our new majesty. Lady Templeton’s footman says the king is renovating Buckingham House for his use as a palace, and he’s planning a month of festivities for his coronation. He’ll be needing a lot of string players, and they’ll be needing a lot of repairs.”
“Wonderful news. Though the coronation’s about a year away, so we shouldn’t count those chickens yet.”
“Aaaaa,” added Howard.
“Speaking of chickens.” Simon released his wife, crossed to the cradle, and swooped up the baby. “Look who’s stayed awake again, hmm? Go on, Ro, work on your violin. I’ve got this little one, at least until he’s hungry.”
One more kiss for each of her fellows, and Rowena was off. Down to the ground floor, where the formal parlor had been fitted to her specifications as a workshop. Here she carried out all the repairs, her time freed by Simon’s work on other aspects of the business. And when she’d caught up on repairs, she worked on her violin—a slow process as she experimented with each wood, each varnish. She even tinkered with dimensions, as Guarneri had once done.
At present, she was working on a new piece: a small platform to position the chin, so the instrument wouldn’t need to be pinched in place between the chin and shoulder. If she could get the material and position and size correct, the left arm would be freed to extend brightly up the whole length of the strings.
Just because something had always been done a certain way didn’t mean she couldn’t try something different. Maybe it would turn out wonderfully; maybe it would be a disaster. But it would be her way, and she wouldn’t have to do it alone.
She had a loving husband and a distracting but darling baby. She had the help of trustworthy servants. She had an apprentice, even. Thirteen-year-old Amelia Howard attended a prestigious London girls’ school, Mrs. Brodie’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies, then stayed in Rowena and Simon’s Marylebone house over the weekend to work with Rowena on Saturdays.
It was a full home, a shop serving its purpose. It was everything Rowena had always wanted Fairweather’s to be.
Of course, she still kept her library subscription. When she and Simon read Gothic novels together, they knew that whatever happened in the books was ridiculous—but whatever happened in life, they could handle together.
About the Author
Theresa Romain is the bestselling author of historical romances, including the Matchmaker trilogy, the Holiday Pleasures series, the Royal Rewards series, and the Romance of the Turf trilogy. Praised as “one of the rising stars of Regency historical romance” (Booklist), she has received starred reviews from Booklist and was a 2016 RITA® finalist. A member of Romance Writers of America, Theresa is hard at work on her next novel from her home in the Midwest.
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If this story has put you in a novella state of mind, read on for an excerpt from Theresa’s foodie historical, The Way to a Gentleman’s Heart—found in the novella duo Mrs. Brodie’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies.
Excerpt from The Way to a Gentleman’s Heart
From THE WAY TO A GENTLEMAN’S HEART, ©2018 by Theresa Romain
Eight years ago, impoverished gentleman’s daughter Marianne Redfern fled her Lincolnshire home when her first love was forced to wed another. At Mrs. Brodie’s Academy, she learned the arts of cookery and self-defense—and as head cook, she can manage her staff, feed hundreds, and take down thieves. But she has no defense against Jack Grahame’s unexpected arrival two weeks before a dinner that will secure the academy’s fortunes.
Now a wealthy widower, Jack still has a wicked twinkle in his eye and a place in Marianne’s heart. Before long, he’s at her side in the kitchen all day and the bedchamber all night. But forgiveness doesn’t come together as easily as a sauce, and the wounds of the past could ruin Jack and Marianne’s chance at a future.
“Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,” chanted Marianne Redfern as she kneaded dough for the next day’s bread. “Witches’ mummy, maw and gulf of the ravined salt-sea shark…”
She trailed off when she noticed her assistant, Sally White, looking at her with some alarm. “Did you…are you making a new kind of bread, Mrs. Redfern?”
Mrs. The honorific always made Marianne smile. She’d never been wed in her life, but as cook at the exclusive Mrs. Brodie’s Academy