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Authors: Lauren Royal

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BONUS MATERIAL

Author's Note
Books by Lauren Royal
Contest
Excerpt from FOREVERMORE
Excerpt from AMBER
A Gift for You
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Contact Information

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Dear Reader,

I always like to see the places I'm writing about, and I had great fun researching this story and visiting all the inns that lined the Great North Road—formerly the Roman road called Ermine Street—back in the 1660s. Which ones mentioned in the story are real? All of them! If an inn was mentioned by name, you can assume it was a real place that Jason and Cait could have stopped at during their travels. But a few of them have fascinating histories and deserve more than a mere mention.

In Newark, the Saracen's Head inn dated back to 1341 and was indeed run by the Twentyman family from 1590 until 1720. As told by my fictitious Mrs. Twentyman in the story, their name really was originally Lydell and changed when one of them pole-axed twenty men. And the true tale of the little drummer boy saving Newark from capture is still told today. A frequent visitor, Sir Walter Scott mentioned the inn in his novels and his diary, calling the landlord "a man of the most gentlemanly manners." The Saracen's Head finally closed in 1956, and the building is now used as a bank, but a "Saracen's Head" bust on the facade attests to its previous use.

As for the tunnels under Newark's marketplace, the one supposedly haunted by the ghost of a monk does not actually lead from the Saracen, but rather from the 16
th
century Queen's Head inn. There are no recent sightings of this ghost, but the last landlord did complain of strange noises coming from the cellar and a door that seemed to open itself in the middle of the night. Employees claim that bottles have been moved and hesitate to go into the cellar on their own. And one customer swears he saw someone "not of this world" standing on the stairs. Although the distinctive round Queen's Head sign still swings beneath the eaves of the building, it is currently operated as part of the chain of Hobgoblin pubs. A nice place to stop for lunch and—who knows?—maybe a bit of a scare!

Although it was just The Angel during the 17
th
century, Grantham's oldest inn is now called The Angel and Royal. The grounds originally belonged to the Knights Templar, and from 1212 until the dissolution of their order in 1312, it was a hostelry for royal travelers, merchants, and pilgrims. King John and his train of courtiers held court at The Angel in 1213, Richard III signed the death warrant of the Duke of Buckingham there in 1483, and the inn enjoyed a royal visit from Charles I in 1633. In 1866, Edward VII paid a visit to The Angel, and it was then that it became known as The Angel and Royal. One of the inn's most-told stories is that in 1707, the landlord Michael Solomon died and left a legacy of forty shillings a year to pay for a sermon to be preached against the evils of drunkenness every Michaelmas Day. To this day, the annual payment is made and the sermon preached. This handsome and historic inn is still a popular place to eat and stay.

The Bell Inn in Stilton dates back to 1500, and the current building from 1642, the year in which the Civil War began. There is still a Roman well in the courtyard, topped by a charming thatched roof. Alas, the inn's black cat was invented, but inspired by one who roamed the grounds during my visit. One popular 18
th
century tale has infamous highwayman Dick Turpin hiding at the Bell for nine weeks while hunted by the law. Supposedly, when surprised by a raid, he threw open the window and jumped onto Black Bess to gallop up the Great North Road. But the Bell Inn is most famous for Stilton Cheese and the man who popularized it, Cooper Thornhill, the inn's landlord during the mid-1700s. The cheese was first made by Thornhill's sister-in-law, a housekeeper in Leicestershire. Mites and all, he served it at the Bell and named it after the village. Soon the cheese's fame began to spread, and by the time Daniel Defoe wrote his
Tour Through The Whole Island of Great Britain
(1724-27), he could say he "passed through Stilton, a town famous for cheese." In the 1980s, the inn was restored using the original plans. Today it is a charming place to stay or take a meal while absorbing some of its history, and a frequent host to politicians, actors, and pop groups.

Caithren's home was inspired by the real Leslie Castle in Scotland. Sadly, the charming little castle is no longer open to the public, but I was fortunate to stay there when it was still being run as a luxurious B&B. Set at the west end of the Bennachie Range, thirty miles from Aberdeen, Leslie was the original seat of Clan Leslie. The current castle, a turreted 17
th
century baronial house, is the third fortified building on the site since 1070. By the time of my story, the property had fallen out of Clan Leslie hands…but, fanciful as I am, I like to imagine that perhaps a minor Leslie family such as Cait's might have lived there. In 1979, the decaying roofless ruin was acquired by a member of the Leslie family and restored to its former fairy-tale beauty.

To see pictures and learn more about the
real places
and
real people
featured in
Emerald
, please visit my website at
www.LaurenRoyal.com
, where you can also enter a
contest
, sign up for my
newsletter
, and find
recipes
for some of the seventeenth-century dishes that Cait and Jason enjoyed in this book. My favorite is the Mushroom Pie that Caithren ate at the Saracen's Head in Newark, but if you try any of the recipes, I hope you'll e-mail me at
[email protected]
and tell me what you think!

Do you suppose Cait was right when she thought a romance might be brewing between her cousin, Cameron, and little Mary's mother, Clarice? To find out, read my novella,
Forevermore
. You'll find an
excerpt
in the back of this book.

For a chance to revisit Jason and Cait, look for
Amber
, the final book in my
Jewel Trilogy
. (There's an
Amber
excerpt
in the back of this book, too!) If you missed Colin and Amy's story, you can find it in
Amethyst
. And Ford's story is in
Violet
, the first book in my
Flower Trilogy
.

To hear about my
upcoming releases
, my
contests
, and other news, please sign up for my
newsletter
, friend me on
Facebook
,
or follow me on
Twitter
(@readLaurenRoyal) or
Pinterest
. I love to keep up with my readers!

I hope you enjoyed
Emerald
—thank you for reading!

 

Till next time,

BOOKS BY LAUREN ROYAL

The Jewel Trilogy
Amethyst
Emerald
Amber
Forevermore
(a Jewel Trilogy novella)

The Flower Trilogy
Violet
Lily
Rose

The Temptations Trilogy
Lost in Temptation
Tempting Juliana
The Art of Temptation

ENTER FOR A CHANCE TO WIN

a sterling silver replica of Caithren's emerald amulet!*

To enter, visit the
contest page
on Lauren's website at
www.LaurenRoyal.com
and answer a question
to be entered in the monthly drawing.

No purchase necessary. See complete rules on the site.

*Please note: Depending on when you enter, the prize may be another piece of jewelry associated with one of Lauren's books.

You met Clarice Bradford in
Amethyst
and Cameron Leslie in 
Emerald
.
Now read their own story, 
Forevermore
!

Excerpt from
FOREVERMORE


Jewel Trilogy
 novella
by Lauren Royal

Village of Cainewood, England
September 1667

They'd sent a carriage to take her to the castle.

In all her thirty-one years, Clarice Bradford had never ridden in a carriage. Gingerly she climbed inside and perched on the leather seat, settling the pink skirts of her Sunday gown.

Dressed in blue to match her eyes, Clarice's five-year-old daughter bounced up and down on the seat opposite. "I've been in this carriage, Mama. When Lord Cainewood brought me to live with you."

In her short life, Mary had been orphaned by the plague and then abandoned during the Great Fire of London. But in the year since Lord Cainewood brought Mary to her doorstep, Clarice had come to love the girl like her own.

"I remember you climbing out of this carriage. That's one day I'm unlikely to ever forget." Clarice reached across and tweaked her daughter on the chin. "It's a fine carriage, isn't it?"

Mary shrugged, her blond ringlets bouncing on her shoulders in the same rhythm as the vehicle. "I would rather ride a horse."

"That wouldn't be a very elegant way to arrive at a nobleman's wedding."

A sigh wafted from Mary's rosy lips. "I s'pose not." She nibbled on a fingernail until Clarice pulled her hand from her mouth. "Who is Lord Cainewood marrying?"

"I haven't met her, poppet, but if she's marrying Lord Cainewood, she must be a grand lady. I've heard she's from Scotland."

"Scotland. Is that very far away?"

"Far enough." Clarice leaned across the cabin and took Mary's hands in hers. "Can you believe we're going to a wedding at the castle?"

Though Mary smiled, it was clear she wasn't overly impressed. "I lived at the castle before." Last year, after Lord Cainewood's brother had swept her from the fire and brought her to Cainewood. "For a whole month."

"Well, I've only been in the great hall for Christmas dinner once a year," Clarice said. "I've never seen any of the other rooms."

"I'll show you around," her daughter proclaimed, displaying nary a hint of the awe that made Clarice's heart beat a rapid tattoo.

The castle was grandly ancient; the very thought of entering the family's private living space was both daunting and exciting. And the carriage was clattering over the drawbridge already.

Shadows sheathed the carriage's windows as they passed beneath the barbican. Then it was bright again, and Clarice Bradford found herself inside the crenelated walls of Cainewood Castle.

The carriage door was flung open, and Mary ran down the steps into the enormous grassy quadrangle. "Who are you?" Clarice heard her ask. "And who is this?"

"You must be Miss Mary," came a masculine voice. Clarice alighted from the carriage to see a man crouched by her daughter, an infant in his arms. "And this is baby Jewel. Lord Cainewood is an uncle now, aye?"

"Lord Cainewood plays games with me sometimes. The babe is lucky to have him for an uncle." Four stories of stately living quarters looming behind her, Mary ran a small finger down the child's tiny nose. "But Jewel is an odd name. 'Specially for a boy."

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