A Confounding Regency Romance

Prologue

It all started quite innocently, as most preposterous schemes do.

Six highly placed butlers who'd come to know one another over the years began to think, quite rightly, that they could benefit from trading tips. Which wine dealer carried an excellent dry Tokay? Did that young footman leave an earl's service of his own volition? What were the best houses doing these days about the ever-moving target of seating arrangements at a large dinner? Which habits were correct, rather than merely fashionable?

All those secrets to running an elevated household which had been close-held were now to be shared with a half-dozen select and elite colleagues.

Mr. Harkinson, Mr. Wilburn, Mr. Penny, Mr. Rennington, Mr. Browning, and Mr. Feldstaffer emanated from estates over the length and breadth of England and might never have encountered one another. Fortunately, they all managed their London houses from the genial environs of Grosvenor Square. They had found it the simplest thing in the world to stroll along the paths of the square of an afternoon to take the air and trade in knowledge.

Over time, these chance meetings were deemed woefully insufficient. They must have something more reliable and not so affected by the weather.

They rented obscure rooms in Cheapside and began to meet regularly, every Thursday afternoon during the season.

Once having an actual headquarters, they'd instantly seen that they needed to name the thing and began calling themselves The League.

The following year, they had discreet gold bands made, inscribed on the inside with Cum Virtute, Latin for With Valor, to celebrate their elevated status as members.

When they were not in Town, they wrote to one another from their various estates with determined regularity.

The butlers kept it all between themselves, as they felt exclusivity and confidentiality was their right. As well, being in a secret society was always a bit thrilling.

The butlers' various families found this insistence of an afternoon off always on a Thursday deuced inconvenient, but what were they to do about it? They employed the very best, the brightest stars in the butler skies, to manage their households.

If Mr. Harkinson explained that he had a long-standing appointment with an old aunt, or Mr. Penny counseled that he had a literary society meeting…well, their lords and ladies' hands were tied. They could not very well say no. Their households were run by these men, and they were run smoothly.

The butlers of The League grew very comfortable in their secret society and found their ideas about how to manage their various families' arrangements somehow expanding into how to manage the families themselves.

They had started small. Could one steer his duke toward light German wines in the hotter months? Could another push his earl to rebuild the estate's kennels further from the house? Could yet another press his mistress to take her pert lady's maid in hand?

None of it could be issued as an order, as nobody ordered a lord or lady to do anything. However, they developed their ways of subtly hinting, suggesting, pointed wondering, and the oft successful reporting on what another esteemed house was doing.

They had all very satisfactorily arranged for their respective staffs to have the entirety of Christmas Eve off by claiming all the other houses were already doing it. It showed a generosity of spirit, they said. If there was one thing a butler understood, it was that a lord did not like to be outdone or seem small. Now, six great houses found their lords toasting bread in the drawing room fire while their servants were below stairs carousing with wine and playing wild games of snapdragon on the night before Christmas.

Finding success in these areas naturally led to thinking other thoughts. They all could not fail to notice that the families they served had children. They had been with those children since the day they came into the world. Those children were growing year by year. Those children would marry, which could be a rather fraught roll of the dice. They were fond of those children and now their very futures hung in the balance!

Should not The League step in? Should they not bring their knowledge and experience to bear? Should they not hint, suggest, push, and press in what they deemed a suitable direction? Did they not have information regarding every eligible gentleman and lady in London through their vast networks of servants and webs of connections?

It began to feel as if they would be remiss in their duty if they did not take the matter in hand.

Conveniently, their lords and ladies knew very well that if there was anything to know about a person, their butlers would likely know it. The Duke of Eddleston had already made several inquiries to Mr. Harkinson during the run up to the season. Mr. Harkinson was practically being asked to step in.

Mr. Harkinson was not surprised. He considered himself the unofficial, unnamed, but probably understood, director of the league. It seemed rather apt that this first foray into the world of matchmaking should occur under his watch.

His particular duke's daughter, Lady Jemima Fornay, was to be introduced to society.

He would, of course, hide any trembling he experienced at the thought of it.