The Art of Deception 26

The Art of Deception

or Pride and Extreme Prejudice

12241791_735836876546522_6197947469406170479_n

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors.   This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar. Last week, Roderick and his companion awaited Lucy and Alice in Bath. The story, this week, starts after they’ve connected with Alice and Lucy. After exchanging greetings, Alice reminds ‘her charge’ that they need to enter their names in Mr Kings’ book.


“Our names must be entered in Mr Kings’ book, or else we won’t be admitted to the assembly; it may be too late for tonight’s ball, but it would be a shame to miss the concert or Thursday’s ball; we must remember to add your Aunt Heather as well.”

Edward gave Roderick a quick glance, “Shall we accompany them?”

Roderick nodded, Names, names and addresses, unless Mr King has changed the rules, “Absolutely,” He offered his arm to Alice, “Miss Mapleton, may I escort you?”

Alice breathlessly, despite her misgivings, nodded her agreement.

The two couples dodged their way through the crowds as they walked towards the pump room; eventually they made it onto the open Abbey square; however, by then Edward and Lucinda were far ahead.

An older man, dressed in the slightly faded colours of an old blue uniform, accosted them, “Sir Roderick, Mon vielle truand!  What are you doing in Bath; I was told you were in America, and yet I find you ici with such a prime article on your arm; was she expensive, she looks it.”

Oh God, not now, “Do I know you?”

Mais of course, General Charles Dumouriez, or have you forgotten our great times in Hamburg already?”

Now that you’ve read my hackery, please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.


My apologies for creative punctuation.

Charles-François_DumouriezGeneral Dumouriez is an interesting real character from the French revolution and the Napoleonic wars. He helped to overthrow King Louis, and was an effective general during the war against the British and continental powers that immediately followed. The song ‘The Jolly Duke of York’ refers to one of the battles where Dumouriez handed the British a short sharp shock in the lowlands of Holland. He survived Robespierre’s reign of terror (rain of blood?) and the corrupt directory. However, the brutality and corruption of the revolution eventually was too much for him and he joined the British. (He may also have simply fallen afoul of Napoleon and had to depart in a hurry.) He then advised the British intelligence for the duration of the war.

This weekend:

unnamed

Like poor Cecelia, “The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.

I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere Miss_devere_1 This is a fun read.

Frankenkitty is available.
Frankenkitty 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.

Get Free Stuff and try out my landing page. There are three free complete short stories (including an ARC for Frankenkitty) available after you’ve gone through the hoops.

The Art of Deception 25.

The Art of Deception

or Pride and Extreme Prejudice

12241791_735836876546522_6197947469406170479_n

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors.   This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar. Last week, after service, she escorted ‘her charge’ Lucy to visit Mr Spode and delivered the details of a proposed trip to Bath. Roderick and his companion await them in Bath. They’re staying in the Pelican, a “historic” coach inn even in the regency. The great Doctor Johnson had stayed there. Hopefully, they’d changed the sheets since then.


“Roddy, old chap, we can afford a much better place than this; it’s old and out of the way.”

“I know, which is precisely why I chose it.”

“But I can’t entertain Miss Haytor here,” Edward stated his real objection.

“True, hire a parlour at the York or the Bell if you want, or simply take her to the pump room.”

“Have you tasted the waters?”

“Thoroughly disgusting and therefore good for you.”

“You are not being helpful, Lord Fitzpatrick.”

“Seriously, Edward; this is for the best; you don’t know anything about the lovely Lucinda; if her companion weren’t so dashed smoky I’d gladly push your case.”

“She’s a sweet, lovely innocent-”

“Accompanied by a skilled French spy; I hope, for your sake, she’s been duped by the dashing Miss Mapleton or Miss Green … if either of those are her real name, which I doubt; because otherwise she’s for the drop.”

 

Now that you’ve read my hackery, please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.


My apologies for creative punctuation.

1090242The Pelican was not fashionable. This picture, from the 1920’s, shows the stables. It was relatively inexpensive, and out of the way on the London side of town. Fashionable people stayed at places like “The York Family Hotel” or “The Christopher.” The Christopher was rebuilt after those dashed Germans bombed it, but is now out of business. You can still stay in the York. The Pelican survived into the twentieth century but was demolished before world war 2.

Like poor Cecelia, “The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.

I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere Miss_devere_1 This is a fun read.

Frankenkitty is available.
Frankenkitty 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.

Get Free Stuff and try out my landing page. There are three free complete short stories (including an ARC for Frankenkitty) available after you’ve gone through the hoops.

The Art of Deception 24

The Art of Deception

or Pride and Extreme Prejudice

12241791_735836876546522_6197947469406170479_n

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors.   This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar. Last week, Alice was surprised by Roderick, in church, just after she congratulated herself about ‘doing her bit’ for Britain. This week, after service, she escorts ‘her charge’ Lucy to visit Mr Spode and deliver the details of a proposed trip to Bath. Alice has just been asking questions of the innkeeper where Mr Spode and Mr Stanton are staying. Roderick finds her in the process.


Alice spun round and coloured, which did not stop her from replying, “You were asking your share of pointed questions about me on our walk here, Mr Stanton; I thought it only fair that I asked my share about you.”

“Roddy, old boy!” Edward joined them and interrupted what could have been an interesting exchange, “I see you’ve found the lovely Miss Mapleton; Lu- Miss Haytor says you have a message for me.” Lucy was not far behind him.

Glad of the respite, Alice pulled a letter from her reticule and handed it to him, “Sorry … here it is Mr Spode; this gives our plans for travel to Bath, and Miss Haytor’s address there; I, of course, shall be staying with her, as well as her Aunt, Miss Heather.” She curtsied and then turned to Lucy, “Miss Haytor, our carriage should be here soon; I shall see if it’s here … Lucinda, please come.”

Once the two women left, Edward asked his friend, “So My Lord did you find anything out about the young Miss Mapleton?”

“Only that she’s got her wits about her; gave me a long line of faradiddles and Canterbury tales; she didn’t trip up once; I must say the French are recruiting a better class of agent than they did in the past.”

Now that you’ve read my hackery, please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.


My apologies for creative punctuation.

The Gillray cartoon I’ve added as a featured image is suggesting that maybe, in 1793, the British should not follow the French into revolution. It’s sort of relevant in these days of Brexit (though I would have voted remain – had I a vote). None the less, it is reasonably humorous. By the way, the “Thomas Pain” staymaker, refers to the “Thomas Paine” author of “the American Crisis” – from the American Revolution.

In searching for the cartoon, I found a number of modern cartoons that directly quote Gillray. Here’s an example that I think is safe to use.

6a00d8341d417153ef0153913b0640970b-800wi

Like poor Cecelia, “The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.

I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere Miss_devere_1 This is a fun read.

Frankenkitty is available.
Frankenkitty 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.

Get Free Stuff and try out my landing page. There are three free complete short stories (including an ARC for Frankenkitty) available after you’ve gone through the hoops.

The Art of Deception 23

The Art of Deception

or Pride and Extreme Prejudice

12241791_735836876546522_6197947469406170479_n

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors.  (My apologies, I have no idea why there are two links to this post on the site.) This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar.  Last week Lucy and Alice are being debriefed, to use a modern phrase, in their carriage on the way back to their rooms. Her instructors decided that Roderick, while not certainly a French spy, was dashed suspicious. Alice, accompanying her mistress, Lucy, and Lucy’s “Aunt Heather” is at church prior to delivering the bait to Roderick and his companion.


Alice smiled to herself at the prayer to save the nation from the French; she was doing her bit by laying a trap for a perfidious French agent; after service, she planned to take a stroll to the Swan and deliver the bait. Seated next to her charge, Miss Haytor and sandwiched by Miss Haytor’s ‘Aunt’, Miss Aldershot – now called Miss Heather, she let her attention wander.

It snapped back; there, seated almost within reach, in the next row, was that spy; how could she have missed him? He turned, tilted his head, and smiled at her;  was he following her; This wasn’t the local church for the Swan? He had not been there when they first sat in their pew; she nudged Miss Aldershot; once she had her attention, she discreetly pointed to the man and whispered, “That’s him.”

The only response this brought was a brief raising of her eyebrows, and a whisper in return, “You’ll have to introduce us after the service.”

As the final stanza’s of the last hymn finished and everyone closed their book of common prayer, the man turned to her and said, “Miss Green?”

“Miss Mapleton.” She curtsied, at least as much as she could in the confines of the pew. “Miss Green is my rich cousin, or don’t you remember?”

Now that you’ve read my hackery, please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.


My apologies for creative punctuation.

During Sunday prayers, at every church in Bristol, if not in Britain, the priest added a prayer for the nation. “Preserve us from the invading French hordes.” Across the channel, in Boulogne, l’Armee d’Angleterre waited, rumoured to be a million men, all veteran French soldiers, all thirsty for English blood – and English maidens. An exhortation to join the militia, and a reminder that drill practice was after the service usually followed the prayer. Nearly every able young man had joined, hoping, and secretly praying, enthusiasm would make up for a lack of equipment and experience.

Like poor Cecelia, “The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.

I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere Miss_devere_1 This is a fun read.

Frankenkitty is available.
Frankenkitty 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.

Get Free Stuff and try out my landing page. There are three free complete short stories (including an ARC for Frankenkitty) available after you’ve gone through the hoops.

The Art of Deception 22

The Art of Deception

or Pride and Extreme Prejudice

12241791_735836876546522_6197947469406170479_n

Sorry, no trail maps with this one, I’m on the road to Snowdonia. Wonder if that would make a good song title? Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar.  Last week Lucy and Alice attended the Bristol Assembly. It was something of a graduation exercise with Alice posing as Lucy’s paid companion. This week they are being debriefed, to use a modern phrase, in their carriage on the way back to their rooms. Miss Aldershot asks the first line.


 

“So, how did you fare?”

Lucy, with pleasant thoughts of Mr Spode dancing in her head, looked out the carriage window; Alice replied, “He was there.”

“Who?”

“That spy. He was there with Lucy’s Mr Spode; called himself Roderick Stanton, which was clearly an alias; He used a different name when we collided in M. Fanchion’s, Roderick Smith.”

Miss Aldershot considered what Alice said, carefully; Alice was still in training, and while she bid well to become a talented operative, new agents often jumped at shadows, “Unlike Mrs Hudson, I can’t quite completely believe he’s a spy, Miss Mapleton … can you marshal your arguments? We should be certain before we act.”

Alice knew from Miss Aldershot’s use of ‘Miss Mapleton’ instead of ‘Alice’ that she was sceptical, “I think so … he spoke perfect French the first time we met.”

“Good, when we arrive at Dower house, you, Mrs Hudson and I will review them … it’s not a crime to speak French, even in Bristol.”

Please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.


My apologies for creative punctuation.

Lest Lucy (and Alice by the way) seem to fall in love quickly, courting in the late Georgian and early Regency was a bit different from today. You really didn’t have much time with your heartthrob. So Miss Lucas’s comments on ‘Happiness in marriage is largely a matter of luck’ from Pride and Prejudice are accurate. Marriage itself was usually arranged by the parents, but not always. Given their real circumstances, both Lucy and Alice are somewhat vulnerable, either being an orphan (Lucy) or having a desperately poor mother (Alice).

Like poor Cecelia, “The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.

I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere Miss_devere_1 This is a fun read.

Frankenkitty is available.
Frankenkitty 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.

Get Free Stuff and try out my landing page. There are three free complete short stories (including an ARC for Frankenkitty) available after you’ve gone through the hoops.

The Art of Deception 21

The Art of Deception

or Pride and Extreme Prejudice

12241791_735836876546522_6197947469406170479_n

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar.  Last week, Roderick quite literally ran into Alice outside of a modiste’s. This week, as something of a graduation exercise, she and another student (Lucy or Miss Haytor) are attending the Bristol assembly. Not quite a tonnish as Bath, but reasonably enjoyable – as long as one of the ‘bucks’ didn’t kick you while showing off their extravagant dance moves. Roderick’s friend Edward has taken Lucy onto the floor and Roderick has spied Alice standing with the chaperones. She is playing Lucy’s companion, and is in Roderick’s eye’s the prettiest thing in the room. He’s used one of his minor titles as a name.


“Well, would you care to dance? I might be taking my life into my hands, amongst these wild bucks, but it could be enjoyable; if we survive.”

Alice paused, Could I risk it, dancing with this French Agent? She had recognized ‘Mr Stanton’ just as much as he appeared to remember her, even if he did believe her tale;  wonder which is his real name, if either?

“Or is it too much excitement for you?”

“No, it’s –it’s just that I am a paid companion, and-“

“And nothing; you’re no worse than half the cits and tradesmen here; better bred than most of the company by far. It’s not as if I’m asking you onto the floor at the Assembly Rooms in Bath where the society is nicer.”

Alice curtsied, “I’d be very pleased to dance with you, Mr Stanton; as long as my mistress, Miss Haytor, doesn’t object.”

“Since she and Edward are lining up for the next set, I think she won’t … at least as long as you don’t stop her from dancing.”

 

 

Please see the talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.


My apologies for creative punctuation.

Unlike the relatively exclusive Bath Assembly and the very exclusive parties of the ton, or the even more exclusive floor of the ‘marriage mart’ Almack’s, the Bristol Assembly would have a wide range of social classes. Cits, tradesmen, and merchants would mix with a smattering of the minor nobility to produce a party that could be, at best, a very tedious affair. At worst, it would be a very tedious and highly vulgar affair. Much like visiting the Vauxhall pleasure gardens in London, although with fewer pickpockets and prostitutes.

Alice will have to stop Lucy from dancing a third set. Twice in a row with the same man is already a tad fast.

Like poor Cecelia, “The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.

I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere Miss_devere_1 This is a fun read.

Frankenkitty is available.
Frankenkitty 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.

Get Free Stuff and try out my landing page. There are three free complete short stories (including an ARC for Frankenkitty) available after you’ve gone through the hoops.

The Art of Deception 20

The Art of Deception

or Pride and Extreme Prejudice

12241791_735836876546522_6197947469406170479_n

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar.  Last week Roderick caught sight of that blasted servant and followed her into a modiste’s. He bumped into a member of ‘the ton’ when he attempted to follow her. This week we see more of their conversation.


 

“I was looking for a servant, a girl; she turned into this shop.”

“She did; amazing, imagine turning into a shop; that’s not something you see every day.”

“No, I mean she entered the door.”

The young woman turned to the modiste, herself, “M. Fanchion, did you see a servant girl enter, I didn’t?”

Mais non, Mademoiselle Green.”

The woman shrugged, “Sorry can’t help you;  you will see that the gown is ready for me tomorrow?”

“Certainly Ma’am.”

Lord Roderick peered inside; if the servant had entered the shop, she had vanished into the backrooms.  He shook his head, “Lost the spoor …What has become of my manners?” He bowed, “May I introduce myself, Roderick … Roderick Smythe.”

Please see the other talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.


My apologies for creative punctuation.

Like poor Cecelia, “The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.

I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere Miss_devere_1 This is a fun read.

Frankenkitty is available.
Frankenkitty 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.

Get Free Stuff and try out my landing page. There are three free complete short stories (including an ARC for Frankenkitty) available after you’ve gone through the hoops.

The Art of Deception 19 #wewriwar #amwriting

The Art of Deception

or Pride and Extreme Prejudice

12241791_735836876546522_6197947469406170479_n

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar.  Last week, Alice trapped Roderick and turned him into the militia. Eventually, and only after showing them his warrant, Roderick managed to free himself. The next morning, he’s waiting for her. His friend, Edward, finally gets him to agree to knock it off. They’re just about to enter a public house when Roderick spies Alice again.


 

Roderick followed the servant girl while she walked along the street; she turned to talk with a street vendor, and he dodged into a doorway; then she continued on her way, apparently unaware of his presence.

He followed, carefully avoiding her direct view; the streets, crowded with people, helped him keep hidden.

Minutes later, she turned into a stylish Modiste’s establishment, Madame Fanchion’s; he struggled through the crowded street to reach the entrance; when he tried to follow her inside he ran into a young woman on her way out, “I’m sorry; I nearly knocked you over.”

The young woman was obviously not a maid, as she was dressed in the latest style, white muslins peeking from her Spencer, a string of pearls around her neck, and wearing nothing that could vaguely resemble an apron and the dark plain dress of a maid. While she carried her dark pelisse over one arm, she held herself with the bearing implicit in a member of the ton, a member of the nobility.

She curtseyed, “I’m sorry; should have been watching out myself.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” she smiled, “Not at all.” Lord Roderick could not help but notice she had a beautiful smile, “Can I help you?”

Please see the other talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.


One of the things that Alice practiced incessantly at Mrs Hudson’s school was the quick change. Not necessarily a complete change of clothes, but making enough of a difference to fool most people most of the time. She’s put it to good use.

The featured image is a fashion plate from 1814, which is a little later than this story. It shows a Spencer jacket worn over muslins, which is what Alice is wearing. Her dark ‘pelisse’ could could be something else.

Like poor Cecelia, “The Curious Profession of Dr Craven” is back from the dead.

I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere Miss_devere_1 This is a fun read.

Frankenkitty is available.
Frankenkitty 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.

Get Free Stuff and try out my landing page. There are three free complete short stories (including an ARC for Frankenkitty) available after you’ve gone through the hoops.

The Art of Deception 18 #wewriwar #amwriting

The Art of Deception

or Pride and Extreme Prejudice

12241791_735836876546522_6197947469406170479_n

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar. Last week, they exchanged words, and Roderick gave her a French recognition signal, which she accidentally – or perhaps on purpose, answered. This week she returns the favour. They’ve exchanged words and she’s walking off – to do whatever housemaids do.


 

He waited a few seconds and followed her; as he watched from a distance, she put a small piece of paper under a stone near a street corner, and then marked the wall with chalk; it didn’t take her long, and had he not been watching her carefully he’d have missed the whole thing.

“Come on you laggard,” Roderick called to his friend, “We’ve got her; she’s a real professional … one of the smoothest dead-drops I’ve ever seen.” He dashed up, took the paper from under the stone, and started to read it.

“See, Edward, it is a count of the ships; profes-”

He didn’t get to finish his statement; a member of the militia, delegated to watch the docks, tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Sir, if you’d please; you’re coming with us.” Another soldier stood behind him, ready to back him up should force be required.

“What for?”

“We think you’re a spy … information has been laid to that effect.”

“What do you mean?” Roderick rapidly looked around, and then saw the chit, still carrying her basket, standing a few yards away; she smiled at him, mockingly curtsied, and then turned to continue her daily chores.

Please see the other talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.


Would you have noticed the chalk mark?

I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere Miss_devere_1 This is a fun read.

Frankenkitty is available.
Frankenkitty 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.

[1] Good day Miss, isn’t it? The little birds are flying in a cloudy sky. She replied, “But it’s clear. Where are you going Sir?”

Get Free Stuff and try out my landing page. There are three free complete short stories (including an ARC for Frankenkitty) available after you’ve gone through the hoops.

The Art of Deception 17 #wewriwar #amwriting

The Art of Deception

or Pride and Extreme Prejudice

12241791_735836876546522_6197947469406170479_n

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. This week continues a spy story set in late Georgian England, the year before Trafalgar. Last week Alice and Roderick finally met, or at least were in the same city at the same time. Alice is on her practical, learning the ropes as it were, when he spots her. This week, they exchange words. Roderick gives her a French recognition signal, which she accidentally – or perhaps on purpose, answers. (I hope footnotes don’t count for sentences. I like leaving the original French in.)


The girl gathered up the sheets she had been exposing to the sun, and put them in her basket; Roderick noticed her writing something on a piece of paper and then tucking it away; after that she started walking back into town. Lord Roderick told his friend, “See you in a few minutes Edward, some business to attend to.”

“Roddy, Drop it!”

Lord Roderick raced through the streets; Edward shook his head in disbelief and then followed; the express would have to wait; Roderick paused to catch his breath, smoothed his garments, and sauntered, deliberately casual, over to her;  he said, “Mademoiselle, bonne journée, est-il pas? Les petits oiseaux volent à travers le ciel nuageux[1].”

Without missing a beat, the young lady replied, “Mais il est clair; ou allez-vous Monsieur?” in an excellent Parisian accent although one that had a trace of Norman in it.

“The Swan, I think that’s where I’m booked.”

“And then London, on the stage, I’d think, or are you staying in Bristol?”

“It depends.”

Please see the other talented writers in Weekend Writing Warriors.


The Featured image shows Bristol Harbour from the tidal lock looking out. Roderick’s ship, the Asp, would have been anchored in the distance. Alice would have been among many servants who bleached sheets on the hill off to the left (not in the picture). The lock allows the harbour to stay full of water even during low tide so that ships weren’t set aground twice a day. The tides on the Severn are large, not quite in the Bay of Fundy class, but close. It was under construction at the time of this saga. A couple of years later, and Roderick would have docked inside the harbour.

I’ve released a sweet regency romance, Miss DeVere Miss_devere_1 This is a fun read.

Frankenkitty is available.
Frankenkitty 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.

[1] Good day Miss, isn’t it? The little birds are flying in a cloudy sky. She replied, “But it’s clear. Where are you going Sir?”

Get Free Stuff and try out my landing page. There are three free complete short stories (including an ARC for Frankenkitty) available after you’ve gone through the hoops.