Promo: Lord Frederick's Return by Catherine Kullmann
Today, I'm delighted to welcome back award-winning author Catherine Kullmann. I'm sharing an enticing excerpt from her fabulous new novel, Lord Frederick's Return. It's well worth checking out.
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August 1816. Lord Frederick Danlow has returned to England after eighteen years in England, bringing with him his four-year-old daughter, Ruperta. Unsure where and how to begin his new life, he has accepted an invitation to stay with Colonel Ponsonby, a nabob, and his daughter, Susanna who have also settled in England.
“This part of the country is growing on me,” Frederick said later at dinner. “Do estates here frequently come on the market?”
“Not frequently, but from time to time,” the colonel said. “Are you looking to take a lease or to buy?”
“To buy,” Frederick said firmly. “It is time I put down roots.”
“A long lease is frequently a repairing lease,” Mr Newton added. “I have never seen the point in having to refurbish a property just as one is leaving it.”
“I agree with you but, often, the apparent owner is the tenant-in-possession under an entail and may not sell,” Frederick pointed out.
“Very true, my lord,” Mr Newton said.
The secretary seemed quite abashed, as if Frederick’s comment was intended as a reproof. He had not meant it so. As the younger son of a marquess, he had been drilled in all the implications of fee tail and fee simple deeds, and the importance of the former in securing a family’s wealth to the title-holder. He was fortunate in that, unlike his younger brother Henry, who was the son of his father’s second marriage, his own parents’ marriage settlement had made provision for younger sons through his mother’s dowry. He was relieved when Miss Ponsonby took up the subject.
“So a neat estate, I imagine, nothing too spread out. You do not aim to turn farmer,” she added with a little smile.
“No indeed. Good stabling, of course, and enough land that we are mostly self-sufficient.”
“A small home farm, then?”
“Provided the farmer and his family come with it.”
“Glasshouses?”
“Are not essential—they can be built, after all. But I would like pleasant, established gardens.” He fished in the tail-pocket of his coat for a notebook and pencil. “I must write all this down. Pray continue, ma’am.”
“Five or six bedrooms, a nursery and schoolroom, accommodation for a dozen servants, and the usual offices.”
“The usual offices? What do you mean by that?”
“Kitchen, store rooms, pantries, laundry, dairy, strong room.”
“Strong room?”
“For your plate. It is usually near the butler’s quarters, as he has charge of the silver. The housekeeper is responsible for the china, etc.”
“A game larder,” the colonel suggested, “where game can be hung after a shoot.”
“Do not forget the necessaries,” Mr Newton said. “Some older houses are very sadly deficient in that regard.”
“You will want a library, I imagine,” Miss Bradley said. “And your wife will want a boudoir.”
“Where she may retire to sulk?” Frederick raised an eyebrow. “That is the origin of the word, is it not? I hope she will not often find it necessary.”
“That will depend on you, will it not, sir?” Miss Ponsonby’s eyes brimmed with amusement as she picked up the gauntlet.
“I sincerely hope I would not be the frequent cause of it, but neither do I wish to be held responsible for all her moods and megrims.”
“It is wiser to find out if she is prone to them before you make her an offer,” the colonel said.
Frederick looked at Miss Ponsonby as he replied, “Indeed. I would rather a spouse who is not afraid to challenge me than a dependent who wilts or withdraws at the slightest disagreement.”
Her smile broadened. “I think you need to make another list, sir.”
“Oh?”
“Of the qualities you seek in a wife.”
He ostentatiously turned a page in his notebook and raised his pencil.
“Should I copy Olivia—‘Item, two lips indifferent red; item, two grey eyes, with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin’?” He paused. “That single chin is most important. A nicely shaped chin poised on a slender neck is most attractive but one would not want two or more descending like a waterfall.”
She hastily put down the glass she had raised to her lips. “What a picture! It is worthy of Mr Cruikshank.”
Whether it was deliberate or instinct, he could not say, but she had turned her head as if to present the oval shape and clean lines for admiration. And how had Shakespeare managed to ignore eyebrows in favour of eyelids? Hers were the most beautifully shaped he had ever seen, following the elegant arch of her brow so that they framed her striking blue eyes.
Much as he would have liked to out-item Shakespeare, going on to list the lady’s shoulders and bosom, he deemed it wiser to move from her physical charms. “A pleasing appearance is important, but at the end of the day it is a person’s personality that makes us decide for or against them. Would you not agree?”
“Completely. Handsome is as handsome does, and no amount of beauty can compensate for the sort of incompatibility that can only lead to discord between husband and wife.”
“Hanging out for a wife, are you?” the colonel said. “Where do you propose to start your search?”
“I have no idea,” Frederick confessed. “I have very little experience of English society, but I assume that the Season is now over and that very few families remain in London.”
“Certainly none that can afford to be elsewhere,” Miss Ponsonby said. “You might try some of the watering places such as Weymouth.”
“Or Bath for the winter Season,” Miss Bradley suggested.
Bath? Frederick said to himself the next morning. His aunts used go to Bath. Would there be younger ladies there or just a motley collection of spinsters, matrons, and widows? He thought of the two younger women at the table last night. Miss Bradley was twenty years younger than he, and Miss Ponsonby very likely ten. What a dismal thought! Was he doomed to seek a bride among the widows and old maids? Had he left England a young man and returned an aging bachelor? Nonsense! He may have seen more than half of his allotted life span but he was no dotard but a man just past his prime, a seasoned man, not a callow cub.
He cast an appraising glance in the pier glass. His back was straight, his hair dark, his shoulders broad, and he had no need to pad his calves as some gentlemen did. His clothes were very probably outmoded—fashions in India would always be at least a year behind London, and these had been made two years ago. When he went to London to see his man of business; he would take the opportunity to replenish his wardrobe and have his hair trimmed in a newer style.
© Catherine Kullmann 2025
An older hero, an enigmatic heroine and a delightfully outspoken four-year-old. Throw scandal into the mix for a gripping and tender Regency love story.
August 1816.
Lord Frederick Danlow returns to England after spending 18 years in India. He plans to make a home for himself and his motherless, four-year-old daughter, Ruperta. Unsure where to start, he accepts an invitation to stay at Ponsonby Place, home of Colonel Jack Ponsonby who made his fortune in India, and his daughter Susannah, the mistress of the household.
Soon Frederick finds himself in need of a governess—and a wife? The more time he spends with Susannah, the more his admiration of her deepens. Is she the woman with whom he will share his life?
He is resolved to court her, but then his younger brother Henry engulfs his family in an appalling scandal that could prevent any lady from agreeing to a connection with it. Now Frederick must support his family during this ordeal.
But what of Susannah? What will she say when she hears of the scandal? Should he, dare he offer her his heart and his hand?
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