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?
Your tip was a good one, Sam, though none of the villagers of Rorrington will admit to sending it. They had a front-seat row to the goings on at Thorn Abbey, and you’ll be pleased to know that even out here, they’ve all heard about the scandal of the Earl of Spenhurst and his bride. Indeed, since the wedding was at their own Thorn Abbey, and some of the main actors stayed at the village inn at the time in question, they feel quite a sense of ownership.
