An Excerpt from The King’s Mistress by Clyve Rose
Lydia
The next afternoon, the duke’s carriage bumped towards another of Lancashire’s great houses as a slice of afternoon sun broke the trees. Lydia ran nervous fingers over the intricate filigree of her mama’s jewel box. Vines and lavender flowers flashed gold, but the cameo set into the lid was Lydia’s own work. She traced the shape of the late duchess’s face, wondering if she could hope to match Mama’s beauty.
“It’s lovely work, my lady,” Martha whispered, waking as the carriage lurched from paved road onto the great gravel drive of Davenport Manor. “Your mama would be proud.” Lydia smiled uncertainly. Her smile widened as Martha sat up, her curls in disarray from her unscheduled doze. Martha felt about for misplaced hairpins.
“I beg your pardon. I ought not to have nodded off like that.”
“You’ve b-been awake since dawn, Martha. The maids at the post house were dreadful, and I’d not bear this at all without you. I insist you b-be well-rested.”
“Only you would say so, my lady.”
Lydia’s brows rose as she bit back a retort, shaking her head.
“This invitation is very short notice, to be sure,” Martha added.
“Indeed.” A twinge of unease snaked down Lydia’s spine. “I’m n-not sure why P-papa insists w-we a-attend.”
His Grace rarely allowed his only daughter to attend mixed gatherings. This invitation seemed cajoled from Lady Davenport in a last-ditch attempt to attract a suitable match for Lydia as the duke’s “unfashionable daughter.” What other reason could there be?
“We’ll be arriving shortly.” Martha peered out the window.
Lydia leaned forward for her first glimpse of Davenport Manor. The house wasn’t as large as Clifton Hall. No estate in Lancashire came close to eclipsing the duchy, but the manor house’s gabled sandstone splendour certainly impressed. The lands were well-appointed with handsome woods running to forest. Lydia looked forward to exploring the Ribble valley on horseback, if she were allowed to ride unaccompanied.
“You’d b-best take this.” Lydia handed the jewel case to Martha before adjusting her own pins. Martha stowed the box and took over Lydia’s toilette. Moments later, their carriage drew up before the alabaster portico. Young Yates helped Lydia down, and she found herself curtsying awkwardly before Lord and Lady Davenport.
“Lady Lydia, we’d quite despaired of you. However, here you are, my dear, and I’ve never been more delighted. You’re just in time for tea.” Lady Davenport drew Lydia’s arm into her own and escorted her into the house.
Valkin
“You’ll stay to tea, at least?” Lady Davenport reached for Valkin’s arm, but he shook his head. Given the subject of their conversation, she addressed him as near the open conservatory door as possible.
“I’ll not place you at risk, Eliza.” His low voice was as much for his protection as hers.
“Your husband returns with his friends.” He bowed at the Englishmen who’d grown tired of their guns and wandered in to replenish their appetites. Valkin raised his brows at the host’s weaving manner.
“Brishen,” Lord Davenport shouted. “My groom’s taken a turn on that animal of yours.
First rate, man. First rate.” He warmed his hands before the grate. “Less of a gamble than I’d have thought, having seen him run.”
Valkin cleared his throat, managing a smile. Now was not the time to point out the starter under discussion was a mare. Not when his lordship was on the point of agreement. He risked a glance at Liza. Warm, buxom, and generously proportioned, she was an engaging woman and an accomplished lover. Valkin turned his attention to concluding his business with her husband. No wonder his lordship’s wife took her pleasures with stable boys and Romany horse traders. You’re a king, he reminded himself as a bevy of inebriated Englishmen milled round Lord Davenport.
“I am glad you approve of the horse, my lord. As to the investment required, it is—”
Davenport waved him away. “Yes, yes. Have your agreements to my man by morning, and you’ll have the guineas before you leave.” He jerked his head towards the music room and held out his arm to his wife.
Liza took her place beside her husband, but not before inclining her head at his fellows.
“You will join us, gentlemen?”
The Englishmen trooped past her ladyship to the music room. Liza spoke over her shoulder to Valkin. “You’ve not seen my daughter perform, Lord Brishen.”
Romance – The King’s Mistress: The sequel to Always a Princess
Date Published: January 24,2023
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing
Lady Lydia Clifton must escape a brutal forced marriage and she must get out of England however she can, but Valkin Brishen, King of the Romany stands in her way, and he means to unravel why she is on the run, and why she’s pretending to be his mistress.
NO ONE TOUCHES THE KING’S MISTRESS
Thrown to the wolves by her father, Lady Lydia Clifton faces a forced marriage and all the brutality that comes with the Earl of Basingstoke. She must flee and has only one way out of England: disguise herself as Martha Dale, mistress to the Romany king.
Lydia knows her brother Wil became estranged from their family and all of English aristocracy because he fell in love with a Romany woman. That makes this white lie more potent, as it offers the kind of protection that just might keep her safe.
Despite her reputation being in tatters, all Lydia needs to do is to make it to France, and into the care of her oldest brother, Roger.
King Valkin Brishen is fully aware lies and subterfuge can and has brought harm to his people, yet when his men find a lovely English maid on the run who claims to be his mistress, anger battles with more than curiosity over exactly why this English rose is fleeing with such haste.
Her flight speaks of courage, but her deceit could put his people in peril.
And more, he wonders if it’s worth the risk to his heart if he takes her under his protection.
About the Author
Clyve Rose has been writing historical romance fiction for the best part of two decades. She works in the historical romance, fantasy, and speculative fiction genres. She also creates literary novels under an alternative pen name. In between her devotion to fiction writing, Clyve researches various mythologies and historical periods, often basing her characters on actual historical personalities.
When Clyve isn’t writing fiction, she can be found pounding the sand at just about any of the beautiful beaches near her Australian home. She is also addicted to short-haul ocean swims and has a ‘thing’ for Poseidon, ancient Greek god of the Seas. Much of the inspiration in her stories is drawn from the ocean landscapes near her home.
One of her novels was longlisted for a 2010 Hachette Award for Fiction while her paranormal short story The One Below is a Sexy Scribbles award-winning piece. Her novel, Always a Princess is a winner in The BookFest Awards Spring 2022. Its sequel, The King’s Mistress, is her latest novel.
The first piece she ever had published was a fictional biography of an erotica writer who made a living crafting extremely explicit dating profiles for online chat sites. She lives fairly simply these days, sharing her home with a small white demon-dog and a budding Amazon warrior. Clyve Rose believes that love is the highest and strongest force in the world, and that it only manifests when we are our best and truest selves. Anything less, and we diminish our divinity. She believes she will continue writing about love in all its various, glorious forms, and that one day her epitaph will read ‘just one more read-through’.
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