Scandal on Half Moon Street

By Vivian Roycroft

All the Honorable Anne Kirkhoven wants is to be wrapped in the arms of the man she loves, Frederick Shaw, Esquire, barrister, solicitor, writer of the best Gothic romance novels in England, and surely a future Member of Parliament. But despite Frederick’s many perfections, Anne’s mama has forbidden her to speak with him, much less marry him, and until Anne attains her majority, all they can do is wait.

But now the most notorious duke in the ton, Ernst Anton Oldenburg, the First Duke of Cumberland (and some say a foreign prince), is making a public point of assessing her... attributes, sending shivers to portions of her anatomy she’d rather not name. Who’s the right man? And will her reputation survive the duke’s assault long enough for her to figure it out?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dingbat Publishing
• Release date: May 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005559274

Book preview

Scandal on Half Moon Street

The Scoundrel of Mayfair, book one

Vivian Roycroft

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2012 by Vivian Roycroft

Dingbat Publishing

Humble, Texas

SCANDAL ON HALF MOON STREET

Copyright © 2012 by Vivian Roycroft

Primary print ISBN 9-798-767444687

Originally Published by Astraea Press / Clean Reads

Second Edition Published 2021 by Dingbat Publishing

Humble, Texas

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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are entirely the produce of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual locations, events, or organizations is coincidental

All the Honorable Anne Kirkhoven wants is to be wrapped in the arms of the man she loves, Frederick Shaw, Esquire, barrister, solicitor, writer of the best Gothic romance novels in England, and surely a future Member of Parliament. But despite Frederick’s many perfections, Anne’s mama has forbidden her to speak with him, much less marry him, and until Anne attains her majority, all they can do is wait.

But now the most notorious duke in the ton, Ernst Anton Oldenburg, the First Duke of Cumberland (and some say a foreign prince), is making a public point of assessing her… attributes, sending shivers to portions of her anatomy she’d rather not name. Who’s the right man? And will her reputation survive the duke’s assault long enough for her to figure it out?

Prologue

Anne

Friday evening, September 15, 1809

When had dancing with her best friend become the most delightful activity in England?

Anne wasn’t certain just when that had happened, and as they whirled back into line, she found she didn’t much care. She giggled across the way at Frederick, and his grin back brightened the plain small-town assembly room more than all the candles in the stuffy old chandeliers. She tried to catch her breath before it was their turn again, but they’d danced all the first six together, too, and she knew she didn’t have a chance.

Then the music rose, the fiddle gave a thrilling trill, and her hands, reaching across the open space between the lines of dancers, met his at the halfway mark. They bounded sideways to the head of the line, split, circled around the leaders, and skipped down the outside, meeting again at the line’s foot and dancing back to their positions. Of course, every other couple followed their lead, but Anne didn’t notice the swirl of muslin and silk behind them — only Frederick.

With the fiddle’s last notes, she sank into a curtsey to his bow, then applauded for the musicians. Panting for breath, Anne caught Frederick’s arm and leaned on it in earnest, still giggling.

Again? Frederick asked.

Her happy heart jigged in her breast. Of course. They’d danced all night, had supper and ices and lemonade together, and nothing would stop her from ending the evening with him, as well. Spending it with her best friend was the most excellent way, obviously, to enjoy a ball.

At the edge of the dance floor waited Gregory, her mother’s favorite footman. His lips rolled together as she and Frederick approached, arm in arm, leaning on each other, giggles finally fading to chuckles and smiles. Gregory tried to smile with his eyes while keeping his straight footman’s face, and Anne nearly started laughing again at his resulting expression. He looked ill… nausea, perhaps? or gout?

She took his presence as an excuse to stop walking. If she didn’t find some air soon, the room would start spinning around her instead of her and Frederick spinning around it. "Yes, Gregory? Have you been sent?"

His eyes lit with humor for a moment before his training regained control. Gregory was always being sent to find Anne and fetch her back to wherever it was she was supposed to be but wasn’t. Your lady mum wants a word, miss.

Anne sighed. Of course she does. She released Frederick’s arm — for some reason, her mother had been remarkably cool toward him lately, and it was best if he didn’t have to face her until that unlovely attitude changed — and smiled over her shoulder at him. I’ll be back as soon as I can.

Frederick’s smile, though, had disappeared. He nodded to Anne, then to Gregory, their childhood friend and long-time conspirator against Mama, and then he slipped away into the crowd.

For a moment Anne paused, suddenly aware of all the people watching her. The local farmers, the vicar, the doctor, the other landowners, their wives, their sons and daughters… everywhere she looked, someone quickly looked away. Voices seemed too quiet for such a lively entertainment, and it dawned on her that somehow she’d become an object of discussion among her friends and neighbors. Had she done something wrong? All she’d done was dance with her best friend and have a wonderful time.

She turned and, without returning anyone’s gaze, she walked sedately to where her mother waited, in the quietest corner of the crowded room, well away from the musicians’ stand and the refreshment tables. Lady Wotton watched her approach, her expression serene. But Anne couldn’t miss the set of her jaw and shoulders, the anger that seeped in subtle waves from her stance. Indeed yes, Anne had done something, although she had no idea what that could be. What on earth could be wrong with having fun?

Mama.

Anne. Good. Mama acted as if they’d met by chance, rather than by a sent footman. It’s quite late, you know, and we must be leaving.

She couldn’t possibly have heard that correctly. Why? At Mama’s hiss, Anne lowered her voice. I’m having so much fun.

Mama’s eyes glittered. "And that, my child, is precisely why. You’ve spent your entire evening with one man, and the gossip is already beginning. We must leave and hope it gets no worse. She paused, anger fading beneath astonishment. Are you trying to say you haven’t noticed all the wagging tongues?"

Well, she had noticed, but only a moment ago. She wouldn’t admit that to Mama, though. I have been spending time with Frederick all my life and this is not the first ball where I’ve danced only with him.

Yes, yes. Lady Wotton rose and settled her gloves with quick tugs. But now you’re almost grown, dear. Everyone is watching to see who you’ll marry.

Simply as that, Anne made her decision. Then there is no problem whatsoever. I shall marry Frederick, of course.

A quick sideways glance, another tug on a glove, and Mama managed to prevent her frown from taking over her face. It most certainly will not be Frederick. He’s fine as a childhood friend, but—

Of course I’m going to marry Frederick. Anne forced her voice down, but found she could do nothing about the growing anger that surely showed on her face. I couldn’t possibly marry anyone else.

For a moment Lady Wotton’s eyes softened. But when she shook her head, it was firm. That’s quite impossible. You are a baron’s youngest daughter and so you must marry a gentleman.

Frederick is going to be a solicitor, perhaps even a barrister. Anne felt heat in her face. The happy butterflies that had danced in her heart earlier dropped lower, into her stomach, and curdled there. Are you saying a solicitor cannot be a gentleman?

At the last moment, Mama managed to contain her sigh. A solicitor most certainly can be a gentleman, but not one who may marry a baron’s daughter.

But Frederick is so much more, Anne wanted to shout. He’s more than a title, a fortune, an estate, a bloodline. He’s the only man I’ll ever want to marry. But she didn’t say any of it, much less shout it out into the assembly room. Even without looking, she could feel those watching eyes, hear the whispers without listening. Mama was right; a scandal was brewing, and Anne realized she had no wish to stand in its midst. What if that solicitor is a member of Parliament? Can he then marry a baron’s daughter? It was her strongest argument. They’d already planned Frederick’s career to a nicety, and only now did she see that he already knew what he needed to do to become her husband. When they’d planned his career, they’d planned her future; she simply hadn’t understood. Now she did, and she couldn’t stop her smile.

But again Mama shook her head, just as firmly. "No, a solicitor may never marry a baron’s daughter, under any circumstances, and because you are a baron’s daughter, that means you may never marry Frederick. Besides, once you’re in London for the season next year, after your come-out, you’ll meet such interesting men that you’ll forget all about him. I promise you will find your husband in London, my dear."

Such a curious sensation, the breaking of her heart; Anne almost felt it physically, like feeling the snap when breaking a fingernail or the sudden agonized thud when she stubbed her toe. As if some strange but interesting man could ever take Frederick’s place! Her anger whirled away, vanishing into the assembly room’s crowded whispers, and all she had left was grief. She was going to cry. It wasn’t going to be pretty, and she refused to let those cats see it.

She couldn’t even bring herself to answer Mama, civilly or otherwise. Anne ran, ignoring Mama’s hiss, and ducked through the supper room until she reached the outer door. Then she ran out into the night.

Anne

The straw rustled beside her, moved by something smaller than the two carriage horses. Anne glanced up as Frederick settled beside her, carefully arranging himself between her and the horses in the box stall, and for him she managed a smile. For so long Frederick had seemed all arms and legs and slenderness, but now his shoulders had started to broaden and his confidence grew with them. Warmth settled in her belly, her heart, her face, and Anne knew she’d never love anyone else, not