Diana the Huntress by MC Beaton Page A

to gossip, so it was possible that someone had tried to tell her the shocking on dit about Byron and his sister during the time when she only listened to gossip about horses and dogs.
    ‘Never mind. But to return to the question of Byron’s romanticism. Now, he says he does not like women at table because he does not like to see them eat and drink for it destroys their “etherealism” and “romance”. But I think it is because the ladies are always served first at dinner and given the wings of the chicken, of which Lord Byron is passionately fond.’
    ‘What of Mr Brummell?’
    ‘Alas, poor George, fled to the continent with his debtors baying at his heels. No, not romantic. Amusing , clever, sometimes cruel, but never romantic. If he had been clever enough, all the same, to keep the friendship of the Prince Regent, then I do not think his creditors would have pressed him so hard. Also, he had begun to play deep.’
    ‘I know why the Prince Regent took him in dislike,’ said Diana eagerly, ‘for my sis … my cousin, Minerva, told me. ’Twas because he called him fat, well not direct, but to Lord Alvanley. He said, “Who’s your fat friend?”’
    ‘That happened after . He was already out of favour. The trouble, you see, was that Brummell began to believe he could say and do what he liked, eventually considering himself above Prinny. He did not realize that he was the fashion and could be terribly rude to all kinds of people simply because of Prinny’s patronage. Of course, his contempt appealed to a servile streak in the top ten thousand for a certain time, but if one has no lands, no title, and very little money then one will, in the long run, need a patron, and a very powerful one at that. I was present on the evening when his downfall really started. It was at the Pavilion in Brighton. The Bishop of Winchester, a particular friend of the Regent, saw the Beau’s snuff box lying on the table and helped himself to a pinch without asking Brummell’s permission . Brummell turned to a servant and said in a very loud voice, “Throw that snuff into the fire or on the floor.” The insult to the Regent’s friend was great and the Regent was furious.’
    ‘You must be very important to be invited to dinner by the Prince Regent.’ Diana looked at him and then looked down into her wine glass. ‘I have heard said, sir, that you are a rake.’
    ‘Aha! My reputation flies before me. Perhaps I was.’
    ‘But not now,’ said Diana eagerly.
    ‘No, not now. I am an old man, looking forward toa nursery full of squalling brats and a complacent wife on the other side of the hearth.’
    ‘It is said you ruined some lady.’
    ‘Young man,’ said Lord Dantrey in a flat voice, ‘mind your manners.’
    ‘Oh, I am sorry, sir. There. Only see how my tongue runs away from me.’ Diana looked at him, large eyes pleading for forgiveness. Those strange green and gold eyes met her own, quizzical at first and then narrowing.
    ‘Tell me about Almack’s,’ said Diana breathlessly. ‘I mean, why is it so important to go there? What is Almack’s?’
    ‘If you were a lady, Almack’s would be important. Not to a fellow … unless you are seeking a rich heiress. But let me see … Almack’s was a very clever idea from the first. A Scotsman named William McCall came to London about the middle of the last century as valet to the fifth Duke of Hamilton. He married Elizabeth Cullin, a waiting maid to the duchess. Then he was butler to Lord Bute. He then started a tavern in St James’s Street, the “pickings” he had made from his previous positions providing him with the means. He prepared to call his adventure “McCall’s” but was advised, owing to the unpopularity of the Scots in London just then, that this would ruin the enterprise. “Very well,” said McCall, after listening to much counsel, “I will call it Almack’s” – just a reversal of his name. The tavern proved a great success. He founded “Almack’s