1810-1820 ca. Double Breasted Red Hunting Coat, English.
1810-1820 ca. Red Hunting Coat, English. Hunting was both a popular sport and an essential part of social success. Double-breasted tailcoat of woolen superfine, lined with sateen and cotton, M-notch lapels, nine gold buttons with heraldic crest, cuffs with three smaller matching buttons. via Collection from Castle Howard, Yorkshire, U.K. Victoria and Albert Museum, London, UK. Hunting coats, or colors, often red coats called pinks, were worn by hunt masters and hunters. In Bridgerton and Jane Austen times, or the early 1800s, gentlemen wore red coats like this while riding to the hounds.
Historically, hunt members wore ‘colors’ to distinguish between types of hunters and their level of experience. Traditional red coats were worn by huntsmen, masters, former masters, whippers-in, regardless of sex, while other hunt staff members and male members invited by masters wore colors and hunt buttons as a mark of appreciation for their involvement in the organization and running of the hunt. After the Hunting Act in England and Wales, only Masters and Hunt Servants wore red coats or hunt livery. Gentleman subscribers usually wore black coats, with or without hunt buttons and in some countries, women wore colored collars on their black or navy coats to help them stand out from the rest of the field. Some hunts, including most harrier and beagle packs, wear green rather than red jackets, and some hunts wear other colors such as mustard.
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ance”As the Duke of Sherwyn, you’ve entree into the best houses and social events.”
After a scowl towards the ceiling, he muttered, “Thanks to my stepmother, I’m forced into it. But what does my recent social popularity have to do with your current predicament?”
“In daylight, with other ladies, I can stroll about the streets. Visit shops, sometimes slip unnoticed into the twice-weekly stock auctions at the Hall of Commerce in Threadneedle Street. And I’ve already searched the desks of many of the mere misters and lesser peers of the lower orders of the consortium, as their houses aren’t guarded like fortresses.”
“Do you mean to say you entered these men’s homes and rifled their papers?”
“Well yes, but–”
“Are you mad?”
“I risked little, because those sort of houses cannot afford a footman guarding every passageway. Especially not on occasions such as those I attended, where every footman is needed to fetch drinks for belligerent guests. Slipping into those libraries was child’s play.” She sighed. “What I cannot do is visit the homes of the highest ranking peers to scour their correspondence for any that bears the special seal of the consortium. Nor secure enough privacy to copy any incriminating letters I may find. Someone always hovers, and watches, at those type of houses.”
He paced before her like a restless panther, an angry scowl pulling his face taut. His fine looks had always turned heads, but this brooding beast carried a lethal combination of strength and menacing masculinity. She shivered. His newly acquired arrogance of bearing enhanced, rather than detracted from, his magnetism, although this time, she knew to avoid his magnetic pull.
“You intend searching the houses of every peer in the city who is making money from stock shares?”
“No, no, not all of them. We’ve done a lot of research–”
“We?”
“My family have become quite adept at research. We’ve narrowed our search to gentlemen known to invest in railway expansions in a large way. Our final list is of those we consider to be involved in the inner, and most secret, tier of the syndicate. It contains eighteen names, the majority of whom are high-ranking peers.
“Bloody hell, Becca.” He ground the expletive out through clenched teeth. “You’re out of your depth. I’ve been involved in similar commercial groups. They’ll stop at nothing for the sake of money.”
“Nevertheless, we need certain details you may overhear at clubs about certain gentlemen having sudden windfalls. Or things gleaned at certain balls and soirees.
“Unbelievable.” Both hands went up in the air. “That’s certainly as clear as muddy water.”
“Clear or not, I’m asking you to trust me. To help me.”
She held out both hands, palms up, and hoped he wouldn’t notice their tremors. “With your assistance, I can verify more names. Collect proof of each one’s involvement and hand it over to Scotland Yard. Time is of the essence, as we’ve now less than two weeks.”
She watched him absorb, assess, decide. In under a minute, he guided her to his desk and seated her before it.
“Make a start. List the names of every man you suspect to be a member.” He placed writing materials before her. “Then list those you consider inner tier, and include their ranking.”
1818 December 11th A dandy fainting or – an exquisite in fits. Scene a private box opera. A dandy lies back fainting in a chair, his limbs rigid, supported by three others while a fourth (left) draws the curtain, cutting off a view of the (distant) stage where a singer is posturing. Via British Museum, London, UK. britishmuseum.org (PD-Art)
1800 ca. Writing Box, British, as would have been used by people in Jane Austen’s times, or, the Regency Era. Small brass bound solid mahogany writing box of dovetail construction. Green baize sloping writing surface with compartments for storing papers beneath. Small size may be designed for private intimate correspondence. Drop down carrying handles on two sides are early form of handle. Side drawer pulls out after retaining brass pin is taken out. via hygra.com
1826 Cartoon: A squeeze at Carlton Palace in Bridgerton and Jane Austen times. From Regency Social Life. #JaneAusten #Bridgerton #Cartoon #England https://books2read.com/suziloveYGD
Richard, Earl of Winchester, groaned. Heaven save him, for lust had addled his wits. Contrarily, if he’d read similar thoughts on the face of any drooling young pup, he’d have leapt across the pews and planted him a facer. Embarrassed himself, and Lady Laura Jamison, with his possessiveness. The gossips would squeal with delight to see him break his own rules and behave like an obsessed suitor.
Far better that onlookers saw the relationship between him and Laura as sparring siblings because, in private, his indifference was becoming harder and harder to maintain. More so, when Laura studied him surreptitiously, or so she thought, and compared him to other men. When she recorded his suitability as her mate as part of her quest to ensure the survival of the human species. Blast the woman and her speculating eyes, because no matter how sexually innocent her assessments of his anatomy might be, his body leapt to readiness faster than any seasoned street walker lifted her skirts.
And damn his randy thoughts for creating so many pictures of them cavorting in his bed. In that arena, if nowhere else, he was certain their passionate natures would prove a perfect match. He clenched his fist at the thought of giving up something else. The intelligent and strong children their couplings would produce. Because if he had Laura’s body under him once, he’d be old and wizened before he tired of her.
The finger prodded her chest again. Gently yet insistently. But his voice softened. “And I, the man, and the duke, choose you. You, Lady Rebecca. Do you think I can’t decide for myself, for my family, for you and me, what’s best?”
“But that’s what I’ve always done. It’s always been up to me to work out the best plan for everyone and then make it happen.” “In the past, that’s what happened.”
“But even now, it’s up to me to keep everyone safe. You said yourself that neither my family, nor the society, could go on without my making these types of decisions. I’m always the one with the clear head. In time, you’ll see that I’m right to walk away from you when this is finished.”
“No, no. This isn’t finished by a long shot, sweetheart. There has to be some consolation in my life for taking on control of Julia and my brothers, for assuming the family titles and topping up our coffers.”
“I know how hard you’re working to succeed. But it’ll never work if you have someone like me in your life.” “I don’t want someone like you, Becca. I want you.” This time his kiss was tinged with desperation. “Answer me one thing.” Her eyes widened. “Do you love me, minx? Do I still hold your heart?”
“Stop! It’s unfair to ask me that. Leave, please, just leave.” Turning away, Becca wished him gone before he glimpsed the fat tears collecting in her eyes. It was crucial that she remain strong. Even if it broke her heart to do so.As he reached the door, Becca heard Cayle mutter, “I will have you, Rebecca Jamison. I will not stop until I find a way.” She didn’t know whether it made her happy, or if it simply terrified her.
Nothing had prepared Lady Katharine Montgomery for the jumble of feelings overwhelming her when Alex worshipped her body, first with words and later with his hands and mouth. For years around this house, she’d been forced to appear dowdy, unintelligent, and totally self-effacing to never anger her father, or draw his wrath. Now, though, every degrading restriction was lifted from her mind, body, and life.
Her father was dead. Yesterday, she’d buried her hatred for the despicable man who’d given her life during the quarter hour it took to stand at his grave and, along with all the other hypocrites present, pretend to mourn as they buried his mortal remains. He’d cheated traders, beaten plantation workers, and horse-whipped her within an inch of her life. She and all the other mourners hoped he’d rot in hell.
Last night, she’d felt free to liberate the passionate nature she’d kept buried for six and twenty years for fear of her father’s explosive wrath. But one night with Lord Alexander St. John had changed everything. One night with a lover who was gentle and caring had her aching for more, more of Alex and more of life with him.
1845 Woman’s Dress, Probably Made In England. Silk Taffeta and glazed linen plain weave. via Los Angeles County Museum of Art, California, USA. collections.lacma.org
