A Lot Like a Lady

by Kim Bowman

“No, most certainly not. Why, it will be the event of the Season. It must be a grand affair with a splendid ball afterward,” Harmony agreed, turning loose of Lucien’s arm and rubbing her hands together.

  “Probably for the best if it is in London.” Lucien cleared his throat. “I, ah… I think old Seymour Hamilton’s son is the vicar at the parish here and… well, dash it all, I thought the man would be pleased I named my horse after his wife!”

  “Oh, Lucien, only you.” Harmony giggled and took her husband by the arm again, turning him toward the house.

  “My dearest Harmony, I swear had I known you, I would have named the stallion Harmony instead of Bertha.” He patted her hand where it lay in the crook of his elbow. “I will gladly buy a new horse and name him Har—”

  “You do, Lucien Giles Warren Markwythe, and you will be sleeping in the barn with the horse,” Harmony warned.

  Charity shook her head and tsked as she followed the pair. “We have no time for foolish arguments, you two. We have the wedding of the Season to arrange.”

  Juliet let out a moan. “Now there will be no hope of having a small affair.” She met his gaze and smiled. “You could have stopped them, you know.”

  Grey took her face in his hands, caressed her cheeks with his thumbs, and then kissed her tenderly. “I could have, but I didn’t want to.”

  Juliet’s face paled. She drew her brows together and frowned. She leaned away from him, but Grey didn’t break the connection. They’d been apart too long as it was.

  “But why not? There’s already bound to be a scandal. A duke marrying a servant. I don’t know if I can… I’m just not sure — Why?”

  Emotion surged so strongly, Grey barely contained it. He trailed one hand from her cheek to her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Because, Magpie, I want to show you off to the world. I want to make it clear to one and all — I want to make it clear to you — that I love you. I want every member of the ton to see me profess it in front of God. And… I want you to never doubt I mean it.”

  “Grey… I don’t know what to say. I’m overwhelmed. I’m happy. I’m—”

  “Say yes.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. The sun kissed her hair, lending some of its radiance. “Yes.” She laughed again and threw herself into his arms. “With all my heart yes.”

  And what a heart it was. The heart of a duchess.

  My duchess, my magpie, Grey thought as he captured her mouth with a deep, hungry kiss.

  AUTHORS’ NOTE

  Writing a story set two hundred years ago took countless hours—days—of research. What we wouldn’t have given to have had Jane Austen as a critique partner! Fortunately, what we did have was a nearly unlimited amount of resources at our fingertips. But even with these, some things required imagination or guessing.

  For the most part, it was easy to figure out which words to use with the help of an etymology dictionary to look up word origins (1). And while we know that for a Regency-set novel, A Lot Like A Lady might still read a bit “modern,” we did try to keep it as close to the period as possible.

  One area we were concerned about was the dancing. During the Regency period, dancing was the best way to find a husband. With no televisions, radios, MP3 players, cell phones, or texting, people spent a lot of time socializing—dancing. With that in mind, we spent a lot of hours simply watching videos detailing the dances of the time to ensure the details were exact. During the early extended Regency period, fine ballrooms were graced mainly by the country dance (contra dance), the cotillion, and the Scottish reel. In 1810, during the Regency period proper, the quadrille and the waltz began the transition to a closer and more intimate form of dancing.

  The waltz was actually “formally introduced” in England in approximately 1812 (2), so during the time period of A Lot Like A Lady, this dance would have been recognized, perhaps whispered about, maybe even attempted in the privacy of homes. It is reported that the hostesses of Almack’s allowed some well-chosen young ladies to dance the waltz in about 1814. However, the gliding dance was frowned upon in England up until about 1816, when it was introduced at Court. In fact, even after that, as late as 1825, some people still considered it “riotous and indecent.”(2) Even Lord Byron was outspoken against people embracing on the dance floor, so much so that he wrote a poem condemning it in 1813, albeit at first anonymously.

  The word waltz, as associated with dancing, can be attested from 1775-85 (2, 3). And while it wasn’t practiced at social events, like most forbidden things, it quite possibly would have been something done in the privacy of one’s home, or so we imagined. This dance was not a new concept, and had in fact been around for hundreds of years, actually originating in the 1500s. Lord Michel Eyquem de Montaigne, a French philosopher, wrote about seeing a dance like the waltz performed in 1580 in Augsurg, Germany (2). It was also described in author Sophie von La Roche’s 1771 German novel Geschichte des Fräuleins von Sternheim (2). La Roche travelled and spent time in England, even writing about her travels there, so if she wrote about the waltz in her book, then she may well have discussed it with her friends and acquaintances. Therefore, we determined that even though the “personal contact” necessary to dance the waltz made it unacceptable for social situations, the dance definitely existed and people in 1813 England were aware of it.

  Servants and commoners had a different set of rules from the nobles—the peerage. They most often married for love rather than out of responsibility, they didn’t live by the stifling rules set out by the aristocrats, and they weren’t socially scrutinized for their actions as long as they performed their duties. Thus, it is commonly accepted that the less formal dancing may well have been attempted by the non-noble born folk. While they didn’t have a lot of free time, they did have recreation in the form of gatherings and dances, and often the steps of their dances were less refined versions of the dances performed by the gentry. It is hard to imagine they would have participated in the staunchly formal dances of the ton when in private, possibly because the gatherings would likely have been smaller and less extravagant, only including extended families if they lived nearby, and likely most of the time, just a husband, wife, and any children. That would make it a bit hard to dance the Quadrille or the Contra Dance. Also, given that dancing was the social thing to do and was almost the only way to show any form of affection (4), peasants had likely been performing “dances for couples” since the late 1700s.

  In the scenes where Juliet and Grey dance the “waltz,” we wanted to remain as true to the history of the dance as possible, but we sought a means to demonstrate further distance of Juliet from any type of noble origin. To Grey, her knowledge of the “gliding dance” should have been an immediate giveaway that she was of lowly birth since the ton still considered such dancing scandalous. The interactions thus became “symbolic” of the fact that Grey was unconcerned where she came from; he came to care for her as a person and subconsciously chose to ignore all the signs telling him who she really was.

  We loved reading and learning about the Regency Era. Our strongest resolve in writing from such a loved period was to stay as true to the time as possible while making it our own. Our goal was to write a story all Regency readers would come to love, one to which Jane Austen herself would perhaps have said, “Bravo!”

  Listed below are the resources we used for our research. Of particular interest, and something that must have been an outstanding sight to see during the Regency, was The Egyptian Hall. Please check out the actual companion we used while writing Chapter Ten (8), as well as Georgette Heyer’s Regency World by Jennifer Kloester (9), which numbered among our most valuable resources.

  Thank you for reading A Lot Like A Lady.

  But wait! What happened to Annabella, you ask? For that answer and a lot more fun, watch for Something Like A Lady when it’s released in the summer of 2012.

  ~Kay Springsteen

  ~Kim Bowman

  RESOURCES

  1. http://www.etymonline.com/ />
  2. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waltz

  3. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/waltz

  4. Jane Austen for Dummies by Joan Elizabeth Klingel Ray

  5. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/contractions

  6. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Egyptian_Hall

  7. http://www.georgianindex.net/Bullocks/Egyptian_Hall.html

  8. http://www.biodiversitylibrary.org/item/92074#page/1/mode/1up

  9. Georgette Heyer’s Regency World by Jennifer Kloester – available in eBook form from: http://www.amazon.com/Georgette-Heyers-Regency-World-ebook/dp/B003V4BPMY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1332518819&sr=1-1

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  Kay Springsteen makes her home in Virginia near the Blue Ridge Mountains. In addition to having written five full-length contemporary romance novels and one Regency romance, she works as an editor. When she's not editing or writing, Kay is busy with her hobbies of reading, photography, gardening, hiking in the mountains with one of her rescue dogs, spending time with her terrific family. She is a firm believer in happily ever after endings and knows one is out there for everyone; it just may not be exactly what was expected. Find Kay on Facebook and at her blog: http://kayspringsteen.wordpress.com.

  Kim Bowman lives in Indiana, where she was born and raised. For the past twelve years, she has been married to her best friend, Tony. She has four wonderful, awesome children. Three she was lucky enough to inherit from her husband and one she was given by the grace of God. They live on a small farm with two of their four kids, five horses, Possum the wonder cat, and Lex the lovable pit bull. Although she has notebooks full of songs, poems, and short stories she has composed, it wasn’t until she started doing technical writing for her job that she really got the bug and decided to take her English professor’s advice and write novels for a living. Find Kim on Facebook and at her blog: http://kimbowmanauthor.blogspot.com.

  Also from Astraea Press:

  Prologue

  A certain gentleman was spied sitting in the rain staring at nothing save his boots and the thunderous London sky. Curious. It is this author’s belief that Lord Rawlings has officially resigned his fate to Bedlam.

  —Mrs. Peabody’s Society Papers

  London, England

  Rain poured in sheets. All of London seemed to have gone indoors while the storm passed—all except Phillip Crawford, the Eighth Earl of Rawlings. His good sense told him it was childish and foolish to stomp around in the rain, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. After all, it might just be the last walk he would take as a free man.

  Debtor’s prison was his only future. Either that or somehow find a bride who was willing to take on his extravagant debt by marrying him, therefore giving release from the contract imposed by his arrogant father. At this point, prison seemed the more likely choice.

  Phillip had never been a bad investor, had he any money to invest in the first place. His gambling was out of sheer desperation. He needed money, and he needed it fast.

  At an epic low, he decided nothing would make him feel better about his lot in life than sitting in the rain and staring at his boots. And two hours later that was exactly what he ended up doing.

  Alone in Hyde Park, he watched as the raindrops fell slowly and rhythmically onto his Hessian boots. Drip, drip, drip, in rapid succession until he thought he was going mad, he watched.

  Closing his eyes, he tried to etch the memory of the rain into his mind–the smell and the feel of it on his face as it splashed and rolled across his cheeks, down his lips.

  The outdoors. He would miss it. He would miss a great many things, but debts must be paid. Aside from that, what did he have to live for?

  “Rawlings? Lord Rawlings?” A sweet voice called to him like a siren to Odysseus. “Is that you, my lord?”

  He opened one eye and then the other. Standing before him was a nymph from the sea. It had to be—nobody in his acquaintance possessed such deeply green eyes or shimmering white hair.

  Had he died? Had God struck him with lightning without his knowledge?

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat and waited.

  The look on the girl’s face would have given a monk an apoplexy. So full of joy, warmth, and hope. He was half-tempted to turn around just to be certain she was talking to him. Or was it someone else entirely? But she had said his name – his name. How in blazes did she know him?

  But before any of those questions could form, she was in front of him and leaning down. “Forgive me.” The last words she said before her lips brushed across his.

  As far as kisses went, it was innocent— speaking volumes that the girl wasn’t some brazen hoyden out to ruin her own reputation— but before he could fully enjoy the feel of her soft lips against his, she pulled back.

  Phillip opened his mouth to say something, anything. Being stunned into silence was not a usual occurrence; neither was being kissed by some innocent girl in the middle of a storm.

  Suffice it to say, he had nothing intelligent to respond with other than, “Oh.”

  “Just oh?” The girl smiled.

  Phillip’s jaw dropped in a mixture of shock and exasperation. What the devil did she want him to say? What was the correct response? Years at Oxford hadn’t taught him, or any gentlemen of leisure, what to do when accosted by a woman. Being a rake, now that was something he knew quite a lot about.

  And not just any type of rake, not the stylish sort that women often swooned over in ballrooms. No, he was a rake beyond redemption. The type of man that even mothers desperate for a title would give the cut direct to. It wasn’t at all fashionable to align oneself with Rawlings, nor was it wise. Rumors of his past sins painted him as bitter and ruthless. He was both of those things and much worse. Using widows had been for sport. Dallying a friend’s mother had been for laughs. And drinking whiskey out of a nude statue in Paris had been out and out fun. At the time.

  The girl continued to smile, her entire face alight with excitement. It was in that moment he noticed her dress. She wore a pale blue riding habit lined with fur, and it was not lost on him that she was obviously gentry.

  “Good day, my lord,” she said and then lightly walked away as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

  Phillip rubbed his chin in contemplation. That was beyond odd and absurd, and well, it hadn’t necessarily been at the top of his list that day, but it felt good to receive a kiss— no matter how innocent— one last time before he faced his ultimate ruin.

  “Oh, and, Lord Rawlings?”

  His head snapped up. “I do believe we’ll be seeing more of one another quite soon. Good day, sir.”

  With that she disappeared down the hill.

  He wasn’t the sort to sit and attempt to figure out the minds of women, but this particular one seemed to have a hold on him he’d never before felt in all his years. As soon as the feeling appeared, it vanished, leaving him even emptier than before. Apparently even a kiss from a beautiful woman wasn’t enough to lift him out of his melancholy. He sighed and leaned back against the bench, continuing to contemplate how everything had gone so horribly wrong in his life.

  It all started when his father, cruel man that he was, had decreed that upon his death, Phillip would receive nothing of the family fortune until he married. Unfortunately for Phillip, he was not the marrying sort. And even if he were, his blackened reputation didn’t help matters. Even if he could get past the revulsion of being leg shackled, he still doubted any of the mamas of the ton would willingly throw their daughters into his clutches. All matters considered, he was a blackguard and poor. At least that’s what they would think when word got out about his debts. The papers had been sniffing at his heels for months now. It was only a matter of time before it was made public.

  The problem was he actually was quite rich. But the rub was because he couldn’t access his money, he was in the poor house, finally resorting to gambling to refill the family coffers. His stepmother refused to give him any of the money left to her. The in
structions were for him to make a man of himself and marry without her help. She was a selfish sort. If Phillip were left dying on her doorstep, she would merely step over him and ask her footman to remove the garbage.

  Suffice to say, while he faced debtors’ prison and ruination, she sat by idly, all the while cheering her good fortune that he would no longer be a black mark on the family name.

  Initially it was his stubborn pride that had kept him from marrying. His black heart wanted to hurt his father for putting such restrictions on him, but when his money ran out, his pride soon followed. It wasn’t until the recent debacle with his half-brother John that he was forced to realize life was too short. John had not only kidnapped Emma Gates, now the Duchess of Tempest, but had attempted to rape her years before when Phillip himself was still betrothed to her.

  And love? Love was quite possibly one of the most valued treasures in the world. But naturally, it was too late for him.

  Because three months from this very day was his birthday.

  The tower chimed in the distance—it seemed even London was aware that time was slipping by like sand in an hourglass.

  The end of his life as he knew it.

  Chapter One

  Rake: A fashionable or wealthy man of dissolute or promiscuous habits, otherwise known as the very destitute Earl of Rawlings.

  —Mrs. Peabody’s Society Papers

  “Papa, I’m so ashamed. It happened so fast!” Abigail fought to keep her smile at bay as her father’s eyes widened in disbelief. “And then he called me…” She blinked back fake tears for effect, “a wanton hoyden.”

  “My daughter!” Lord Gates yelled. “A wanton hoyden? Of all the despicable things to say to my daughter! My only daughter!”

  Abigail blushed at her father’s mistake. “You do have Emma, Father.”