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Category: Teatime Tattler Page 6 of 138

Heiress Jilts Earl’s Son to Wager on Lame Fiddler

From those who have much, we ought to be able to expect much. Thus, it is all the more outrageous when a well-born and wealthy maiden–if, indeed, she is a maiden–sets an example, not of prudence and propriety, but of recklessness and scandal.

Sadly, the latest news about a formerly well-respected lady of one of the country’s foremost families is just such a case.

Some five years ago, Lady L. B. entered into a most appropriate betrothal with a gentleman of similar standing—she, the daughter of an earl; Lord T. H., the younger son of a duke. It proved to be a long betrothal. Five times, the wedding has been postponed. The Teatime Tattler understands that the gentleman was the initiator in each case.

When Lord T. attempted to postpone for the sixth time, Lady L. had had enough. She declared the betrothal at an end.

Thus far, the sympathies of our readers—particularly our lady readers—will perhaps be with the lady. Or perhaps not. After all, for a lady to break off a betrothal is scandalous. Not just because of the assumption made by those with prurient minds that the couple have taken advantage of the looser supervision afforded to those who are affianced, but also because, and we dare to say it, the end of a betrothal is almost always held to be the lady’s fault.

If she is the jilt, the assumption is that she is too picky, or too demanding, or too nice in her expectations. If the gentleman refuses to wed, onlookers will seek the reason in the character of the lady, and the results of such a search will not rebound to the damsel’s credit.

Lady L.’s next move might clarify questions of fault. No sooner had she given Lord T. his quittance, that she approached a well-known personage whose income derives at least as much from her matchmaking services as from her gambling hell.

Yes, dear reader, Lady L. sought to purchase a husband through Mrs. D.L.

We understand Lady L. was offered four choices and asked to select two. Offered three gentlemen who are upstanding members of London society, and one violinist who works for Mrs. D.L. in said gambling den, Lady L. rejected the two men from aristocratic families and chose the remaining gentleman and one fiddler. A fiddler who cannot, furthermore, walk without crutches. Does this suggest that the lady has low tastes.

The two successful candidates will compete for the lady’s hand within the next few evenings. We wait with bated breath to discover the outcome. As, we are certain, does Lady L.

Will Lady L. be glad, in years to come, that she rejected Lord T. and gambled with her future happiness, placing it all on a long shot at a gambling den? Or will she have cause to remember the old saying, “Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.”

Hook, Lyon and Sinker

When Lady Laureline Barker asks Mrs. Dove Lyons to find her a husband, she does not expect one of her choices to be the man she admired years ago, when she was still a schoolgirl—the man who rescued her from drowning. He is also a war hero, famed for trading his own freedom and health for the safety of others.

Laurel is committed to a contest, with the winner taking her and her dowry. Can she back out? And will he still want her if she does?

Angelico Warrington doesn’t expect Laurel to remember him. Even if she does, why should she favor him over other suitors? She is the respected sister to an earl, the only flaw on her reputation that she refused to marry a jerk who has been putting off the wedding date for five years.

Angel is a musician in a gambling den, unable to walk without crutches, and with no place in the Society to which Laurel belongs.

This apparently ill-assorted couple are a perfect match, but history must repeat itself and secrets be revealed before they can win their happy ending.

https://www.amazon.com/Hook-Lyon-Sinker-Lyons-Den-ebook/dp/B0CSF79RMD

Hook, Lyon and Sinker is part of the Lyon’s Den Connected World, and also a book in Jude Knight’s A Twist Upon a Regency Tale series. It is inspired by The Little Mermaid, with the roles of hero and heroine reversed.

Lady hatmakers have joined the shopkeepers in London!

Dear Readers,

It has come to this editor’s attention that the formerly vacant shop on the road off of New Bond Street has now become occupied by two lady milliners, a Mrs. Harcourt and a Miss Emmeline Harcourt.

They proudly share that as the proprietors of Harcourt’s Hats, they sell sashes, cravats, gloves, hatpins, and even umbrellas to curious passersby. In silks or satin, brocade or linen, the ladies offer bonnets, caps, and turbans for the stylish women of London.

However, the owner of the shop, Mr Bryant, may not take kindly to entrepreneurial women invading his street. But rumour has it he is spending his time with his new bride, the former actress, Lucinda Cross.

It is said that Mr Bryant’s former best friend, Mr Whittaker, has already crossed paths with the beautiful and taciturn Miss Emmeline Harcourt, who is known to speak her mind and show a willful independence, which may be off-putting to potential suitors.

Will the Bryants be open to the new shopkeepers in town? Will Miss Emmeline Harcourt meet her match at Harcourt’s Hats?

I leave to you, dear reader, to find out.

About A Lyon to Die for: Emmeline Harcourt fell in love with the wrong man and now is paying the price.

Crossed in love and sent to London for almost ruining her reputation, Emmeline is the only female proprietor in an exclusive row of London shops whose owners aren’t the most welcoming. But with a sharp tongue and fiery temper, Emmeline can deal with her unfriendly neighbors, even Mr Horatio Whittaker, an arrogant, reserved, opinionated young man with fixed opinions and cold manners.

Horatio Whittaker has given up on happiness. Abandoned at the altar for his scheming best friend, he never expected to find love again. He hardly notices women until he crosses paths with Miss Emmeline Harcourt.

Emmeline hopes to never encounter Mr Whittaker again, but when she accepts an invitation to the Lyon’s Den, they find themselves at the heart of a mystery, entangled with Horatio’s former fiancee and deceitful best friend.

From false accusations, rumored affairs, and even a deadly party game, Emmeline and Horatio must work together to prove their innocence and find the culprit. Pretending they are courting should make investigating easier, so long as they don’t fall in love.

All’s fair in love and war at the Lyon’s Den, and this is a Lyon to die for.

Preorder link:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CXBN5L89/

About the author: E. L. Johnson writes historical mysteries for Dragonblade Publishing, the #1 ebook publisher of Historical Romance on Amazon. A Boston native, she gave up clam chowder and lobster rolls for tea and scones when she moved across the pond to London, where she studied medieval magic at UCL and medieval remedies at Birkbeck College. Now based in Hertfordshire, she is a member of the Hertford Writers’ Circle and the founder of the London Seasonal Book Club.

Social media links

Twitter: @ELJohnson888

Insta: eljohnson_writes

Facebook page: @theELJohnson

Tiktok: @alecto99

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18090432.E_L_Johnson

Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/e-l-johnson

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calipers

https://www.google.com/search?q=archeaologist+hand+tools&rlz

A marquess, an heiress, and a marriage most secretive!

Dear reader,

Is scandal brewing in the dark?

This author has it on good authority that an heiress has married a certain marquess in secret. Is something afoot? This author thinks so! Why? News has reached my wandering ear that not one, not two, but three special licenses were issued to the same lord (this author shall not name him to protect his wavering dignity). But you, dear Marquess, know who you are!

I shall leave it up to you, dear reader, to guess the pair.

Your faithful correspondent. 

~~~

About By No Means A Gentleman

If he intends to fight dirty, so will she . . .

Lady Harriet Hillstow never imagined even in her wildest dreams that she’d discover her father had arranged a marriage for her with the wicked and wily Marquess of Leeds on the very day he shows up with a special license! Never mind the man’s unnerving handsomeness, Harriet made a vow to her mother that she would never marry a man who would not fight for her. Can she allow such injustice to occur all because the men are worried about of a few silly wagers circling about town? Certainly not! Leeds is about to discover she is not so timid as the gossip rags claim.

William Fitzgerald Hamilton, the Marquess of Leeds, has never been an opportunist. Until the moment a chance to marry the woman of his dreams falls into his lap. There’s only one problem. For some reason, Harriet loathes him. William has no choice but to go all in to discover why and win her over, lest the spirited beauty slip through his fingers forever.

Will this proposed arrangement become the source of their greatest misery or the surest passion that might just set their marriage aflame?

Purchase link: https://www.amazon.com/Means-Gentleman-Ladies-Dare-Book-ebook/dp/B0CTSPKGTH

Other links:

Website: https://www.authortanyawilde.com/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tanyawilde/

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@authortanyawilde

Wallflowers and Wenches Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/843373666456177

About Tanya Wilde

Award-Winning and International Bestselling author Tanya Wilde developed a passion for reading when she had nothing better to do than lurk in the library during her lunch breaks. Her love affair with pen and paper soon followed after she devoured all of their historical romance books! In 2020, she won the Romance Writers Organization of South Africa (ROSA) Imbali Award for Excellence in Romance Writing for Not Quite a Rogue.

When she’s not meddling in the lives of her characters or pondering names for her imaginary big, white greyhound, she’s off on adventures with her partner in crime.

 

Wilde lives in a town at the foot of the Outeniqua Mountains, South Africa.

Wallflower Sister of London’s Famed Golden Sisters Ends Fourth Season Following Incident with Duke’s Daughter

7 May 1817

Almack’s Assembly Rooms

King Street

London

Rebecca MacPherson took a step back to avoid the couple waltzing perilously close to her refuge near the potted palm outside the refreshment room. If her mother hadn’t insisted on attending the assembly rooms tonight, she could be at home re-reading her favorite of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels, A Sicilian Romance. Instead, she had been duly dressed in her least-favorite gown, the pink silk with the pintuck bodice that made her bosom seem even larger than it was, and the white embroidered overdress with three rows of pink flounces sprinkled with rosettes that made her feel like an overgrown ten-year-old at a birthday party.

“You must make the most of your assets,” her mother had fussed, not for the first time. “You don’t have your sisters’ height or elegant figures, but some men prefer ladies of more generous proportions.”

Did they? Rebecca doubted it. After four Seasons, she was the only one of her presentation group who hadn’t married. Or even come close. Well, there had been Tommy Huddleston, who had paid her some attention two Seasons ago, but dropped her like a hot potato when he fell in love with a lovely singer at Covent Garden. Rebecca, who couldn’t sing a note, and learned more Italian from her music teacher than how to play the pianoforte, had only her connections and fortune to recommend her. The fair Bianca, the daughter of a butcher whose career was pushed forward by her late protector, an Italian conde, had neither, but Tommy wed her in spite of it.

Rebecca fanned her face to hide the flush she felt creeping up over her cheeks. Everyone knew Rebecca’s connections, being the daughter of a wealthy Scottish father and a mother distantly related to the Duke of Devonshire. They also knew that she had two older twin sisters, Arabella and Alice, both considered diamonds in their presentation year, who had each snapped up an earl before the end of the Season. “Poor Rebecca” was a phrase she should be accustomed to hearing, after failing to “take” four Seasons in a row. 

Her mother insisted that she should “put herself out more” for the older gentlemen, widowers in need of mothers for their children. Rebecca was fond of children—she was an indulgent aunt to her own niece and nephews—but she wanted more than that from marriage. Perhaps love was too much to expect for someone like her, but surely there should be some affection between a husband and wife. Trust as well, since marriage was for a lifetime, and one didn’t wish to be married to a monster, after all. The fiasco of the Prince Regent’s marriage should serve as a lesson to all, she thought.

The music stopped and a mob of overheated dancers made a beeline to the refreshment room. Rebecca found herself pressed backward by them until she collided with someone behind her. 

“Look what you’ve done! My gown is ruined!”

Rebecca whirled around, only to see the haughty Lady Alicia Howland with a sizable stain on the bodice of her ivory taffeta gown, an empty glass in hand. Her escort glared at Rebecca as he pulled out a handkerchief and made a move to use it to mop up the liquid before the impropriety of doing such a thing occurred to him.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there… I was pushed, you see, and… Here, allow me to help you, my lady,” Rebecca stammered, seizing the handkerchief and making a move toward the angry duke’s daughter.

Lady Alicia drew back. “Don’t touch me! Haven’t you done enough damage already?”

A maid appeared to escort her to the ladies’ withdrawing room, but her next words could be clearly heard by all in the vicinity.

“Such a nuisance, that girl. Not at all like her charming sisters. Someone should tell her to hold back on the bonbons, for the safety of us all!”

If she could have dropped through the floor, Rebecca certainly would have done so. A tingling swept across her face and the back of her neck. For a long moment the room was quiet, and she looked around to see a sea of faces directed at her, some showing sympathy, some disapproval, and some—including her own sister Alice—with pursed lips, apparently trying not to laugh.

And that was the end of her fourth Season.

The Third MacPherson Sister is a wallflower story that first appeared in Sweet Summer Kisses, a 2014 anthology. The story of Lady Alicia Howland, the duke’s daughter whose scathing remarks effectively ended Rebecca’s fourth London Season, can be found in the Bluestocking Belles’ most recent Christmas anthology, Christmastide Kisses.

The Third MacPherson Sister

Christmastide Kisses

About Susana Ellis

Susana Ellis is a retired teacher, part-time caregiver, sewist, cook, and fashion print collector. Lifelong reading and a fascination with history led her to writing historical romances. She is one of the original Bluestocking Belles and a member of Regency Fiction Writers and the Maumee Valley Romance Authors Inc.

Social Media

You can contact Susana Ellis at these social media links:

What’s a poor girl to do?

By a special correspondent

The Four-to-One Fancy by Elizabeth Ellen CarterThe Ladies London Observer has sent your reporter up north to the fair city of York to report on events happening outside of London, renowned for the Season. Yes, Season with a capital ‘S’.

For many of us, there is one Season, but for those young women who are not fortunate enough to make their debut and be selected to have their coming out attended by royalty, some of the regional cities of the Kingdom may yield eligible young men – especially if they happen to be short of a dowry.

This is what leads me today to sit in Lady Clune’s salon to observe the young ladies of quality who have come to her notice.

“I take my role as hostess for the season very seriously, indeed,” said Lady Clune. “Before they receive vouchers for various events under my auspices, the young ladies are required to attend an at-home so I can see their comportment.

“I wish to ensure that as many successful matches will be made as possible. What we lack in numbers, we make up for in enthusiasm!”

I look around and see a dozen young ladies at today’s event, there are precious few young men.

Lady Clune sees the direction of my gaze and is keen to reassure me that there will be plenty of young men of quality from the towns outside York – ah yes, the landed gentry. I ask our hostess who she has the most hopes for

She discreetly points to a couple of local beauties who, I have to admit, wouldn’t be out of place in London. My eye is caught by two young ladies in conversation in a small party. They draw my attention because of how very alike they are and not just in physical appearance – willowy and graceful with auburn hair.

Their mannerisms mirrored each other completely – the raise of a hand to take a cup of tea, the slight tilt to the right as they considered their part in the conversation. It was the most remarkable display.

I discreetly took a step closer as I would listen in on the conversation. One would begin a story or an anecdote and the other would take up the story seamlessly, as thought it was being told by one person.

“Ah, I see you have spotted Lady Ivy and Lady Iris Bigglesworth,” said Lady Clune uncertainly. This  particularly piqued my interest.

The good lady inclined her head and silently indicated that I should follow her a discreet distance away.

“There is something you should know about the girls,” she began.

I told her that I had guessed that Lady Ivy and Lady Iris were twins.

“Yes that is true and of all nine sisters, they and their older sister Josefina have the best chances of making a successful match.”

Nine? All from the same family? All hoping to find husbands?

“Oh! No, I should clarify, three of those girls are still in the school room, cared for by late Earl of Seahaven’s fifth and youngest wife, Lady Patience Bigglesworth.”

Six young women – seven if you include the young widow from the same family all in York for the same purpose. The late Earl must have left a substantial dowry.

Lady Clune shook her head sadly. There is barely enough to make a decent dowry for one, she tells me.

“I don’t care to be quoted on this, but the new Earl of Seahaven has been most dreadful to the girls. They were living quite happily in the family holding and there was enough room for them to do so comfortably but he refused,” she said.

“He tossed the girls out and most of them have had to,” Lady Clune drops her voice to a whisper, “work for a living.

“Mind you, Seahaven’s affairs were in the most dreadful shambles. He so expected a son from each woman he married that he never got around to updating his will.”

Excerpt from the Four-to-One Fancy (previously published in Desperate Daughters). This novella will be released as a standalone on 1 May.

Iris watched her sister shift the heavily laden basket onto another arm.

“Here, let me take it for a while,” she said.

Ivy shot her a grateful look and relinquished the basket.

After a moment Iris spoke. “Are you nervous?” she asked.

“What about?”

“I feel the weight of expectation—on you, me, Josefina—to find a husband this season.”

Ivy nodded. “Patience has expended an enormous sum to give us this opportunity, that to go back to Starbrook without an offer…”

“It’s only because our sisters gave up their portion of the dowry that we have an acceptable sum to offer,” Iris added.

“We have our titles, but they mean little,” said Ivy.

“We may not be pretty enough to attract the eye of a suitable gentleman.”  Iris let out a long, dispirited sigh.

Silence fell between them for good long minutes before Ivy asked. “What kind of gentleman would you like to marry?”

Iris considered the question a moment before shrugging a shoulder.

“He must be kind. I’d like him to be handsome. Most of all, he must love family because I would want you to visit me often.”

“That worries me as much as not finding husbands,” Ivy confessed. “What if we do? We would marry and be apart for the first time in our lives.”

The notion caused Iris to stop. She turned to her sister.

“I… I can’t imagine not seeing you every day,” she said.

They remained there on the pavement, each lost in their own thoughts.

“Do you think there may be brothers in attendance?”

“There might,” said Iris, tilting her head. “We would need to see an invitation list to be sure. Why do you ask?”

Ivy raised her chin in firm resolve. “It is the only way forward. By marrying brothers, we would be sure to see each other more often than if we married anyone else. We have to marry brothers. It is the only way.”

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