Georgiana Derwent
I’m British, and originally from Yorkshire (or those who don’t really know British geography, think Winterfell), but now live in London with my husband, Freddie. I studied history at Oxford University and still love everything historical, particularly the three Rs: Renaissance, Restoration and Regency. Afterwards, I trained as a barrister, and now work for the UK Government.
I’m the author of The Cavaliers Trilogy (Oxford Blood, Screaming Spires, and Ivory Terrors), about vampires at Oxford University. And more recently, of My Love is Vengeance, the first of a fantasy series about a girl plotting revenge on the duke who killed her twin while trying not to fall for his charms or give in to her dark side.
I've also written - but not yet published - The Dictator’s Wife, a standalone near-future adult dark romantic thriller about a military coup and dictatorship in Britain, in which a resistance fighter must choose to kill the despotic First Lord—the only man she’s ever loved—or rule at his side.
I love any type of story that takes me away from the here and now: futuristic, historical, fantasy or simply weird, dramatic things happening in a contemporary setting. I’m generally less of a fan of stories of ordinary people doing ordinary things in the present day, though I’ll make an exception for anything that includes unconventional narratives, unreliable narrators or tricksy, experimental story-telling.
I am an unashamed lover of alluring villains and villainous (or at least seriously morally ambiguous) protagonists. That’s Gone Girl-style ladies and Darkling-style gentlemen. I particularly enjoy tales that feature sinister characters as possible love interests.
“You need to be careful around those posh boys when you go to Oxford. They may seem charming, but they’re not like nice dependable Yorkshire lads.”
“So, did you spend the night with the blond rich wanker or the dark haired posh twat?”
“Harriet had half expected him to be wearing some bizarre 1920s underwear so was as relieved by his Calvin Klein’s as she was impressed by the bulge in them.”
“When you say he’s your soulmate, I think what you actually mean is that he’s utterly gorgeous and you’d really like to get him naked. Let’s not get too melodramatic here.”
“Harriet dreamt of someone well dressed and flamboyant, who spoke like the lead in a black and white film, who drank champagne like other people drank Carling and who could talk about history and philosophy and life for hours, without making themselves sound like an idiot. Someone who made romantic gestures, who was generous to everyone and extravagant towards her. Someone, for preference, who rowed and had the muscles to prove it. When she was really having a bad day, someone with a title. Every time a well-meaning access scheme leaflet tried to reassure her and all the other state school applicants that Oxford wasn’t wall to wall Old Etonians permanently dressed in tuxedos, she died a little inside.”
“The Cavaliers’ Midsummer Party. Celebrate the lengthening of the nights with us. Dress like it’s your last night on earth. 21st June. Be ready and we will be waiting.”