The real life character of George “Beau” Bryan Brummell makes two very important appearances in my story “Loving Lord Lindmore,” which is part of A Regency Summer Scandal Anthology. His first permits my heroine, Lady Cora Midland, to become the “toast of the ton.” The second assists Lady Cora in teaching her childhood friend a lesson in not settling for second best. However, who was “the Beau” and how did a non-aristocrat manage to rule the haut ton?

George Bryan Brummell (1778 – 1840) was a famous English dandy, setting the standard of dress for many men in the ton at the beginning of the 19th Century. He was for many years friends with George, Prince of Wales, better known to those of us who read and write Regency era based romances as the Prince Regent (eldest son of King George III.

Ironically, Brummell was not born into the aristocracy. His grandfather was a shopkeeper in St. James parish (London), who let lodgings to many in the aristocracy who came to Town for the London Season or for Parliament. Brummell’s father was private secretary to Lord North and also high sheriff of Berkshire. Brummell reportedly always had an eye for his clothing and took great care in his dress. At Eton he was known at “Buck Brummell” and proved to be very popular with his classmates. At Oxford, he developed, not only his reputation as a fashion leader, but also his rapier quick wit. In 1794, the Prince of Wales, to whom had been presented at Eton, gave Brummell a commission in his own regiment. Four years later, Brummell had reached the rank of captain, leaving the service in 1798.

In 1799, Brummell inherited a fortune of £30,000 from his father. He quickly set up his bachelor establishment in the elite area of London known as Mayfair. Combining his connection to Prince George and his reputation for perfection in his clothing, Brummell was recognized as the arbiter of all things fashionable. For a time, he was the ruling “KING” of fashion, but he lost much of his influence as his debts began to mount and a very public falling out with the Prince took its toll. In 1816, he fled to Calais, where he remained for 14 years, all to avoid his creditors. However, even in Calais, he never seemed to be able to keep his head above water. From 1830-1832, he was made British consul at Caen. However, 1835 found him imprisoned for debt. Fortunately, his friends again brought him up to snuff in financials and provided him a small income. His personal appearance, no longer important to him, he was now known to be quite slovenly and dirty. He very much lived in fantasies of his past life. In 1837, he had two separate attacks of paralysis and never fully recover. One final time, friends found him shelter in the charitable asylum of Bon Sauveur in Caen, where he spent his final years.

In my tale, however, he still has considerable influence on the fashionable of the beau monde, for it takes place in 1814.

Loving Lord Lindmore

BOOK BLURB…

LADY CORA TAKES SOCIETY BY STORM . . .

Lady Cora Midland, a highly-spirited country beauty, offers no pretensions, which wins her many admirers, despite her lack of knowledge on how to manage the beau monde. However, Matthew Harrington believes she is taking advantage of his elderly grandmother, and he means to put a stop to the girl.

LORD MATTHEW LINDMORE IS IN DENIAL . . . 

Lindmore reluctantly assists his grandmother in bringing Lady Cora out in Society. Yet, what appeared to be a daunting task becomes a transformation the earl does not expect. He finds the woman as delightful as do others in the haut ton. Yet…

When Lady Cora is on the the verge of marrying another, Lindmore fears time will expire before he can speak his own proposal. 

Excerpt with Cora’s first encounter of Beau Brummell:

Cora had not looked up to the impeccably, though a bit flamboyantly dressed man, but rather when she felt the earl’s eyes upon her. She liked how Lindmore studied her, and, despite a number of young men with sharp and rather high shirt points standing about her, she looked to his lordship and smiled. Unfortunately, the earl did not smile back, but the other gentleman had. 

Although she would prefer the earl’s company, she kept the smile upon her lips as the other gentleman approached and her current admirers all took a gigantic step away from her to permit the newcomer his sway. All conversation around them stopped and many leaned forward to better hear the gist of their conversation.

When the man spoke, it was in a drawl, indicating a certain level of boredom with all around him. She was surprised to discover Lord Lindmore had trailed the man across the room. “If you would indulge me, Lindmore, I would ask for a proper introduction to your ward.” 

“Ward!” Cora began, but the earl shook off her protest with a warning frown. 

Instead, he said, “Lady Cora, I would give you the acquaintance of Mr. George Brummell, but his friends call him ‘Beau.’” 

“Yet, we are not yet ‘friends,” Cora declared, though she heard the waring in the earl’s tone and chose to ignore it.

 “This is Beau Brummell?” one of the young men still close enough to overhear her response protested. 

“I am aware of the gentleman’s name,” she corrected the fellow. “However, Lord Lindmore said Mr. Brummell’s friends refer to him as ‘Beau.’ I simply made the observation I am not yet Mr. Brummell’s friend, but I suppose one day I could be.” 

The room remained eerily quite until Mr. Brummell barked a laugh. “The lady is correct, sir.” He extended his arm to her. “If you are willing, my lady, let us walk about the room and stroll into our friendship.” 

As he stood so regally before her, in all her innocence, Cora recognized a monumental moment had arrived. “I find the prospects delightful, sir.” She slid her hand about the crook of his arm and followed his lead as they made their way about the room. It was as if all those within held their collective breath. Clusters of people bowed as they passed them, although the man at her side was not a titled gentleman. Ironically, he quite spectacularly ignored them and kept his attention of her. 

It was not as if Cora held no knowledge of Mr. Brummell, for the newsprints spoke of his friendship with Prince George. Moreover, she had heard Jordan speak of the man when she had teased her friend for, first, one outrageous fashion trend and then another, and, naturally, her half-brother, the current Lord Midland, often sported questionable fashion, claiming “the Beau” had approved of it. 

“You are friend to Lindmore?” she asked. 

“Most men and women of the ton know something of each other,” he said with a tilt of his head. Generally, we approve of what we learn. More often than not, we pray the other will fall from grace so we might be entertained and consider ourselves fortunate not to be the poor soul.” 

“How very sad,” she observed. 

“Is such not the way of all people?” Mr. Brummell questioned. “We wish others to fail so we might think ourselves the fortunate ones, though often we are tittering on the edge of failure ourselves. Yet, enough of my sermonizing. I did not ask to walk about the room with you to discuss such morbid thoughts. Tell me, instead, something of your people, Lady Cora.” 

“Gladly so,” she said with another smile. “I adore speaking of them. My mother, Miss Sophia Cooper, was half sister to Lord Lindmore’s mother, Miss Louisa Copper. They shared a father, Edward, 7th Viscount Cooper. Louisa married Frederick Harrington, who as you well know, both passed quite young, leaving their son as the heir to the Lindmore line.

“My mother was the second wife of Lord John Midland. With our father’s passing, my half-brother has assumed the earldom. My mother inherited Cameron Manor from her mother, the late Viscountess Cooper. The manor is mine, or I should say will be mine when I am considered old enough to manage on my own. Before she passed, Lady Midland asked the Dowager Countess of Lindmore to see to my Come Out.” Cora would not admit how her mother had not trusted the Midlands to do right by her. Some family secrets were be held close to the chest. 

“My own father was not a landed gentleman,” Brummell admitted. “Not that anyone in this room cares. Never permit them to know you possess a weakness,” he advised. “They will turn upon you in the manner of a swarm of bees.” 

Cora glanced to those watching them intently. “You make me wish to run screaming from the room, sir,” she admitted. 

Brummell chuckled. “Perhaps we both should do so and see how many follow suit. I have heard of the habits of Norway lemmings, which suddenly appear in large numbers, seemingly out of nowhere, as if they fell from the sky. They are thought to come upon the notion of following each other so closely that when one jumps from a cliff, they all follow without reason. Some day I may place this rumor into practice to see what might be the result.” 

Cora felt sympathy for a man who could not even turn around without everyone remarking on it. 

He sighed heavily. “Tell me something outrageous regarding your father.” 

Cora frowned. “I would not wish others to think poorly of him.” They had come to stand in one corner of the room. Thankfully, people had held back and not edged in around them to listen upon their conversation. “He was an exemplary father,” she assured. 

“What I know of the current Lord Midland does not speak of ‘exemplary’ parentage,” Brummell countered. 

“My mother always suggested such was due to the nature of my father’s first wife,” she admitted, though Cora was not assured she should be sharing family secrets with a complete stranger, though she sensed Mr. Brummell could be trusted, for he appeared to shun the gossipy nature of the beau monde as much as she. Moreover, she assumed he made it a point to know other’s weaknesses in order to protect his own. 

“You are likely correct. We men do not give women enough credit for shaping our futures,” Brummell observed. “What is some article or lesson which speaks to the previous Lord Midland’s nature?”

Cora smiled easily. “I suppose you mean something other than adoring me.”

He laughed and nodded his agreement.

“Upon my father’s passing, my brother Midland quickly claimed a fashionably-made pocket watch by Mr. John Ellicott, similar to the one Ellicott made for Robert Wapole, as well as a dozen or so ornamental snuff boxes.” 

“Oh, my, say it is not so! Lord Petersham would require a physician if he was made aware of Midland claiming snuff boxes of such merit. You see, my dear, Petersham is singular in his collection of ornamental boxes.”

Cora giggled. “If I take Lord Petersham’s acquaintance, perhaps I should suggest Midland could be persuaded to part with my father’s collection.” 

“Petersham will not relent. You would be unleashing a ‘rabid dog’ onto Midland’s scent. Not very ladylike, I fear. Perhaps I should be the one to inform his lordship. I would not wish to cause trouble between you and Midland. Moreover, I would not have you subjected to Petersham’s ‘appreciation.’” Brummell chuckled again. “In reality, Lord Petersham can be quite tiring, but his approval will secure your success this season,” he assured. “Yet, before we must separate, which we must because others will soon criticize us, rather than admire us, I must learn what you kept from your father’s worldly goods. What memory did you claim? Such will speak to your goodness or . . . . Well, I refuse to think you as base as your brother.” 

“You will only consider me quite eccentric,” she protested. 

“The most interesting people always are a bit eccentric,” he assured. 

Cora had quickly come to appreciate Mr. Brummell’s own form of “eccentricity.” “You shall consider me odd,” she began. “My father possessed a silver-hilted sword he would wear when we would come to London. He claimed parts of the Capital were quite lawless. He sported it on his left side; it was of the nature of a French dueling épeé. He also owned a quill knife with a sliding blade and a folding pen knife, the handles of both were made of ivory and encrusted with jewels. The blade of each slides into the haft when not in use. I have been quite obsessed with different knives since I was young.” She chuckled at her confession. “Lady Midland always said my father wished for another son. To prove otherwise, Lord Midland presented my mother with a silver stitching knife carved with a delicate pattern and engraved with a promise of his devotion. She used it often.”

“And where are these weapons now?” Brummell asked in what appeared true interest. 

“The épeé is still at my estate. Two of the blades are in my quarters at Lind Hall. One in my reticule,” she confessed. “I took it from my trunk and carried it with me in the coach. I felt safer, and, I admit, more loved. As if, my father was watching over me as I made my way in the world.” 

“The weapon with which you cut the strings of Lady Lindmore’s bonnet,” he surmised. “People have been wondering on that part of the tale of the countess’s rescue. There is no question you know something of how to use such a piece.” 

“I am quite efficient with a blade, sir,” she whispered. “On a fish or a bonnet’s ribbon or on a scoundrel.” 

Before more could be said, Lindmore interrupted them. “Brummell, you have claimed enough of Lady Cora’s attentions this evening. My grandmother extends her gratitude for your singling out my cousin. We are all greatly in your debt, sir. Are we not, my lady?” he asked Cora. 

“I will permit your interference this time,” Mr. Brummell drawled. “Yet only because this is Lady Cora’s first foray and because I adore Lady Lindmore. As to the others, I care not their opinions.” He presented Cora an elegant bow before bringing her gloved hand to his lips. “I will anticipate our next meeting, my dear,” he said loud enough for others to hear. “It has been many years since I have been so delightfully entertained. Adieu.” 

“Adieu, sir,” Cora dutifully repeated. “I am most grateful for your consideration.” 

As Brummell turned towards the exit, Lindmore offered her his arm. “What a thrilling experience. I feel quite privileged,” she shared. 

“And here I thought you simply preferred Brummell to me,” he said with a teasing lift of his brows.

“You are quite impossible, sir,” she chastised, but Cora enjoyed the warmth of his arm beneath her gloved fingers and the scent of sandalwood waifing from his skin. She would prefer to remain on his arm the remainder of the evening, but his grandmother had other ideas. 

Loving Lord Lindmore is currently on PreOrder with a release date on February 21, 2024.

Kindle https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CTFSRB7R?ref_=pe_93986420_775043100

Upon Release Available to Read on Kindle Unlimited

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