A Suggestion of Scandal
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If only he could find a lady who was tall enough to meet his eyes, intelligent enough not to bore him and had that certain something that meant he could imagine spending the rest of his life with her.
As Sir Julian Loring returns to his father’s home, he never dreams that ‘that lady’ could be Rosa Fancourt, his half-sister Chloe’s governess. They first met ten years ago but Rosa is no longer a gawky girl fresh from a Bath Academy. Today, she intrigues him. Just as they begin to draw closer, she disappears—in very dubious circumstances. Julian cannot bring himself to believe the worst, but if Rosa is innocent, the real truth is even more shocking and not without repercussions for his own family, especially for Chloe.
Driven by her concern for Chloe, Rosa accepts an invitation to spend some weeks at Castle Swanmere, home of Julian’s maternal grandfather. The widowed Meg Overton has also been invited and she is determined not to let such an eligible match as Julian slip through her fingers again.
When a ghost from Rosa’s past rises to haunt her, and Meg discredits Rosa publicly, Julian must decide where his loyalties lie.
"A smooth read; providing laughs and gasps in turns. Readers will enjoy the cool-headed Miss Fancourt, while hoping that Sir Julian puts the pieces of the puzzle together quickly! A host of other loveable and detestable characters keep the entertainment moving through the trials, tribulations, and victories of love." The Historical Novels Review
As Sir Julian Loring returns to his father’s home, he never dreams that ‘that lady’ could be Rosa Fancourt, his half-sister Chloe’s governess. They first met ten years ago but Rosa is no longer a gawky girl fresh from a Bath Academy. Today, she intrigues him. Just as they begin to draw closer, she disappears—in very dubious circumstances. Julian cannot bring himself to believe the worst, but if Rosa is innocent, the real truth is even more shocking and not without repercussions for his own family, especially for Chloe.
Driven by her concern for Chloe, Rosa accepts an invitation to spend some weeks at Castle Swanmere, home of Julian’s maternal grandfather. The widowed Meg Overton has also been invited and she is determined not to let such an eligible match as Julian slip through her fingers again.
When a ghost from Rosa’s past rises to haunt her, and Meg discredits Rosa publicly, Julian must decide where his loyalties lie.
"A smooth read; providing laughs and gasps in turns. Readers will enjoy the cool-headed Miss Fancourt, while hoping that Sir Julian puts the pieces of the puzzle together quickly! A host of other loveable and detestable characters keep the entertainment moving through the trials, tribulations, and victories of love." The Historical Novels Review
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Chapter One
May 1814
Sir Julian Loring flicked the thong of his whip encouragingly over the shoulders of his matched greys. It was a clear run from here to Loring Place. With five curricles in play, the fourteen mile drive from Newmarket had inevitably turned into an impromptu race. In deference to his home advantage, he had been handicapped by being the last to leave, with the other four whips drawing lots to determine their order of departure, but local knowledge had stood to him and by Risby he had successfully given all his rivals the go-by. Now he just had to maintain his lead.
He checked his pair slightly at the sight of a laden cart lumbering ahead. Behind him, Josiah sounded the yard of tin. The driver of the cart glanced back and ponderously moved to one side. That should do it! As Julian flew past, he raised his whip in acknowledgement, nodding down to the carter who touched his hat in return.
“Keep them moving, sir,” his groom called. “Mr Haldon is catching up on us.”
Julian grunted a reply. Once they left the turnpike, there would be no room for another to pass.
He was still in the lead when he slowed his pair for the turn towards the Place. In recent years he had spent increasingly less time at his family home and hadn’t been here since he had come for a week’s shooting in December. His father neither sought nor welcomed any interest on his heir’s part in the administration of his estate and seemed as pleased to see his son go as he was to see him come. Despite this, Julian had obeyed the summons to a house party to celebrate his sire’s sixtieth birthday and complied with his step-mother’s instructions to bring some bachelors to dance with his half-sister Chloe and the other young ladies.
Through his dead mother he was also heir to the ancient Barony of Swanmere and, on reaching the age of eighty, Lord Swanmere had handed over responsibility for the estates to his grandson with whom he enjoyed an amicable relationship. If it were not for his grandmother and Chloe, combined with an innate stubbornness that refused to be driven away from half his birthright, Julian would have long since stopped coming to Loring Place, instead dividing his time between Swanmere Castle in Huntingdonshire and Swanmere House in London.
This visit would be an improvement on the previous ones, he reflected as he drew up in front of the house. Instead of dull days and tedious evenings of stilted conversation over whist played for chicken stakes, there would be congenial company and plenty to do. For a start, he must put together a cricket team and see that they got some practice in before Thursday.
“And it’s Loring before Haldon before Glazebrook before Whittaker before Raven,” Josiah intoned as he scrambled down and ran to the horses’ heads. “That’s a coach wheel apiece the other tigers owe me.”
Julian took off his hat and thrust his hand through his hair before stepping down from the curricle. He stretched lazily to relieve the tightness in his arms and shoulders caused by holding a mettlesome team to a spanking trot and arched his spine, enjoying the sensation of loosening muscles and joints.
“There you are, Julian.”
He turned at the sound of his stepmother’s voice. Sir Edward’s ‘pretty little partridge’ had grown plumper with the years and frequently looked discontented with her lot. “Were you not expecting me, ma’am?”
“Yes, yes of course. Now, who has come with you?”
“Glazebrook and Spilsbury with their sons and Michael Raven as agreed. Major Frederick Raven was with his brother. He came home with despatches and has a couple of weeks furlough. As all his family are here, I told him he should come too.”
“Wonderful! Only yesterday, Lady Ransford said that she cannot wait to see him after all these years in the Peninsula. She will be ecstatic.”
Julian nodded. “Then there are my friends Jack Whittaker and Ambrose Haldon and my father convinced his old crony, Sir Jethro Boyce to accompany him.”
She frowned. “Where am I to put a man of his age? The first floor is full, the second floor is all married couples and girls, and he can hardly go in the bachelor’s wing with the younger men.”
“He might be flattered,” Julian said, grinning. “He was widowed last year, I understand. Give him my room, ma’am. I’ll go and keep order among the bachelors.”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind, Julian, I should be most grateful. I’ll just give the necessary orders and then you may present your friends to me.”
“You should have been disqualified for having an unfair advantage,” Jack Whittaker, who had taken the fourth place in the race, called as he descended from his curricle.
“It’s too late to think of that now,” Julian retorted. “Admit that I had not only the best horses but also the superior skill.”
“Whittaker was too busy flirting with every female we passed,” Ambrose Haldon explained, turning to take a tankard from the tray offered by a manservant. “That’s what I call a proper welcome—get the dust out of a man’s throat. And here’s another,” he added as a trio of young ladies came around the corner of the house in a flutter of white muslin and blue ribbons and sashes. They walked linked arm in arm, escorted by a young gentleman, and stopped at the sight of the assembled whips.
“Shepherdesses with attendant lapdog,” Jack murmured.
“Say rather lambs,” Ambrose remarked as two of the girls came forward smiling, while the third dropped back to walk with the lady who followed some paces behind. “But there is an attendant nymph, a dryad perhaps, judging by her tall willowy figure and gown of greyish green. Who is she, Loring?”
“Miss Fancourt, my sister’s governess,” Julian replied curtly. “And here is my sister,” he added as Chloe, having greeted her father and curtseyed to his friend, came into her brother’s arms, her cheek tilted for his kiss.
“Welcome home, Julian. Isn’t this exciting? What a good idea of Papa’s!”
He hugged her gently. “You’re looking blooming, my pet. Who are your friends?”
“That is our cousin Cynthia Glazebrook there at the steps,” she glanced over to where an excited group had gathered around the Raven brothers. “I’ll make you known to her in a moment and—,” she tugged him towards the young lady standing with Miss Fancourt, “these are my cousins Hannah Eubank, and her brother James.”
Julian exchanged greetings with the Eubanks before smiling at Chloe’s governess. “I hope I see you well, Miss Fancourt.”
“You do indeed, Sir Julian.”
Jack and Ambrose were at his elbow. “Aren’t you going to present us?”
It felt subtly wrong to name his sister and her cousins before their older chaperon who had again retreated into the background. Ambrose’s interest had been piqued, he could see and when the group turned to go into the house, his friend had already engaged the governess in conversation. He must keep an eye on that situation, Julian resolved. She had been little more than a schoolgirl herself when she came to his father’s house and over the years she had become—not a friend of course, but he could not look upon her as a servant. More some sort of undefined family member, certainly someone for whom he felt responsibility. When he thought about it, her life had been as sheltered as Chloe’s. He wouldn’t like to see her head turned by Haldon’s attentions.
He looked back over his shoulder. “When do we dine, Miss Fancourt? Have we time for a game of billiards beforehand?”
Jack Whittaker groaned. “Can you never be still, Loring? I, for one, intend to remove my boots and wash away the dust before I even contemplate doing anything else.”
Sir Julian Loring flicked the thong of his whip encouragingly over the shoulders of his matched greys. It was a clear run from here to Loring Place. With five curricles in play, the fourteen mile drive from Newmarket had inevitably turned into an impromptu race. In deference to his home advantage, he had been handicapped by being the last to leave, with the other four whips drawing lots to determine their order of departure, but local knowledge had stood to him and by Risby he had successfully given all his rivals the go-by. Now he just had to maintain his lead.
He checked his pair slightly at the sight of a laden cart lumbering ahead. Behind him, Josiah sounded the yard of tin. The driver of the cart glanced back and ponderously moved to one side. That should do it! As Julian flew past, he raised his whip in acknowledgement, nodding down to the carter who touched his hat in return.
“Keep them moving, sir,” his groom called. “Mr Haldon is catching up on us.”
Julian grunted a reply. Once they left the turnpike, there would be no room for another to pass.
He was still in the lead when he slowed his pair for the turn towards the Place. In recent years he had spent increasingly less time at his family home and hadn’t been here since he had come for a week’s shooting in December. His father neither sought nor welcomed any interest on his heir’s part in the administration of his estate and seemed as pleased to see his son go as he was to see him come. Despite this, Julian had obeyed the summons to a house party to celebrate his sire’s sixtieth birthday and complied with his step-mother’s instructions to bring some bachelors to dance with his half-sister Chloe and the other young ladies.
Through his dead mother he was also heir to the ancient Barony of Swanmere and, on reaching the age of eighty, Lord Swanmere had handed over responsibility for the estates to his grandson with whom he enjoyed an amicable relationship. If it were not for his grandmother and Chloe, combined with an innate stubbornness that refused to be driven away from half his birthright, Julian would have long since stopped coming to Loring Place, instead dividing his time between Swanmere Castle in Huntingdonshire and Swanmere House in London.
This visit would be an improvement on the previous ones, he reflected as he drew up in front of the house. Instead of dull days and tedious evenings of stilted conversation over whist played for chicken stakes, there would be congenial company and plenty to do. For a start, he must put together a cricket team and see that they got some practice in before Thursday.
“And it’s Loring before Haldon before Glazebrook before Whittaker before Raven,” Josiah intoned as he scrambled down and ran to the horses’ heads. “That’s a coach wheel apiece the other tigers owe me.”
Julian took off his hat and thrust his hand through his hair before stepping down from the curricle. He stretched lazily to relieve the tightness in his arms and shoulders caused by holding a mettlesome team to a spanking trot and arched his spine, enjoying the sensation of loosening muscles and joints.
“There you are, Julian.”
He turned at the sound of his stepmother’s voice. Sir Edward’s ‘pretty little partridge’ had grown plumper with the years and frequently looked discontented with her lot. “Were you not expecting me, ma’am?”
“Yes, yes of course. Now, who has come with you?”
“Glazebrook and Spilsbury with their sons and Michael Raven as agreed. Major Frederick Raven was with his brother. He came home with despatches and has a couple of weeks furlough. As all his family are here, I told him he should come too.”
“Wonderful! Only yesterday, Lady Ransford said that she cannot wait to see him after all these years in the Peninsula. She will be ecstatic.”
Julian nodded. “Then there are my friends Jack Whittaker and Ambrose Haldon and my father convinced his old crony, Sir Jethro Boyce to accompany him.”
She frowned. “Where am I to put a man of his age? The first floor is full, the second floor is all married couples and girls, and he can hardly go in the bachelor’s wing with the younger men.”
“He might be flattered,” Julian said, grinning. “He was widowed last year, I understand. Give him my room, ma’am. I’ll go and keep order among the bachelors.”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind, Julian, I should be most grateful. I’ll just give the necessary orders and then you may present your friends to me.”
“You should have been disqualified for having an unfair advantage,” Jack Whittaker, who had taken the fourth place in the race, called as he descended from his curricle.
“It’s too late to think of that now,” Julian retorted. “Admit that I had not only the best horses but also the superior skill.”
“Whittaker was too busy flirting with every female we passed,” Ambrose Haldon explained, turning to take a tankard from the tray offered by a manservant. “That’s what I call a proper welcome—get the dust out of a man’s throat. And here’s another,” he added as a trio of young ladies came around the corner of the house in a flutter of white muslin and blue ribbons and sashes. They walked linked arm in arm, escorted by a young gentleman, and stopped at the sight of the assembled whips.
“Shepherdesses with attendant lapdog,” Jack murmured.
“Say rather lambs,” Ambrose remarked as two of the girls came forward smiling, while the third dropped back to walk with the lady who followed some paces behind. “But there is an attendant nymph, a dryad perhaps, judging by her tall willowy figure and gown of greyish green. Who is she, Loring?”
“Miss Fancourt, my sister’s governess,” Julian replied curtly. “And here is my sister,” he added as Chloe, having greeted her father and curtseyed to his friend, came into her brother’s arms, her cheek tilted for his kiss.
“Welcome home, Julian. Isn’t this exciting? What a good idea of Papa’s!”
He hugged her gently. “You’re looking blooming, my pet. Who are your friends?”
“That is our cousin Cynthia Glazebrook there at the steps,” she glanced over to where an excited group had gathered around the Raven brothers. “I’ll make you known to her in a moment and—,” she tugged him towards the young lady standing with Miss Fancourt, “these are my cousins Hannah Eubank, and her brother James.”
Julian exchanged greetings with the Eubanks before smiling at Chloe’s governess. “I hope I see you well, Miss Fancourt.”
“You do indeed, Sir Julian.”
Jack and Ambrose were at his elbow. “Aren’t you going to present us?”
It felt subtly wrong to name his sister and her cousins before their older chaperon who had again retreated into the background. Ambrose’s interest had been piqued, he could see and when the group turned to go into the house, his friend had already engaged the governess in conversation. He must keep an eye on that situation, Julian resolved. She had been little more than a schoolgirl herself when she came to his father’s house and over the years she had become—not a friend of course, but he could not look upon her as a servant. More some sort of undefined family member, certainly someone for whom he felt responsibility. When he thought about it, her life had been as sheltered as Chloe’s. He wouldn’t like to see her head turned by Haldon’s attentions.
He looked back over his shoulder. “When do we dine, Miss Fancourt? Have we time for a game of billiards beforehand?”
Jack Whittaker groaned. “Can you never be still, Loring? I, for one, intend to remove my boots and wash away the dust before I even contemplate doing anything else.”