Dragon Dowager

To James, Ezra and Morgan. Love you always.

Special thanks to Ezra for advice on issues related to trans characters. If I got it right, it was probably with her help. All errors are mine.

Preface

Content notes:

In this book, the character of Berta Worth, sometimes called Bertie, is a trans woman. Other characters do not know or acknowledge this at different times. As the story is told from other characters’ points of view, they often do not think of Berta as a woman until after she comes out to them. Characters use Berta’s birthname and the male name Bertie since that is her preference at different times before she transitions. The 21st Century language of transition is not used in the book, since that would be anachronistic. (Berta’s own love story in an upcoming book will be told partially from her viewpoint and gender her correctly, I promise!)

There are also mentions of 1860’s homophobia, criminalisation of gay sex acts, family rejection of queer people, mentions of domestic violence and one character’s backstory includes suicidal thoughts.

I try throughout to be kind to my queer characters, but the 1800’s were not always an easy time to be anything other than straight and cisgendered.

Prologue

July 1868

So, what do you really want? Edie Deveraux turned her back on the young man who was attempting to loom menacingly at her, in her own study, no less. She paced behind her desk and sat down.

The blond man sneered at her. I told you in my letter. £200 to start. If you want to keep the Deveraux name so spotless, you’ll do as I say. We don’t want any nasty little scandals about Master Danny, do we?

Why should I pay? She levelled a bland stare at him, trying for a bored façade. She hoped she was hiding the quivering she felt in her belly.

Because I have your dear boy’s so charming letter. I can fill in the blanks, for any interested audience. We both know what happens if rumours were to get around, don’t we?

Edie looked to her desk and the neat papers and envelopes on it. She knew she would pay, but she wanted to know what terms she would come to with this, this … ruffian. She didn’t know what had possessed Danny to spend time with this man. He was passable looking, in a rather petulant way, a baby-faced late twenties, with good skin, but hair starting to recede just a little and washed out eyes. She could see perhaps why her son had been attracted, but now his attempts to intimidate her made him ugly.

She picked up the letter which the young man had sent her.

I have evidence of Danny’s ways. He wrote to me setting up an assignation at the Hart and Stag. If you want to purchase my silence, the cost is £200. I will call at my leisure one morning next week. Be home and prepared to pay. Any attempt to involve the authorities will ensure that the letter is published to the Times.

She stared at the fool attempting to blackmail her. Why would I trust you if I pay you? What’s to stop you bothering me again?

You don’t know. You just have to do as I say. Again, an attempt at a sneer. "The high and mighty Deveraux family are rolling in cash. Danny flashes it around and the world knows his father was a genius on the ’change. You enjoy being the grand mama, always at your parties with the grand hens. Everyone thinks you are all so perfect , but we both know your precious Daniel is a pervert. You’ll pay because you have to pay to keep your oh-so-noble name clean and your boy from being arrested."

But all you have is an invitation to go to a public house, is it not? She added an unblinking stage to her stare, trying for unconcern and perhaps even an edge of menace. She wasn’t sure it was working.

A public house known for its inverts and sissies. He smirked this time.

Aren’t you one of them?

He flushed. And so is precious Danny. She hated the way he spat her son’s name.

Why are you so angry at Danny?

I don’t give a damn about him. This is a business matter. You pay, I go away, and your Danny can still move in your oh so high circles and marry some pretty deb.

He threw you over? she guessed.

He didn’t get the chance. The boy turned an ugly red again. He did enough that he could be arrested, though.

She looked down again at the papers on her desk, chose one, tapped it lightly. I have reports that you asked for payments from other men before.

Silence is important to many people. He tried to look superior, but from a certain tightness around his eyes, she suspected her knowledge unsettled him.

So, this is a little business for you. A long look at the paper, then a level stare at the boy.

"That is none of your business, my lady." The mocking emphasis on my lady seemed a grab at his earlier bravado.

You say you know what happens to inverts, but do you know what happens to blackmailers? She kept her tone even, though she quailed internally at what he might do about her threat.

Don’t threaten me, you old bitch, the oaf hissed.

Oh, you see, Mr Grant Jones, perhaps Danny didn’t tell you, but I don’t threaten. She sat as if she was completely calm. She stiffened her spine, gathering her courage with the small movement.

How do you know my name?

I know everything about you, Mr Grant Jones of 34 Wayfarer Lane, employed as a clerk for Matthews and Sons. I know about your grubby little blackmail schemes. I know you are a fool, and my son can do much better than you.

He took a step towards the desk, hand rising. You used up cow!

James! Edie called in a cool voice. The door behind her opened and a footman entered the room. Jones halted and lowed his hand. At well over 6 feet and wide with it, James was an effective damper on overexcited young fools.

Now, Mr Jones, Edie continued calmly, with the prepossessing footman at her side. "I do have a certain reputation, as you say. I am credited with a great deal of rectitude, Many of the mamas of society see me as a force to be reckoned with, because I am willing to point out the foolishness of young men and women and stop nasty pieces of work like you from grubbying society. I am also accounted to have a fortune, that is true. If you were perhaps moving in better circles than I suspect you can ever aspire to, you may even have heard me called a dragon, which I know some do, behind my back.

Do you know why they call me a dragon, Mr Jones? she asked. Because I do not suffer fools and I will never, ever let harm come to my children. Her calm broke on the last phrase, becoming laced with an icy fury.

"Then you had better pay, my lady ." Jones attempted to recover the upper hand, but his eyes darted to James and back to her.

Oh, Mr Jones, I didn’t say I wouldn’t pay. Her tone was level again. I will. Once. With conditions.

The young man licked his lips and his widened eyes fixed back on Edie.

You will take the money, and do as I say, or I will report you to the authorities. James here has heard the whole of this conversation, Mr Jones. In addition, I have had enquiry agents very busy in the days since your pathetic little letter came to me.

Edie gestured to an envelope on her desk. In this envelope, I have money. One thousand pounds worth. I hope, enough money to make you go away forever. It is a carrot.

She motioned to a second envelope. In this envelope is something I think you will like less. It is a full complaint to the authorities, outlining your nasty little blackmail business, including names of some gentlemen of some standing, such as Lords Frobisher and Geoffreys.

Jones’ hand twitched as if drawn by the envelope, but a subtle movement by the hefty footman by Edie’s side arrested the gesture.

Edie said in a steely tone. I also, of course have my own and James’ witness of this conversation in which you attempted to lie about my son to extort money.

Jones burst out, It’s no lie! It’s …

The lie about my son, Edie continued implacably, By a nasty little blackmailer. Attested to by a lady of impeccable reputation and her devoted footman. That envelope is my stick.

She gestured at a third envelope. Finally, this envelope contains what you will need for my final condition. It is all the documents and information that you will need to take passage to New York, in the United States of America.

I won’t, Jones started, but Edie mercilessly spoke over him.

Oh, you will, she said, because I am giving you the equivalent of £1000 in American dollars, and I, her voice dry as stone, guarantee you, I will see you hanged if you are in England after the end of this week or if you ever set foot here again.

The lout’s face flushed with rage. He spat, Damn you. You bitch.

The noose or the money, Mr Jones?

I’ll take the damned money. He was near purple with rage. Edie didn’t care. You and your precious Danny will be sorry, but I’ll take the money.

Edie gestured to her hulking footman and said, James will now see you to a ship, which departs in two days.

While she was speaking, James had taken the first and third envelopes and rounded the desk. As James grabbed the blackmailer by the upper arm, Edie continued, Your things will be packed and delivered to your ship. The captain is in my employ. He has a nice locking brig that he has agreed to keep you in until you are well at sea.

Never be tempted to threaten my family, again, Edie Deveraux finished, rising to her feet, as James was joined by another footmen in hustling the blackmailer away.

As the door closed she fell again to her and seat took up the second envelope. She shook out the papers in it, letting her hands shake at last as she contemplated the mostly blank papers falling to her desk.

1

March 1869

Edie Deveraux looked around the tables and couches at the ladies Mrs Beed had invited for a cosy tea. At least 30 women crowded the room, most either women of her age or their daughters. Some, like her and Amy Worth, were mothers of sons in their twenties. Others were her contemporaries, ladies of a certain age and cronies of her hostess. She wondered when she had started to think of herself as also a woman of a certain age. It must have been when she passed 45, she thought. Perhaps it was when her boys reached adulthood and suddenly, she was firmly of the older generation. Still, being older had its own charms. She would rather have her age and her social power as Dowager Viscountess Lindsey than be a chit on the marriage mart again.

And here was a chore of that power, now, she thought. She looked up at the lady who approached her seat. Lady Jane, what a lovely surprise, she murmured, thinking, not a surprise at all . Please join me.

Jane George, horrid alliteration of a name, sat on the settee with Edie, dragging a somewhat spotty girl down beside her. Hello, Edith. Jenny, make your curtsey to Lady Edith, Dowager Viscountess Lindsey. Poor Jenny awkwardly popped up from her seat and made the required greeting.

Hello, Jenny, Edie smiled encouragingly at the awkward girl. The girl was top-heavy, dressed in too many flounces and in an orange shade that did not suit her at all. Edie suspected Jane’s hand in dressing the child.

"My third, as you might know, Edith. She just turned 18. Very accomplished gel ." And you are looking for a husban d in my unmarried boys , thought Edie. Jane had been both overbearing and ambitious, ever since she and Edie had debuted in the same year. Jane got to the point, How are your sons? Your Miles is viscount, of course. Will they be attending any events this season?

Edie responded that her sons were well and then rather ruthlessly turned from Jane. She gave Jane no time to ask questions as she asked Jenny what she enjoyed doing. The girl’s embarrassed talk of piano and painting washed past her. She could see the poor child was not enjoying the rounds of this tea, being presented to the grand ladies and mothers of prosperous young men. While Edie pitied her, Edie didn’t much enjoy the Jane Georges of the world attempting to foist their children on her boys either.

After making various encouraging remarks to draw the young lady out a little, Edie kindly smiled again and offered her best wishes to mother and daughter for an enjoyable season. She then redirected the pair to Sally Kemp, a mother of a dashing and rather brainless heir to a baronetcy. Jane gathered up poor Jenny and dragged her Kemp-wise. She must remember to make approving comments to other ladies about the girl, who was now thoroughly identified in her mind as poor Jenny. Edie’s approval would help the chit. She felt sorry for any child burdened with a Jane George for a mother.

Jane’s place was taken by Alma Wright who watched her daughter Matilda across the room. Edie smiled with some warmth at Alma. She was fond of the rotund woman.

Edie, dear, how lovely to see you.

Alma. Is that your Tilly, all grown now? It seems like yesterday she was a sweet baby.

She’s 17 and making her come out. It’s early, but she’ll be 18 come May and it seemed a shame to wait another year.

She’s doing well today. Edie didn’t have to lie. The girl behaved well and talked comfortably with the other ladies during the tea.

Will we see your boys this season? They interested in marriage yet?

Edie flashed a smile at Alma, You always say what you are thinking, no beating around the bush for you, my dear.

Alma grinned back. Edie, you always said I had no tact. I know your lads are probably not looking to set up a nursery, but a mama can ask.

Edie laughed. Yes, you can ask. I prefer that to a Jane George approach of simpering hints and trying to weasel the boy’s calendars out of me. No, the boys have no interest in settling down yet. With their father passed, it would set my mind at ease if Miles would start thinking about settling down. He is only 26, though and my Danny is only 24. Boys are often not in such a hurry as us ladies to start to think of matrimony. I wouldn’t wish Danny on a girl, anyway, the boy is still a bit unruly.

Alma said, But are you, Edie, ready to be a grandmama? We are both 47 this year! You know my oldest, Kate has given us two grandbabies already.

Edie waved a hand Hush, Alma! A lady is ageless! As to grandchildren, I haven’t considered it. One has to wait. She smiled wryly Or hint at one’s ungrateful sons.

But what about you? Your dear Duncan has been gone for 7 years now. Are you on the marriage mart yourself?

Edie restrained her impulse to roll her eyes. Alma’s lack of tact could be, well, tactless. No, dear. I have no intent to remarry. I am quite happy to be Miles’ dear dowager mother and be banished to the dower house when he eventually marries.

Alma patted her hand. I remember taking tea with Duncan’s mother when we visited before I had my girls. A pretty house.

Edie’s heart contracted with a pang of sadness for her husband and his kind mother but did not let it show on her face. I imagine I shall be quite comfortable there. We might need to give it some paint. Still, that’s years away. Now, tell me how your Tilly is taking.

Alma chattered away about Tilly’s success so far in her season, mentioning the early parties they attended and various gentlemen who had danced with her. Edie warned her about a couple of men with fortune hunting reputations and congratulated Alma on her girl’s little successes. As the subject wore down, Edie redirected her friend, Tell me, is that Martha McWhirter?

Alma followed Edie’s gaze. Yes, it is. She never married, you know. She and her mother brought up that orphan girl that their Johnny shipped home from India. They said she was Johnny’s and he married in India, but no-one had heard of any marriage. She’s a bit dark in colouring for the child of a Scots couple. Some people thought she might be either Johnny or his business partner’s by-blow. Didn’t bring the girl today. Maybe Martha is checking the lay of the land.

Edie winced internally at Alma’s gossip. Martha always seemed disinterested