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The Duke of Depravity is Back in Town

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?

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.

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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

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?

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Shocking goings on at Haverford House

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

IS SHE AN IMPOSTER?

Is London’s newest arrival a distant relative of the Dowager Countess of F.? Or is she an imposter?

Dearest reader, your Teatime Tattler has been endeavouring to discover the truth. On the one hand, she has been introduced under the auspices of Lady F., and is chaperoned by Mrs. B., a distant relative of the F.’s. On the other, we have it on very good authority that the Earl of F. himself has disclaimed any association.

So who is Miss W.?

F. does not dance with, or even talk to her. Indeed, he appears to be making a push to ignore her existence. He was heard to tell a lady of his acquaintance that Miss W. was no relation of his, but merely a distant connection of his grandmother’s. And as we all know, the dowager countess was once the daughter of a shopkeeper.

We might conclude, then, that Miss W. is a cit, a mushroom, a social climber from the lower ranks. We need not consider the rumour that she is a street rat that Lady F. met in Bristol. Lady F. might have been born well below her current esteemed position in Society, but we think it unlikely to the point of impossible that she would embrace a denizen of the stews.

The other rumour we can instantly dismiss is that Miss W. is Lord F.’s mistress. For one thing, he would not install her in the same house as his grandmother. The idea is ridiculous. For another, he avoids the girl.

Whatever the truth, our readers may be certain that the Teatime Tattler will keep you informed.

Coming this month in Hot Duke Summer, The Worth of an Earl

Jen, a waif from the Bristol slums, rescues a wealthy lady from kidnappers. Against the objections of her grandson, the Earl of Frome, Lady Eloise insists on taking Jen to London.

Against his will, Frome falls in love with Jen. Just when he is ready to throw his reputation away for the sake of love, he uncovers a secret that changes everything.

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