In book 4 of my mystery/romantic suspense series for Dragonblade Publishing, my hero and heroine first meet on a busy London street in a steady rain. Lord Benjamin Thompson shares his umbrella with Miss Victoria Whitchurch. Little did they know, this act of kindness changes both of their lives.
Short Excerpt from Chapter Two:
She rounded the corner on a rush, only to slam into a gentleman. He was taller than her and solidly built. That was all about him that she knew, except that he smelled of sandalwood and was excessively strong, for he caught her with one hand and tugged her upward and into his body before she tumbled over backwards from their impact.
“Are you well?” he asked in a baritone voice, a tone she easily recognized from her years of teaching music. “I do apologize, miss, or is it ma’am?”
“Miss,” she responded in a dumbfounded manner. “It was my fault, sir. I should not have hugged the buildings to avoid the rain. I know my place. Forgive me, sir.”
“Thompson,” the gentleman said with a brief smile. “Lord Thompson, and it is I who should apologize. I have been quite distracted of late, and I was not paying attention to where I was walking. I have an umbrella and should not be claiming the bit of protection the overhang provides others.”
People streamed around them, but, evidently, the gentleman did not notice. Victoria acknowledged his apology with a nod of her head. “If you will pardon me, my lord . . .” She looked to where his hand still rested on his arm. “I should be on my way or I shall be late, and then I shall be dismissed from my position.”
“We cannot have that now, can we?” His lordship looked about as if seeing the streets for the first time. “Permit me to escort you. With this rain you will be drenched before you reach your destination. Is it far?”
“I could not ask it of you, my lord,” she said dutifully, while finding she liked the warmth of his eyes when they looked upon her. It had been a good while since anyone had treated her with kindness, and Victoria truly missed the art of civility.
“You did not ask,” he corrected with another smile, the type she could quickly consider addicting. “I volunteered, and you cannot refuse an earl in need of serving society’s woes, rather than his own.”
“Heaven forbid you might serve your own agenda,” she said with a matching smile.
“Terrible to think of all my obligations,” he began, but she took a stronger grip on his arm while saying, “We may discuss the merits of your diligence as we walk, my lord. I truly must not be late.”
“As you wish, my girl.”
The earl tucked her into his side and adjusted his stride so as not to drag her along behind him, but, rather, they walked together as might any couple out on a day where the weather had turned sour. Ironically, they did not converse other than the occasional warning on his part about a puddle being deeper than expected or a carriage throwing up a spray of water.
At length, the drapery shop was in sight, and Victoria said, “Just up ahead.” When they reached the shop, Lord Thompson opened the door for her, closed his umbrella, and stepped inside behind her.
“Miss Whitchurch?” her employer began in what she suspected was to be a chastisement, for she was to use the rear door, but quickly Mr. Sustar swallowed his words and changed his tone to one of welcome. “My lord. How might we serve you?”
“I was simply seeing my dear friend to her position in your shop in this rain,” his lordship said smoothly. “I could not have her arriving soaked to the bones, now, could I?”
“No, my lord. It was very kind of you,” Mr. Sustar said.
His lordship slipped a card from a case tucked into a side pocket and presented it to Mr. Sustar. “Perhaps you might call on my man of business next week. I have several new properties that will require refurbishing. You may bid on them if such is of interest to you. My man will explain what all is required and arrange for you to view the properties.”
Mr. Sustar’s eyes opened in wide amazement. “Thank you, my lord. Very gracious of you.” He bowed deeply.
Lord Thompson ignored all the fawning. Instead, he said, “You may keep the umbrella, Miss Whitchurch,” he instructed with a lift of his brows, for Victoria had purposely not told him her name.
“I could not, my lord,” she objected. “The rain has yet to relent.”
He smiled again, and Victoria found she liked how his smile softened his features, especially the darkness of his eyes. “In case you did not take notice, Miss Whitchurch, my carriage is waiting outside. It followed us as we walked.”
Victoria was not to be outdone. She enjoyed how this particular gentleman treated her. It had felt like forever since anyone had seen her for herself. “And here I thought you were playing the gallant, my lord. You made me walk in the rain when we could have ridden.”
His smile widened. “Next time you may choose the mode of transportation.”
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Generally speaking, before the early 1800s, most men would not have used an umbrella. Since the 4th Century BC, women had carried a parasol to protect themselves against aging of the skin due to exposure to the sun. For a gentleman’s use, umbrellas were not “fashionable” until the mid 1700s on the Continent. Such umbrellas were made of silk and dipped in oil to make them resist the rain.
The ever fabulous Louise Allen tells us, “Umbrellas were, it seems, ‘French’ and therefore, by definition, an effeminate accessory. Beau Brummell would never carry one, considering that no gentleman should, and advocated taking a sedan chair if there was the slightest risk of rain.
“However, some practical men did ignore the jeers, the most well-known of them being Jonas Hanway (1712-1786), a much travelled man, who designed his own, rather large and cumbersome umbrella and persisted in using it. He was verbally attacked by the hackney carriage drivers who saw this as a direct attack on their business but he ignored their threats and one of the slang terms for an umbrella at the time was a Hanway. (The Victorian ‘gamp’ was named after Dickens’s Mrs Gamp, not the other way around.) The below detail from a Victorian imagining of Mr Hanway shows the interest he attracted.”
In the Regency era, umbrellas transitioned from being a rare, ridiculed novelty to a common necessity for both men and women, reflecting the era’s shift towards practicality. Initially heavy and made of materials like oiled silk or taffeta, they provided shelter for pedestrians and women with servants, evolving into lighter, steel-framed versions by the end of the period.
From novelty to practicality
- Early resistance: TypePad Jonas Hanway popularized the umbrella for rain in the mid-18th century, but he faced public ridicule and scorn, especially from hackney coachmen who saw it as a threat to their business.
- Widespread acceptance: By the Regency period (1811-1820), the practical value of the umbrella had overcome prejudice, making its use common for both sexes to stay dry on rainy days.
Evolution of the umbrella
- Early design: The first umbrellas were large, cumbersome, and made with wooden frames, whalebone, or heavy fabric such as oiled silk or taffeta.
- Modern features: By the late 18th century, “improved” umbrellas with steel frames began to appear, making them lighter, more convenient, and reducing the chances of them breaking, according to a 1788 London advertisement for such items.
Umbrella use in context
- Women’s practical use: While fashionable women in fine weather would carry a parasol to shield themselves from the sun, the thrifty citizeness valued the umbrella’s practicality for walking in the rain to keep their clothes dry.
- Servants and clergy: Male servants often carried umbrellas to shield their mistresses, while clergymen used them for outdoor funerals in bad weather.
- The rise of the parasol: The distinction between the rain umbrella and the sun parasol blurred, but the parasol, often elaborately decorated with ivory, bone, or tortoise shell, remained an important fashion accessory for women, as seen in fashion plates from the period.

May 11, 2026









