This is the potential opening to my WIP The Lost Earl so forgive any errors you find
Book Three in The House of Somerset series.
With one last glance down at the sleeping baby she gave the tiny boy a kiss on the cheek.
“I love you. That’s why I’m doing this. If you were to stay with me heaven knows what might happen to you,” she whispered then gently laid the two year old, wrapped in a cheap wool blanket down on the steps of the church’s nave. Taking a small slip of foolscap from the pocket of her only decent dress she glanced at the words, My name is Toby Bowes, one last time at it then penned the note to the cloth.
As she stepped back she could feel the wetness from a tear of sadness and despair trickle down her cheek. Of all the decisions she’s had to make up until this time, this was without a doubt the most difficult.
After final glance at her son she turned and with shoulders slumped in defeat shuffled down the aisle and out of his life as she crossed the threshold.
She knew the monks would take him in, educate him and give him a place to live. Her only hope, he wouldn’t grow to be like his father, a philandering womanizer who cared more for himself than family.
Stepping down onto the sidewalk she turned right and with head held proudly she knew what she had to do. For her it was the only way out of the pit of despair which surrounded and threatened to envelope her.
Crossing over to one of the minor streets which branched off Mayfair she glanced around for his townhouse. Spying it a quarter of the way down the road she forward. With each step she became more confident until she stood, cold and alone in front of his door.
She raised her hand to the brass knocker centered on the oak door, started to reach for it when the portal swung open.
“So, you decided to take me up on my offer,” he announced.
“Yes, Sir Thompson,” she barely squeak out as he dragged her into the house.
Ten years later at the monastery of St. Martin
“Toby, it would appear from you actions of late the monastic life isn’t for you,” the abbot said.
“No, Your Worship. I’ve tried but think there’s something better for me out in the world.”
“Very well. I’ll instruct the proctor to start finding an apprenticeship for you.”
Blurb and buy links for- A Christmas Surprise
If I hear one more debutante declare that they will never marry unless it is for love, well. I shall break my quill! And we all know what happens when I break my quill. Things become very upsetting and it isn’t long before I— Well, that is quite another story. Let this author, this matriarch, this paragon of society guide you with her infinite wisdom. It is apparent that many of you have gotten this silly notion of love in your head, most likely from American influence, and please do not get me started on those savages. The point, young dears, is that love, is silly. Take for example Lady Aleece, poor young dear never stood a chance! Can you imagine being mauled in public? By a commoner no less? Although, rumors have been running rampant that this very delicious commoner is in fact the Marquess of Somerset, I have my doubts. For one thing, a Marquess should be more unfortunate looking which is clearly not the case with Somerset. Let this be a lesson dear readers. If you marry for love, there is a very big chance that you will end up with your heart broken, or in that wretched commoners case—kidnapped (though many believe he should have been killed for even breathing the same air as our fair lady). Dear readers, have I taught you nothing this holiday season?—Mrs. Peabody’s Society Papers.
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