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| Hello, and
welcome to my home page. I live on the shores of the
Indian Ocean in Perth, Western Australia. A teacher by profession, I've
had a wide range of life experiences, ranging through gas company clerk,
school cleaner, forward observer for an artillery battery to census
collector and seller of antiques and collectables. While all this has been
going on I have also travelled extensively with my husband and
family, living in three states of Australia and also in Edmond, Oklahoma.
The first twenty-odd years of my life were spent in my native
England, where I learned to love all things old and full of
history. A
long time member of Romance Writers of Australia, I'm a previous
winner of their Short Story Competition and Carol-Anne Sorrel
Award. I have published short stories and poetry in England, America
and Australia, in magazines such as Woman's Day in
Australia and Loving in the UK. My first novel, A
Regency Romance entitled Lord Whitley's Bride was published by the
English publisher Robert Hale in 2004 and subsequently in large
print by Thorn UK. Loyalty and integrity are the
mainstays of Alice Carstairs’ life as a governess in her cousin’s
household. Betrayed by her father, despised and humiliated by her
employer, her life is bleak indeed until Captain Sir Edward Masterman
descends on The Priory, determined to bring order and naval discipline to
the ramshackle household. Alice’s admiration for the man governed by duty deepens into love,
but hers is a hopeless case. Surely Edward could never marry a penniless
nobody like herself? Napoleon’s escape from Elba turns her life upside
down in more ways than she ever could have imagined. Falsely accused of
theft and destined for transportation to Botany Bay, only Edward can save
her.
“Perhaps I’m waiting for a shining knight on a white horse to sweep me off my feet,” Alice told the laundry tub one day shortly after noon as she scrubbed at the baby’s dirty linen. “Sir Lancelot. No, Sir Galahad. He would be better. Sir Lancelot turned out to be sadly loose in his morals.” She wiped her upper arm across her forehead, trying to push away the strands of hair that fell into her eyes as she scrubbed. She paused for a moment to look around the dingy scullery where she worked. Was this it? Her lot in life from now on? A skivvy? Dear lord, surely not. “Sir Galahad! Come and rescue me.” Almost before she’d finished her absurd cry for help a bell pealed on the board in the servants’ hall. “Someone’s at the front door, Miss Alice,” Cora called. Giggling at the absurdity of Sir Galahad ringing the doorbell like a morning caller, Alice dried her hands and hurried to button her cuffs before straightening her hair as best she could without a mirror. Barlow would answer the door, but no doubt she’d be called on to deal with the debt collector, or worse still, that maggot, Scripps. But no, it wasn’t Scripps. A stranger stood there. He’d just handed Barlow his cocked hat and was in the process of extricating himself from the folds of an ankle-length boat cloak. Alice didn’t need to see the blue and white of the naval uniform to guess who he was. Not Sir Galahad, this, but the new owner of The Priory and the master of all their destinies. Sir Edward Masterman had arrived. Still unobserved, she paused to inspect the newcomer. What a man! Her heart skipped. Two gold epaulettes graced his shoulders. No longer a lieutenant then, but a captain and a post-captain at that. He was tall, taller than Sir Geoffrey had been by far and infinitely slimmer than his brother’s self-indulgent corpulence. His dark hair was cropped in a business-like style, while his countenance was deeply tanned, much as she expected. There was menace here, barely concealed. A man ready for action, was Sir Edward. Perhaps aware of the scrutiny he turned to face her. The impact of brilliant blue eyes contrasted markedly with his complexion, but Alice was more struck by the depth of his expression. He looked tired beyond mere weariness and yes, even a little bewildered. In an instant the look was gone as an impassive mask hid any hint of his emotions. The butler introduced them. “Master Edward, this is Miss Carstairs. She’s governess to Miss Penelope.” Barlow shuffled off with the captain’s cloak and hat after he made the introduction, leaving them alone for a few moments. Alice sank into a curtsey and then held out her hand. “Welcome back to your home, Sir Edward. I trust your journey wasn’t too frightful. Traveling the highways in February is never a pleasant thing. Won’t you please come into the book-room?” He took her hand very briefly and she became aware of a piercing scrutiny. She colored a little under his direct gaze. Of course he wasn’t to know that she’d been engaged in scrubbing linen. She must present a very odd appearance to one used to naval discipline and order. Her nose and cheeks were red from the cold and from exertion and her hands were rough and chapped. Her old gray gown was clean, but that was all that could be said for it. His own appearance was immaculate, even after his long journey. She’d been judged and found wanting. Confused and embarrassed, she turned away. “Unfortunately we have no fire, but the sun strikes through the windows here. Barlow will have gone to fetch you some refreshment and as soon as you’re comfortable I’ll inform Lady Masterman of your arrival. I regret she is as yet too unwell to leave her bed...” Her speech withered under his continued scrutiny. Stop babbling, she told herself harshly. “Thank you, Miss Carstairs. I’m sure you’ve duties to attend to.” His voice sounded pleasant, the cultured tones of a gentleman, but the dismissal was as curt as it was final. Unbelievably mortified, Alice bit her lip. Without venturing on another word she curtsied briefly and almost ran from the room. Even in her anguished state she noticed that he made no move to open the door for her. She was merely another servant as far as he was concerned. Less than nothing. In a dismal mood Alice set about her tasks, all the while struggling to banish the impact made by those harsh blue eyes. He knew nothing about her. Oh, horrors! What if he thought her red nose and cheeks was a result of drink, not the bitter cold? His old nurse had been a drunkard, according to Barlow. After tending to Lavinia and informing her of her brother-in-law’s arrival she prepared the master bedchamber as best she could and then returned to her laundry. The problem of what to serve for dinner occupied her thoughts as she completed the mundane duties. There was no help for it. They would have to sacrifice one of their three remaining chickens. She’d been hoping to save them for the eggs. They had potatoes still and cabbages. There were always turnips. Alice never wanted to see another turnip in her life. Perhaps she could prepare some soup followed by the roast bird. It would have to do. She couldn’t work miracles, or turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse, even though a sow’s ear would have been a most welcome addition to the menu if it had magically appeared just then. Penelope wasn’t in the kitchen when she went to look for her. She’d left her to practise her handwriting, but the slate and copybook were abandoned on the table. Cora had no idea of when she’d left. Alice sighed. She was probably whining to her mother again. Hurriedly she set off to find her before she could cause trouble. Penelope wasn’t with her mother. Alice’s stomach churned. Penelope had insinuated herself into the book room and was pouring out her tale of woe to her Uncle Edward. Alice was just in time to catch the end of her complaint. “...And she makes me sit for hours and hours in the kitchen. Last night, all I had for supper was bread.” Which was more than I had, Alice thought as she hurried to Penelope’s side. “Here you are. I’ve been searching for you, Penelope.” She risked a glance at Sir Edward, but quailed at the look of burning anger in his eyes. What had the little madam been telling him? “Penelope, would you please return to the schoolroom for a few moments whilst I speak to Miss Carstairs? She’ll not be long in coming to you.” “I don’t have to go back to the kitchen, Uncle Edward, do I?” He looked down at her with grave understanding. “No, child, you do not ever have to return to the kitchen.” Penelope fled, her eyes alight with triumph as she smirked up at Alice before closing the door. Praise for Lord Whitley's Bride Best-selling author Anna Jacobs has this to say about the book - "Lord Whitley's Bride is a great regency romance which I can thoroughly recommend. It has all the necessary ingredients - a charming heroine, an engaging plot and a dastardly villain. It's also a pleasure to read a historical novel so meticulously researched. I'm looking forward to reading more of Sharon Milburn's books." And here's what New Zealand reviewer Frances Grattan has to say - "Sharon Milburn's story has all the
elements of a classic regency romance with plot twists, mystery
and evil cousins. The story is simply wonderful and I, for one,
found it hard to switch off as I always wanted to know more.
Romance Writers of Australia RWA
was formed in 1991, taking as its aim "to promote excellence in romantic
fiction, to help writers become published and establish careers in their
writing field, and to provide continuing support for writers within the
romance publishing industry." This is an excellent organisation and I
cannot begin to think where I would have been without the fantastic help
offered, including the annual conference, online chat groups, the
newsletter, HeartsTalk, and of course my dear friends in the Fine Print
critique group. For more information please click
on the link to be taken to the Romance Writers of Australia Home
Page.
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