Scandal By The Ton (2 page)

"I did. With my husband's money of course. You know your grandfather owned mills in Lancashire, and where there's muck there's money. I didn't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it through. He wed me for my beauty and my wit. When we had a child, he doted on her, and we both spoiled her rotten."

"Did my father own Ashridge Place?"

"Julian Shelborne possessed a title and little else. It was your grandfather's money that bought the Ashridge property, and this elegant house in Mayfair. Claire turned out to be a wretched mother, but even that had an advantage-- she didn't spoil you."

"When I was growing up, I spent more time with you than I did with Mother."

Dottie smiled. "I was determined not to make the same mistake twice."

Chapter Two

Ann Onymous delivered her columns to the
London and Country Magazine
wearing a variety of disguises. Today she was dressed as a newsboy, wearing a man's shirt and a waistcoat that concealed the fact that she had breasts. Her long dark hair was scrupulously hidden beneath an old tweed cap, and her feet were encased in scuffed leather boots.

She walked into the building, strolled nonchalantly into the newsroom, and handed an envelope to the editor. "Here ye are, Guv, right on time."

"Thanks, George. See you next week."

"Wot, no tip?"

"You're a cheeky young sod."

She winked. "And then some."

Julia hailed a hackney on Fleet Street. The driver gave her a queer look when she gave him her Mayfair address, and she thumbed her nose at him. Sometimes she walked home, but today she wanted to arrive before her mother's best friend, Countess Lavinia Spencer. No doubt her mother and Lavinia would dissect last night's outing with Royston and Julia didn't want to miss a word.

At Berkeley Square, Julia went in through the servants' entrance, and by the time she had changed into a dress, Lavinia's carriage had pulled up outside. Julia glanced through the window, saw two ladies emerge, and hurried to her grandmother's suite.

Lavinia was married to John Spencer, who had two noteworthy sisters. One was Georgiana, the notorious Duchess of Devonshire, and the other was Henrietta Ponsonby, Countess of Bessborough. These infamous friends created more scandals than any other family in London, and their second favorite pastime was gossip. Their conversation was an ever-flowing river of rumor that proved to be more fact than fiction and inevitably found its way into
Scandal by the Ton.

"Lavinia is here and she's brought her sister-in-law Henrietta. I predict we'll hear more than one juicy morsel this afternoon."

"Last time I was in her company, at an affair at Devonshire House, her wild daughter Caro mimicked everyone behind their backs. I couldn't keep a straight face until I caught the little bugger mimicking me, using a champagne flute as an ear trumpet," Dottie confided.

Julia rolled back the rug, and with pencil and paper ready, sat on the floor to eavesdrop.

"Henrietta,
dahling,
how good of you to accompany Lavinia on her afternoon rounds."

Lavinia spoke up. "I told her about Royston, and she simply couldn't wait to hear the details."

"Do make yourselves comfortable," Claire invited, "and I'll ring for tea. Do you prefer China or India, Henrietta?"

"Like Lavinia, I have a preference for India tea."

Claire rang the bell and within a minute one of the maids appeared.  "We'll have tea, Dora. India tea. Ask cook to make sure the cucumber sandwiches have watercress, and I know Lady Spencer is rather partial to our almond
petit fors.
"

"So, did you enjoy the theatre?" Lavinia inquired.

"It was marvelous. Royston's box is gas-lit. I wore my royal blue brocade, and my sapphires  caught the light and sparkled beautifully. Every eye was upon me, once they tired of ogling your sister-in-law Georgiana, of course, whose wig sported the Prince of Wales ostrich feathers."

"But did you enjoy the play?" Henrietta asked.

"Well, it was an opera, and I didn't really understand it. Good thing I had my fan to cover my yawns. But I thoroughly enjoyed watching the audience. Georgiana was accompanied by Francis, Duke of Bedford. They aren't enjoying a liaison, are they?" Claire asked.

"Francis has at least three females he's bedding. His arrangement with Georgiana is a financial one. He's loaned her money to cover her gambling debts, so that her husband doesn't learn of them."

"
Three
females?" Claire exclaimed. "I was aware of Lady Melbourne, but the affair with Lizzie has long been over. Who are the three you mean?"

"Francis has a child by Mrs. Marianna Palmer, and he's presently sharing Lady Maynard with her husband. As well, he's installed a woman called Mrs. Hill at Woburn Abbey, and rumor has it she's an old madame"

Julia quickly wrote down the names being bandied about below, and listened for more.

Lavinia brought the subject back to Royston. "Did the viscount give you reason to believe that he's paying you court, with a view to marriage?"

"I have no doubt of it," Claire replied. "He was a perfect gentleman, who made no untoward advances, so I conclude that it is marriage he is after."

"Isn't Royston with the diplomatic corps?" Henrietta ventured.

"Yes, he just returned from a mission in Portugal for Lord Grenville," Claire said proudly.

"Diplomats get very poor pay," Henrietta declared.

"Yes, that's why only wealthy men are chosen for the posts," Claire said smugly. "Where on earth is that wretched girl with the tea?" She rang the bell, but no maid appeared. "Servants are the plague of my life. Excuse me while I go and give the kitchen a stern reprimand."

When Claire left the room, Henrietta said, "I have it on good authority that the viscount's brother, Michael Royston, is having an affair with the actress Perdita Robinson, ex-mistress of the Prince of Wales and his brother, Prince William. Rumor has it that she's with child."

"Good heavens, don't say anything to Claire," Lavinia said. "She'd be upset to think a Royston could be ruled by any organ south of his brain."

Julia covered her mouth to prevent her laughter from bubbling forth. She got to her feet and quietly rolled the thick rug over the hole in the floor.

Dottie rolled her eyes. "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Henrietta Bessborough has produced no less than two illegitimate children, which she successfully hid from her husband, who is rumored to be rather abusive."

"Why on earth would she stay married to a brute?" Julia asked.

"Because she'd never give up being a countess. To her credit, she did send her daughter Caro to live with Georgiana at Devonshire House."

"From what I hear, Devonshire House is a gambling den of iniquity, complete with illegitimate children, and a
ménage a trois."

"And those are considered its virtues, not its vices," Dottie quipped.

"Well, I certainly heard enough today to fill next week's
Scandal by the Ton
column."

"Have you decided who will be
Tart of the Week?"

Julia laughed. "There are so many to choose from!"

The following week, Lord Royston accompanied Claire to an entertainment at Spencer House in St. James's. Lavinia had arranged the
soirée
so that she could get a good look at the viscount, and watch him in action, so to speak.

It turned out that Lavinia's husband, John Spencer, knew Nicholas Royston, and when the two males fell into a long conversation, Claire danced with Lavinia's cousin Henry, Earl of Fauconburg.

The following afternoon, Lavinia visited Claire. "You made quite a conquest last night."

"Yes, I'm quite encouraged by Lord Royston's attention."

"My dear Claire, I wasn't speaking of Royston. My cousin Henry was quite enamored."

"Fauconburg is much younger than I," Claire confided. "I didn't take him seriously."

"An earl is a much better catch than a viscount. Take it from me, dahling."

Julia labored over her gossip column, asking her readers if they had heard that the profligate Duke of B had installed a madame at W Abbey.
Do you suppose he intends to turn the once religious bastion into a brothel?
For the final item she wrote:
The scantily-clad, Drury Lane actress Perdita won't be able to fit into her costumes much longer, since she is rumored to be with child. The betting book at White's speculates that Prince Silly Billy is to blame, but the odd on favorite is none other than Mick Royston.

This week, to deliver S
candal by the Ton
, Julia wore the livery of Thomas, their young footman-in-training, complete with white stockings, satin knee-breeches, and tie wig.

She bowed formally to the editor. "From my mistress Ann, with her compliments, sir."

The newsroom editor of the
London and Country Magazine
did not know the identity of Ann Onymous. Sometimes the column was delivered by the newsboy George, other times by a servant, and once in a while by an old lady who looked capable of turning her silver-headed cane into a formidable weapon that could castrate a man.

At Curzon Street, Michael Royston noticed his brother was still in his riding clothes at five o'clock. "How goes it with the widow?"

"Not very well, I'm afraid." Nicholas poured himself a glass of claret.

"Don't tell me there's a female in London immune to your formidable charm?"

"Actually, I haven't practiced it on Lady Shelborne."

"Why ever not, Nick old man?"

"We'd never suit. I've discovered that Claire is rather vapid and shallow, and not nearly as young as she pretends. Now I'm faced with the task of withdrawing without hurting her."

"You're a bloody diplomat-- I'm sure you'll think of something," Mick said pointedly.

"
Touche.
I'll pay her an afternoon call tomorrow and end it cleanly."

When the
London and Country Magazine
was delivered the next day, Julia took it upstairs to read in Dottie's sitting-room. Every week the magazine included a fictional story and this was the first thing that Julia always read. Today's story was entitled The Heirs of Gauntry, about a Welsh family.

"Oh, just listen to this description-- it's absolutely priceless:
Mrs. Glyn Meredith was a pale, washed-out, worn-out looking creature, with kind, unmeaning eyes, like nothing but oysters, and a mouth furnished with a number of small, crushed-looking teeth, which she had a habit of half closing, and thus making her speech painfully indistinct to her acquaintances.
"

"A most edifying picture," Dottie said dryly.

"Oh, there's more:
There was a pale saffron tinge in her complexion, which, united with light yellow hair and light eyelashes, made her conspicuously like some tortoiseshell cat well up in years; and when she sat slowly blinking her pale eyes, as she always did in sunlight and firelight, one could almost have fancied that one heard her purr.
That is such clever writing."

"Well, I must admit that I can see her, but I don't particularly want to. And let me give you some advice, my dear. These days people don't have time to wade through all that description. I think you've found your niche writing about the peccadilloes of the rich. The Ton always knows who did what to whom. Its second occupation is gossip, and they always get it right."

Julia sighed. "Well, I've never experienced the heart-scalding conditions under which poor, working-class people live, so I'm not truly qualified to write about them."

"I've experienced being
poor
, and let me tell you,
rich
is infinitely preferable."

"You're right, as always. But perhaps that's what makes you so fascinating." Julia turned to her column and began reading it aloud to her grandmother. Suddenly, her eyes widened in shock. "Oh, bugger and balls!"

"Don't tell me they've made a spelling error again?"

"I think it's a type-setting mistake, but it's absolutely horrendous! The item about who got Perdita in the pudding club says the odd on favorite is none other than NICK Royston! I'm positive I wrote MICK Royston."

"Ha! You've really stepped in the
caca
this time, m'dear." Dottie rubbed her hands together with glee. "Be sure to leave the paper where your mother will read it."

Julia's hand went to her throat. "My instinct is to hide it from her."

"That's the beauty of being anonymous. No one will ever suspect it was you who put an end to the marital ambitions of the
Queen of Cradle-Snatching
."