Twelve noblewomen, two smitten gardeners, and one angry father.
In the Midnight Sisters: Meet the Ladies series, we learned about each of the twelve noblewomen featured in Midnight Sisters. But what about the men? They're just as important as the women they love and fiercely protect. Today Jonas, Braden, and Lord Bromhurst take the spotlight to reveal their secrets. Who's in love, who's a horrible poet, and who is still mourning love lost? Read to find out!
* * *
Jonas
Philip
growled at the plant before him.
“Is
there something particularly irritating about that rose bush, sir?” I
asked.
He let
out a hmph, shoved his bangs out of
his eyes, and turned his glare on me. “Women.”
I
squinted at him. “Women, sir?”
“Yes,”
he growled out, stabbing violently at the rose bush with a trowel.
“Anything
specific you’d like to impart on the subject?” When I’d first come to his
estate, I wouldn’t have dreamed of baiting my master in this way. But I knew
the plants would take the brunt of his ill humor.
“A good
woman is worth her weight in gold, Jonas.” He pushed his bangs out of his eyes
again. “But she will probably never let you forget it.” He jabbed at the plant
again. “And neither will her sister.”
I
nodded slowly and turned my attention back to weeding. “Enlightening, sir.”
“Two
weeks and you’ll be off on a new adventure, Jonas.” He didn’t look up from his
work. “Mind you keep your head down and don’t flirt.”
I
thought of the new position he’d procured for me in a household so much more
grand than his own. “The Earl of Bromhurst’s daughters are said to be very
beautiful.”
“Each
more beautiful than the last. More reason to keep your nose clean,”
he grumbled. “Who needs a hoity toity noblewoman in his life?”
A grin
tugged at my lips. “Even if she’s very, very beautiful?”
He
scoffed. “Find yourself a willing milkmaid, Jonas.” A sardonic gleam burned in
his eye. “And watch out for bossy kitchen wenches.”
Braden
I
wadded up another sheet of paper and tossed it on the growing pile. It just
wasn’t right. She was the most perfect woman I’d ever laid eyes on. I couldn’t
offer her something less than perfect.
I began again:
With skin is of purest snow,
Whose eyes the brighter glow,
Within such mysteries hold.
Your hand in mine enfold . . .
Told?
Bold? Show? Flow? Blech. I tore the
paper down the middle and crumbled it like all the rest.
“Braden!”
the voice boomed behind me. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Gregor
glared at me from the doorway. I found few things intimidating, but that
eyebrow inching upward was certainly one of them.
“Um . .
.” I fished for a plausible lie. Another plausible lie. “Just
writing my mother, sir.”
He
growled. “You should know better than to waste paper, boy. We’re given a strict
allowance.” He motioned to the pile of discarded sheets. “That is coming out
of your wages.”
I
nodded in agreement. “Yes, sir.”
“Clean up this mess and report to your post.”
“Of
course, sir.” I offered up what I hoped was an innocent smile. His footsteps
retreated and I turned my attention back to penning the perfect love note.
Hours
later, I signed my name at the bottom. If she didn’t favor me, I was signing my
own dismissal letter. What else could I do? I folded up the single sheet and
scrawled her name on the front.
Lord Bromhurst
Twelve
empty beds. At midnight.
I ran a hand through my hair, wishing I could rip it
out by the roots. Katherine’s patient face flitted through my mind. My heart panged, at war with the anger coursing through my veins. She
would have had the answer. Katherine would have known what to do with twelve
unruly daughters.
“Why
did you have to leave me?” I whispered. It was the question that had plagued me
for over a decade. I would never know the answer. And day by day, our daughters
were becoming more and more willful. The empty beds, all perfectly
made with crisp corners and plump pillows, mocked me. Innocent, proper, and completely disconcerting at the same time.
“Your
Lordship?” one of the menservants called tentatively from the doorway.
I
cocked an eyebrow. “Yes?”
I could
tell he wanted to shuffle his feet under my glare but he held himself erect all
the same. “What would you like us to do?”
What would you have done, Katherine? I sent the silent plea
heavenward. As usual, the heavens remained silent. I would have to manage on my
own. A sigh gushed out of me. “Alert the staff. My daughters are missing. They
must be found at once.”
“At
once, My Lord.” He offered a small bow before turning to leave.
“And
when I find them . . .” My hands clenched at my side. Anger solidified in the
pit of my stomach like a rock.
The
servant turned back. “Pardon me, My Lord? What was that?”
“Nothing,”
I grumbled.
* * *
Author's Secrets: Jonas's scene occurs during the finals scenes of
Becoming Beauty. As I prepared
Becoming Beauty for publishing, I was already chapters into the first draft of
Midnight Sisters. Since Jonas was a gardener, it seemed fitting that he should have a place in
Becoming Beauty's rose garden. So yes, you can find a teenage Jonas Selkirk in
Becoming Beauty's finale.
Read more about the twelve sisters in the
Midnight Sisters: Meet the Ladies series:
Meet the Sisters I (Ariela, Brisella, Canela)
For the full story, order your own copy of Midnight Sisters or Becoming Beauty on Amazon. Contact me directly if you'd like a signed novel. (FYI a special discount will be offered for anyone ordering both novels through me.)
Happy summer reading! Thanks for dropping by!
