Scandal in Mayfair: Earl Deserted by Promised Bride at Betrothal Ball
–by a Lady of Quality
We’ve received a delicious piece of gossip for my followers of the ton:
Last night, at a ball held by the Lord and Lady F— to celebrate the engagement of their daughter C— to Lord S—, everything was perfection save for one minor detail.
Fully one half of the betrothed couple was missing.
The evening began as a triumph for the Baron and his lady wife. The crush of titled lords and ladies who attended in their elegant attire and glittering jewels all but guaranteed the soirée’s success.
However, at the appointed hour for the happy announcement to be made, no one could locate the bride-to-be. The Earl was left standing alone, with no fiancée by his side and no reason to accept the crowd’s felicitations.
Under rigorous questioning, the girl’s weeping maid admitted the truth: the Honorable Miss F— had fled her home! What’s worse, she did so by dressing as a boy and climbing out her bedroom window.
Revelers passing on the street that moonlit night told the night watchmen they observed a ragged boy scrambling down the outer wall of the Baron’s townhouse using a makeshift rope.
Furthermore, an ostler at the White Horse Cellar claims to have seen a young lad, dressed in the clothes described by the maid, enter the innyard late last evening.
The White Horse Cellar
Could this “boy” have been the wayward miss in her disreputable disguise? Indeed, though I never gamble, I would wager it was her.
The on-dit is that his Lordship’s marriage proposal is the first he ever tendered to any woman. It is no secret that the highly eligible Earl, having spent decades sowing his wild oats, is ready at last to wed and produce a legitimate heir. My sources say he picked the Baron’s young daughter for her beauty, her youth, and her sweet docility.
But as a gentleman might observe at a racecourse, the Earl clearly bet on the wrong horse!
Despite a frantic search undertaken by her distraught parents, the whereabouts of the runaway chit remain unknown at this time. Lord S— refuses to speak about the incident, but his butler let slip that his master is infuriated by this humiliating insult.
In my opinion, dear readers, it staggers belief that any young lady would turn down an Earl’s offer of marriage for any reason. Her desperate escape can only be a manifestation of a peculiar madness.
Although where the Honorable Miss F — has gone is a mystery, one thing about this affair is known only too well. Her impulsive actions will no doubt carry serious consequences for her and her parents, who certainly face social ruin because of their daughter’s hoydenish behavior.
When news of this disgraceful escapade gets thoroughly circulated, no high-born, eligible bachelor will be foolish enough to step forward to offer for the disgraced girl. Through her own rash imprudence, Miss F— may have indeed avoided one offer of marriage, but she is most unlikely ever to receive another.
About the Book
Lord Peter’s Page is a sweet Regency romance currently for sale at Amazon Books. Here is more about the story:
The match between Baron Finbury’s daughter Charlotte and Lord Satterly seems ideal to everyone but Charlotte. She longs for Cyril, the older brother of a friend. Desperate to escape the arranged marriage, Charlotte runs away from her parent’s Mayfair home on the night of a grand soirée to announce her engagement.
Disguised as a boy, she stows away in a carriage bound for Bath, where her sympathetic aunt lives. At the reins is Lord Peter Randolph, son of the Duke of Wickersham, and his friend Geordie. Hidden in the carriage, Charlotte hopes to get to Bath undetected by the men, but a carriage accident and an unplanned night at an inn makes that plan go awry.
Lord Peter soon sees through her disguise, but not before “the boy” proves to be a hopeless assistant, unable to polish a boot or tie a cravat. When Lord Peter discovers his clumsy page is a young miss, he goes to extraordinary lengths to protect her reputation, even bringing home to his family’s estate where she is accused of stealing the family rubies.
As Charlotte struggles to clear her name, she realizes the naïve affection she felt for Cyril is nothing compared to the passion she develops for Lord Peter. But is it too late for Lord Peter’s “page” to win his heart?
~An Excerpt~
The placid water mirrored the leafy canopy of leaves and the blue skies above. The pool looked so cool and inviting! The inviting scene made Charlotte keenly aware of how hot and dirty she felt.
She clambered halfway up the bank, and saw where the men lay motionless, sleeping in the sun. Then she looked back to the serene water.
The temptation was irresistible.
She spread her shawl, along with the rest of her clothes, on a bush nearby. Peering around, she reassured herself she was alone, and stepped down into the water.
Oh, but it was glorious! The water was just as cool and fresh as it looked.
She didn’t want to stop but she dare not stay too long. Reluctantly she swam towards the bank, stepped in the soft mud and grabbed the long shawl from the bushes. She used the rough fabric to towel off and was resignedly pulling on the filthy trousers when she heard a twig snap.
She whirled around in horror. There, not five feet away was Lord Peter.
Quickly she whipped the shawl in front of her, clutching it tightly.
“How dare you!” gasped Charlotte. “Turn around! This instant!”
“Certainly, Master Charles. But then you had better be prepared to answer some questions. Though I believe I have discovered some answers already.”
Charlotte picked up one of her heavy shoes and threw it at him. It landed squarely in the middle of his back.
He staggered a step. “Ouch!”
“That is just the beginning. When my father finds out what you have done, why, he’ll curry your hide and hang it out to dry! Cyril will, too!”
“I think a light is dawning. I must congratulate you, Miss…”
“Finbury,” Charlotte replied, as haughtily as she could. “Miss Charlotte Finbury. My father is a Baron.”
“Miss Charlotte Finbury. This is the most elaborate ruse I have ever heard of to try to entrap a man into marriage. After spending a night with me in the same chamber at an inn, not to mention this little incident on the stream bank, you are well and truly compromised. Can I expect to see an irate father with a pistol, or perhaps a blunderbuss, coming around the bend?
“Entrap? Why, you conceited, arrogant coxcomb! As if I would go to all this trouble, not to mention discomfort and embarrassment, to force you to marry me! Why do you think I left London in the first place? If it was marriage I wanted, I could have stayed and gone along with my parents’ wishes.”
She took a deep breath, struggling to regain a modicum of control.
Lord Peter bent down and thoughtfully picked up the shoes she ‘d flung at him.
“If compromising yourself with me was not your aim, why did you threaten me with your father and brother just now?”
“My brother? Oh, you mean Cyril! He is not my brother. He is the man I intend to marry.”
“Poor devil,” murmured Lord Peter.
Ab0ut the Author
Maureen Mackey is an award-winning romance author who also writes mysteries. A California native, she earned degrees in English and journalism and worked as a reporter before getting the courage to pursue her real ambition, writing Regency romances. Now she and her husband live near Portland, Oregon, with their two grown sons and their families nearby. When she’s not working on a novel, writing blog posts, or researching her favorite era, she enjoys cooking, crocheting, and taking walks in the rain.
Links:
Website: www.maureenmackey.com
Blog: www.regencylookingglasscom
FB Page: (2) Facebook
Image info:
The Next Dance, by George Goodwin Kilburne
Hatchett’s, The White Horse Cellar, Piccadilly, by James Pollard
Both images are in the public domain and sourced through Wikimedia Commons
The Teatime Tattler has just learned that the fiancé of a young duke (whose dukedom began with the letter N and who succumbed to horrible injuries sustained in a carriage accident only last week) has possibly chosen to entertain lucrative substitutes for her dead betrothed, rather than mourning her loss. The lady in question has been spotted in Bath shamefully making merry during this Christmastide season. Should we hope all is not as it seems?
Slade Mason, the Earl of Drake receives an urgent missive demanding he return home. The second son of a duke, Slade left home to seek his fortune in India, building a small shipping company into a successful rival to the East India Company. Returning home, he discovers his father dead and his brother near death following a suspicious carriage accident. The list of suspects grows, while the killer remains at large.
Anna St. Claire is a big believer that nothing is impossible if you believe in yourself. She sprinkles her stories with laughter, romance, mystery, and lots of possibilities, adhering to the belief that goodness and love will win the day.
ou will not imagine in your wildest dreams the most Shocking and Scandalous goings on we have had, and my poor sister Sarah actually Assaulted! Yes, it is true – poor Sarah was escorting her latest pupil to school, and planned to come and live with me, offering music lessons to the pupils of the same school, as a visiting preceptress. Well, the first horror was the accident on the road, some miles short of York, and Sarah so fortunate as to be taken up into the coach of Lord Hesterley and his bride, having broken a leg, Sarah that is, not his Lordship nor his bride. They kindly took her charge on to the school as well, and brought Sarey to me. Such a handsome young couple, and so kind! And there was poor Sarey, lying on the day bed and that idiot maid let in some fellow who said he was from Bow Street, and he started pulling Sarey’s clothes off, if you please, and accusing her of being Hesterley! And his colleague apparently tried to abduct Sarey’s charge, thinking her to be Lady Hesterley. It turns out that Lord and Lady Hesterley were no such thing or rather, she was not Lady Hesterley at the time for they were eloping and Sarey perfectly aware of it, and not ready to give them away! 
“So you see, Mr. Clemens, this is wot woz reelly going on when Lord Hesterley runned off with the heiress, affore there was such a to-do about how there was an attack on the yung cupple in London. Oh, Mr. Clemens, does you think it might be a conspirrysee by the peeple wot said they was Bow St. Runners, trying to get their hands on Lord Hesterley’s rich bride, and that’s why they shot at him too? I read all about it in the paper, and then I remembered this letter wot my mistress got a few months before. Now you can see yore way to paying a pore girl a few guineas for something hot like this, can’t you?”
Laura is an heiress seeking to avoid forced marriage to her stepfather’s crony; Simon is an impoverished lord seeking an heiress. They plot to elope together, leaving Simon’s coachman, Ned, and his lady-love, Ellen, leading Laura’s stepfather on a wild goose chase.
