Tag: historical fiction

I’ve one for historical fiction fans today because my guest is Sabrina Lund, author of Consequence of Power: Isabella’s Season which was published on 10th December 2024. It’s available to purchase now in paperbook or as an ebook.

Consequence of Power is described as ‘a literary historical novel of ambition, corruption, and a young woman’s moral awakening in 18th-century London‘ which blends ‘the wit of Jane Austen, the political intrigue of Wolf Hall, and the brooding romance of Outlander‘. I have to say that sounds rather enticing so I’m delighted to bring you an excerpt from the book.

You can also watch the book trailer here.

About the Book

Power is seductive; those who desire it most deserve it least. It permeates society – subtle and ruthless, and never without consequence.

London, 1763. As Britain emerges from war and the East India Company deepens its grip on global influence, Isabella Thornbury steps into the opulent world of London’s high society for her first social season. What begins as a dance of suitors and soirees soon reveals darker layers of political corruption, secret societies, and a mysterious pocketbook that could unravel reputations.

As Isabella is drawn into a web of power and deceit, she must choose between complicity and conscience. Will she preserve her place in society, or risk everything to expose the truth?

Find Consequence of Power: Isabella’s Season on Goodreads

Excerpt from Consequence of Power by Sabrina Lund

‘I am now resolved to secure her as a bride,’ resumes Winterbourne, ‘and making a most commendable effort to that end, if I might say so – indeed, you were present at the ball.’

Sandwich replies, ‘Indeed, we were all astonished, but now it all becomes clear.’

At this juncture, I find myself seething once more with ire, scarcely able to contain my vexation, for it is all too manifest to whom the gentlemen allude.

‘And you shall scarcely credit it, but I even arranged for a journalist to come and interview her, ensuring our presence as a couple in society is noted. I deemed it a most excellent touch. She was, of course, entirely taken in. I truly hold high hopes; I do not believe it shall be long before I make my proposal. Naturally, I shall continue in my customary way of life, yet more wealth is never unwelcome. And, perhaps Harringshire will award me the Montclair as a nuptial gift.’ Winterbourne cannot suppress a chuckle.

I erupt in a fury, and as I spring up, I hurl the chair to the ground with a crash, screaming. ‘I shall not let this stand!’ Every fibre in my body shakes, ‘No! I shall not let it stand. Stand up at once. You insult one who is dearest to me. Rise this instant!’ My screams echo through the cavern and reverberate down the passages.

Initially, both the Duke of Winterbourne and the Earl of Sandwich are struck with astonishment, but as I stand towering over them, their shock gradually gives way to laughter, which begins to ripple throughout the cavern, with other onlookers joining in.

At this moment, my entire form is visibly rigid; hands clenched, face ashen with fury, and trembling with perspiration and anger – a wrath such as I have never before experienced – even in battle, for this was most profoundly personal.

Winterbourne regains his composure and, slowly rising, proceeds to retrieve the chair which I had hurtled aside. ‘I must commend you,’ he remarks, ‘a most theatrical display for a first appearance.’ He calmly restores the chair to its former place. ‘Who would have imagined, when we were once friends, that it would come to this over a mere lady?’

At this, nearly in tears, I utter softly, ‘I challenge you.’

‘And with what, pray tell?’ enquires Winterbourne with overzealous delicacy and accentuation.

I proceed with deliberate purpose to the crested decorative shield mounted upon the wall, beneath which are displayed two pristine and finely wrought small swords, neither of which have ever been intended to be used in battle. I seize them both and cast one across the room towards Winterbourne, where it collides with screeching sounds of clashing metal and stone at his feet.

Two gentlemen rise to intervene and appeal to my father, ‘Cheltenham, good god, you must put a stop to this. Your boy has gone mad,’ exclaims one.

Winterbourne remains standing with the weapon lying by his feet. All eyes are now drawn to my father, who remains firmly in his position.

To my surprise, my father replies, in a slow and deliberate manner, ‘I shall not intervene. My son has made his choice.’

Unsatisfied, members of the party now appeal to Le Chevalier. The unparalleled practitioner, observing from a recess and leaning against the rock in a stance denoting ease, replies in a slow, measured tone, ‘If Winterbourne accepts the challenge, no one shall intervene. Je vous assure.’

Nothing now lies between Winterbourne and me, save for his assent. Experience overtakes me, refining my focus and mastering my emotions in this pivotal moment. A stretch of silence ensues, during which my gaze remains fixed and unwavering upon Winterbourne’s countenance. I perceive it is his pride that is at stake, rather than any material prize. My adversary seems to appraise me intently, and at length, he meets my gaze as he descends slowly towards the ground, reaching for the sword which I have cast across the room to rest at his feet.

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About the Author

Sabrina Lund is an English-Danish author specialising in literature from the Renaissance to the 19th century. With a BA (Hons) in English Literature from the University of Exeter, an MA in Shakespeare in History from UCL, and an MSc in Finance from the LSE, she balances her writing with a career in finance. She has shared her passion for historical fiction and forgotten histories in interviews on Awaaz Radio, Fiesta Radio, and Wycombe Sound, and has been featured widely in the press, including Great British Life – Hampshire Life, Hampshire Chronicle, Southern Daily Echo, Kingston Nub News, and Teddington Nub News.

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