Lenora has always cherished books. Long before she ever stepped foot in Blackmoore Castle, stories kept her company through quiet, lonely nights at the orphanage. Now, the castle’s vast library has become one of her safest retreats—a place of escape, comfort, and quiet joy.

Below is a moment from Death of a Duchess that captures Lenora’s affection for this room:

“I happen to cherish your dusty library. What a treasure to have so many books, so many escapes at one’s fingertips.”

Read an excerpt from Death of a Duchess

Robert’s eyes met mine, and he studied them for a moment. “You are too kind.” He paused for a breath. “I regret disturbing you with Edwin’s nonsense, though. It is nothing more than that, Lenora. Drunken nonsense.”

“No bother. I was on my way to the library.”

“Oh? I shall walk you,” Robert suggested, offering his arm.

“Thank you,” I said, accepting it.

“And what has you heading to the library? Considering making some changes? Removing it to add another parlor?”

“Absolutely not!” I exclaimed. “What a ghastly idea!”

“Ghastly? I should imagine the dusty library itself ghastlier than the idea of its removal.”

“I happen to cherish your dusty library. What a treasure to have so many books, so many escapes at one’s fingertips.”

“A treasure? Am I to understand you are an avid appreciator of books?”

“I am,” I admitted. “Books kept me company on a number of lonely nights at the orphanage. Though, the library there was woefully lacking compared to yours.”

Robert smiled at me. “Compared to ours,” he corrected. “Though I must admit I am unaware of its contents. I have spent little time there. Is our selection sufficient?”

We reached the library doors. “More than sufficient.” 

He smiled at me as we parted ways. “I am pleased you find it so. I shall leave you to your books, my dear.”

I glanced down at the book on my lap, one that I found within our library after my arrival, with a smile. The library far surpassed the one in my previous residence and had brought me many hours of enjoyment.

Robert’s eyes met mine, and he studied them for a moment. “You are too kind.” He paused for a breath. “I regret disturbing you with Edwin’s nonsense, though. It is nothing more than that, Lenora. Drunken nonsense.”

“No bother. I was on my way to the library.”

“Oh? I shall walk you,” Robert suggested, offering his arm.

“Thank you,” I said, accepting it.

“And what has you heading to the library? Considering making some changes? Removing it to add another parlor?”

“Absolutely not!” I exclaimed. “What a ghastly idea!”

“Ghastly? I should imagine the dusty library itself ghastlier than the idea of its removal.”

“I happen to cherish your dusty library. What a treasure to have so many books, so many escapes at one’s fingertips.”

“A treasure? Am I to understand you are an avid appreciator of books?”

“I am,” I admitted. “Books kept me company on a number of lonely nights at the orphanage. Though, the library there was woefully lacking compared to yours.”

Robert smiled at me. “Compared to ours,” he corrected. “Though I must admit I am unaware of its contents. I have spent little time there. Is our selection sufficient?”

We reached the library doors. “More than sufficient.” 

He smiled at me as we parted ways. “I am pleased you find it so. I shall leave you to your books, my dear.”

I glanced down at the book on my lap, one that I found within our library after my arrival, with a smile. The library far surpassed the one in my previous residence and had brought me many hours of enjoyment.

Continue reading Death of a Duchess here.

Long before the garden became a place of quiet reflection, Lenora first saw the castle from a carriage winding its way up the moor. That journey marked the moment her life changed forever—the moment she crossed from the world she knew into one shaped by secrets, destiny, and a title she never expected.

Below is the excerpt where Lenora first learns the truth of why she’s being brought to Blackmoore Castle:

“The carriage slowed, and I was pitched backward as we climbed. ‘We’re nearly there, Lenora,’ Mr. Langford said with a smile… You, my dear Lenora, are to be a duchess!”

Read an excerpt from Death of a Duchess

The carriage slowed, and I was pitched backward as we climbed. “We’re nearly there, Lenora,” Mr. Langford said with a smile. It was the first time he’d used my name. I noted he was devoid of his paperwork, likely unable to view it as the light waned to darkness. “All that remains is the climb to the castle.”

I gazed out the window as the carriage lurched around a bend, noticing the large structure perched on top of the moor. Lit by moonlight, I distinguished multiple features of the castle looming above us. Turrets and towers jutted from various areas of the sprawling framework. The moonlit castle struck an imposing silhouette against the night sky.

I returned my gaze to Mr. Langford. “Am I to be a governess?” 

An amused smile crossed the man’s face. “No.”

“A companion, then? A ladies’ maid?” I did not understand what my new role was to be when we arrived.

“No,” he answered, “His Grace has better uses for your special skills in mind. He has far bigger plans for you.” I furrowed my brow in confusion. “You, my dear Lenora, are to be a duchess!”

Continue reading Death of a Duchess here.

The sitting room is where Lenora often steals a few quiet moments to gather her thoughts. When the castle feels overwhelming, she turns to pen and paper—capturing fears, hopes, and small joys in her delicate script.

Lenora’s ability to commune with the dead is both a blessing and a burden. In rooms like this—vast, old, steeped in memory—she often senses spirits lingering at the edges of thought. They are not always willing conversationalists; many are trapped between what they were and what they can no longer be.

She listens when she can. She helps when they let her.

The Drawing Room has always been a place where appearances matter—where jewels, fabrics, and quiet gestures speak louder than words. It was here that Lenora first began to understand what it meant to step into a duchess’s life… including the weight of the gifts bestowed upon her.

Below is a moment from Death of a Duchess in which Robert presents her with a piece of jewelry she never expected:

“‘Fancy it? It is absolutely stunning!’ I tore my gaze from the necklace… ‘You spoil me,’ I murmured… ‘You are a duchess; you deserve to be spoiled.’”

Read the full excerpt from Death of a Duchess:

“I have a gift for you. To mark the occasion.”

“A gift?” I inquired. “Thank you, though it was unnecessary.” He motioned for me to join him, and I approached him as he opened the box. My jaw dropped open, and I clutched my stomach. “Robert!” Inside the box lay a jeweled necklace with a large yellow, teardrop-shaped stone in the middle surrounded by deep blue gems. Sparkling diamonds jutted from each side, forming the chain.

“Do you fancy it?” 

“Fancy it? It is absolutely stunning!” I tore my gaze from the necklace and flicked it up at him, shaking my head. “It is too much. I cannot accept this.”

“Nonsense,” he quibbled, removing the necklace from the box. “Of course you can, and you will. You cannot deny your husband the opportunity to bestow such a gift. Turn around while I fasten it.”

Shock still coursed through me, but I complied. He placed the necklace around my neck, its heavy coolness caressing my skin. “The large stone is a yellow sapphire, which I’m told is rare, but I was assured by Madame Worth that it would complement your dress. The smaller stones are traditional sapphires. Often, they are set to contrast their yellow cousins. The color reminds me of your eyes. And no woman should be without diamonds.” He clasped the necklace. I grasped it between my thumb and forefinger, glancing down at it.

“You spoil me,” I murmured, turning back toward him.

“You are a duchess; you deserve to be spoiled. Now that your outfit is complete, shall we depart?” He held out his arm to escort me to don my cape and climb into the carriage.

Continue reading Death of a Duchess here.

Every visitor who steps through the doors of Blackmoore Castle is greeted not only by its grandeur, but also by the quiet weight of its history. These halls have seen joy, sorrow, love, and loss—and Lenora has learned that some stories linger long after their time has passed.

As a thank you for exploring the castle, please enjoy a special gift from the Nellieverse:

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*at checkout for 20% off of any Duchess items → shop.nelliehsteele.com

The stables house more than the castle’s horses—they’ve also witnessed moments of fear, panic, and the supernatural forces that follow Lenora. What began as a simple ride quickly turned into a desperate race for safety when Lady, her mount, sensed something that terrified her.

Below is an excerpt from Death of a Duchess capturing the moment:

“The horse turned as I spoke… Lady raced down the hillside, fleeing from Annie’s blowing red dress… ‘Lenora!’ Robert shouted behind me.”

Read the full excerpt from Death of a Duchess:

As I settled into the saddle, a flash of color on the hillside caught my eye. I squinted into the distance, focusing on the color. My eyes widened as I realized it was Annie’s red dress blowing in the breeze.

“Annie?” I whispered to myself.

The horse turned as I spoke, its eyes also catching sight of Annie’s blowing dress, of her disheveled form standing on the hillside. The sight caused the horse to panic. She reared, her eyes wide with fright.

I struggled to keep my seat, managing to hang on by grasping a fistful of her mane. The spooked horse turned in a circle before bolting in the opposite direction, racing away from the specter.

I shrieked in panic as I fought to stay on Lady’s back. 

“Lenora!” Robert shouted behind me. 

I dared not glance back for fear of falling from the horse.

Thundering hooves pounded the ground as we fled from Annie. Lady raced down the hillside, heading into a wooded area and toward a stream that cut through the property. Branches tore at my face and arms. I lowered my head behind Lady’s as she continued her mad dash.

Lady sprinted into a clearing near the stream, showing no signs of slowing. Without warning, she skidded to a stop, turning in circles. I attempted to soothe her as we spun in a dizzying loop. The horse panted hard, chomping on her bit, still spooked. She squealed and trumpeted; her distress obvious.  

After three revolutions, Lady reared again. In this instance, I was unable to maintain my grip on her. I toppled off, landing hard on my backside and twisting my ankle. As I fell, movement caught my eye.

Lady dashed off as Robert and Charger rushed toward me. Robert leaped from his steed. He rushed to me, grasping my hand, worry etched in his face. “Lenora, my God, are you all right?”

Continue reading Death of a Duchess here.

Robert’s study reflects the man himself—imposing, poised, and far more complex than first impressions suggest. Visitors to this room will quickly learn that the Duke, his brother Edwin, and Lenora each play crucial roles in the life of Blackmoore Castle.

Enjoy their character cards below… and a special author secret:
When Death of a Duchess was first plotted, Robert was meant to die by Chapter 5, leaving Lenora alone in the castle to grow closer to his roguish brother, Edwin. But once writing began, Robert refused to step aside. His voice—and his presence—reshaped the story.

He survives not only Book 1… but all the way through Book 6, with no plans of meeting his end anytime soon.

Download the character cards here!

Lenora’s journey didn’t begin within the pages of her book—it began with an image. The original cover for Death of a Duchess was never meant for this series at all. It was a proposed design for a different novel, Shadows of the Past.

But when I saw the woman on that cover—quiet, strong, and unmistakably capable of speaking with the dead—I knew she wasn’t meant for that story. She was meant for her own.

And so, Lenora was born. A duchess crafted for a cover I couldn’t bear to lose, and a character whose voice shaped an entire world around her.

The tower room is where Lenora first managed to truly communicate with Annie—a restless spirit whose sorrow runs deep. Their early attempts were fraught with confusion, frustration, and desperate gestures as Lenora tried to piece together what Annie wished to reveal.

This moment marks the first time Lenora “unlocked” part of Annie’s story.
Read the scene below or listen to it being read by the author here!

Read the excerpt from Death of a Duchess:

Annie shook her head.

The crinkle in my brow deepened. “I do not understand,” I admitted. “You pointed at the box. What is it about the box?”

Annie swung her head in agitation.

I paced the floor, my hand resting on my forehead. “It isn’t the sound. It isn’t the box itself. It isn’t the fact that Robert gifted it to me. What is it?” I threw my hands out with frustration.

Her arm raised, and she again pointed at the box.

I sighed and returned to pacing. “Not the box itself…” I murmured. “Not the gift…” I replayed the conversation in my mind, trying to focus on what triggered the nod from Annie.

I halted my pacing, staring at her, throwing my arms in the air. “Annie, I do not understand what you are trying to communicate!”

Her arm, which never ceased pointing to the box, raised. I followed its trajectory. Her finger now pointed out the window.

A horse rode from the stables, traveling away from the castle.

I spun to face her again. “Robert!”

Annie nodded slowly, lowering her arm. I smiled at her, a sense of achievement filling me. This marked our first successful communication!

The smile was quickly replaced by a confused expression. “But what about Robert?” I questioned as the crinkle returned to my brow.
Annie continued to stare at me with her piercing gaze.

I met her stare, squinting my eyes at her as though it may help me read her mind. “You are trying to communicate something about Robert. It is not your upset over the gift. What is it?”

Annie stared, unflinching, in response.

“Ugh,” I groaned, shaking my head.

I resumed pacing again as I attempted to solve the puzzle. “Do you wish to communicate something to Robert?” I asked, pausing my ambling to gauge her response.

She shook her head.

“No,” I said, resuming my pacing. “Are you unhappy with Robert?” I tried as my next query.

A slight nod. I smiled, proud of myself. “You are unhappy with Robert,” I repeated. I paused a moment, thinking.

“Is this… was he the cause…” A sharp shake of the head cut off my words. No, Robert was not the cause of Annie’s suicide. I chided myself for even beginning to suggest it. The Robert I was acquainted with could never drive a woman to suicide.

“So, you are unhappy with Robert now, not before your death.”

Another nod.

My mind whirled as I computed the information I possessed and tried to assimilate it into an answer. “What has Robert done to upset you?”

Edwin did not welcome Lenora with open arms. Their early encounters were marked by sarcasm, sharp words, and dramatic accusations—often fueled by his own insecurity and flare for theatrics.

This moment from Death of a Duchess captures Edwin at his most insufferable… before he eventually becomes one of Lenora’s closest friends:

“‘In an attempt to ensure her future here, she has conjured a baby from thin air!’ Edwin exclaimed, waving his arms as though casting a spell… ‘I underestimated the lengths you will go to, Duchess, to secure your place here!’”

Read the excerpt below or listen to the author read the scene here.

With Samuel in my arms, I traversed the halls to speak with Robert on the matter. I arrived at Robert’s office, where I expected to find him reviewing correspondence missed during our time in Glasgow. I discovered an empty office. “Where might your father be, Samuel?” 

I navigated to the foyer in search of Buchanan. As I descended the stairs, I overheard Robert’s voice coming from the sitting room. The doors were slightly ajar, so I entered, expecting to find him discussing something with Buchanan.

“Robert,” I said as I pushed through the doors, “Mrs. Thomson wished to know if you preferred to review applications for Samuel’s…” I spotted another man in the room.

Edwin spun to face me. “Forgive me,” I murmured to Robert, “I did not realize you were speaking with Lord Edwin.”

Edwin’s jaw dropped. His eyebrows raised high. He guffawed, setting his brandy glass on a nearby table and burst into applause.

“Edwin, have you gone mad?” Robert questioned after his theatrical display.

“Not at all, dear brother!” He turned to me. “I offer you my congratulations, Duchess! I have far underestimated your unique abilities!”

“What nonsense are you prattling on about?” Robert demanded.

“Why, your wife’s obvious talents, of course,” Edwin responded. “The extraordinary qualities she possesses.” For a moment, I assumed he had slithered through the more boorish gossipers and discovered my supernatural ability. “In an attempt to ensure her future here, she has conjured a baby from thin air!” He waved his arms around, imitating a magician. My face set into a frown at his comments. “And further, she has convinced you, big brother, to raise this child of enigmatic origin.”

“Stop this behavior at once!” Robert bellowed.

“Oh,” Edwin continued. “I underestimated the lengths you will go to, Duchess, to secure your place here!”

The nursery once echoed with the soft sounds of infants and caretakers—but it also bears one of the castle’s most heartbreaking memories. It was here that Lenora first encountered the tragedy of Tilly’s death and the newborn child she left behind.

In this room, Lenora’s gift allowed her to see Tilly’s spirit… a moment that would alter the course of both their lives.

Read the excerpt below or listen to the scene here.

She led me up the remaining stairs and down the hall to a closed door. She glanced at me before opening it and proceeded inside. The distinct sound of sobbing filled the air as I rounded the bend into the room. Several women stood inside, a few crying, one wringing her hands.

My brow crinkled as I witnessed the scene. I scanned the room, searching for the reason behind their sorrow. The woman who had summoned me to the room touched the shoulder of another and whispered something into her ear. The girl who stood in front of the bed glanced over her shoulder at me, then backed away. Only then could I comprehend their upset.

I gasped, and tears filled my eyes as a sob shuddered through my body. On the bed lay Tilly’s body, lifeless. Pale as the sheet she lay on, her open eyes stared upward, though they saw nothing. Her colorless cheeks were slack, and her jaw hung open. One woman held Tilly’s hand, sobbing over her, though it no longer mattered. She was gone.

“Tilly!” I cried as tears rolled down my cheeks. “No!” I rushed to the bed, placing my palm on her cold cheek. I collapsed onto the bed next to her body as another sob escaped me. After a moment, I closed her eyes and pushed a lock of hair from her face. “What happened?” I whispered.

No response came. I glanced around at the others, waiting for an answer. The woman who brought me to Tilly spoke. “She…” The woman paused, steadying herself as another wrapped an arm around her shoulder. After a sniffle, she proceeded again. “She had her baby this morning. But then she started bleeding. Lots of blood. And it didn’t stop. Just kept coming.” The woman choked on the words, sobbing with each sentence.

“Aye,” a blonde woman added. “We tried to help her, even pooled some money to call for a doctor, but…” Her voice trailed off.

“She died before he got here,” the rude girl who had followed us upstairs finished.

I glanced back to Tilly’s exanimate form. Only now did I notice the faint traces of blood on the sheet that covered her body. Poor Tilly. Always so full of life, so exuberant, now cold and quiet. Another tear rolled down my cheek.

My thoughts were frazzled, but one constant centered itself in my mind. I stood and faced the other women. “What of the child?” I questioned.

They gaped at each other, none certain how to answer. “Is it also…” My voice faded away, unable to finish the sentence.

“No,” the blonde spoke up. “She delivered a healthy baby boy before…”

“Where is he? May I see him?”

The blonde nodded to the rude girl who disappeared into the hallway. She returned in moments carrying a small, swaddled figure. The tiny newborn mewled in her arms as he slept.

The girl handed him to me, and I stared down at his tiny face. He was wrapped in a stained white sheet. His coverings were contrary to the child himself. Porcelain skin and pink cheeks like his mother’s, I noted. And their mouths, identical. I wondered if he possessed her sparkling blue eyes. The only difference was the crown of dark hair on his head, the antithesis of Tilly’s flaxen tresses.

He fussed, huffing and whimpering. “Shh,” I offered. “There, there.” I jostled him a bit to soothe him back to sleep. “Has the father been informed?” I asked, my eyes remaining on the child.

I glanced up sharply when I received no response. The redhead shook her head, sighing.

“There is no father,” offered the blonde. My brow furrowed at her statement.

The redhead clarified it. “She don’t mean that literal. But we have no idea who he is. With our…profession… it’s impossible to tell.”

“Tilly seemed to know,” I argued. “Did she not confide in any of you his identity? She seemed to believe he wanted the child.”

A chuckle emanated from the rude girl. It turned into an uncontrollable laugh. Several of the women hushed her, but she continued to snicker. My brow furrowed further, and a frown crossed my lips. “That’d be Tilly, all right,” she answered, calming herself after noting my expression. “She always insisted someone would be back for her.” The girl rolled her eyes and met my gaze. “There weren’t no father, no marriage proposal, no man wanting that baby. She dreamed it all up. Told herself that bedtime story to get through it, she did. There weren’t no truth to it.”

I glanced around the room and was met by a few nods. Rude as she may be, the girl was correct, and most of the others confirmed her take on the unfortunate situation.

I looked down at the child in my arms. It was as I suspected. Tilly’s dreams of marriage and family were only dreams. Poor child,. What would become of him? Questions swirled in my mind as I struggled to process the events.

I gathered my thoughts before speaking again. I glanced up at the women. “What…” I stared into the room’s corner. A blue-eyed, pink-cheeked, flaxen haired woman stared back. Tilly. My heart broke for her. It took all my strength not to weep again in that moment.

She approached me, glancing down at the child in my arms. She placed her hand on his head, her thumb stroking his tiny forehead. Tilly glanced up at me, tears filling her eyes. I offered her a sympathetic look.

“Please, Lenora,” she said, sobs filling her voice. “Take him.”