Welcome to the Book Tour for Madeline Archer's The Changeling. This is a sweet paranormal love story which has just been made available, but it's already gaining interest and climbing the Amazon charts.
Half-fae Lenox Pendry is surrounded by secrets and none are his to keep. Plucked from his mother’s arms as an infant and raised a changeling, Lenox grows to adulthood unaware of what and who he is and oblivious to the danger unfolding as his birthday draws near. After he’s unwittingly sent to the Scottish Lowlands out of harm’s way, he chances to meet a beautiful healer named Janet Roxburgh. The townspeople believe her to be a witch. It would appear Janet has a few secrets of her own.
Note: Madeline Archer is the pen name of award-winning author Rose Anderson. The Changeling comes from the sweeter side of Rose’s imagination and was inspired by the Scottish ballad of Tam Lin. Rated PG.
Excerpt~
Setting
the Stage:
Three babies are born one night in a
convoluted, yet calculated, turn of events. The first infant is cruelly torn
from his grieving mother’s arms and swapped for another to be raised a
changeling. The third child dies shortly after birth. In a daring act of love,
the first infant replaces the third before his new mother knows her own child
has died. Or that’s the plan…
November 1, 1867
Frances March hurried cautiously along
the stable wall. So distracted by their conspiracy of mercy, she nearly jumped
out of her shoes at the nicker of a horse. The sooner this deed was done, the
better.
Pressing flat to the wall, she listened
for the stableman, but heard only the muffled sound of stabled horses and the
hoot of a distant owl. It was imperative that no one — upstairs or down — see her. She peered around the corner and
watched as her sister disappeared through the hedge. Pulling her shawl tightly
around her and the bundle she held, she scurried across the gardens to the
library and slipped inside quietly. The head butler was waiting.
He stated rather than asked, “You’re
certain no one saw you . . . ”
With a nod she went to warm herself by
the fire, her bundle held close. The grandfather clock in the hall struck one.
Osgood checked his watch against it. He
pressed, “Did you explain to your sister she must never speak of this again?”
“Yes, Mr. Osgood. As I said before, Agnes
says no one would believe the truth of it anyway. She’d be ridiculed…her
reputation ruined. And there’s always
the possibility she could be blamed for the other. It is unbelievable, no?”
“It is at that.” Osgood nodded. “I
scarcely believe it myself, Fanny. What about the poor still babe?”
Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Agnes will
see him to the cradle and hopefully none will be the wiser. Mrs. Benton will
think her own baby died and he’ll get
a decent burial. And that’s pretty much the truth, isn’t it? Her own son is as
good as dead. Poor, poor laddie, wherever he is now.” She crossed herself.
Osgood peered out into the night before
locking the French doors and drawing the heavy curtains closed. “It’s as it
should be.”
“Is it? Was it wise to switch them, Mr.
Osgood? I mean, the baker and his wife —”
“— Had their child taken, with nothing to
be done for it. They have seven living
children to love, Fanny. Her ladyship has four in the grave. Five now.”
Frances frowned. “Has her ladyship
awakened?”
He shook his head. “Doctor Fischer
administered a sedative. Lady Amelia was done out. She went to sleep believing
her child alive and has no idea of the tragedy that occurred but half an hour
later.”
“My
poor lady. To go through that long labor and, in the end, the babe too weak
to survive.” Emotion welling, Frances wiped her eyes. “What do you suppose they do with the babies they take?”
Osgood blinked his own sentiment away. “I
can’t say. My old Welsh grannie said the fae only took the sickly ones. But
back then it was only legend.”
“My Scottish gran told us the same,”
Frances said, shaking her head. “But Agnes says Libby Benton’s baby wasn’t sickly but strong and healthy.
Nearly every child of the Benton’s is as towheaded as their father, except for
the two with the ginger hair like their mother. Agnes said Libby’s babe was
destined to be ginger.”
Osgood went to the decanter and poured
two small glasses of sherry. He handed one to her before downing his in one
swallow. “Did your sister witness the switch?”
Frances sipped then shook her head. “When
Agnes went to tidy the mother, she left the sleeping babe in the crib with no
one to watch him. And, why would she think he needed to be watched? She helped
bring the others into the world without fuss. It was minutes only that he was
out of her sight. When she went back, another, with black hair, was in his
place. That’s when she told Libby the babe was asleep and she should rest a
while. So distressed was Agnes that she ran up to the hill to find me.”
He nodded. “It was fortunate she did.
Another hour and everyone might have known.”
“Oh yes, it was fortunate. Libby’s husband was at the bakery mixing his dough,
and the other children were sleeping up the
stairs . . . one more child to such a large family brought
little interest in him, you see. There was no one to witness the deed. Will you
be telling Mrs. Smithson?”
“No, Fanny. No one in this household,
save you and I, will know. Of course Mrs. Smithson would keep the secret if I
asked her to, but that isn’t necessary. We shan’t burden anyone else with the
truth.”
Frances uncovered the bundle in her arms.
Looking down, she smiled. “He’s a handsome laddie, don’t you think? I’m no
expert, mind, but Agnes and I both suspect the babe is of mixed race. His
little ears . . . ”
Moving to her side, Osgood broke into a
smile of his own. The little bundled boy was sleeping. He ran a gentle
fingertip over the small, slightly pointed ear. “Yes, he very well could be.
And yes, he’s a handsome little man —
dark like Master Evan was. May his soul in heaven forgive us.”
The lady’s maid put a reassuring hand on
the head butler’s arm. “He wouldn’t want her ladyship’s heart to be broken more
than it already is. You know how he loved her.”
“I do,” he nodded. “As I see it, the
baker’s child is no more, taken away to some faery hill no doubt, never to be
seen again, if the old stories are true. This little boy did not belong with
the Benton family anyway. He’s black-haired, for one. He’d grow being
different, maybe disliked or mistrusted, even despised by his father as another
man’s bastard. Danny Benton is a highlander. You know how they are — with their
superstitions — when they feel something
isn’t quite right. The child would suffer for a situation not of his making. It
harms no one that he be raised a Pendry.”
She nodded. “Yes, you’re right Mr.
Osgood. If nothing else, this is the better life of the two.”
“It most certainly is. Master Evan is
gone and Master John has been missing for a fortnight. Solicitors across London
have been inquiring high and low for his whereabouts, but it isn’t looking
good, Fanny. Should anything have happened to Master John, there is no other
heir living. This little man may very well become the 10th Earl of Pendry.”
To the babe, Osgood leaned down and
whispered, “And the family name will continue because of you. Shall we meet
your mummy little sir?”
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