Interview and Spotlight with Beverly Oakley

Interview with Beverley Oakley

When you’re brainstorming for a new story, what usually comes first for you, the plot or the characters?

I almost always start with a set-up like, “What lengths would a woman of the Regency era go to if her dead husband willed that her child be brought up in another family, and she had no legal rights to demand custody?” Or, “What might happen if a suspected traitor to the crown thought that the debutante snooping in his room for evidence was in fact the prostitute he’d ordered for the night?” (This is the premise of my latest story, Dangerous Gentlemen.)

Can you write sex scenes at any time or do you have to be “in the mood?”

I write sex scenes when they’re necessary to the plot but it often works the other way and puts me “in the mood” and I’ll work more on going over those scenes in other books I’m writing at the same time. Sometimes I just don’t feel like writing a sensual scene when I’m at that stage in the story so I’ll just write in the draft (and they had sex) before moving on with the story and coming back to that part, later when I’m “in the mood”.

What do you like about writing series books?

Heaping on the intrigue and piling up the deep and often unexpected motivations of my characters. I just love it! In this current Daughters of Sin series, I started with my innocent, though dashing hero being seduced by a jaded married woman before he falls in love with my heroine who is the lonely, discarded wife of his benefactor. Their steamy romance is the focus of Book One Her Gilded Prison (immediately prior to Dangerous Gentlemen) and it’s only at the end that this first woman reappears, pregnant. However, it’s not until the third book that the fates of the various offspring of characters who’ve behaved, let’s say, a little ignobly, intertwine. So subterfuge, deception and bold charades are balanced by characters who deserve only good to happen to them, and who are indeed rewarded with their Happy Ever After.

What do you feel are some of the pros and cons of indie publishing?

While I’ve enjoyed the camaraderie of being part of a traditional publisher’s stable, it’s like being at an intimate party compared with a huge carnivale bash if we’re talking about Indie publishing. The vast and generous resources of support and help offered amongst Indie authors is amazing. Another huge pro with being Indie published is my total control and freedom to experiment, both with story lines and with promotions and marketing

Would you tell us about your latest release?

I’d love to! Dangerous Gentlemen was first released by Ellora’s Cave several years ago but last month I got the rights back, reworked it and republished it with a gorgeous new cover. The reaction from Romantic Historical Reviews was just what I was striving for.

**

“I have to be honest; when I first read the description of Dangerous Gentlemen, I was a little incredulous. It seemed to be an impossibly tall order! How, in Regency London, with all its rules and societal restrictions, was Ms Oakley going create a scenario where a respectable, wallflower, débutante who is barely ready for the spotlight could be mistaken for a prostitute?” asks the reviewer. She adds, “Well, it turns out not only does Oakley manage it but she does so without making all the characters seem like 21st century people masquerading as Regency characters.

I got a real kick out of that review, because I wanted to write a heroine who was shy, insecure and living in the shadow of her beautiful older sister, who then lands herself in hot water and has to make some hasty decisions about her future – or what’s going to happen in the next five minutes.

Do you have an excerpt from your latest release you would like to share?

I’d love to, as this excerpt explains how Hetty makes that pivotal, life-changing decision.

In this extract, Hetty, a debutante and viscount’s daughter, is returning from the mending room at a ball when she learns that a certain interesting and ‘dangerous gentleman’ is a house-guest.

With a furtive look around her, Hetty hurried left and up the stairs, at which point two corridors at right angles disappeared into darkness. Choosing the one to the right, she found herself face-to-face with a series of closed doors.

Foolish, she chided herself. Of course they were closed and she could hardly open them. As she turned back toward the ballroom, a faint light shining from the crack beneath a door that was slightly ajar gleamed beckoningly.

Glancing over her shoulder, she approached it, and when she gave the door a little nudge with her foot, it swung open.

Excitement rippled through her.

“Hello?” she asked in a low voice. She took another step into the room. “Is anyone in here?”

Silence. A low fire burned in the grate before which was a table, against which were propped several items, including a familiar silver-topped cane. Her breath caught. The last time she’d seen that cane was when Sir Aubrey had exchanged several words with Araminta in the street as Hetty had been bringing up the rear with Mrs. Monks. Of course Sir Aubrey had not looked twice at her, excusing himself before having to be introduced to the younger sister and the chaperone who’d nearly closed the gap.

Heart hammering, Hetty closed the door behind her and went to pick up the cane.

How fortunate to have stumbled into Sir Aubrey’s room, she thought when she observed the fine coat lying upon the bed, apparently discarded in favor of what he was wearing tonight.

He really was a nonpareil, wearing his clothes as if they were an extension of his athletic physique.

Yet he was dangerous, she had to remind herself. Meaning she should not be here, which of course she shouldn’t, regardless of whether he was dangerous or not.

But how such a scion of good breeding and genteel society could be guilty of such a heinous crime as treason, Hetty could not imagine. And surely the story of the runaway wife was a gilded one. It was all the stuff of make-believe and Cousin Stephen was only telling Hetty he was dangerous to curb her schoolroom daydreams.

Turning, she saw half protruding from beneath the suit of clothes what appeared to be the edge of a silver, filigreed box. It was partly obscured by the overhang of the counterpane, as if it hadn’t properly been returned to its hiding place.

A moment’s indecision made her pause but soon Hetty was crouching on the floor, closing clammy fingers around the box. Might it contain secrets? Ones that would reveal, conclusively, what Cousin Stephen claimed was true?

Alternatively, proof that would exonerate Sir Aubrey?

Hetty fumbled for the catch. Dear Lord, this was too exciting for words. Perhaps Sir Aubrey was a secret agent working for the English, and Stephen had no idea.

Perhaps he was—

Protesting door hinges made her squeal as the door was flung wide. Hetty let the lid of the box fall and retreated into the shadows as Sir Aubrey strode into the room.

He was breathing heavily as he shrugged off his jacket with a curse, raindrops spattering into the hissing fire as he raked his fingers through his hair. A curious stillness overtook him and he froze, obviously sensing all was not as he left it.

He sniffed the air. “Orange flower water,” he muttered, stepping closer to the fire, fumbling for the tinderbox on the mantelpiece to light a candle.

Immediately he was thrown into sharp relief and as he stared at Hetty, it was not his look of shock and suspicion that made her scream—but the copious amounts of blood that stained his shirtsleeves and once snowy linen cravat.

“God Almighty, who are you?” he demanded as his gaze raked her finery. “You’re no parlor maid, that’s for certain.”

Gaping, unable to formulate a sensible answer, Hetty finally managed, “What happened to your arm, Sir Aubrey? Are you injured?”

“Sir Aubrey, is it? So you know who I am but you still haven’t told me who you are?” He grunted as he looked down at his arm, the bloodied linen shredded over the long graze. “It’s not as bad as it looks and I assure you, I gave a good account of myself.” His laugh was more a sneer. “Indeed, my assailant lies dead in the gutter.”

Hetty gasped. “Dueling?” Myriad questions crowded her mind. Could this be to do with Araminta? Had Sir Aubrey left Araminta in the middle of the ball to fight some other contender for her affections?

“Dueling?” he repeated. He shook his head and Hetty drew back at the coldness in his eyes. “There was nothing noble about my activities this evening. I was set upon in a dark alley. A short scuffle ensued, I drew my knife, then…” With his hand, he made a gesture like the slitting of his throat, adding, “I am slightly wounded but as I said, my attacker does not live to repeat the insult.”

Her horror clearly amused him, for his eyes narrowed while his generous mouth quirked. He looked like an incarnation of the most handsome demon she’d ever seen depicted in the fairy stories she loved to read.

“We all have enemies, madam. Enemies who must be eliminated if we are to breathe freely.”

***

Aubrey was enjoying the girl’s wide-eyed terror. No doubt she imagined he’d sliced the throat of a footpad, not the snarling, mangy cur who had leapt upon him as he’d been returning from his brief assignation to settle a gaming debt incurred by his favorite reprobate nephew.

Taking pity on her, he said reassuringly, “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.’ Her wide-eyed look as he removed first his jacket, then the bloodied shirt he tossed upon the bed before he rose to his full height, bare chested, afforded him the most amusement he’d had in a long time. “So, you’re the girl Madame Chambon sent?”

*

What makes the hero of Dangerous Gentlemen hot?

He’s confident with a sense of entitlement but his love for his faithless late wife has made him bitter, for it’s due to her double-dealings that his reputation has been tarnished and his aspirations for a career in politics are going nowhere. Ironically it’s the love of the “little brown peahen” Hetty that bring him his greatest happiness. He has no idea she is the sister of the beautiful debutante with whom he’s considering marriage.

So, there’s lots of intrigue, some of which harks back to the first book in the series, which follows the star-crossed love affair of the girls’ mother with a younger man. Both can be read as stand-alones, however

Would you tell us about yourself?

I’ve been writing historical romance since I could hold a pen but only started writing fiction seriously when I became a pilot’s wife. It was the one constant as we moved from living the expatriate life in Africa, Greenland, French Guiana and Solomon Islands. Now we’re back in Australia with two daughters and I’m working on a number of projects at the same time, including several set in Colonial Africa.

Do you have any pets?

A Rhodesian Ridgeback called Mombo, named after the luxury safari lodge in the Okavango Delta where I met my husband when he was working as a bush pilot in Botswana.

Thank you so much for having me here today, Kate.

Bio:

Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.

Twenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she ensured her heroine was saved from drowning in the icy North Sea.

Since 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen historical romances filled with mystery, intrigue and adventure. Most are set in London ballrooms and country estates during the Georgian, Regency and Victorian eras.

Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth-century lunatic asylum. She also writes less steamy historicals and romantic suspense set in Colonial Africa, where she was born, as Beverley Eikli.