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Lowlife Preys on High Society

By

On June 7, 2025

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

Blackmail is a disgusting business, yet that, dear reader, was the business of T.C., as disclosed in the recent advertisement that has been at the centre of gossip in London’s ballrooms this week. For any who missed the advertisement, it read, in part:

To anyone who has been the victim of blackmail by T.C., a villain of the darkest sort and a disgrace to his class. He no longer holds your letters, drawings, or other materials, and can do you no harm. All items have been burned to ashes.

We have to assume that many people with skeletons hidden in their wardrobes are breathing more easily this week. As for T.C., a certain baronet with those initials has been clapped up in debtors’ prison. So may all miscreants receive their just desserts!

As to the story behind the advertisement, dear reader, The Teatime Tattler continues to seek who retrieved and destroyed the blackmail materials, and who placed the notice in the newspapers.

Watch this space.

***

With a Valet in a Wardrobe at Midnight

By Judy Knight, for Dukes All Night Long

Gareth Lord Versey comes in disguise to Congleton Hall, home of the Earl of Congleton and his six daughters. Garry wants freedom to observe Lady Jenna, the second daughter, before he goes through with the marriage arranged by his grandfather, the Duke of Dellborough.

Lady Jenna Eliot has been informed of her betrothal, but she has more important things on her mind. Her sister is about to be ruined, unless Jenna can stop it.

On one moonlit night, Garry and Jenna managed to change the trajectory of several lives, as well as deciding their own future.

Preorder for August 17th

***

Excerpt

Oops. Garry’s masquerade was about to come to a premature end unless he quickly thought of something. “Parsons! Lady Jenna, meet Parsons, a friend of mine from London. Parsons, um, taught me everything I know about being a valet.”

Parsons, who had been valet to Garry’s Uncle Lance until he had to leave to look after a sick mother, proved he’d lost none of his intelligence in the past three years. “It’s good to see you again, lad, but what are you and the lady doing here?”

“Your master has been blackmailing her ladyship’s sister, and we are searching for the evidence he has against her,” Garry said.

“Mr. Garry!” Jenna protested.

“Sir Thomas is a villain, my lady, and no mistake,” Parsons said. “You need not fear I shall tell him anything about seeing you here. What are we looking for? Letters? I know what is in most of Sir Thomas’s drawers and boxes, but there are a couple of boxes on high shelves in the dressing room I have been told not to touch.”

“Then let’s check those,” Garry said. “Parsons, how is your mother?”

“Poorly, Mr. Garry, thank you for asking,” the valet answered. “I am looking for a position by the sea. The doctor says she might recover more quickly if she can breathe sea air, but I am her only son, sir, and I must have her close enough to visit.”

He climbed up a set of steps he had pulled from a niche in the dressing room, and retrieved two large hat boxes, passing them down to Garry, who gave one to Jenna and carried the other to the table under the window in the bedchamber.

“I might be able to find something,” he said to Parsons. “I know some people with homes near the sea. I can ask for you.” Grandfather had promised him several properties as a sweetener to the proposed marriage, including a townhouse in Brighton. If he installed Parsons there to look after the house, the man could train someone younger, who didn’t mind travelling, as Garry’s valet. It was about time he had one, instead of depending on any available footman.

Parsons was touchingly grateful. “Would you do that for me?”

“Why not? I know you to be a fine valet.” Garry had the top off his box and was going through the contents, while Jenna did the same with the other box.

“Mr. Garry, these are all bundles of letters. In different writing. Do you suppose…?”

“That the cad is blackmailing other people, too?” Garry asked. “Yes, I do suppose. This hat box is the same. Sir Thomas has been a busy man. Parsons, do you have something we can put these in? Lady Jenna and I will take them back to Congleton Abbey and burn them.”

The Duke of Depravity is Back in Town

By

On April 5, 2025

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

Husbands, lock up your wives and daughters. Wicked widows and wanton women, update your wardrobes and polish your charms. The Duke of Depravity is back in town.

Yes, you read that correctly. The source of everyone’s favourite gossip, the juiciest scandal, the most outrageous stunts, has returned from exile.

Regular readers will remember that six years ago and more his road to perdition became littered with acts even the King, or Prince Regent as His Majesty then was, could no longer turn a blind eye. The final straw is rumoured to have been an act of lese majeste—the duke was caught in dalliance with the mistress of England’s First Gentleman.

Even dukes cannot be forgiven such trespasses.

Except, it appears, for this duke. He must have been forgiven, for he has most certainly returned to London. The knocker is on the door of his palatial residence, which readers will know has recently undergone a grand refurbishment, from the attics to the basements. Including, the duchess’s chambers, which have been empty and neglected for quarter of a century.

At first, we all thought the young marquess, His Grace’s son, must be planning to marry. But no, dear reader, that fine young gentleman still holds the title of wealthiest and highest ranked young aristocrat on the London marriage market.

For the intended beneficiary of all this magnificence is not the wife to the heir, but the wife to the duke himself.

Yes, dear reader, you read that correctly. The Duke of Depravity is married. Little is known about Her Grace. What kind of woman has convinced His Grace to dip his toes once more into marital waters? The Teatime Tattler will, of course, bring you her name and her story as soon as we discover all.

One thing is certain, if Her Grace expects the duke to change his wicked ways, the poor lady is doomed to disappointment. A leopard cannot change its spots.

The Duke’s Price

By Jude Knight
As a governess, Ruth Henwood has always put her pupils first, sometimes sacrificing her own interest. The choice facing her now could become the highest sacrifice of them all.

Two men want her as their mistress. The Spanish war hero, the Duque de la Sombras, plans to wed the Princesa Isabella, Ruth’s fourteen-year-old pupil, but promises not consummate the marriage if Ruth will come willingly to his bed. The English rake, the Duke of Richport promises help her and Bella to escape Isabella’s tiny Pyrenean kingdom, but his price is the same.

Ruth’s decision must be guided by what is best for Bella. No matter that one man repels her, and one man is a risk to her heart.

Richport lost his heart to his wife when he was seventeen, and had it broken and trampled on. He has managed very well without a heart in the twenty-six years since, gaining the nickname Duke of Depravity. His offer to Ruth is a heartless joke—he always intended to help her and her charge. But if she takes him up on the offer, he will be happy to school the governess in the ways of the flesh.

Little does Richport realise that his heart is back on the line once more.

But love is not their worst risk. The duque is in hot pursuit, and is determined to take back what he believes to be his own.

https://books2read.com/u/4A0gGK

Where will the wicked duke go next?

By

On February 14, 2025

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

It seems that the Duke of R. is settled in Spain. Or, rather, in the little principality of Respomuso, in the Pyrenean Mountains. Several travelers recently returned to England called at the castle in the tiny country’s one major town, to pay their respects to the royal Princesa and her guardian and uncle the Duque de Respomuso. R., they say, appears to be a fixture in the castle.

Readers will remember that the duke left for overseas after an insult to a very important personage indeed–a gentleman of the highest rank. It was the last straw. R. had seduced the daughters, wives, and mistresses of too many of Society’s leaders, been drunk and obnoxious at too many balls and dinners, borrowed too much money without any intention of paying it. Then he was heard by the personage in question making unpleasant remarks about that personage’s girth, taste, and ability as a lover.

A message was delivered. It would be wise for R. to take a long voyage.

Has it benefitted his health, we ask? Not according to the travelers from whom we heard this story. His head is still on his shoulders, which must be accounted a win, but he has gambled, drank, and womanized his way through Europe until he has run out of welcome almost everywhere.

How long until the Duque, by all accounts a respectable man, suggests that his guest moves on?

The Duke’s Price

By Jude Knight

As a governess, Ruth Henwood has always put her pupils first, sometimes sacrificing her own interest. The choice facing her now could become the highest sacrifice of them all.

Two men want her as their mistress. The Duque de Respomuso plans to wed the Princesa Isabella, Ruth’s fourteen-year-old pupil, but promises not consummate the marriage if Ruth will come willingly to his bed. The Duke of Richport promises help her and Bella to escape Isabella’s tiny Pyrenean kingdom, but his price is the same.
Ruth’s decision must be guided by what is best for Bella. No matter that one man repels her, but is widely admired as a wise ruler and a good man, and one man attracts her, but is well known to be wicked to the core.

Preorder for 1st April: https://books2read.com/u/4A0gGK

Excerpt from the Duke’s Price

Ruth Henwood was stuck like a rat in a barrel, and the Duque de Respomuso had his guns fully loaded and aimed. She could run, of course, but that would leave her pupil Bella to her uncle’s non-existent mercies. Besides, he would send people after her, and she doubted she would even make the border.
If she took Bella with her, she would ensure the recapture of them both, for he would leave no stone unturned until he had his princess back again. She was his sister’s daughter, and without her, he had no legitimate role in the principality’s government.
Her other choices were even less palatable. She could continue to refuse the Duque’s advances, but only for as long as he allowed her to do so—she could tell he was losing patience, and one day she fully expected him to take her by force. Probably somewhere in private, for he was still enamoured of his own reputation as the kindly uncle who loved his niece and fought to save her from the evils of Napoleon’s army.
Refusing him would not protect Bella, either. As her legal guardian, he had given consent to their marriage. A man approaching forty. Bella was only fourteen. Furthermore, she did not like her uncle. “He makes my skin crawl, Ruth,” she said. “And he is mean. He beats his servants. Also, he is disrespectful, not only to me, but to you and to Mother Caterina.”
Mother Caterina was the mother superior of the town’s convent of Carmelite nuns, and member of the Council that had ruled the principality during the war.
Bella was correct. The Duque acted like a gentleman when he was being watched by men of status, but in private, or when only women or servants could see him, he was rude, cruel, and offensive.
She had one chance to protect Bella. Except that she did not believe that would work either. He had made her a solemn promise—“On the bones of my sainted sister,” he said—that if she would come willingly to his bed, he would put off consummating his marriage to Bella.
Since Ruth had Bella’s word for it that her uncle had despised his sister, she had more than her instinct to say that his promise was not worth beans.
“Miss Henwood, good evening.”
The voice that interrupted her musing was far from welcome. Another duke. Another rake. The same intentions. Even if this duke, far from making her ill, had her all hot and bothered.

Poison and Plots at Hartwell Hall

By

On January 25, 2025

In Bluestocking Belles, Caroline Warfield, Teatime Tattler

A January afternoon, offices of The Teatime Tattler

Betsy Carmichael, recently dismissed from one of London’s most prestigious addresses wrung her hands and bit her lip.

Clemens, the Teatime Tattler’s editor, glared back. One of his underlings had let this one in. What she had had better be good. He had his doubts. “Well, what do you have to say.”

She rubbed her nose with her sleeve. “Ye’ll pay me, right? The old witch tossed me out.”

“A dismissed servant isn’t gossip. If your story is good, I’ll pay you a shilling.”

“Two!” the cheeky chit demanded.

“Tell me what you know,” Clemens said firmly.

“Her ladyship is back from one o’them country parties up north. Hartwell Hall. I remember that clearly,” Betsy said.

“Ladyship? You mean Lady Arncastle?” One of the worst gossips in the Ton. Loose with the facts, but a good source of dirt. “Who was there?”

“She mostly talked about that menace woman. Said she poisoned her cousin. That has to be worth two shillings.”

“Wait. Did you say poison?” Clemens pried his memory open. Hartwell — the earl was the uncle of that Westcott girl, the one they called the Westcott Menace after half the Ton got sick on her food at one of the Duchess of Haverford’s charity dos.

“The girl tossed her breakfast all over the ice in front of the Earl of Ridgemont. He went tearing right though the house, her ladyship says. Carried the girl right up to her bedroom without a by your leave. Her ladyship says she was afraid to eat a bit the whole time after that, what with the menace around.”

“Ridgemont. Isn’t he a duke’s heir?”

Betsy nodded eagerly. “And there’s more too. He and the menace were caught together in some weird closet full of poisons. Bottles and boxes of stuff. Old Hartwell had a fit, her ladyship says. Had his servants clean it all out and get rid of it. Her ladyship says she was trying to kill Ridgemont, or trap him or something. I say trap more likely. Who’d kill of a future duke if you could drag him to the altar?”

Clemens rubbed his chin. Ancaster was not reliable, but where there is smoke, there’s fire. It might be worth sending someone north to investigate. Or better just to sniff around Hartwell’s London house and other relatives.

He hustled the girl out of the office. She got her shilling and. in a moment of charity, he dropped a sixpence on top.

*****

Snowed by the Wildflower

Belinda Westcott doesn’t want to injure the Earl of Ridgemont. She merely wants to humiliate him. After all, one good prank deserves a payback. How could she anticipate that it would go so terribly wrong, or that he would turn out to be nothing like she expected?

Skilled in both chemistry and cooking, Belinda happily hides in her aunt’s kitchen rather than risk embarrassment at the ongoing house party. The unexpected appearance of the earl and a skating party present the perfect opportunity to embarrass him in front of some snooty society miss. Unfortunately, his partner is Belinda’s own cousin, and even worse, the cousin drinks the hot chocolate—laced with emetics—meant for the earl.

As plain Major Conlyn, John had sunk into a morass of dissipation when first released from the army. Neither his actions nor his companions make him proud. The death of a beloved cousin shocked him back to sense. It also made him an earl and the heir to his grandfather, a duke. He’s been ordered to find a wife and settle down. He wouldn’t mind, but now he’s surrounded by flighty debutantes and their grasping mothers. The one woman who interests him avoids him. She acts as if she despises him. Is it possible he did something when out of control that he ought to apologize for, something he can’t recall?

Preorder at various vendors for January 28 release.

https://books2read.com/snowedbywallflower

Shocking goings on at Haverford House

By

On December 7, 2024

In Jude Knight, Teatime Tattler

Haverford House, London, November 1821

Haverford greeted his wife and his sister with a cheerful smile, which faded when he saw their faces. “What is wrong?” he asked.

“Read this,” said Cherry, handing the scandal sheet to Haverford. She had no doubt her husband would be as furious at the slur on his sister and on his own name as she was.

Some three years ago, the Polite World was shocked at the arrogant and irresponsible actions of the Duke of H., when he removed his mother’s ward from her rightful place at her husband’s side. Some said at the time that Lady C. was more sinned against than sinning. We in London had seen little of her since she wed Lord C., although her husband kept up his duties to his seat in the Lords and the accustomed pleasures of the Capital.

Still, adultery and periodic desertion are not grounds for a woman to complain. After all, they are the right of every red-blooded nobleman, and their women are trained to ignore their practices. Indeed, the lady would not exist had it not been for the pecadillos of her own sire, so she could hardly hold the same behaviours against her wedded lord and master. Albeit her half-brother the duke had shown an inclination to upbraid the straying husband.

No explanation was ever given for Lady C. abandonment of her husband’s manor for her brother’s, but since she kept herself to the country, or to quiet pursuits when in town, most of us were inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt, and even the grandest of dames and the stuffiest of gentlemen would nod politely at the lady if their paths crossed.

But then, a month past, Lord C. died. And this week, his will was made public. In it, he names and excoriates three men with whom, or so he says, his lady wife made merry before ever she was a widow. This, he claims, is the reason he sent for her brother to remove her from his house and from the care of his three young daughter by his previous marriage.

In fairness, we must note that all three supposed lovers are dead, and one died overseas without setting foot in England for the whole of Lord and Lady C.’s short (and clearly eventful) marriage. Is the lady innocent?

And if she is guilty, will the ton turn against one who is supported by none less than two ducal pairs and several earls and countesses?  Or will the Duke of H., whose own riotous life before his marriage has often shocked and amazed the readers of this newsheet, prevail upon all and sundry to ignore their consciences and accept his sister?

Only time will tell.

***

Jessica Lady Colyton has no intention of being a wicked widow and no time for rogues. Her father and her brothers were rogues enough for a lifetime. However, she has joined the Wicked Widow’s League, seeking help after her husband’s will proves to be just one more blow from another controlling and manipulative man. When her new friends organize a holiday in a country cottage for her, she blesses them—right up until she finds a naked rogue in her bed.

Martin Lord Tavistock is no rogue, unlike his father before him. The man’s early death in sordid circumstances brought him a title and a barrow-load of responsibilities. His uncle’s strict upbringing has given him little taste for pleasure. He shuns his matchmaking sister’s Christmas house party and the beauties she has undoubtedly invited to tempt him. When he wakes up in a strange lady’s bed, naked, tied down, and clueless as to how he arrived at her cottage, he wants no part in whatever plot is underway.

Trapped by a snowstorm, he and his furious hostess must form a reluctant alliance to survive, and that will be the end of their acquaintance. Won’t it?

Preorder for 24th December

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