Get ready…get
set…READ…
The Servant
Duchess of Whitcomb
Vicktor
Alexander
Series: The Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm
Release date: November 27,
2015
We’ve got Vicktor
Alexander on the hot seat!
Tell
us about your book.
I am a huge history nerd and the Regency and
Medieval time period are my favourite eras after the American Civil War. I
wanted to write a series set during the Regency time period, reminiscent of the
Harlequin Romance and Harper Collins books of old. The kind where there are
betrothals, forced marriages, pregnancies that lead to marriage, highwaymen who
kidnap the young, virgin, lady and seduces her into a relationship, etc.
However, I wanted it to be a gay romance series, paying homage to the
transgender/intersex community, I wanted my “men” or my “males” to be able to
get pregnant, but I still wanted to keep it historically accurate. So I figured
out a way to do it. It all came because of a question I asked myself: “What if
there were certain females in the Regency period who were called dukes and
certain males who were called duchesses and could get pregnant? Then there
would have to be females who could get their spouses pregnant… how would that
work?”
In regards to this particular novel one of
the things I love most about England’s history is that while people frowned on
interracial relationships, they were never really illegal. So too, when it came
to slavery, it didn’t really exist in England. There were plenty of noble
gentlemen who were involved in the slave trade but they didn’t really have
slavery. Actually having an African servant meant you were a person of great
standing, and could afford to “purchase” and employ an African. There were many
Africans who lived in the Lower East End and were barristers, blacksmiths, etc.
So, knowing that I wanted to envision a pairing (or more) where someone who was
part of the nobility married and had a child with an African male. What type of
scandal would that cause? How would people react?
And because of the time frame the series is
set in: 1811-1820, the Regency time period, there was also the added bonus of
my being able to engage many of my characters in the tense, dangerous adventure
of the Napoleonic Wars, which Orley is a wounded soldier of, and his friends
all served in. So this book, this series gave me the chance to combine my love
of writing history, with writing romance, and also paying homage to a community
that isn’t often discussed or written about.
This book follows Orley Garrick, the Duke of
Whitcomb, whom we met in Groom Of Convenience, the duke who was kidnapped and
tortured in 1812, as he meets and is enchanted by Chester Boland, the male
woman, a maid in his friend’s Heathcliff Eddington, the Duke of Pompinshire’s
(from Groom Of Convenience) home. Orley and Chester elope and because of the
scandalous nature of their relationship, their marriage, and because of Orley’s
past in the Nafoleonic (Napoleonic) Wars, their lives are in an upheaval and in
danger.
How
difficult was it to get into the main character’s head?
Not difficult at all. It’s weird but
whenever I write I sort of have a “Ghost” (with Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore,
Whoopi Goldberg, and Tony Goldwyn) moment. It’s almost as if the characters
inhabit my body and tell their story. I’m just as shocked by some things that
were said or that happened as I’m sure the readers will be. Also, my assistant,
Melissa, told me that Orley and I were the same. She said it’s because he’s
possessive, loyal, strong, faithful, has endured hell but can still smile, he’s
dominant, romantic, doesn’t care about crossing the lines that others have put
out there because they don’t matter to him. As I was writing the book, Orley
would do or say something and I would chuckle sometimes because it was totally
how I would have reacted. I will say that of the characters I’ve written about
so far, Orley is the one I connect with the most. Though I have a feeling
that’s going to change later on in the series.
Is
this book a standalone or do you plan on visiting it again?
It’s actually book 2 in a series. As a
matter of fact I am working on The Priceless Viscountess which is book 3 in the
Scandalous Whispers of the Remmington Realm series and it follows a new couple
who is revealed at the end of The Servant Duchess of Whitcomb who experiences
an extreme amount of heartbreak before they get their HEA. They also go from
enemies-to friends-to lovers.
Why
did you choose to write M/M stories?
I didn’t actually choose the genre. It more
or less chose me. I started writing at the age of 10, but I did it sporadically
years after that, though I consistently wrote poetry. After I left the Army I
started working at Walmart and bought an Android phone. I downloaded the
Audible app and while searching for books to listen to while I worked (thank
goodness for headphones and the overnight shift!) I came across a cover that
looked like a topless woman and a man in a suit. The book was titled Change Of
Heart by Mary Calmes. I was instantly hooked on the characters, on the genre
that celebrated two men falling in love (or lust) with each other and I went to
buy more audiobooks and then ebooks by Mary. I then branched out to other
authors when I’d read everything by Mrs. Calmes (I still do this. I have
everything she’s ever written and will stop reading whatever I’m reading in
order to read her newest release) and it wasn’t long before that writing bug
I’d forgotten about or ignored for so long was reignited. I love the
celebration of love between men, especially living in the world that we do when
there are so many who still protest against it so vehemently.
Where
do you find your inspiration?
Everywhere. Literally. I can be having a
conversation with someone and will get an idea for a story. I can be listening
to music and get an idea. I can be watching television, overhear a
conversation, be talking to my daughter, hear a news story and want it to turn
out differently, remember something that happened to me or a friend of mine.
Literally anything can be a source of inspiration for me. I live in a land of
“What if?” I ask myself things like “What if two men met, and one of them was a
vampire, and the other was a human hiding underground because all humans have
been killed off or forced to go into hiding so that they won’t be killed? And
what if the things we know about vampires are incorrect? The whole changing
into a bat, sleeping in a coffin, not being able to be in the sun, etc.?” (And
btw, that’s already a story that’s in my WIP queue. The title of the book is:
Hidden and it’s more thriller than romance, and is a part of a series: Humans
Underground.) My stories come from everywhere.
Blurb:
Orley Garrick is known throughout Angland
not only as the man with two dukedoms but also as the hero who survived a
brutal kidnapping at the hands of Nafoleon’s army, never once betraying the
secrets of His Majesty. Still haunted by his memories, Orley pushes his
crippled body to dangerous limits, all in an attempt to run from the demons of
his past.
Until he meets Chester Boland, a maid in his
friend’s household. Orley is besieged by desire for this gorgeous male woman,
and by a connection he cannot ignore. But there are those within the Remmington
Realm who take issue with the Duke’s choice—especially given Chester’s Tafrican
lineage.
Having stared death in the face and won,
Orley proposes they steal away and elope. However, before they can begin their
new life, they uncover dangerous secrets that go deeper than they could ever
imagine—involving those they trust the most.
Orley and Chester must discover exactly how
deep these secrets run before their enemies make sure Chester is removed from
Orley’s arms… forever.
Categories: Alternate
Universe, Fantasy, Gay Fiction, Historical, M/M Romance, Mystery, Romance,
Science Fiction, *Trans, Interracial, Military
304 pages
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: Anne Cain
THE SHARP retort of gunfire exploded around
Orley Garrick, Duke of Whitcomb, and he ducked, trying to avoid the debris and
the bodies of fallen soldiers around him as he surged forward. The smoke from
the countless rifles burned his eyes as he desperately looked for the person
who had caught his eye. He heard the cries of the dying calling out to him as
he rode his horse farther into the thick of battle. Using his sword, he cut
down an enemy soldier who raced toward him, mouth open as he let out a battle
cry. Orley closed his eyes against the spray of blood across his face and
blocked out the sound of the man’s death gurgle as he fell to the ground
beneath his own horse.
Orley raced on toward the figure in white
who didn’t belong on the battlefield. He called out a warning, telling the
woman to be careful, because there was no way a man would be on a battlefield
wearing a long, flowing white chemise, free of dust and bloodstain, appearing
almost angelic among the crowd of soldiers. The woman didn’t stop. Instead she
walked straight toward the commander of the enemy soldiers, and fear filled
Orley. He wasn’t sure why; he didn’t know the woman, and yet he could not let
anything happen to her.
At that moment, the woman turned to look at
him, and Orley gasped when he realized the woman in front of him was not female
as he’d suspected but male. Why in the world was a lady on the battlefield?
“You should not be here!” he yelled, trying
to warn the male, but just as he got close enough to lift the woman onto the
back of his horse, an enemy soldier plunged his sword through the woman’s back
and out through his chest. Orley watched helplessly as the woman’s eyes widened
moments before he collapsed to the ground, and a grief unlike aught he’d ever
experienced ripped through him.
He was not sure how he knew, but the dying
woman belonged to him, and someone had just taken him away.
Tossing his head back, Orley let out an
anguished shout at the heavens.
ORLEY WOKE, panting and sweating, in the
home of his friend, Heathcliff.
Holy. Shit. That one had been very different
from his other nightmares. He rubbed his face with his hand and groaned as pain
raced through his leg—the one that would never be the same. All because of war,
a battle. All because of….
Orley shook his head. No, he wasn’t going to
think about that.
Someone knocked lightly on the door, and
Orley winced as he realized his plan to come to his room and take a quick nap
after his taxing journey out of Tlondon had turned into a deep sleep and a
brand-new nightmare.
God, he hated sleeping.
“Enter,” he called out as he sat up and
swung his legs off the bed he was borrowing while visiting Heathcliff and
Lucien for their country-house party. The door opened, and Orley turned to
address the person standing there. He stopped short, almost swallowing his
tongue as he took in the vision of the most beautiful creature to have ever
been born.
Orley had been privileged to see many
beautiful people in his life. Male and female, he was a lover of aesthetically
pleasing images and didn’t discriminate. However, all of them paled in
comparison to the lovely light-brown-skinned woman in front of him. Orley’s
stomach clenched, his groin tightening as he inhaled sharply. The lovely scent
of jasmine wafted up to his nostrils, and his eyes slid closed as he relished
in the delightful fragrance emanating from the male who had just entered his
room.
“Forgive me, Your Grace. I was sent to bring
you a light repast and perhaps something to wash up with? His Grace the Duke of
Pompinshire thought that perhaps you would like to freshen up before joining
the rest of the guests downstairs.” The woman’s voice was soft and lyrical, with
a slight lilt to it, and Orley wondered if perhaps he sang. He would have no
problem lounging around on the settee listening to him sing or even just talk.
Of course, as he took in the male’s appearance, he felt the desire to do much
more than just listen to him.
“Your Grace? Are you ill?” the servant
asked, and Orley swallowed, shaking his head.
“N-no. I’m fine. Just a bit out of sorts,
I’m afraid. I appear to have overslept during my nap, and now I am feeling
quite peckish,” he lied.
The woman nodded, his hazel eyes lighting
with relief. Orley wondered at that. Was his well-being really of great
concern, or was it just because the maid had been sent to look after Orley?
Orley allowed his gaze to rove over the
young male’s form again, taking in every detail intently. He would like to have
something to conjure up in his mind’s eye later on that evening when he put his
hand to his already burgeoning erection.
Wearing the female black dress with a white
apron, which was the maid’s uniform that was standard in most homes of the
gentry, the young woman had honey blond hair that was currently pulled back in
a very luscious chignon at the nape of his neck, and Orley could only imagine
how long and thick it was. An image rose to his brain of that hair hanging down
over his face as the young woman slid up and down his cock, and he pressed a
hand to the sheets covering his waist. The young male’s skin was almond
colored, and all Orley wanted to do was spend hours licking every inch of his
body. He was not overly tall, only a few inches taller than Lucien, Heath’s
husband, but still much shorter than Orley. And where Orley was all hard, thick
muscles, the male maid before him was slender, though still with a lovely,
toned body.
His slim-fingered hands held a covered silver
tray, and Orley gestured him forward with a beckoning wave.
“Well, far be it from me to refuse such
generosity from His Grace. You can just place it there on the nightstand,” he
directed, watching the sway of the servant’s hips beneath the skirt of his
maid’s gown as he walked toward the cherrywood nightstand. Orley shoved his
fingers through his blond locks, messing up his hair and throwing his queue
into disarray. He was unnerved as the vestiges of the nightmare faded from his
mind, wreaking havoc with the lovely, distracting image of Heathcliff’s maid,
whose form even now was causing a pleasurable ache in his balls.
“Is there anything else that I can do for
you, Your Grace?” the maid asked, his voice hushed, eyes downcast, and a slight
tinge of red to his light brown skin.
Orley prided himself on being a man of
honor, integrity, and character. As a matter of fact, his grandfather, Charles
Edrick Garrick I, the former Duke of Whitcomb, had more than once given him
lessons and lectures on the way a gentleman was to behave. Anyone can strut
around and use his physical strength to try and prove his brawn. But it takes
honor, patience, gentleness, character, integrity, fortitude, knowing when to
fight, knowing when to walk away, knowing when to love, how to love, and when
to let go, and most importantly, knowing when to use your physical strength and
when to be humble, that makes you a man.
Orley had always believed those words from
his grandfather, had in fact lived by those words for his entire life. He’d
only strayed from them when he’d served in His Majesty’s military and on those
rare occasions when he’d allowed Blaine, Heathcliff, and Quincy to talk him
into traveling down into the Lower East End to partake of the wares of the
light-skirts. And while his grandfather’s words usually guided him, right now
he was seriously considering doing something illicit.
He couldn’t believe the images that were
passing through his mind. Flashes. Quick, as if they were memories like his
time spent on the battlefield rather than the salacious, hopeful yearnings of a
desirous, dry, fruitless attraction. However, the longer he spent in the
company of the object of his mind’s current musings, the more it seemed his
“dry, fruitless attraction” was soaked in hope and possibility. And perhaps it
was for that reason that rationality and his grandfather’s words of character,
honor, and integrity grew softer and softer until they were suddenly silent.
All he could concentrate on was how lovely Heathcliff’s maid was. How round the
male woman’s derriere was. How slim his shoulders were. How graceful his neck
was.
How full his lips were, and how much Orley
desperately wanted to kiss them.
“I think I would really like to know your
name,” he heard himself saying.
The maid’s eyes widened, and he gasped
softly. “Me, Your Grace?”
Orley chuckled. “Of course you. There is no
one else in the room but you and I, and I assure you that I already know my own
name. Unless it has changed in the time I have been asleep. It hasn’t, has it?”
The maid giggled and covered his mouth,
shaking his head. Orley found himself even more enchanted. When was the last
time he’d heard someone allow themselves to be so free that they just giggled?
His life was constantly surrounded by danger, drama, gossip, backstabbers, and
intrigue. He had a very small group of people he could trust, and they didn’t
often have the time to smile, much less giggle. Being around someone who could
giggle was a relief. It was like a bright ray of sunshine. Orley absolutely had
to have the maid’s name.
“No, Your Grace. Your name hasn’t changed.”
The maid glanced away for a moment, as if embarrassed, and then looked back.
“My name is Chester.” He executed a flawless curtsy, and Orley rose from the
bed and bowed low, smiling at Chester’s gasp. He knew Chester was surprised
that a member of the gentry, and a duke no less, would bow to him, but he would
soon learn that Orley was unlike every other duke out there.
“It is an honor to meet you, Chester. I am
extremely happy to be in your presence and very happy that you will be serving
me, and now….” Orley stepped close to Chester, looking down into the young
woman’s hazel brown eyes. His heart was pounding, and his leg, for the first
time in years, was not throbbing in pain—perhaps that was because only one
thing on his body could be throbbing at a time, and his cock already had that
covered. “I would very much like to kiss you.”
“Y-you would?” Chester stammered.
Orley nodded, lifting his hand to brush his
fingers against the side of Chester’s cheek.
“Is that okay, Chester? I find you to be the
most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and I would really like
to kiss you. May I?”
“You’re asking me?” Chester looked confused.
“I was told that men of your standing didn’t ask, that you just take.”
Orley shook his head, saddened by what
Chester thought of men of the ton, but he knew Chester’s assumptions came as a
result of dealing with “men” of a certain ilk. He would be speaking with
Heathcliff about those matters later that week, but at that moment, all of his
energy and attention was focused on Chester.
“Of course I am asking you. You always have
a choice. Not just with me, but with every single man in the world. You do not
have to do anything you don’t want to do. At least, that is the way it should
be in a perfect world. So if you don’t want to kiss me, we don’t have to.”
Orley would be disappointed, he would be haunted for days, perhaps a fortnight,
by the fullness of Chester’s mouth, but eventually he would get over it.
Chester nibbled on his bottom lip and then
grinned. “I would love for you to kiss me, Your Grace.”
Orley wanted to let out a loud yell of
triumph, but he held back and lowered his lips to Chester’s full, pillow-soft
mouth. He was fully expecting the surge of lust that spread through his limbs.
Maybe he was even expecting the tingle that spread through his fingers and
toes. However, the lightheaded feeling that drowned him in peace and yet
simultaneous excitement, and the way his heart sped up, were completely
unexpected. He growled and pulled Chester to him, as close as he could possibly
get the woman. He felt a bit like a ravenous beast, wanting to devour Chester
whole.
He lifted his lips to take a breath, opened
his eyes, and gazed down into Chester’s dazed ones. Chester smiled slowly up at
him. Orley grinned back, rubbing his hand up and down Chester’s back and
already preparing for the next round of kissing.
So he was surprised when he went to lower
his head for another kiss and was met with nothing but air and the sound of his
bedroom door closing.
Buy the book here:
Meet the author:
Vicktor “Vic” Alexander wrote his first
story at the age of ten and hasn’t stopped writing since. He loves reading
about anything and everything and is a proud member of the little known U.N.
group (Undercover Nerds) because while he lives, eats, breathes, and sleeps
sports, he also breathes history and science fiction and grew up a Trekkie. But
don’t ask him about Dungeons & Dragons, because he has no idea how to play
that game. When it comes to writing he loves everything from paranormal to
contemporary to fantasy to BDSM to historical and is known not only for being
the Epilogue King but also for writing stories that cross lines and boundaries
that he doesn’t know are there. Vic is a proud father of two daughters one of
whom watches over him from Heaven with his deceased partner Christopher. Vic is
a proud trans* and gay man, and when he is not writing, he is hanging out with
his friends, or being distracted by videos of John Barrowman, Scott Hoying, and
Shemar Moore. Vicktor has published numerous bestselling novels and has a WIP
list that makes him exhausted just thinking about. He knows that he will be
still be writing about hot men falling in love with each other, long after he
is living in an assisted living facility, flirting with the hot, male nurses.
Stalk the author:
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