception
or Pride and Extreme Prejudice
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar. Last week Alice was on an errand of mercy. This week Alice and Roderick finally meet, or at least are in the same city at the same time. Alice is on her practical, learning the ropes as it were, when he spots her.
Lord Fitzpatrick nodded to his companion, “That young chit.” He pointed to a servant on the low rise above the harbour, “she’s counting the ships.”
“No, she’s just watching the workmen down in basin; probably has a special friend or possibly even a husband at sea; you’re seeing things.”
“I tell you; she’s counting; didn’t you see her while our ship was docked in the Avonmouth yesterday?”
“Roddy, old chap, you need to relax; I know it was dashed hard, spying on those bloody Brother Jonathans, but we’re home, England, Bristol; you’ve been on the jump since I met you on the packet boat off Cork. It’s someone else’s problem, if it’s a problem at all.”
“There is something to what you say, Edward; suspicion is an occupational hazard in my line of work; however, I don’t think I’m jumping at shadows.”
“This is England, we don’t do things like that; even the blasted French spies are polite. It’s not as if poisons are available in every druggist like rhubarb,” Edward watched his friend; he seemed to relax, “If you’ll stay out of trouble so that I have the chance to do it, I’ll send the express to Lord Grey that we’ve landed.”
The Gillray cartoon I’ve used as a featured image looks innocent enough. Innocent until you realize that it’s a satire of Lord Sandwich (Son of the Earl of two pieces of bread with something between them fame) and his proclivities. He’s propositioning a barrow-girl. Most commentaries state that it’s about public morality, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find that there’s a deeper meaning with the barrow-girl symbolic of England. Sandwich was up to his neck in jobbery.
I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere This is a fun read, and unlike “The curious profession of dr craven ” seems to not carry a curse. However, Dr Craven is on sale this week. (Of course, because of the mess BT leaves, it will probably be free soon.)
Frankenkitty is available.
What happens when teenagers get to play with Dr Frankenstien’s lab notebooks, a few odd chemicals and a great big whopping coil? Mayhem, and possibly an invitation to the Transylvanian Neuroscience Summer School.
Booktrope shuts it’s doors May 31. This opens a whole slew of questions, including whether to return to an earlier pen-name (R. Harrison being dead common.) It also means that come June 1, the current version of “The curious profession of dr Craven.” will be unavailable. I will get the rights back without trouble. (Although there are issues about ‘creative teams’ that still need to be settled.)