Degree of Solitude
Page 1
Special Offer
Learn the origins of the Great Family!
The Great Family was not always a great family.
In October 1843, Anna & Rhys, Natasha & Seth, Elisa & Vaughn all face problems, their hearts heavy with the challenges of life.
This is the origins story of the Scandalous Scions series—the first great family gathering, where traditions that will last a generation are born and Anna & Rhys, Natasha & Seth, Elisa & Vaughn meld into a single, united family.
Find out how the couples of Scandalous Sirens learn that together, they are stronger.
This novelette has not been commercially released for sale. It is only available as a gift to readers of the series, who subscribe to Tracy’s Newsletter.
Click here to get your copy.
http://tracycooperposey.com/free-copy-of-lost-at-sea/
Table of Contents
Special Offer
About Degree of Solitude
Praise for the Scandalous Scions series
Degree of Solitude Title Page
The Great Families
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dedication
Did you enjoy this book? How to make a big difference!
About the Author
Other books by Tracy Cooper-Posey
Copyright Information
About Degree of Solitude
The man she once loved is now a monster she doesn’t know.
Catrin and Daniel love each other, but Daniel refused to further their relationship for fear of curtailing Catrin’s intellectual and personal freedom, and dooming her to a life of domestic servitude as his wife. Yet their lives remain entangled.
When Daniel is shot in the face during a family rescue in Algeria, he brutally severs the ties between them and removes himself to a remote village in Pembrokeshire, Wales.
Catrin travels to Wales in a last bid to resolve their differences, but the terrifying man she finds there is not the Daniel she once knew…
This book is the ninth book in the Scandalous Scions series, bringing together the members of three great families, to love and play under the gaze of the Victorian era’s moralistic, straight-laced society.
Reader Advisory: This story contains frank sex scenes and sexual language.
This story is part of the Scandalous Scions series:
0.5 Rose of Ebony
1.0 Soul of Sin
2.0 Valor of Love
3.0 Marriage of Lies
4.0 Mask of Nobility
5.0 Law of Attraction
6.0 Veil of Honor
7.0 Season of Denial
8.0 Rules of Engagement
9.0 Degree of Solitude
…and more to come!
A Sexy Historical Romance
Praise for the Scandalous Scions series
If you are familiar with the previous series, I am sure you fell in love with the huge family like I did.
She is a go to author for me when I need a fix of historical romance.
Tracy Cooper-Posey takes us into the staid yet surprisingly bawdy Victorian Era where appearance is everything and secrets are held inside the family.
Thanks once again, Tracy Cooper-Posey, for giving us another great story and for giving me back my love of historical romances.
I love historical romances and this one filled all my likes, from a dashing, wonderful hero, a beautiful strong heroine, a love story to sigh over, side characters that are interesting, and funny, and move the story along.
I can't wait for the next in this wonderful new series.
I don't often give books five stars, but I really enjoyed the mystery that puzzled all of the characters in this story.
I found the entire extended family intriguing because they, the women in particular, are very aware and careful of what society will think, yet they often have made choices that are deemed semi- scandalous.
A wonderful story set in the Victorian era of such strict social conventions and yet the main characters are shimmering with latent sexual tension. What a fabulous juxtaposition!
Another great series is starting and it looks like it will be great just like all the other series by this author.
Wow, as soon as I started Tracy Cooper Posey’s first book in her new spin off I was hooked.
The Great Families
Elisa and Vaughn Wardell
Marquess of Fairleigh, Viscount Rothmere
1825 Raymond, Viscount Marblethorpe (stepson)
1839 William Vaughn Wardell
1839 John (Jack) Gladwin Lochlann Mayes (fostered in 1846)
1842 Sarah Louise Wardell (D)
1843 Peter Lovell Wardell (January)
1844 Gwendolyn (Jenny) Violet Moore Wardell (adopted in 1848)
1844 Patricia Sharla Victoria Mayes (fostered in 1846)
1849 Blanche Brigitte Colombe Bonnay (adopted in 1851)
1853 Emma Jane Wardell (adopted at birth)
Natasha and Seth Williams
Earl of Innesford, Baron Harrow (Ire.)
1839 Lillian Mary Harrow
1840 Richard Cian Seth Williams
1841 Neil Vaughn Williams
1843 Daniel Rhys Williams (February)
1846 Bridget Bronte Williams & Mairin May Williams
1849 Annalies Grace Williams
Annalies and Rhys Davies
Princess Annalies Benedickta of Saxe-Weiden, of the royal house Saxe-Coburg-Weiden, Formerly of the Principality of Saxe-Weiden.
1835 Benjamin Hedley Davies (adopted in 1845)
1842 Iefan William Davies
1843 Morgan Harrow Davies (October)
1843 Sadie Hedley Davies (adopted in 1845)
1846 Bronwen Natasha Davies
1848 Alice Thomasina Davies (adopted at birth)
1849 Catrin Elise Davies
And their children:
Natasha and Raymond Devlin
Viscount Marblethorpe
1857 Vaughn Elis Devlin (Raymond’s heir)
1861 Richard Seth Devlin
Lilly and Jasper Thomsett
1862 Seth Eckhard Thomsett (heir)
1863 Elise Marie & Anne Louise Thomsett
1864 George Jasper Thomsett (stillborn)
Sharla and Dane Balfour + Benjamin Hedley (Davies)
Duke of Wakefield
1867 Jennifer Jane Balfour & Benjamin Dane Balfour (heir)
1868 Alice Thomasina Balfour
Bronwen Natasha Davies and Archeduke Edvard Christoffer of Silkeborg
1870 Christina Clara Elisa Bronwen
John (Jack) Gladwin Lochlann Mayes and Gwendolyn (Jenny) Violet Moore Wardell-Ryder
Baron Guestwick, heir to the Marquess of Laceby
1864 Jackson Vaughn Ryder
1866 Stuart Theodore Ryder
1869 Phillip Dane Mayes
1871 Vaughn Raymond Wardell
William Vaughn Wardell & Bridget Bronte Williams
Viscount Rothmere, heir to the Marquess of Fairleigh
1869 Elizabeth Anne Wardell
Chapter
One
Somewhere in Pembrokeshire, Wales. February 1872.
The journey from Carmarthen to Newport, Pembrokeshire, should have been uneventful. Unfortunately, Catrin was tired from the long train journey yesterday, which required three changes of trains, the lumpy bed in the inn last night, which had given her no rest, and the coach journey today, which had started before dawn. Her tiredness lowered her tolerance for foolishness.
There were five other people in the coach. They filled the benches, although not excessively so. Catrin seated herself by a window, which would allow sunlight to illuminate the pages of her book, when the sun rose.
Only one other traveler was a woman. The middle-aged, gray-haired matron sat in the uncomfortable middle of the other bench, beside her tall stick of a husband. She didn’t lift her eyes from her knitting.
The rotund man beside Catrin was a pastor, with pince-nez and a slim volume of psalms. On the Pastor’s left was a dour man with poor clothes and no hat, who had leaned his head against the back of the bench as soon as he sat down. Within five minutes, he was snoring.
Catrin had watched from the corner of her eye as a man near her own age, with thick blond wavy hair and mild blue eyes, settled on the bench opposite her. His gaze ran from her boots, over her dark blue gabardine traveling suit to her hair. She relaxed when he did not immediately try to engage her in conversation. Instead, he turned his attention upon the dark countryside the coach rolled through. He seemed preoccupied, which suited her perfectly.
In fact, he did not speak to her until they were once more underway after the second stop for fresh horses. It was the last stage of the journey to Newport. Catrin had returned to worrying how her arrival would be received, which made concentrating upon even the simple prose of the novel difficult. She sighed and closed the book.
The land beyond the window seemed very gray. Most of Pembrokeshire was made of rock, while the little grass and few trees seemed drained of color. The higher elevations were dusted with snow and everywhere else was rocky and barren. Even the sky was a dull silver, the sun covered in haze.
“Bouncing around in a carriage for hours reduces the pleasure of reading, I see,” the man opposite her said. His accent was upper class and rich but tinged with Welsh cadences.
Catrin gave him a small smile, trying not to encourage him. “Train journeys are much smoother.” She opened the book again, to end the conversation.
“I have been trying to discern what a lovely lady such as yourself would consider absorbing enough to avoid conversation for five hours,” he said.
Catrin sighed silently.
“However, you have kept the book upon your lap or the cover turned down since we set out from Carmarthen this morning, stealing any hope I have of reading the cover and learning which author interests you so deeply.”
“No one you would care to read, my lord,” she assured him.
He looked surprised. “You know who I am, then?”
Catrin kept her smile in place. “You are clearly a lord. You wear deerskin gloves, carry a top hat and cane and your coat is new wool. Your accent, which was once pure Welsh, is now also Eton and…Oxford, I suspect.”
He raised a brow, looking amused. “Not Cambridge?”
She shook her head. “All my brothers read at Cambridge. You did not study there.”
Everyone else in the coach openly listened. This was the sole conversation of the last few hours. It broke the monotony of the journey.
“Now I really must know what master of prose stole the attention of such an interesting woman.”
Catrin hesitated. Then she closed the book, kept her finger between the pages she was reading and held it toward him, turned so he could read the cover.
“’Servant Of A Greater Master by Mrs. Coralie Armistead’.” He frowned.
The matron’s gaze shifted from her knitting for the first time. She looked at Catrin, startled.
“Armistead,” the lord repeated thoughtfully. “Is that not the author who writes those lurid romantic adventures? The stories the newspapers insist upon running in installments each week?”
“She is,” Catrin said. She opened the book once more. From his tone, Catrin knew it would be pointless defending her choice of reading material. He had already made up his mind about the quality of Mrs. Armistead’s stories.
Anyone who had not read them was always quick to judge them as tales of angst and poetic love. Catrin had believed that about them herself, until she read the first of Mrs. Armistead’s stories in novel form.
Mrs. Armistead understood the challenges of modern women and how their place in society was moored by tradition and custom. Her heroines always questioned their roles and duties, their station in life and every aspect of their world, including the gallant heroes who loved them…and sometimes failed to win them.
Catrin often wished she could be one of Mrs. Armistead’s heroic leading ladies, and courageously live life the way she wanted to, not the way she was required to. Only, she lacked the daring and strength such decisions required in real life. Only in stories did those decisions end well.
The Pastor cleared his throat. “My understanding is that Mrs. Armistead’s stories are harmless entertainment. Not that I have read any of them myself,” he added.
“That isn’t what I have heard about the stories,” the lord replied. “The general opinion at my club in London is that the novels are dangerous treatises bent on glorifying women.” He raised his brow at Catrin, offering her an opportunity to refute the claim.
“And why is applauding womanhood dangerous?” Catrin asked coolly. Too late, she realized she had risen to the challenge when she should have demurred, admitted he was likely right and returned to her reading.
“’Servant of a Greater Master’ sounds quite uplifting,” the Pastor inserted. “One’s call to higher duty is always to be applauded, no matter the sex.”
“The greater master Mrs. Armistead refers to is love,” Catrin said bluntly.
“Oh…” The Pastor blushed deeply and gripped his psalter as if the contents would save him from his mortification.
The lord laughed softly.
Catrin closed the book again with a snap. “I am curious, my lord—”
“Nevern,” he said. He touched his hand to the middle of his chest. “Marc Morgan, Baron Nevern, at your service, Miss…?”
“Davies,” she said. “Catrin Davies.”
“You’re Welsh, then?”
“My father was born in Newport,” Catrin replied. “I am English, though.”
Everyone looked at her now.
“You’re almost a local, then.” Nevern’s smile was delighted.
“Hardly,” Catrin replied. “This is my first visit to Newport.”
“You come to see your father’s family?” the Pastor asked, with an air which said this felt like safe ground to him.
“My father’s only family died many years ago,” Catrin said. “I am visiting a cousin, who has been staying in Newport for a while—”
“Surely, you are not speaking of Williams?” Nevern said.
“Daniel, yes,” Catrin said. “You know him?”
“The Honorable Master Daniel Williams?” Nevern smiled. “I do, indeed. Daniel and I were at Eton together. We were both Honorable Masters, instead of titled lords—although my circumstances have changed recently.” His cheeks dimpled as he smiled modestly. “It’s been marvelous having him so close by, only he…” Nevern’s smile faded. “Well, you will see for yourself,” he said. “However, I interrupted you, Miss Davies. Please go on.”
He was changing the subject. It was a smooth effort, but quite visible.
Catrin’s heart gave a little jump. The way the Baron’s face had fallen when he spoke of Daniel…
Not for the first time, Catrin suppressed all speculation about what she might find in Newport and what Daniel’s reception would be. She had not written to Daniel or warned him she was coming to see him, because he would have told her not to.
She pushed aside her building nervousness and addressed the Baron’s enquiry. It was an adequate distraction. “I was wondering if you had read any of Mr. Gresham King’s works?”
Nevern’s face lit up. “Oh, yes, indeed! They’re absolutely marvelous adventures! He really knows his subject. All those far-off places and people… Wonderful!”
“I consider them quite superficial, myself,” Catrin said. “I was thinking, rather, about his latest book. The Limits Drawn Around Us.” She stared steadily at Nevern.
The Pastor shifted uncomfortably on his seat. The tall man far to Nevern’s right also stirred and cleared his throat. His wife merely looked puzzled.
Nevern’s cheeks tinged pink. “That is the essay about rights for women, is it not?”
“It is,” Catrin said.
“You agree with Mr. King’s hypothesis that women are in all ways equal to men?” Nevern said, his voice lifting in building outrage. “You think women are capable of the thought required to vote for themselves?”
Catrin smiled. “I do.”
Nevern’s lips parted in surprise. Then he regathered his composure and smoothed his cravat. “It will never happen. The idea is preposterous,” he said. “If women really are capable of independent thought, they would not read the likes of Coralie Armistead!”
Catrin reined in her impatience. “Mrs. Armistead has written a great many stories, read by thousands of women. By now, she is likely financially independent of any man. Surely, if women were incapable of self-sustaining thought, those books would never have been written?” She kept her tone sweet and polite.
The Pastor harrumphed.
For a long moment, silence held the carriage in its grip. Then the wheels clipped a rock and the coach bounced and shook them all.
Nevern relaxed back in his corner with a soft laugh. “You may well be right in regard to Mrs. Armistead,” he said. “She would be a rare exception, I imagine.”