Chapter Ten - The End of Bumbling Berbrooke

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Lady Whistledown's

SOCIETY PAPERS

It has come to this author's attention that the Ton is abuzz with a most sordid tale.

It is said one cannot judge a book by its cover. But in the case of the bumbling Baron Berbrooke, it seems his displeasing appearance is quite an apt metaphor for the state of affairs in his household.

I would not be surprised if Lord Berbrooke were called away to the country on alleged business... business which, perhaps, might involve sending so much overdue funds to one former maid and young boy, who we can only hope takes after his mother.

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"Prudence!" I rubbed the spot on my arm where she had hit me and grumbled as she waves at me to lean in closer.

"Look at this... have you seen the latest Whistledown?" Prudence asks, showing me the paper with an excited look on her face. "Apparently Lord Berbooke is well... well, look!"

Philippa leans in closer with a raised brow as she reads the paper from her spot beside me on the couch.

"No way... a boy by his maid," I say, looking up at mama with a shocked expression. "But..."

"-well, Whistledown says otherwise, Portia," Mama chides, taking a sip of her tea as she looks at her.

"Did you hear... apparently Lord Berbooke was seen packing up a carriage... rumor has it that he's leaving town," Philippa whispers, not so quietly, to me.

"I would not be surprised," Penelope chimes, looking over at us with a raised brow, "his name is as good as ruined in London... I heard that Lord Berbooke's mama, Lady Berbrooke, was seen being turned away at the modiste... even had tears running down her face."

"I would have tears too if my son were to have been outed by a society paper," I scoff, "I mean, she's lucky that he wasn't married... would've ruined any chance that her family had at the marriage market... at least now he can go off and hide away until we all find something else to gossip about. But, well, imagine if he had a daughter on the market... they never would've had a chance of getting married now."

"As if he could ever get someone to marry him... let alone have a child with him!" Prudence hissed, looking disgusted at the thought of it.

Philippa nods her head in agreement, sighing before leaning back against the chair and muttering about how wonderful it would be to be married.

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"I did not think that you would offer yourself up against Berbrooke..." I say, looking up at Frederick as we danced at yet another social ball.

"Well, if there is one thing that I share with my fellow Duke," Frederick says, smiling down at me softly, "it is that I do not tolerate bullies."

I smile softly back up at him, trying my best to fight the blush that I know is beginning to appear on my face.

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"Oh, it was wonderful, Cress!" I grab her hands and pull her away from the corner of the room.

By now, Frederick had left, saying that he had some other matters to attend to, but he promised that he would see me tomorrow. In the time between when he had left and now, I had grabbed a glass of lemonade from the table and had been walking around the room until I found Cressida, or the Featheringtons.

"I'm so glad," Cressida says, looking over at me with a faint smile before it quickly gets wiped off her face.

"Oh! Speaking of respectable marriages, did you hear about the Berbrooke situation... I rather think that he got what was coming to him."

"Oh yes... Mama and I were reading it this morning on the way to the modiste," she says.

"Whatever is the matter, Cress? You're usually much more... spirited with your rebukes," I ask, putting down my glass and turning to face her fully.

"We are making our way through the season and I have yet to find a match... Daphne has the Duke of Hastings seemingly tied around her finger, you have the Duke of Windsor... I just do not know... oh, it doesn't matter. Tonight is all about you! I'm sure the Duke is not far away from asking for your hand in marriage now, is he?"

"Cress... please don't change the subject..." I look up at her with pleading eyes, "tell me what is wrong... I don't want to see my closest friend so upset."

"It is nothing, Flore," Cressida insisted, "I should join in on the next dance... would you like to join me?"

I open my mouth to counter her claims once more but sigh, knowing that she was much more determined than I was, and drop the conversation. Opting, rather, to nod my head and follow her out towards the dance floor, joining on in the next song.

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-T