By Alex Marchant
A Gentleman’s Promise: A Regency Romance (Gentlemen Book 1)
Published 11th March 2021
For this week’s Throwback Thursday at Yarde Book Promotions, we are delighted to welcome back Penny Hampson as she reflects on one of the books that marked an important milestone in her writing journey.
A Gentleman’s Promise, the first novel in Penny’s Gentlemen series, was published on 11th March 2021 and introduced readers to a world of Regency romance, honour and emotional restraint, set against the elegance and social conventions of the period. As the opening book in the series, it laid the foundations for characters, themes and storytelling that would continue to develop throughout the novels that followed.
In this interview, Penny looks back on the experience of writing and publishing A Gentleman’s Promise, reflects on what the book represents to her today, and shares how her writing and career have evolved since its publication.
Join us as we revisit the novel that began the Gentlemen series and explore the journey behind the story.
Penny Hampson writes mysteries, and because she has a passion for history, you’ll find her stories also reflect that. A Gentleman’s Promise, a traditional Regency romance, was Penny’s debut novel and the first of her Gentlemen Series. There are now three novels in the series, with the fourth, An Adventurer’s Contract, due to be released by the end of 2024.
Penny lives with her family in Oxfordshire, and when she is not writing, she enjoys reading, walking, swimming, and the odd gin and tonic (not all at the same time).
Penny’s books are all available on Amazon: viewauthor.at/Pennysbooks
"An Echo of Ashes" is a thoughtful and quietly powerful work of historical biographical fiction, tracing a young man’s coming of age in a world increasingly shaped by industry, war, and social upheaval. Drawn from the author’s own family records and rooted in real events between 1914 and 1919, the novel carries the sense of a story recovered from memory, carefully assembled from the remnants of a vanished time. A quietly devastating and beautifully restrained novel, it allows history to unfold through the intimate details of labour, family responsibility, and the gradual narrowing of personal choice.
At the centre of the novel is Earl Ames—known within his family as Top—a protagonist drawn with restraint, subtlety, and emotional credibility. Earl is not fashioned as a hero in the traditional sense, but as a young man of conscience and patience, shaped by discipline and obligation rather than by ambition. His development is measured and organic, and it is through his inward responses to events, rather than his outward actions, that the reader comes to understand the cost of the era.
A defining element of Earl’s character is the self-reliant life he leads. He works independently on the Cambridge lease and, alongside this dangerous industrial labour, maintains a subsistence farm that provides for his family. This dual existence—oil worker and farmer—grounds the novel in the realities of rural endurance, where survival depends as much on steady hands in the field as on courage in hazardous work. Ames uses this setting not merely as background, but as a formative influence, showing how constant responsibility cultivates humility, endurance, and a strong sense of accountability.
That inner life is revealed most clearly through music. Earl’s musicianship provides a counterpoint to the severity of industrial and agricultural labour, allowing the novel to explore the tension between duty and aspiration, practicality and imagination. In these moments, Ames suggests that identity is not singular, but layered—shaped as much by what one feels as by what one must do.
The romantic thread is handled with similar restraint. Rather than offering idealised passion, the relationship unfolds through hesitation, misunderstanding, and self-doubt. Class, expectation, and fear of inadequacy are allowed to complicate affection, resulting in a portrayal that feels grounded and emotionally honest.
When the narrative turns toward war, it does so through the experiences of Jack Litzinger, a close family friend. These battlefront passages are brief and controlled, and they serve less to dominate the story than to remind the reader of the distant violence pressing steadily upon lives at home. In this way, the war becomes a presence rather than a spectacle.
Closer still to Earl’s world, the arrival of the Spanish Flu introduces a second, deadlier threat. Ames captures the atmosphere of the epidemic with quiet effectiveness: closed spaces, anxious waiting, separation, and the pervasive sense that danger may arrive unannounced. The epidemic is not sensationalised, but presented as another force of history that tests endurance and reshapes ordinary life.
The novel’s principal weakness lies in the placement of historical documentation and explanatory asides. While the research is clearly careful and sincere, the frequent bracketed notes and inserted clarifications occasionally interrupt scenes that would otherwise sustain their own momentum. Much of this material would have been better reserved for an author’s note at the conclusion of the book. Additionally, the handling of horses suggests a limited familiarity on the author’s part, and a more in-depth understanding of their behaviour and care would strengthen those passages in which they feature.
"An Echo of Ashes" is, above all, a character-led biographical historical novel. Its strength lies in the quiet authority of its protagonist, the authenticity of his working and farming life, and the measured way in which large events are allowed to shape a single human story. Despite structural interruptions, it remains a moving affirmation that even in loss and uncertainty, a life lived with kindness and purpose leaves its echo long after the final page.
History books record the experiences of the powerful, the rich, the famous. Their voices dominate the pages, commanding us to accept their perspective as truth. But what if we could hear the whispers of those who were never given a chance to speak? How would this affect our understanding of the past?
Normandy, 1064
Celia Campion, a girl of humble background, finds herself caught in a web of intrigue when Duke William commands her to work as his spy, holding her younger sister hostage. Her mission: to sail across the sea to Wilton Abbey and convince Margaret, daughter of Edward the Exile, to take final vows rather than form a marriage alliance with the newly crowned king to the North, Malcolm III of Scotland. Preventing a union between the Saxons and Scots is critical to the success of the Duke’s plan to take England, and more importantly for Celia, it is the only way to keep her sister alive.
In this sweeping epic that spans the years before and after the Conquest, two women from opposite sides of the English Channel whisper across the chasm of time to tell their story of the tumultuous days that eventually changed the course of history. As they struggle to survive in a world marked by danger, loss, and betrayal, their lives intersect, and they soon come to realize they are both searching for the same thing--someone they can trust amidst the treachery that surrounds them.
Together, their voices form a narrative never before told.
Excerpt
Her voice lifted in confusion. “Father?”
Margaret had been breathing in the musky smell of the woodlands and the flowering anemone that lined their path when she saw her father’s body, as it was positioned in the saddle, tilt further and further toward the side.
That morning the family had left the inn and began traveling toward Favreshant, following a path made fragrant by the flowers and plants newly opened for spring. The weather did much to improve Margaret’s spirits as the sun shone brightly upon them from a clear, blue-domed sky. An occasional puffy cloud floated across the heavens but never did it linger long enough to diminish the warmth that embraced her. Walking with a bemused smile upon her face, Margaret surrendered to the charms of the countryside, relishing in the way the light accentuated the many shades of green that colored the leaves, the bushes, and the flower stems. A random look toward the front of the cavalcade snapped her pleasant daydream when she noticed the rider near the head of the train—her father—was about to fall.
Abandoning her usual sauntering walk, she broke into enormous strides trying to close the gap between her father and herself. The rapid turnover of her feet upon the soil alarmed the flock of yellowhammers who had been flitting about the blossoms. To escape the disruption, they rose higher and hovered above, waiting for the
tumult to settle.
“Father!”
Her shout coincided with the loud thud of his body landing on solid ground, his head coming to rest in a patch of wildflowers.
Before Margaret reached him, she could see Gerhard was already there. He had carefully removed young Edgar from the saddle and then ran toward Edward, dropping to his knees for closer inspection.
Margaret skidded to a halt and took the same posture on the other side of her father’s fallen body. Hesitantly, she repeated again, “Father...?”
His lips parted but no sound issued forth.
After a quick glance in her direction, Gerhard moved closer to Edward, placing one hand beneath his master’s neck and bringing his own closer. “Edward! Edward, can you hear me?” Nothing. “Blink your eyes if you can hear me.” Gerhard’s voice cracked with worry, his usual composure gone. Because Gerhard had leaned so closely over her father’s head, Margaret had to slide further up toward his shoulder to be able to see whether or not her father had comprehended Gerhard’s words.
To her relief, she saw his eyelashes flutter—he understood! He was still there, he was still with them!
Gerhard continued. “Can you move your legs, my lord? Your arms? Just blink to let me know if you still have some control over your limbs.”
The words hung in the air as other people soon gathered around the group of three upon the ground. Margaret heard Edgar sniffling somewhere outside the circle and felt Harold, the priest, and his two brothers glaring down upon them from their seats. None of them had dismounted; instead, they surrounded the trio like a band of
highwaymen waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting victim. To Margaret’s dismay, her father’s eyelids did not flicker.
She studied Gerhard and watched the changing color of emotion move across his face—from confusion to concern, from fear to speculation, from suspicion to anger. When they both noticed the parting of her father’s lips, their hopes lifted. Together, she and Gerhard leaned in closer.
Her father’s eyes remained open but unfocused, and he whispered gently, more so to the air than to them. “No ... feeling ...my legs. My feet... cannot feel them... cannot move them... nothing there.”
Gerhard was about to respond but stopped when he saw Edward gather his breath once more. Unable to inhale deeply, he spoke in shallow exchanges. “Dizzy ... since morn...could not get... legs...to keep hold ... of the horse... chest feels ... full... crushed.” He paused here for a lengthier break.
Margaret could feel her eyes welling up, her lashes wet with moisture.
“Cannot... take .... in ... air.” With his gaze still focused at some point in the far distance, he whispered in a hushed tone, “Twas... foul... play.” Silence and he moved no more.
Margaret felt tears stinging her eyes. They burned her skin as they tumbled down her face until they left small, individual droplets of water on her father’s tunic. She watched as Gerhard placed his hand over Edward’s face, his fingers gently extending to close each eyelid.
Tiny bright-blue flowers with yellow centers formed a soft, decorative pillow where his sleeping head lay. Reminded of Jesus’ promise when he created these delicate blossoms, Margaret trusted that the Blessed Virgin would watch over her father’s soul. And she also knew that her father—like the flower itself—was urging her to “forget-me-not.”