18th Century Historical Fiction Novels & Stories

I wanted to wring his deceitful neck at the thought of it. The urge to throw something was too great to ignore. I looked around the sparsely furnished room and soon thought better of it. If I’d learned nothing at all during my time here, I’d learned that material goods didn’t come as easily to people in the eighteenth century as they did in the twenty-first. Even the poorest of poor of the future lived better than most in the past. There was no Macy’s or Target to shop for clothing and home staples. Every item of clothing was painfully made by the hand of some half-starved worker and every piece of furniture or decoration the same. Even if the embroidery was done by a noble woman, it to

Artemis Pov Dancing with Aiden was therapeutic, especially with the eighteenth-century gown that was tied really hard to give me a perfect shape. I could have lost my breath when they bestowed the gown on me in the room, but with time, my body adjusted to it. Women of the eighteenth century really endured serious discomfort—their nobles like I read in books—not the peasants who were said to dress in lags that need not to be tied so hard in the abdomen to put out the shape of femininity and beauty.