Scandal By The Ton

by Virginia Henley

  Julia smiled with satisfaction, and moved on to Tart of the Week. There were many noble ladies with scandalous sex lives to choose from, and it took her a couple of minutes to select one. She thought it priceless that George, Earl of Jersey, was Lord of the Bedchamber to the Prince of Wales, while his wife, Frances Jersey, was quite literally Mistress of the Bedchamber to the prince. However, Julia believed that most of the ton already suspected this, so she decided not to use it.

  Finally, she chose her mother's friend Lavinia's sister-in-law, Henrietta. Ann Onymous has it on good authority that the Countess of Bessb---gh has produced not one, but two illegitimate children by the well-known Whig politician GLG. Julia paused, wondering if her readers would recognize that GLG stood for Granville Leveson-Gower. I believe they will; Dottie always says that a nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse!

  Chapter Four

  On Monday morning, Nicholas Royston stepped from his carriage on Fleet Street across from the building where the London and Country Magazine was published. He watched the people walking on the street and closely scrutinized anyone who entered the building. Nobody answering the descriptions the editor had given him went anywhere near the building.

  He suddenly spied a newsboy, with papers tucked under his arm, leave the building. He knew instinctively this must be George the editor had spoken of who usually delivered the scandal column.

  Nicholas strode briskly across the street and grabbed the newsboy. The lad kicked and screamed and squirmed, but he could not match Royston's strength. With difficulty, the viscount hauled the lad into his carriage, and knocked to signal his coachman to drive.

  "Caught red-handed. Who pays you to deliver Scandal by the Ton?" Nick demanded.

  The boy, panting from his exertions, glared at him, and pulled his cap down over his ears. He made a sudden lunge for the door, and Royston grabbed him.

  To Nick's astonishment his hands came into contact with a pair of round breasts hidden beneath the waistcoat and he realized his captive was a female. Surprised, he loosened his hold immediately. The young devil savagely bit his hand, and when Nick let go, the female opened the carriage door, and rolled out into Fleet Street.

  "Stop!" Royston cried, but to his dismay, he saw the culprit dart into Fetter Lane and disappear. A foul oath dropped from his lips, as he looked down at his swollen hand. He vowed to return the following Monday. I'll catch the vicious little bugger, if it's the last thing I do!

  The following day, when the London and Country Magazine was published, Royston bought a copy and eagerly turned to Scandal by the Ton to read the retraction. His expression turned grim as he read: Ann Onymous offers a profound apology and retraction for an item in last week's column. The typesetter made a mistake and printed the letter N in place of the letter M. Perdita Robinson is not the mistress of Nick Royston, but rather the mistress of his brother Mick.

  Nicholas's expression turned black as he read further: Ann Onymous is sincerely sorry that Nick Royston is not Perdita Robinson's lover, but likely not anywhere near as sorry as poor Perdita.

  "Good God, it's twice as bad as it was before, as Ann Onymous deliberately intended!" His eyes focused again and he read: After reading Scandal by the Ton, Lady Claire S------- handed poor Lord Royston his walking papers.

  With a curse he tore the magazine in half and flung it across his library. "Walking papers!" I'll make Claire Shelborne rue the day she ever gossiped to her friends about me. And as for Ann Bloody Onymous, if I ever get my hands on her, I'll throttle the bitch!

  On Friday evening, Julia brushed her long dark hair into a fashionable upswept creation and fastened the curls with diamond butterfly pins, loaned to her by Dottie. The evening gown she had chosen from Madame Martine's in Bond Street was white tulle decorated with silver ribbons and violets at the high Empire waistline. Dottie had persuaded her to choose a pale mauve ostrich feather fan by telling her it took a certain panache to carry off such an outrageous fashion.

  Julia stood in front of her cheval glass, practicing languid wafts with the fan, making an effort to control her laughter, but try as she might, she could not keep the amusement from her eyes.

  "Perfection!" Dottie declared. "If your mother could see you, she would be outraged."

  "Because of the gown's low décolletage?"

  "Because you put her completely in the shade. You look at least nineteen, which trumpets to Society that Claire is at that unenviable age between forty and death."

  "She's gone to Spencer House again tonight. Did you ask Toby to bring the carriage back?"

  "Yes, I asked him kindly. I don't order him about as Claire does." Dottie checked the time. "He should be here now."

  The pair descended the stairs together. Julia knew better than to hold onto her grandmother, knowing she would brandish her cane and announce proudly, "I'm not ready for the knacker's yard yet."

  Toby opened the carriage door, and Dottie said, "91 Pall Mall, please."

  When the carriage pulled up before the great mansion, Dottie advised, "Don't feel intimidated, darling. The Duke and Duchess of Gordon don't own this grand house; they lease it from the Marquis of Buckingham."

  "You are a font of information about everyone in London."

  "Ah yes, I'm not just rewarding in bed," she quipped.

  Julia was still laughing when the liveried butler ushered them in and a maid took their cloaks.

  "Try not to stare at the knobby knees of the men wearing kilts," Dottie admonished.

  Jane Gordon sailed across the foyer to greet the new arrivals. "Dorothy, it's good to see ye. I swear ye look younger than the last time we met."

  "Your eyes are failing you, Jane. I've brought my granddaughter Julia. It's high time she entered Society, and where better than at a Duchess of Gordon entertainment?"

  "Welcome, my dear. Let's go up to the ballroom and I'll introduce ye to my youngest daughter, Georgina. She'll swallow her tongue when she sees how pretty ye are."

  When Julia met Georgina, she liked her instantly. The duke's daughter did not affect airs and she had a ready laugh and a wicked twinkle in her eye. Georgina said in an aside, "It's a relief to have someone my age here. Mother is constantly matchmaking. Any unmarried man with a decent title is fair game. Tonight she has her eye on Prime Minister Pitt."

  "I'm here with my grandmother, who understands I don't want to be on the marriage market."

  To belie her words, Dottie said, "Come Julia, there are a number of eligible males you should meet." She swooped up a glass of champagne and handed it to her granddaughter. "Drink up."

  Julia exchanged an amused glance with Georgina and followed her grandmother.

  "That fellow over there is Henry Dundas, the Home Secretary, and Pitt's right hand man. He's a bachelor, but since he's the Duchess of Gordon's lover, I won't dangle you in front of him."

  "Damn, I should have brought a notepad and pencil to write all this down," Julia jested.

  Dorothy made her way toward three men who were conversing. "Lord Grenville is the Foreign Secretary. He's Pitt's cousin and has ambitions to become the next prime minister." As they got closer to the trio, Dottie lowered her voice. "The other man is Lord Holland. Henry recently married a divorced woman, but since he was the cause of it, I commend him for doing the honorable thing."

  The third man turned toward the approaching pair, and Julia caught her breath in surprise. It was Nicholas Royston. Only a few days ago, he'd grabbed her, shoved her into his carriage, and discovered she was not a newsboy when his hands came into contact with her breasts.

  "Hello Dorothy. I haven't seen you since you were at Ashridge Place in Hertfordshire."

  "If I remember correctly, I was in Royston Hall's garden, pilfering some of your roses."

  Nicholas grinned. "You steal so openly, I decided not to shoot you."

  "I would like to present my granddaughter, Lady Julia. My dear, this is Lord Royston, our long-suffering neighbor in Hertfordshire."

  Julia swallowed hard. She
felt her knees tremble, and languidly waved her feathered fan to cover her nervousness. "How do you do, Lord Royston?"

  "Did you say Julia?" Royston looked stunned. "Surely this lady cannot be Claire's daughter? I was under the impression she was still a little girl."

  "Ah, the Mayfair Matron in Waiting... and waiting does her utmost to perpetuate the myth."

  Nicholas Royston's glance swept over the shiny dark curls, violet eyes, generous mouth, and upthrust breasts of the female before him, and then moved back up to her full lower lip. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lady Julia." He held out his hand to her.

  Julia noticed it was still slightly swollen from when she had bitten it. She immediately put her empty glass in it, and turned to greet Lord Grenville.

  As Royston studied the beauty before him with speculation, a diabolical idea came to him. To avenge Claire Shelborne's dismissal of him, he would woo the daughter. "May I partner you in the next dance, Lady Julia?"

  She would have preferred to put distance between them, apprehensive that there might be something about her he recognized. Refusing him, however, might only draw his scrutiny. "I would be honored, Lord Royston."

  "Please, call me Nicholas."

  "I couldn't do that on such short acquaintance," she demurred.

  "Then I propose we get to know each other better." He took her hand and led her onto the ballroom floor.

  This is dangerous. He's dangerous. Unfortunately the danger added to his attraction. A moth to the flame. Julia smiled inwardly. This is an exciting game. What the devil would he do if he knew I was the one who wrote Scandal by the Ton? A slight shiver ran down her spine.

  Nicholas tightened his arm. "You're not cold, are you my dear?"

  "How can I be cold, when I can feel the heat from your body, my lord?"

  He smiled down at her. "You enjoy being provocative."

  "You have uncovered my secret," she whispered.

  "So, you also enjoy secrets."

  "I revel in them, Lord Royston." Careful you don't singe your wings, Julia. In his arms, she was vulnerable to his attraction. He had a coiled energy, and added to his athletic build, he was disturbingly male. His close proximity made it difficult for her to think. She wanted to close her eyes and give herself up to the pleasure of the handsome lord's admiration. Suddenly, a sobering thought intruded. Why would Nicholas Royston be interested in the daughter of a woman who had dismissed him in such a humiliating fashion?

  The answer came immediately. What better way to take his revenge? Very well, Nicko. Two can play this game.

  As the music ended, Nicholas bowed. "Lady Julia, would you allow me to escort you into supper later?"

  Julia gave him a provocative smile. "It would please me above all things, Lord Royston."

  When the dance ended, Georgina Gordon and Lord Holland were standing beside Julia and the viscount. "My Uncle Holly would like to dance with you, Lady Julia, though you haven't been introduced.”

  "That's soon remedied. I'm sure Lord Royston would be happy to introduce us."

  Nicholas hid a smile, but amusement danced in his dark eyes. "Henry, allow me to present Lady Julia Shelborne, whose manners are rather unconventional. Lady Julia, this is my good friend Henry Holland."

  When Julia held out her hand, Lord Holland took it to his lips. "May I have the next dance?"

  Julia smiled. "You may, if you will share a bit of gossip. I collect it." I know I shouldn't have said that, I simply couldn't help myself. If I'm not careful, I'll singe my ostrich feathers.

  "I'd rather not collect it," Henry declared, "but it seems to follow me about."

  "I like you, Lord Holland; you have a delightful sense of humor." When they were halfway around the ballroom, Julia said, "I'm waiting."

  Henry laughed. "Well, let's see, since it would be the heighth of audacity to gossip about one's hostess, did you hear that the Duchess of Drinkwater in T.S. Surr's satirical novel, A Winter in London, is based on Jane Gordon's rivalry with the Duchess of Devonshire?"

  Julia laughed. "I had no idea. I shall rush out and buy it tomorrow. My mother's best friend is the Duchess of Devonshire's sister-in-law, Lavinia."

  "It's a small world, isn't it?" Henry said with a twinkle.

  "Are you referring to the unfortunate business between my mother and Royston?" she teased.

  "I swear I wasn't, my dear, but now that you mention it... "

  They both went off in a peal of laughter.

  When the dance was finished, Henry introduced Julia to his wife, Beth.

  "I can always count on my husband to seek out the most beautiful girl in the room."

  "That's how he found you, no doubt," Julia complimented.

  "We've only just met, but already I know that I adore you, my dear."

  "This is my first venture into Society. Would you introduce me to some of the other ladies?"

  "My pleasure. You've already met Lady Georgina, so let me make you known to her married sisters. This is Charlotte, Countess of March, and Louisa, Lady Cornwallis."

  "I'm so pleased to meet you." Julia smiled at Louisa. "I see your resemblance to Georgina."

  "That is a lovely compliment, since Georgina is the beauty of the family."

  "Georgina thinks she's the beauty of the family," Charlotte declared. "She manages to delude herself every day of her life. I'm the eldest and know all my sisters' foibles."

  Louisa winked at Julia. "Delusion runs in the family."

  Promptly at ten, Nicholas Royston, presented himself to Julia and offered her his arm. "I believe the supper room has just been opened. There is always a mad dash at Lady Gordon's entertainments. After the salmon and the famous whiskey punch, inhibitions are lowered and the Scottish reels begin."

  Julia took his arm and they followed Lord Holland and his wife into the supper room.

  At Royston's direction, a footman poured a cup of punch and handed it to Julia.

  "Are you hoping to lower my inhibitions, my lord?"

  "I am." He touched his glass cup to hers. "Bottoms up!"

  Dottie overheard their exchange and reached for her own whiskey punch. "Once the Scottish dancing starts, it'll be kilts up and you'll be treated to a number of bare arses, Julia."

  She almost choked on her punch. "That sounds more like a treatment than a treat."

  Royston's lips twitched. "Ah, you've seen some of them."

  As she had earlier, she whispered, "You've uncovered my secret."

  The absurdity of her provocative remark prompted them both to laugh. "'Tis easy to see you've spent a lot of time with your grandmother. Like her, you have a ribald sense of humor."

  "There's so much to laugh at." Julia moved down the buffet table, filling her plate with iced shortbread, chocolate bon-bons and petit fors, then she selected some black olives."

  "You have an eclectic taste-- the sweet with the tart."

  She gave him a sideways glance. "Yes, and not only in food."

  A short time later, strains of a Scottish strathspey could be heard from the ballroom, and the guests left the supper room en masse. When Julia began to follow, Nicholas took her arm to stay her. When they were alone, his arms slipped around her and he drew her close. He dipped his head and took possession of her lips. He kissed her slowly, softly, but thoroughly.

  He withdrew his mouth a few inches. "Sweet... and tart."

  It was her first kiss, and she'd wanted it to go on forever.

  He touched a curl at her temple. "Would you allow me to escort you to the theatre?"

  When she hesitated, Nicholas added, "Of course, I include your grandmother in the invitation." He wanted them to be seen in public together. Claire Shelborne's friends would delight in telling her.

  Chapter Five

  In the carriage on the way home Julia looked at her grandmother who sat with closed eyes. "Don't pretend sleep; I know better. Were you aware that Nicholas Royston would be there tonight?"

  Without opening her eyes, Dottie declared, "I didn
't have an inkling. It was Providence."

  "Divine destiny. Well, you are half right, he is divine."

  "Yes, I rather think he's splendid myself."

  "But I suspect you encouraged our friendship for your own amusement."

  "Au contraire, I did it for your amusement."

  "He was extremely charming, but his interest in me could be prompted by revenge against my mother."

  "Well, I don't mind helping him. I hope she's racked with remorse and jade green with jealousy when she finds out."

  "But how will she find out?"

  "I shall probably inadvertently let it slip."

  "There will be nothing inadvertent about it. It will be deliberate, and you will relish doing it."

  "Ah, Julia my dear, you know me so well."

  They stepped out of the carriage, and Dottie used her key to open the front door.

  Claire was standing in the reception hall, her face livid with anger. "Where the devil have you been? Toby didn't return for me, and I had to prevail upon Lavinia's coachman to bring me home!"

  "I accompanied grandmother to an entertainment given by the Duchess of Gordon."

  "Surely not one of her balls?"

  "Balls? Yes, we saw lots of them during the Scottish reels," Dottie confirmed, "some as big as swan's eggs!"

  Claire gasped. "You vulgar old woman, have you no shame?"

  "Blame? Yes, I accept the blame for taking Julia. When I introduced her to Royston, he was astounded that you had a nineteen-year-old daughter."

  Claire's arm went up as if she was about to strike her mother, but Dottie raised her ebony cane, and then used it to blithely salute her daughter. "We bid you goodnight." She pointed to the stairs. "After you, Julia."

  When they were upstairs, Julia shook her head. "I haven't heard the last of this."

  "Don't tiptoe around her as if she's unexploded ordnance."

  "Don't worry, no matter how hard she pulls the strings, my arms won't move."

  "Nicholas Royston said he'd invited you to the theatre on Wednesday, and told me you would prefer it if I came along. Would you prefer it?"