#HistFicThursdays - The Brantford Wagers - Nadine Kampen - Book Excerpt

 

This week, I'm super-excited to be teaming up with The Coffee Pot Book Club to share an excerpt from Nadine Kampen's new book, The Brantford Wagers! This is the first outing for her series, The Brantford Series.

First of all, let's meet the book...

Is Clara Vincent ready to risk it all for love?

Clara Vincent is “the artful dodger” when it comes to marriage, especially when her father is bent on match-making. Will her attitude change when she meets two eligible suitors and is drawn into the lives of intensely competitive families? Clara falls unexpectedly in love, but when fortunes are reversed and relationships up-ended, she needs to decide whether to trust James Brantford, who is seeking retribution, or accept the love of the man everyone else believes is her ideal match.

As the Brantford wagers unfold and lay bare the history of past relationships, will Clara be able to learn the truth and finally follow her heart?

And here's an excerpt to whet your appetite:

from Chapter 5 – The Stancroft Legacy

‘Mother! There is an old cart pulling onto the lane!’ cried Fanny, peering out the window. ‘Do you suppose it is that cousin? My word, has she come in a cart?’ 

‘It is about time she got here,’ muttered John impatiently. His mother had delayed dinner, and they had only just sat down, when they heard the sweep-gates creak on their iron posts. 

Catherine stood beside her sister. ‘She is travelling alone!’ she exclaimed.

‘Are we to let our meal get cold while she takes forever to come inside?’ asked John. 

‘At least she has arrived safely,’ said Isabelle, smiling at her brother. ‘That means we can all go to the party together tomorrow.’ Isabelle, at nineteen years of age, was three years younger than Catherine and a year behind John, yet most who met her assumed she was the eldest.

‘Well, I should not have stayed away in any case,’ insisted Catherine. ‘She could have kept us waiting for a week, travelling in a cart. What can she be thinking?’

‘She is coming inside now,’ said Mrs Stancroft, joining everyone at the window.

‘I say, she looks rather attractive,’ said the uncle. 

Clara was ushered into the room. Was this the same cousin they had seen many years ago and had heard so much about? Her solitary arrival and travel-weary appearance did nothing to impress the family. Catherine cast a critical eye and took in the mud on Clara’s travel cloak and the watermarks on her gloves and boots. From all the stories of the Vincent daughters travelling with their father, she had expected someone more fashionable and exotic looking. 

‘It is too long since we have seen you, Clara. You look so much like your dear mother.’ Stella Stancroft smiled at her warmly. Her private thoughts ran along these lines: ‘What a beautiful cut to the cloak, and such fine Italian gloves! If she can only dance, and sing a little, perhaps one of Mr Ashton’s friends might fancy her.’ When she saw her last, Mrs Stancroft had judged Clara’s height to be too tall and her manners too reserved. Yet Clara had been the one to receive—and decline—two offers of marriage. There was no accounting for it. Mrs Stancrofts’ daughters, pretty girls all, had not had the good fortune to refuse even one suitor among them. 

‘Clara, my mother has not said how long you are staying. Is it a week, or two?’ asked Catherine. 

‘I have not yet told them, dear,’ said Mrs Stancroft, embarrassed. 

‘I stay until the middle of November,’ replied Clara, ‘then rejoin my father at Wellsmere. He travels extensively in the coming months, and your mother kindly invited me here.’ 

‘Almost three months! Well, that is quite a visit,’ said Catherine. ‘I had not expected it. We shall begin to think we have acquired an older sister.’

By the time Clara was shown her quarters, she was surprised at how tired she felt. Preparing for the celebration at Wellsmere, and entertaining guests, followed by this journey with its incidents along the way, had in truth taken a toll on her. It was not in her nature to fret, but today’s events had left her worried about Old Perry’s health and her mare’s condition. For now, she had to content herself with the belief that all was well. She looked appreciatively around the guest room, which boasted a well-constructed bed and thick quilts to warm her.

There was a tap at her door. Fanny, next in age after Isabelle, had joined Catherine to visit her room. They appeared determined to hear all the news that Clara might have to share, and it became apparent that Clara would have to delay her sleep. Where had Clara been? What had she seen? Had she met any one of importance? What were the ladies wearing in London this season? Were they still wearing short sleeves, or long again? With caps, or without? Catherine complained that she had spent almost her entire life within ten miles of home and had only twice journeyed to Bath, as a child, and never to London, nor anywhere else of consequence—not that she particularly knew what she was missing. She laughed in re-telling Isabelle’s suggestion that she read about places she wanted to see.

‘Isabelle has even got Fanny looking into books. Look how dull she is turning out to be.’

‘I am not dull!’ cried the affronted girl.

‘Mama says that you have been to London many times and that you know all about getting into the assemblies. I intend to go there, next season. You could take me yourself!’

‘Unchaperoned?’ asked Clara, softening her tone with a gentle smile.

‘Well, yes. How is it you can flit around the country, then, and come here by yourself?’

‘I was accompanied most of the way, but we had a few unfortunate incidents.’ She explained the circumstances that arose along the way.

‘Even so, you spent the better part of today alone,’ said Catherine. ‘What I should not give to travel, either by myself or with someone. I would not mind either way.’

The conversation carried on in this vein, and as the minutes wore on, Clara felt weariness overtake her.

‘And how is Mariette? And her husband, and their little children?’ asked Catherine, taking no notice of Clara’s fatigue. ‘I cannot recall—do they have three children? Is it just two? And what are their names?’

It was almost midnight when Catherine and Fanny retired to their own chambers. Grateful to be alone at last, Clara slid under the heavy blankets on her bed and fell deeply asleep.

You can buy The Brantford Wagers from Amazon UK - Amazon US - Amazon CA - Amazon AU - Kobo - Google Play - Chapters-Indigo.ca

Now, let's meet the author:

In her début novel, The Brantford Wagers, Nadine Kampen draws on her passion for stories that bring a smile and warm the hearts of the reader. The author immerses the reader in the fictional world of traditional historical romance, set in the memorable Regency England period, sharing the hopes, schemes, and antics of her characters. 

Prior to her career as an author, Nadine served as a regional marketing manager with an international consulting firm and as a communications and marketing director on university campuses. Earlier in her career, she worked in public relations and journalism, and was co-author and project lead for five non-fiction books comprising The Canadian Breast Cancer Series, published in 1989.

A resident of Winnipeg in Manitoba, Canada, Nadine loves relaxing with family and friends, reading and walking, playing tunes on her 1905 Bell piano, and gardening.

You can keep up with Nadine's books on her Website - Twitter - LinkedIn - Facebook - Instagram - Amazon - BookBub - Goodreads

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