Hello everyone.

This is Marie-Claude, bring you back American Title V finalist Tamara Hughes and this time she will interview her favorite character from ONCE UPON A MASQUERADE, Victorian working-class maid Rebecca Bailey.

But first, let me thank everyone for visiting us Monday and we have a winner…..Sara Hurt.

Congratulation Sara!!!!

Now to you Tamara:

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Hi everyone. I’m Tamara Hughes, author of the novel ONCE UPON A MASQUERADE, and one of the eight American Title V finalists. Today I’d like to interview the heroine of my novel, Rebecca Bailey. The date is March 26^th, 1883, and Rebecca is at the Vanderbilt masquerade ball. I plan to be the bug in her ear, so we can meet her, live and in person.

Guests costumed as peasants and gypsies, monks and knights mingle in the immense ballroom, their extravagant clothes studded with gems. The strain of violins and the chatter of the crowd hum around us, while the smell of rose petals clings to the air.

TH: Rebecca? (I whisper from inside her head.) Can I speak with you a moment?

RB: (Rebecca gasps.) Dear heavens. My father has finally driven me mad. I’m hearing voices.

TH: (Oh crap.) No, Rebecca, I’m…I’m your conscience. (Good save—if I do say so myself.)

RB: Oh, good Lord. As if my life wasn’t a mess already.

TH: Stay calm. You seem a bit on edge.

RB: You would be too if you had the unenviable task I’ve set before me.

TH: And what would that be?

RB: If you are indeed my conscience, why would you ask such a question? Ah, never mind. Now I’m not only talking to myself, I’m arguing. I’m here because…because I’m hoping to find a wealthy gentleman willing to aid me and my father.

TH: In what way?

RB: (Rebecca rubs a strand of pearls between her fingertips.) My father is indebted to terrible men. And I’m not a woman of means. If I had another way to come up with the money…(Rebecca exhales a long breath.)…I wouldn’t be here in my mother’s finery, quaking at the knees, trying not to make an utter fool of myself.

TH: I doubt you’ll embarrass yourself. You look lovely in your…maid costume. (I take in her black dress trimmed with delicate white lace at the cuffs and scooped neckline, a chiffon apron tied around her waist and a feather duster in her hand.)

RB: Don’t laugh. It wasn’t my idea, although I can’t find fault with the reasoning behind it. At a masquerade, you are expected to play the part your costume inspires. And in this gown, if I forget myself and treat the other guests as my betters, none will be the wiser. Besides, I’ve already made an imbecile out of myself.

TH: How?

RB: (I can feel the heat of embarrassment radiate through her.) I’m a horrible liar, and one lie begets more. Oh, I can’t believe I talked myself into this charade. But I can’t give up—I won’t give up. My father is the only family I have left. (Rebecca’s eyes open wide, and her heart pounds faster.) Good Lord, there he is.

TH: Who?

RB: Mr. Black…Christopher Black. My word.

TH: (After some searching, I spot Christopher, dressed entirely in black, talking with a group of gentlemen. He’s costumed as a pirate in a free-flowing shirt unbuttoned mid-chest to reveal the glitter of a silver chain about his neck. His curling ebony hair and dark stubble give him a wild, almost dangerous, appeal.) What do you think of Mr. Black?

RB: Hmm?

TH: I said, what do you think of Mr. Black?

RB: Oh, I’ve only met him once, but he seemed genuinely kind.

TH: How so?

RB: He came to the Endicott manor, where I work as a maid, to visit Miss Endicott. As I delivered refreshments to the parlor, I spilled extremely hot tea on his trousers, and then promptly tripped, falling to the floor at his feet. I don’t need to tell you how horrible it all was. Yet instead of worrying over his trousers, indeed his scalded…person, he asked about my welfare and helped me to my feet. (Rebecca takes a step forward.) It could be my imagination, but he looks preoccupied now. You see how his arms are crossed, and he’s scanning the guests. He laughs and smiles when spoken to, but it appears he’s barely listening. I wonder what’s troubling him.

TH: Why don’t you go ask?

RB: No, I don’t dare. What if he remembers me? Besides, judging by this absurd conversation, I’m quite certain I’m as mad as a March hare.

TH: You’re quite sane, Rebecca.

RB: But I’m hearing voices. What could that be but insanity? Then again, my life has become rather mad of late. Perhaps my daft mind suits the occasion.

TH: Rebecca, for the last time, you’re not crazy, and to prove it I’ll go.

RB: Well, I hope you don’t mind my saying, I wish to never speak to you again.

TH: I don’t mind at all…and as crazy as your life seems right now, believe me, it’s for the best.

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Thank you Tamara. This interview really makes me want to read your story. You have quite a humorous voice and Christopher appears very sexy. I’ll be the first in line to buy your book.

So thank you all for dropping by today. And please leave a comment for your chance to win. I’ll be back on Monday to interview American Title V finalist Qaey Williams who will discuss her writing style and her romantic suspense IN A LOVER’S SILENCE.

Marie-Claude

www.mcbourque.com

Tags: american title, contest, dorchester, romantic times

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