This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published (or registered with the U.S.
Copyright Office) before
January 1, 1923.
1. The French crown
paid the British army a gratuity of £978,850 15s 4d after the battle.
The pot was divided into sixteen portions.
The rank and file received £2 11s 4d paid (around £150 now) from their share.
Two of the shares were distributed among the
non-commissioned officers. This pattern
of doubling up continued through the ranks.
Wellington, as Commander in chief, received £64,178 3s
5d, (over £3.2 million today.)
2. The French called the battle “Mont St Jean”
after the ridge that marked Wellington’s line. Wellington insisted on calling
it the battle of Waterloo, even though the village of Waterloo is over two
miles from where the battle was fought.
3. The first sightseers arrived the next day.
They all wanted souvenirs. Soon everything from cap badges to guns and swords
could be bought from local peasants.
One of the things I
loved about writing a historical romance was the research. Intermingling fact
with fiction is a delight.
Buy links
Blurb
While he is no
stranger to pleasurable company from ladies of the night, Major Richard
Rothbury of the royal dragoons is not the kind of man who will stand idly by as
a woman is taken against her will, and when he witnesses a disreputable cad
attempting to force himself on a girl in a back alley, he does not hesitate to
intervene.
But after the grateful
young woman offers herself to Rothbury, he is shocked to discover that not only
was she no harlot, she was a maiden and he has deflowered her. Furious at the
girl’s scandalous behavior and her carelessness with her own safety, Rothbury
chastises her soundly.
Though she is due
to inherit one of the largest fortunes in England, the fact that she cannot
touch the money until she marries or turns thirty has kept Elizabeth completely
at the mercy of her cruel uncle, and for years she has been treated as if she
were a servant. Her encounter with Lord Rothbury is by far the most exciting
thing that has ever happened to her, but while he shows great concern for her
safety, he refuses to believe that she is anything more than a serving girl.
Despite having made
it clear that he doesn’t consider a match between them to be possible, when
Elizabeth disobeys him Rothbury proves more than ready to strip her bare,
punish her harshly, and then enjoy her beautiful body in the most shameful of
ways. But can she dare to hope that he will one day make her his wife, or is
she destined to spend her life being wickedly used?
Publisher’s Note: Wickedly Used: A Dark Regency Romance includes
spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy
this book.
Excerpt
“Go into the tack room and undress. Once you’re naked, stand in
the corner with your nose against the wall.”
What? Why would I do anything so senseless and demeaning? “Have you run mad? I’m not undressing
for you anywhere, least of all where anyone can walk in.”
He looked like an ice demon out for vengeance. His intensity
made her quake inside.
Clearly furious, he turned toward her. “Last night, I promised
you I’d blister your behind if you didn’t mend your ways. Do as you’re told or
your punishment will be ten times worse.”
She looked toward the stable entrance and considered bolting.
Whatever Rothbury had planned, it would make her behind sore. Only, his gaze
held a promise of something sensual and wicked.
She walked into the tack room like a temptress teasing her
lover. Head high despite her fears, she slid her arms out of her woolen gown.
Kicking off her shoes, she pulled her coarse linen chemise over her head.
Vulnerable but excited, she stood naked in a public stable.
The thought of strangers walking in on her and Rothbury felt
wicked but titillating. Her gaze shot between the rear corner and the door, but
she’d made her choice when she stripped off her clothes. Slow and reluctant,
she moved into the corner and stood with her nose against the wall.
She shivered with anticipation. Her pussy grew damp with
need. Where is he? And what will he do? How long will he leave me
standing here like this? The tack room door closed with a bang,
but she stayed with her nose to the wall and waited.
She heard Rothbury moving behind her, but he didn’t speak.
Finally, he moved so close that he pressed her bare body against the wooden
wall. Something, maybe his cravat, covered her eyes and the world went dark.
Shivers of anticipation ran through her body.
He penned her in the corner and pulled the pins from her hair.
Turning her, he bound her wrists before her in what felt like a length of
leather leading rein. After checking it wasn’t too tight, he put one arm around
her waist and walked her to the center of the room.
Pulling her arms overhead, he fastened the leather strap around
her wrists over a hook in the ceiling. Stretched out for his pleasure, she
couldn’t move. Arms bound overhead, blindfolded, and naked, her excitement
mounted as she wondered what he’d do next.
More about Kryssie
Fortune.
Kryssie reads everything and anything, from literary fiction to
sizzling romance. Her earliest memory is going to the library with her mother.
She can’t have been more than two at the time. Reading, especially when a
book’s hot and explicit, is more than a guilty pleasure. It’s an obsession.
Kryssie loves to visit historic sites, from Hadrian’s wall to
Regency Bath. The first book she fell in love with was Georgette Heyer’s The Unkown Ajax. After that, she
devoured every regency book she could. After a while, they went out of fashion,
but part of Kryssie’s psyche lives in in in Regency London. She longs to dance
quadrilles and flirt behind fans. Of course, Kryssie’s heroines do far more
than flirt.
Kryssie lives in Bridlington on the Yorkshire coast –about thirty
miles from Whitby, where Bram Stoker wrote Dracula. She enjoys gardening,
travel, and socializing with her author friends. You’d be surprised how many
erotic romance authors live in the North of England.
Mont St. James?? Are you sure it isn't Mont St. Jean?
ReplyDeleteVictoria, thank you. My fingers sometimes get ahead of my brain. Add in that I'm dyslexic and spell check plays terrible tricks on me. I'm grateful for your sharp eyes and have amended.
DeleteThankfully, my husband - who isn't dyslexic- checks my books before they go to a publisher.