Who is the dowager Countess of Seahaven? It is a question that will be on the lips of many this Season in York.
You may remember that the Earl of Seahaven produced no legitimate sons, despite an effort that almost matched that of the famous Tudor king. Indeed, some wits dubbed him Henry the Fifth!
Not that the late earl lacked children. Five wives produced ten daughters between them, the last born posthumously to the dowager aforementioned a little more than four years ago..
But what became of the dowager, her daughter, and her nine stepdaughters?
Until today, the Polite World has not been able to answer this question.
However, dear readers, your Teatime Tattler correspondent has been indefatigable in search of the truth, which will be of more interest today than ever, given circumstances.
For Lady Seahaven and her charges are about to burst on the social scene here in York. Your correspondent has learned that the dowager is related to a respected, if eccentric, stalwart of York Society, Lady Rose St Aubyn.
Lady Rose is once again off on her travels, and has arranged for her niece to take over her townhouse.
So we in York are going to be privileged to see the debut of the countess and six of her stepdaughters. (The eldest had a London Season more than a decade ago, but did not take.)
Your correspondent went hunting for more information about the mysterious ladies.
The current Lord Seahaven was unhelpful. All he would tell us was that the ladies did not live in any of his properties, and that the fifth and surviving wife of his predecessor was no lady.
“Her parents were tradespeople, and I will leave it to you to figure out how a female like that enviegled her way into the earl’s bed,” he said.
Given that the lady is an acknowledged St Aubyn, I think we can ignore the earl’s remark. He was, before his unexpected assension to the oak leaves, a minor merchant himself.
However, while we know where the Seahaven ladies will be by the end of March (in Lady Rose’s townhouse), we have been unable to discover where they have lived in the four years since the old earl died.
Dear reader, we will watch this York Season with great interest, and will be sure to keep you informed.
Desperate Daughters
The next Bluestocking Belles Collection with Friends is out on May 8th, and tells the story of nine ladies, all related, who discover happiness awaiting them in York in the season.
Now on preorder at only 99c. Price reduction ends with publication. Click on the project page for more information and buy links.
Gazette insiders tell us there was an unchaperoned encounter between a certain deliciously mysterious earl and a flame-haired lady who’s rumored to keep daggers hidden within her skirts. Both were apparently seeking a stolen journal and yet only one was the victor… And considering the gentleman in question was observed limping away from the encounter, wearing a ferocious scowl on his handsome brow, our money is firmly on the lady in question as having won the confrontation. Though if she did best the earl, one does wonder how she accomplished such a feat against what can only be described as a prime specimen of a male, whose athletic prowess is unparalleled and very much admired by the ladies of Society. One does wonder, indeed…
‘Tis a question we shall be pondering as we wait with bated breath to see what the earl will do in reply. After all, the gentleman is not known as a man who gives up easily, in fact his tenacity is both admired and to be feared. The lady would do well to be cautious, very cautious, indeed. Though we’ve heard rumors that this particular lady in question is unlike other ladies; apparently, she prefers to she throw daggers, not dinner parties…. How delightfully wicked!
We suspect things are about to get dangerously scandalous… So, stay tuned, dear reader, for what is sure to be an extremely entertaining and perilous journey ahead as we eagerly anticipate the antics these two undoubtedly have in store for us.
Underestimating Marcus Black is the last thing his enemies ever do. After all, the respected Earl of Westwood is a deadly threat… when her Majesty needs him to be. And his only goal is to avenge his brother’s murder. Which would be much easier if the viciously-skilled Lady Kaitlyn Montrose wouldn’t swoop in, knee him in the bollocks, and then run off with his only lead…
She wants revenge
Kat is determined to avenge her beloved uncle’s murder and nothing will stop her. Especially not the devastatingly handsome, and equally lethal Marcus Black. The fact that he’s after the same target is a complication she hadn’t planned on. And as much as she enjoys taunting him, she has a job to do—one that doesn’t include sparring with the infuriating man at every turn. Except Kat has a new plan… one that Marcus will just hate.
Now they’ll have to work together… if they don’t kill each other first
Individually, Marcus and Kat are deadly. If they worked together, they could be unstoppable. But when attraction gets in the way of vengeance, it’s more than hearts on the line. And only one person can win…
AUTHOR BIO AND LINKS:
Indoctrinated into a world of dashing rogues and feisty heroines when she was a teenager and picked up her first ever historical romance, Maddison Michaels has been a prolific reader and writer of historical romance ever since. She is the bestselling author of six books, including THE DEVILISH DUKE which won the 2019 RWA Australia Historical Romantic Book of the Year.
Writing historical romance is Maddison’s way of time traveling back to Victorian London to experience a cornucopia of intrigue, romance and adventure all from the comfort of her living room! She also loves incorporating her previous 16 years experience as a police officer into the mystery and suspense elements of her books. She lives in Sydney, Australia with her own handsome hero, beautiful daughter and fur baby, and she always starts her day with a cup of liquid gold…coffee – just quietly, she’s addicted to the stuff!
Maddison absolutely loves to hear from her readers and you can find her at http://www.maddisonmichaels.com/ or on most social media platforms!
Frederick Hofbauer almost did not go to church that morning.
The party at Mellowwood Manor had lasted until the wee hours and he and his brothers Fritz and Franz, as footmen, were kept busy for more than two hours after that assisting the tired and tipsy guests with their outerwear and ensuring they managed to alight their coaches without injuring themselves. He barely had time to remove his livery before falling into bed next to his brothers, who were already snoring softly.
Dawn came much too quickly, and Frederick would have quite happily snored on past breakfast except for the sound of a light tapping on the door of the servant quarters.
“Frederick? Are you awake?” He recognized the soft voice as Daniel, the steward’s son, and sighed. Fitzwilliams had passed out again at the local inn and poor Daniel had to cart him home before word got out to his employer. Frederick would be tempted to leave the drunken lout where he was and suffer the consequences were it not for the frightened lad, barely six years old. He certainly did not deserve to be thrown in the streets.
Rising reluctantly from his bed, he opened the door and whispered to the boy to wait for him in the stable as he quickly donned his ordinary clothes and departed with him and Fitzwilliams’s old nag to the Dawdling Duck. By the time they had him settled in his bed at Hull Cottage, it was full daylight and Frederick was not inclined to return to his own bed. Instead he strolled around the estate, admiring the newly planted fields watching the milkmaids lead the cows into the milking shed. This was his favorite morning amusement during his free time, at least when he managed to retire before midnight.
Upon his return to the house, he found the cook ready to leave for church, about a mile down the lane. She clucked when she saw him.
“Up with t’ roosters again, lad? After all last night’s mayhem? I slept like a log until Mary brought me coffee.”
“Fitzwilliams,” he said simply. She rolled her eyes. “I should ha’ known. ‘Bout every Saturday night now. Yer too good to ‘im. Wretch deserves ta be sacked. Sad ‘bout the boy though.”
Frederick nodded.
She tilted her head to one side as she studied his face. “Come ta church wit’ me? I’ll wait for ye ta wash up.”
Frederick rubbed a hand through his hair. Well, it wasn’t as though he had anything else to do. The house was silent as a grave and it appeared as though its occupants were dead to the world after their evening of merriment.
“Very well,” he said with a smile. “I shall be only an instant, Mrs. Brown.”
Much later on, Frederick reflected that it was surely Fate that impelled him to accompany Cook to church that morning. Because that’s when he met Fiona and the scheme for his entire life was altered forever.
Frederick Hofbauer is the oldest (by two minutes) of triplets, his brothers being Fritz and Franz, who serve tea every Wednesday at 5:00 p.m. EST in the Tea Room, hosted by Cerise DeLand and Susana Ellis and their weekly guest authors, who come to discuss themselves and their books. If you are interested in discovering new authors and books, recipes, historical fashion, and lively conversation, please join them.
Thomas, the second Baron Lyttelton, has died under mysterious circumstances.
Rumors concerning his death abound. He was an infamous rake, known for using his charm and talent to seduce women and gain influence. He fought duels, gambled away a fortune, and married the misguided Aphia Witts to pay his debts before fleeing to Paris with a barmaid. Upon his return in, he entered the House of Commons in 1768 and exited the next year after being accused of bribery.
Thursday last, 25 November, 1770 Lord Lyttelton told friends of an extraordinary dream he’d had the previous night. A bird had flown into his room, transformed into a woman wearing white, and informed him that he’d die within three days. He discounted the dream, attributing it to a recent party he’d attended where a robin had flown into the room. He was accustomed to a woman’s scorn, so that part of the dream seemed easy enough to explain.
By Saturday evening, he boasted he would “bilk the ghost” and ordered breakfast for the following day. He retired shortly after. Just before midnight, lying in his bed, Lyttelton’s valet said his master died “without a groan.” There was no inquest.
According to close friends, the only legacy he leaves behind is a reputation of questionable character as a compulsive gambler, drug addict, and debaucher of women. So, The Teatime Tattlerasks, was his death an act of vengeance? Or did karma finally come calling for the wicked baron?
About the Book
Upon a Midnight Dreary is up for preorder and will release this month, October 21.
This amazing anthology contains dark, romantic tales of ghosts that haunt and taunt, written by some of your favorite historical romance authors. Each novella will include a romance and a “real” ghost story. Aubrey Wynne’s contribution includes the wicked Lord Lyttelton.
Excerpt from “Percy’s Perdition” in Upon a Midnight Dreary Halloween anthology
Ellie nibbled at a candied apricot as she snuggled against Percy’s chest. They had foregone supper, moved to their bedchambers, and now ate a cold repast spread about the counterpane. “I heard the most delicious tale the other day. Did I tell you of the wicked Lord Lyttelton?”
Percy smiled and kissed the top of her head, the blond waves spread over her bare shoulders. His limbs were heavy, and he couldn’t care less about some rakish peer. “No, love.”
“He was a baron with no regard for mankind, wasting his money and seducing innocents. One mother was so horrified when her daughter succumbed to his advances, she died of a broken heart.” Ellie paused while she took sip of wine. “But the mother had the final word.”
“They always do,” he agreed.
She slapped his arm but grinned. “Anyway, she returned as a ghost and told him of his looming demise. Three days and he would be dead.”
“Ah, but one can do so much living in three days.” He picked up a hunk of cheese and offered Ellie a bite. She shook her head.
“Well, a quarter hour before midnight of the third day, he dropped dead! Can you imagine?” She sank her teeth into the blue and white Wiltshire and smacked her lips.
“People die every day, my dear. It doesn’t mean an apparition caused it.”
“This happened forty years ago, but there is much documentation. And it gets stranger.” She kissed his cheek. “The wicked lord stopped by his friend’s bedchamber on his way to Hell. The man saw the baron at the foot of his bed, miles away in another county, the same night he died. He woke his household to look for the scoundrel since Lord Lyttelton was known for his pranks. But alas, he was never found.”
“Because he was dead.”
“Exactly!” She beamed at him as if he’d done something very clever.
Percy snorted. “You have a way of maneuvering our conversations until it appears I agree with you.” He kissed her soundly on the mouth.
“Don’t you?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.
About The Author
Bestselling and award-winning author Aubrey Wynne is an elementary teacher by trade, champion of children and animals by conscience, and author by night. She resides in the Midwest with her husband, dogs, horses, mule, and barn cats. Obsessions include wine, history, travel, trail riding, and all things Christmas. Her Chicago Christmas series has received the Golden Quill, Aspen Gold, Heart of Excellence, and the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence and twice nominated as a Rone finalist by InD’tale Magazine.
Aubrey’s first love is medieval romance but after dipping her toe in the Regency period in 2018 with the Wicked Earls’ Club, she was smitten. This inspired her spin-off series Once Upon a Widow. In 2020, she launched the Scottish Regency series A MacNaughton Castle Romance with Dragonblade Novels.
Here
at the Tattler, we pride ourselves on fair and truthful reporting. Our main
competition, THE MIDNIGHT CRYER, is simply vile and reprehensible in their
daily scandalous, not to mention, corrupt articles featuring Lord William, the
second son of the Duke of Langham (whom we affectionally call, the Rogue Most
Wanted), and his beautiful bride, Lady Theodora Worth, the Countess of Eanruig,
a Scottish peeress in her own right.
To
find out the absolute truth, we went to the person who has the most intimate familiarity
of the subject, Lady Stella Payne, Lord William’s great-aunt. She has
first-hand knowledge of the trials and tribulations these two lovebirds had to
scale in order to find true love.
“Those
two would have never been successful in their courtship if it hadn’t been for
my dearest friend in the whole world, Lady Edith Manton, and me.”
Here at the Teatime
Tattler, we believe her. Her modesty is legendary and so are here baubles. The
grand dame’s hands sparkled since practically every inch was covered in
priceless jewels. This lady is well-familiar with wedding rituals and
courtships. Being married three times certainly gives one a wealth of knowledge
about the subject… along with a jewelry box filled to the brim.
We asked Lady
Payne how she had advised the handsome couple how to circumvent the malicious
and constant rumors that seemed to swirl around them. She offered the following
with simple honesty:
“Darling,my advice is to deny everything.”
Dear readers, is
it any wonder that Lady Payne is one of the most successful matrons in London
society? With her card skills and social maneuverings, this elegant lady is a
genius on how to sidestep and crush the plotting and scheming of THE MIDNIGHT
CRYER, the worst gossip rag in all of England.
We’d be remiss
if we didn’t add that it stands to reason that Lord William and Lady Eanruig
couldn’t help but fall for one another. Not when the grand dame set her peacock
blues on making a match between these two.
Perhaps we should offer her an executive editorial position at our humble paper?
Wanted: an engagement
of convenience. Found: A noble suitor.
Raised on a remote
Scottish estate by her adoring grandfather, Lady Theodora Worth has inherited
an earldom as well as the land itself. But when an upstart duke challenges her
claim to the title and the Ladykyrk estate, Thea is suddenly in need of a
husband—in name, at least. An elderly neighbor with a thoroughly modern
sensibility and a dashing great-nephew just might be the answer to Thea’s
prayers. Except she has no intention of marrying the first man she meets. That
would be utterly ridiculous.
It just can’t be him.
. .
Lord William Cavensham
is entirely too devoted to his family’s estate—ever since he was jilted as a
lad–to wed, but he agrees to meet the woman his aunt has taken under her
wing—and introduce her to possible suitors. But after just one meeting with
beautiful, spirited Thea, Will is determined to help her reclaim her title. And
even moreso, he can’t stop thinking that perhaps marriage to this bold,
passionate woman may be the one thing he’s been missing all along?
Praise for the Cavensham Heiresses series
“Full-bodied
romance…with intelligence and heart.”—New York Times bestselling
author Cathy Maxwell
“Sparkling…MacGregor brings England’s Regency era to life.” —Publishers
Weekly
Janna MacGregor was born and raised in the bootheel
of Missouri. She credits her darling mom for introducing her to the
happily-ever-after world of romance novels. Janna writes the Cavensham
Heiresses series where compelling and powerful heroines meet and fall in love
with their equally matched heroes. She is the mother of triplets and lives in
Kansas City with her very own dashing rogue, and a smug, but not surprisingly,
perfect pug. She loves to hear from readers.
“Alright, then.”
Thea stood straight and stared into Will’s eyes. “Will you…be my friend?”
The songbirds’
warbles, the rustle of the breeze through the leaves, and every other sound
slipped to silence, and all sights faded the moment Thea asked him to be her
friend. He couldn’t move as the air grew heavy and locked him in place. All his
concentration centered on her. Finally, the spell she wove around him lessoned,
and Will tilted his head and stared at the folly’s ceiling.
Cupids and cherubs frolicked in glee as if
laughing at him. For the life of him, as Thea hesitated in asking her question,
he’d thought she would propose to him. In those mere moments, his emotions had
run the gamut from trepidation, relief, happiness, and finally, to
disappointment.
Why he
experienced disappointment was a complete and utter conundrum that he couldn’t
navigate. They’d both agreed that they didn’t want to marry the other. But
something deep within him had sparked to life, like a flint against a piece of
steel, igniting a hope she might want him. When Theodora had shared the tragic
circumstances of her family’s demise, he’d become lost—in her and the
extraordinary challenges she’d faced on her own in Northumberland. It was as if
they were physically joined in some manner, and he’d never felt that tied to
another woman.
The only
explanation could be that he’d never met anyone like her before.
Theodora
possessed a refreshing honesty and fierceness at times that belied her
underlying vulnerability—much like his own. But the more time he spent with
her, the more intrigued he found himself. When she’d approached Aunt Stella
with her reason to marry, she’d been brutally honest, and he respected her for
that.
Well, he was a
Cavensham, and a Cavensham never shirked from duty or tough questions or even
simple requests such as friendship. “Thea, I’d be honored to be your friend.”
He slowly smiled.