#qcabs fic

[bohemian-nights]

Chapter 5 Lady Danbury

Word count: ~6,599

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Lord Ledger x Lady Danbury

Description: The new Lady Agatha Danbury was decidedly not happy. Neither was Lord Ledger. Perhaps they might find a bit of happiness in each other.

AN: This is a Lord Ledger x Lady Danbury AU fic. Some plot lines from Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story have been axed 🪓

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4,

“You know my dear, you ought to try to find a husband among our side of the Ton.” That is how Lady Allen began when her maid had placed a tea tray in front of them. Dismissing herself with a bow. Causing Agatha to burn her tongue on the hot liquid as well as the roof of her mouth as she forced herself to down the remaining burning liquid. Nearly choking trying to compose herself. Feeling a wave of nausea that was all too common these days. Barely managing to swallow it in her haste.                                  

The older woman before had taken to calling upon the Danbury estate for tea. Calling herself a friend which one can never have too many of. Especially one who was her senior and fashioned herself into a motherly figure which she lacked. “You can not say I have not provided you with wisdom in your time of need Agatha.” Her wisdom though in this case, why she would even deign to say such a thing, was worrying. 

People talk. People always talk. Gossip was currency. Especially among the Ton. One would always take note of their surroundings. I saw Lord Calthorpe disappear halfway through the hunt with her footman. They were gone for hours. Lady Flinching said she saw them come back from the wood practically naked.

Lady Byron did not take ill. I heard she fled to France with Lord Bellings' eldest son. Not before the boy and her husband partook in a dual, as was his right. That is the reason for Lord Byron’s limp. The wrong word, the wrong rumor, true or not, could ruin one’s reputation beyond repair. It was so easy to fall. To falter. 

The Ton were no better than bloodhounds. Ready to pounce at the first whiff. A friend today was a foe tomorrow. If one felt slighted, a long-held grudge from past grievances, a debt owed, or even felt that they could gain something from it, those secrets would be traded around the Ton like the sweetest chocolates from Belgium and Turkish delights to children. Feasting upon the overripe fruit that had fallen off the tree of other's lives with glee. 

But no one could know of her own indiscretions. It was impossible for Lady Allen to know.  Agatha was just being paranoid. They had been careful. Her father did not even know and he lived under her roof nor their servants, With the exception of Coral, who only had a vague sense of just what her mistress got up to on her exceedingly long evening walks which sometimes lasted until the morning. 

She’d of course take her secrets to the grave, but no other soul had any idea. Lady Allen could not know so Agatha proceeded with caution. It was the best course of action. Give nothing away and nothing can be gained or used and dangled over her head like a carrot on a stick just out of reach as she tried to work for it doing whatever she bid and even then that carrot might be given to another and she tossed to the judgment of the hounds. 

“I do not believe anyone on your side of the Ton would have me for a wife.” She took another sip of her tea. This time she blew upon the drink, cooling it to avoid imparting further damage. Though it, unlike her tongue, would heal, a burn from a scorched name however would be fatal. A permanent stain that no amount of scrubbing from even the most experienced of Buckingham House maids would let out. 

“Nonsense, why Lord Allen would marry young in a heartbeat if I were to drop dead now he'd take you to wife on the morrow.” To that, Agatha did not contain her emotion. Levity returned to her. She let out the breath she held in with her laughter that had nearly caused her to burn her tongue once more. An entirely unbecoming moment for a lady, but she was relieved. Lady Allen did not join her in said laughter, but her green eyes told of her amusement.  She did not know just how much that smirk meant to her younger host. 

Agatha did not doubt that Lord Allen would not mind her for a wife, but he was not a very picky man. Provided that the lady in question was at least twenty years, preferably, thirty years his junior with a handsome face. He would most certainly not complain. 

None of the men who were like him would not mind. Those who had a gaggle of children. They had their heirs. There was no worry that her bloodline would inherit their estates even if she did manage to pop out a babe or two. A wife for pleasure would be what they wanted. 

“Laugh if you like Agatha, but do not doubt your own desirability.” She took a sip of her drink as her amusement grew. “You my dear have the pick of the lot.” The corners of her painted mouth curled.  Like a cat that had gotten into the cream. “That is of course if Prince Adolphus has not proposed by the end of the season.” Agatha's smile faded just the slightest while Lady Allen’s smirk shined on. Feeling her nausea once more returning.  She meant well for all her gossiping she meant well, but the reminder unnerved her rather than ease her from her worries. 

What should be a happy reminder, that there was more to Agatha’s life than the management and upkeep of her most intimate and precious secret.

Where his sister, after her most recent bid at escape, seeking refuge at the Danbury residence before she was reclaimed and reminded of her position, had grown distant, Prince Adolphus was more than friendly. The queen's brother was a kind man. He did not speak over her nor talk down to her as if a child. He did not stare at her breast or hips as if he were imagining what they looked like free from the confines of the intricate layers that made up her dress and stays. As naked as the day she was born. 

Prince Adolphus was polite. Easy going. Easy to talk to. He had a zeal for life. He was ever attentive. He enjoyed having actual conversations. He enjoyed listening to her opinions, took note of them, and asked for them regularly.

He was well. groomed. Pleasing to look at with his tawny skin that spoke of his Moorish background and frequent exercise. Complimented by his dark eyes that held a million smiles. Not a hair was out of place upon his person. Neither age nor drink had touched his physique. Instead, he was toned from riding as well as fencing activities which he took up at his leisure. 

He was tall. Taller than her even with the height of her heels and several of her sun hats. Though Agatha was not a very tall woman herself it was nice to look up to a friendly face. 

There was but a mere three and half years between them. He had his own lands, title, and estate that could not be taken out from under him on the whims of a fickle crown. 

He was a good man. A great man. Not at all like the late Lord Danbury, but he was not at all like another Lord either, and while she knew he would make an excellent husband she did not know if she could picture herself as his wife and all that it entailed. Nonetheless, he had his uses. 

Perhaps cruel to some degree to use him primarily for her own regard, but Agatha did find his company exceedingly pleasant. She did not have to force herself to endure his presence and in the words of Coral who had given her a pointed look as she had said it, “It is a good idea to keep your options open my lady.”  

She could not be too choosy. Not when her very future hung in the balance. Not when securing her nephew's title from a reluctant crown seemed as if it was a fool's errand and her own prospects even dimmer. So what of it if her mind drifted to another for a moment or two while she was in the duke's company? 

His courtship was certainly preferable to others her father dug up and perhaps in another life she would embrace it to the fullest extent. He kept the lions at bay who saw her as nothing more than a vessel for their ambition so she welcomed his attention as any woman in her position would. 

She was thankful for it, but by all accounts, she should worship him. Meet his courtship with unencumbered glee. He was the answer to prayers. Her salvation and yet there was something, something in his person, that stopped her from getting upon her knees to give her thanks like a feverish catholic to the very image of the Madonna. Something which she could not name nor would she waste her breath doing such at that moment. 

Agatha put everything out of her mind when Lady Allen finally took her leave. Once she had emptied the contents of her stomach into her chamberpot. Coral held her raven curls back with a slight frown, but she did not chastise for it. Merely asking as she rubbed soothing circles into her back in a maternal fashion, “Would you like for me to order the cook to make you some ginger tea my lady?” 

They had come to an agreement, after a spat a week past that had ended in a whispered match so as not to be overheard, “This is like the last time. Perhaps we should send for the doctor,” that it was a matter to be dealt with later. Although that later was steadily catching up for now it was how she dealt with the delicate balance that had become the amalgamation of her life. 

Agatha felt herself breathe easier once she had made it into the fields beyond her house. Taking her steps two at a time. Practically sprinting down the narrow lane. It was later than when she usually headed out. The moon's light barely illuminated the path ahead of her. If she had not known it well she would have surely stumbled over her boots. 

It startled her to see the lights had not been lit in that little cottage that had become their sanctuary when she reached the clearing. Well, less of a shock and more of a disappointment, but she ventured on with bated breath. Hoping that the lord had not left in her prolonged absence or he had been kept from her. She dreaded that thought. Pushing images of a certain tight-lipped grimace and a set of ice-blue eyes that seemed to follow her at during their teas with the queen out from her mind. 

In her haste, Agatha had thrown open the newly replaced wooden door to see a single lit candle placed on the end table by the bed. She felt her disappointment reach its climax gazing around the ill-lit one-room cottage when a warm masculine hand was thrown over her face. 

Backing her into his hold as he shut the door. Reigning open-mouthed kisses from her neck down to her ample bosom. Heaving with fright and heat that radiated out from her core. A heat which the cautious part of her mind, the one prone to worrying, told her not to give in, though it was hard to do so with the wandering arm that snaked itself around her middle drew her closer. 

She began to struggle in his strong grip until her nameless pushed her head back, exposing more of her heated skin to gaze up at him. A familiar set of darkened near onyx chestnut eyes greeted her. Catching her shock with his lips he pulled her further into him with a kiss that took what was left of her breath away. Not stopping until the need for air forced them to part. Even then he took to renewing his attention, lavishing it onto the sensitive skin behind her ear. 

“What kept you away from me sweet one?” He had asked between kisses. His voice was thick with arousal and a hint of relief. 

Agatha had swallowed a moan that desperately wanted to be let out in an effort to answer his query. It was ultimately a fool's errand for the lord before she enveloped her full lips against his once more. She lost all train of thought at his tongue licking at the roof of her mouth. Causing her knees to buckle as she felt that wanting ache in the pit of her belly grew. She gripped his forearm firmly wrapped around her middle though she knew that he would never let her fall. 

The lord who had dispensed of his waistcoat and cravat, made quick work to strip her out of the layers of fabric that made up her satin violet dress. A gracious and most welcome allowance due to her now that she was officially out of mourning. Her stays, stockings, and garter were thrown at odd ends of the room. 

At some point, she must have clawed at his shirt as half the buttons on his tunic had been opened. However, they were still left in an unequal state of undress as Agatha was as naked as a babe. A fact which she wished to remedy but the man who was working her into a frenzy would not allow her to. 

Instead, her lover wasted no time in gathering her up in his arms in a way one might a bride, though she did not try to dwell too much on that little detail, and focused instead on the delightfully overwhelming presence of his person. 

He deposited her gently, which contrasted with the intensity in which he petted and caressed her, on the bed that sat at the room's center. Despite his age and build he was surprisingly robust, but Agatha supposed he was a rather active man and he was more solid than truly out of shape. 

It did not seem possible, but his eyes only darkened when he gazed upon her bare heated figure spread out before him. Not taking his eyes off her as his hands went to undo his breeches, throwing them along with his tunic to join her garments in the far corner of the room. His erect member sprung free, greeting her as he moved closer.

“Touch yourself for me my sweet.”  She let out a whine that sounded like a mad woman to her own ears at his command. Her lover did not seem to mind it. There was no shame in it. Proprietary had long since abandoned them for the bliss that they gave one another. 

Agatha of course had felt some embarrassment when she had first touched herself in that intimate place. Had nearly collapsed into herself at his first suggestion. No matter if she was a widow nearing thirty, her governess’s lessons, a Christian need for modesty or the appearance of it, the fear of the sinful nature of lust could not be undone in an hour or two spent in each other's company. 

That place was meant to bring her husband pleasure. To birth his children. It was not meant for her own joy. She had thought so until he had sat her down on his lap at the edge of the bed and he pried open her thighs in front of a mirror he brought in and whispered encouragement into her ear as she brought herself to completion. “That's my beauty.” 

In her haze, she barely registered that her lord had come to her.  It was not until he had pulled her drenched fingers from within her warmth and licked a strip down her soaked folds that she realized he had joined her on their bed. “I wish to have my dessert.”  He did not wait for her to grace him with a reply.  Her protest for him not to tease and to take her as she was, for she was more than ready to receive him, turned into a moan. 

How could it not when his warm muscle so reverently lapped at her folds. Like a man dying from thirst. As if the damp meeting place between her chestnut thighs held an overflowing fountain laced with honey wine that he had been the cause of. Each lap sent a tiny shockwave radiating through her. Building up until they became a rapturous tsunami of pulsing ecstasy. 

By the time he entered her Agatha had become a miasma of molten ecstasy. She would have curled herself into a ball from his lappings at her soaked cunny if it had not been for the fact that Anthony had taken hold of her hands. Bringing one to rest in his graying waves and pinning the other at the side of her head as he rendered her incapable of speech with his tongue and fingers. 

She had nothing to compare him to. No one apart from the late Lord Danbury and that was not a fair comparison. Their couplings had never been half as pleasant and often bordered upon painful. Counting the minutes until her lord husband finished and she could be away from him. Watch off that odious stench he left her with, but the man inside her was different. 

Agatha had never been left with such a wondrous ache before him. A want to feel his bare skin upon her own. A need to be filled. To be torn apart and put back together over and over. To be left boneless yet yearning for more. Never wanting to part from him. To be apart from him, it thrilled and frightened her all the same. For she knew the dangers of that want. 

She had tried picturing Prince Adolphus once in his place.  While she was alone in her bed. Restless at the hour of the devil. It had made her feel queasy. So very odd. Her thoughts soon enough turned back to him and all felt right. 

She had come with his name whispered upon her lips. She knew she was gone. Had fallen into a hole which she could not or did not want to climb out from, but at that moment she did not care.  

It was his weight upon her that calmed Agatha in the most serene way that she had not known possible. She felt safe under him. In his arms. Surrounding her in him.  His smell. His taste. His touch. He stretched her in ways she did not think she could be. Taught her things that she had not known existed. Which she now could not live. 

He was close. She could tell now by how he deepened his thrusts. Chasing their high. How his thumb upon her pearl increased the intensity of the circles he drew into the erect little bundle of nerves. How his kisses had grown sloppy as his lips and tongue would not part from her mouth. 

She could tell by that deep grumble that he meant to pull away and empty his spend on her stomach but she drew her closer. Wrapping her legs around his middle and pulling his heated skin flush against her so that no space separated them. There could be no harm in it if her condition was as she suspected.

“Let go Anthony.” Agatha managed to moan into his ear as she began to pulse around him just as her body gave in to the pleasure it received. He was powerless to stop. To leave her warmth. He could not leave. Not when she fluttered against him. Her soaked cunny tightened around his rigid member. No, he was too far gone to leave her. He spilled into her with a groan of her name. 

She had thought he would be cross with her for it now that they lay in the afterglow. He had done so once before. Chastising her in his quiet way. Peppering a dozen kisses into her skin as he did so. “We must be careful, sweet one.” He had failed to heed his own warnings in their rendezvous that followed and now they were here where it no longer mattered. 

Agatha was the first to break the quiet. “Lady Allen.” She began still catching her breath. Wincing silently at the feel of the emptiness and the steady leak of his spent making its way upon her thighs and the sheets below. She nuzzled herself deeper into the heated slightly tanned skin at his neck wishing to remain in his hold. Resting her lips there as she made a silent prayer that the sun would never come out. “She is what kept me from you.” 

Agatha did not know entirely what possessed her to answer his question when there was no longer a need to. Perhaps it was the fact that she was still reeling from her conversation with Lady Allen and Coral's silent disapproval and worry over her. 

Or it was her general malaise these days of late or the million and one things upon her mind that swam back to the foreground. Or perhaps it was the fact the sun would make its appearance in a few hours and she must rise with it and she dreaded that most of all. Away from the vividness she had here with him and back to the muted shades of her life. Back to worrying over her precarious position and trying to secure her nephews. 

“She came over for tea and she could not stop babbling about how I will be married by the end of the season.” Agatha held her breath. Lifting her head off of the love-soaked skin slightly to scan his face. Waiting for his reply. 

Time slowed. It seemed an age before he let out a sigh into her hair. Placing a kiss into her frizzled coils as he gently stroked her forearm with the back of his calloused hand.  He did not miss a beat. They knew one another too well for him not to catch onto her unspoken meaning. The unspoken party.  “Perhaps you should not be so cavalier about the Prince's affections towards you.” 

At his words, instead of the rush of air that Agatha had hoped would revive her, she felt only a dark ever-growing pit.  A dark pit which her heart sank into. Her lover seemed to realize his mistake, for he began to make amends by brushing more kisses into her dark mane. 

“I only wish to see you happy Agatha.” Agatha. A small intimacy that they had allowed one another. She was Agatha and he was Anthony. Their titles shed if not for but a moment of respite. Shielded away from the world by the other's embrace. 

 At this moment, however, it did not feel so very intimate. Only yet another reminder of their respective places. Of what they actually were. They had no title for one another. Not one that denoted anything. Any real connection. Any connection that would be recognized for those titles belonged to others. They could not call each other by any other names apart from their own and even then those names which had become so very dear to them were only uttered in secret. 

“And well looked after.” He could provide her with neither. Not fully. He could give her some few hours of heaven upon this earthly plane. Of unrestrained joy, but that was the extent of it. That was the reality of it all. 

It is quite cruel how our perspective can shift in the course of a few words. In a mere sentence or two. His words were pure-hearted no matter their sting. They came from a place of affection. Of great care and tenderness. She knew that by the way in which his eyes became doleful when he spoke of the prince and her safety with him, but they were not the words of a lover. Or at least not the words Agatha wanted to hear coming from her lover's lips. 

They were not words of love or passion. They spoke only of duty. Of comfort. Of quiet contentment instead of a burning desire that made one never want that paradisiacal feeling of belonging to end. They were words of truth. A bitter reminder of what they were to each other and what they could never be to one another. 

It did not matter what she gave to him or he to her, what pleasure they took, what pleasure they freely gave to each other, or what they made the other feel, it could not exist outside of the four walls of the cottage which they occupied. The tides of the Ton may have changed, but the circumstances that kept them apart from loving one another freely were more than just the division of the old Ton versus the new one. 

Lord Anthony Ledger was a married man. He had a living wife. A healthy wife who unlike her late husband was in no danger of departing from this earth anytime soon. He was a baron. He was a respected member of the Ton. A title that his family had held since the Middle Ages. Agatha herself, though she may be in dire straits,  had not one speck upon her name. 

Of course, there were ways around the issue of his marriage. Divorce was allowed. As they had no children the church would more than like grant it. It was what it was founded upon. A quick tour out of the country, to Paris maybe, or Venice, somewhere where no one knew of them. They could come back in a year or two after the scandal had run its course and the dust had settled, but Anthony had never expressed a wish to be with her in that way. For her to be his outside of their time together. For her to be his everything?  Did he want to be with her in that way? Truly? 

He had not meant to hurt her. She knew that, but he had and as cruel and childish as it was she wanted to return the sting. So she leaned into his touch and began again. Remembering with great detail the last time she had been in the company of his beloved wife. His supercilious wife seemed to take glee in seeing her discomfort. My husband is so very thoughtful. He knows me as I know him. The ice overtook her irises as she reached a pale hand out to brush Agatha’s curl off her shoulder. 

If he could talk about her suitor then she could talk about his lady wife. 

“Lady Ledger had on a bracelet when I saw her last.” It was his turn to stiffen at her change in subject. Having the good sense to flit his gaze to the wall opposite of where they sat at the mention of his dear wife’s name. “A pretty string of pearls with a figurine at its center. She said that you gave it to her.” She lorded it over her. 

“A wedding gift.” His reply was stiff. As stiff as the air had become in the room. Air Agatha could no longer breathe. She needed out of it. Out before she said something she would regret. Before words poured out from her mouth that she did not mean. That he could not know. That was utterly pointless. “It was a wedding gift.” He reached out a hand to her, but she sprang up from the bed, in search of her clothes. Letting the silence build. 

“Perhaps I shall ask the prince to gift me one for ours.” Agatha had not wanted to, but she had only managed to put her underthings on. She turned back to the forlorn man. Wordlessly commanding him to lace her stays. He did not complain. He never did. He was so very patient. Always so patient and understanding. He never took more than what was offered. Never reached for her beyond their time even though she wanted him to. Hopelessly so. He knew the rules well and he never crossed the line. It drove her mad. 

“Perhaps.” He replied quietly. She could feel his eyes on more than just her laces. They followed her every move. She could feel him exhaling a hand moving from the hooks on the back of her dress to her arm. The bed creaked as he began to lift his weight off of it. She wanted no part in that. “Agatha—”

“I fear I must take my leave now.” She rushed out in a single breath pulling away from him towards the cottage door. “I have to meet with the dowager Princess about Dominic’s title.” It was the truth, but they both knew she had no reason not to stay. The man was ever polite even in his displeasure; he would not stop her after she made her discomfort known. 

Agatha pinned her hat back to her hair as best as she could with no assistance. Not giving too much of a worry about it. She threw open the door to the cottage. Coral would be the only one waiting up for her and she'd shoot off the rest of the servants if they came looking. The sound of the bang of the door shutting carried her home. 

This time it was she who did not wait for his reply. She did not dare to.  She did not wish him to stop her on the off chance that he realized the danger of letting her depart in such a state. With so much unsaid, but she did not wish to hear his apology.

She knew it would not amount to anything real. Anything which they could loudly proclaim without worry or judgment. Anything outside of secrecy and nights of passion and days of woe. That they should never have if not for a miracle and Agatha had never been one to believe in such things. 

Agatha slept fitfully that night a total of. She awoke to a buzzing in her head that bordered on a headache that caused her to put her hand to her temples trying to soothe the splitting pain, A feeling of lightheadedness, and nausea.

The first two were what she had grown used to, but the last was a new symptom to add to her fatigue. She had thought she would feel better after a breakfast of buttered toast, a bowl of strawberries she only ate a handful of, which was about all she could stomach,  and some tea. Surely the cause of it was a lack of proper nourishment, but the buzzing continued. 

Agatha had to strain herself to listen to her fathers, chidings against the onslaught. Though the effort may have been spent better elsewhere seeing how his topic of conversation remained the same as the day last. The concern always lay with her forthcoming nuptials to the prince. 

Critics on her lack of a proposal and her focus remaining too much on her young charge. With suggestions on how to get the prince to propose to her. On how it was her duty to flatter him so that he may see how amenable she was. How she had no choice, but to become his duchess. 

He of course made pauses between his little chastens for her replies. Yes father. No father. I will father. I am father. A few simple chirpings in acknowledgment sufficed. It was all that she could get out between his ramblings which only served to add to her headache this morning, but she had borne them as she was made to. As best as she could. Quite successfully for she was nearly out of the wood. 

Agatha had made it through breakfast. Through the terror of her father's prattling. She had reached the dining room's doorway. She was almost there. Almost out, on with her day to the business of Dominic's title, when the buzzing increased by a margin. 

The blinding pain greeted her like a knock on her head. She had fallen to the ground clutching at her temples. Coral was by her side before anyone else could reach her. 

“My lady, I must insist that we call the doctor to check on you.” For the second time. She had to give credit for her maid's boldness. It was a well-played move. Calculated to be sure, but it was born from a place of concern and not underhandedness. Perhaps it had even just slipped out in her urgency to make her see reason. Having been left with no other alternative. “I’m sure I can find Dr. Simmons's card among Lord Danbury's things.  He examined you the last time. He would be happy to do so again.” 

“The last time?” Agatha winced at her father's question. His umber face turned to ash. Mr. Robinson was not senile. The man may be old, but he was quick of wit. Those dark eyes that narrowed saw everything. He had a wife. He had a daughter grown. He was not naive. It would be hard to convince him what he heard was nothing, but try she must. 

“I am fine Coral.” She took deep breaths regaining her strength as she kept her eyes upon her maid. In. She closed her eyes for a moment hoping it would help. “We need not call anyone.” Out. She opened her eyes. “It is nothing to concern yourself with Papa.” Let him be a fool just this once she silently begged whoever was up there to answer her. To hear her prayers. To give her this peace. Let him let it go. 

“It is my concern if you have brought shame upon this house.” He sneered at her. Baring his white teeth. No longer controlling his volume. “Upon your name Agatha.” The name he had forced her into. The name she had helped make.

“I have done nothing, but try to preserve this name.” She would not be chastised for her decisions. Not when she had done so much for them all. Not how she had done what was her duty without complaint for years. For most of her life, she had only done what was asked. Chirping whatever song sounded prettiest. Not caring how much it wore upon her to hum it over and over with a smile as long as they benefited from it. 

“It is the reason why we stand here.” The reason why they were seeing the progress that they had. Why they could go where they wished. Why they could do business where they wished. Why they mingled with each other. She had done that. Lady Agatha Danbury had done that. Agatha had done that. She would not let him forget it and for that moment it seemed as if he was to acknowledge her contributions. 

“The doctor will examine you when you get back Agatha.” His grip loosened, but his eyes remained cool. There would be no argument. A thought that chilled her to the white of her bones.

She had tried to put it in the far corner of her mind. She would worry about it when it came to it, but she could not because she knew what would await her later. It was one thing to suspect something, but it is entirely another to have confirmed. A confirmation that would seal her fate. 

She brought that chill with her when arrived at the palace. The buzzing reached its peak. She could feel the web she had carefully strung together all these months breaking one string at a time. Her fate closing in on her. Every door shut. Every demand was made tenfold. Setting her adrift. 

The prince and his kindness. Lord Ledger’s patience and passion. His everything. His nothing. 

Her father and his expectations. Corals worry. Lady Ledger’s ice smiles. A queen who was too preoccupied with keeping her husband in line with whatever ailed him to truly care for her people. The princess demands for more. Her need for information on a queen who shut them all out. On a naif of a girl who did not know her own power.  

How her fate depended upon betraying the confidence of a girl who had been thrust into this savage court. She could not go to the queen. She could not go to the. She could not even return home without being bombarded by more demands and scowls. She could not even control her own life. She was alone at sea. Lost. Utterly lost to even herself. 

At some point, Princess Augusta’s speech faded into the background. That buzzing would not let her make out anything apart from a word or two here and there. Her nausea returned with a vengeance. Rising like a storm at sea.  Agatha tried to focus, to regain herself, but the current only pushed her further out into the depths of the ocean. 

“Would it not be a shame for you to lose the very fine estate in which you reside.” Her face was drawn tight. Like she had sucked. She cracked. The storm overtook her as she burst into tears upon the settee. 

Princess Augusta tried to hush her. Dismissed her manservant. Offered her pear brandy from Germany which Agatha had almost reached for it. Told her of how her own father-in-law, the old king, treated her and her son like they were his personal playthings. Little better than animals. When even that had not worked she Had hesitantly reached out a hand to pat her forearm, but her tears would not stop. The bile in her throat burned. Her head was a swarm. The room spun. Over and over. Nothing would stop. Everything unraveled with great speed. 

Agatha’s own body betrayed her when she was made to jump from the couch. Retching her breakfast into one of the painted vases that decorated the room. 

“Dear lord, what is wrong with you now girl.” Princess Augustus stood up. Her mouth still held onto that thin line of irritation, but her eyes widened the slightest with something akin to panic. Increasing the creases upon her regal face. 

“I am not well, your highness.” She had never felt so unwell. Not even when she had last been

in this position. She did not need a doctor to tell her what her body already knew. That buzzing in her head would not stop. Her nausea would not stop. 

Agatha glared up at the princess. At that moment she hated that look on her face most of all. The concern was only there for her benefit. She did not truly care. It was only a mask. They all wore a mask of falsities to cover up their own selfishness. 

She wished to rip it off her. She wished for Princess Augusta to hear. For someone to hear her. For someone to see her. For someone to not treat her as an afterthought to their own wants or the demands of society. To see what she needed. To see what it had done to her. How a lifetime of chirpings had ruined her. 

Her mask was gone, but she could no longer care. She gave in to that buzzing. Shouted over it. “I’m with child.” The buzzing in her ear stopped as did the nausea. The look upon the king’s mother's pale face, pinched and drained of all life, filled her with nothing.

Ao3 Link:

Taglist: @dd122004dd@nametoshort@gracienna@woahwwes-blog@librarydame

[writtenbygracewilliams]

Peerages & Titles: everything you need to know

[A heavily researched 6.5k+ hyperfocus from my Google docs, to help your fanfics]

Disclaimers:

Sources are not consistent. You’d think they would be. They are not. I’ve corralled several reliable websites and books into something that I think makes sense, is accessible, and fits [largely] with portrayals in Bridgerton/modern media.

That being said, Bridgerton/modern media make mistakes. You might notice in reading through all this that there is something different to how it is portrayed in media. Feel free to discuss with me, I could very well be wrong, but also know that you are consuming fiction and this is intended to be fact.

However, whilst trying to be correct, many sources are modern and it is difficult to confirm how titling and forms of address may have changed in the past 200–300 years. Though, I imagine not greatly given the peerage and aristocracy still exists.

Where possible, I have used Bridgerton characters as the examples so that it is easier to make sense/contextualise it. Names in red are not characters, just placeholder names. Hence I have reduced, reused, recycled these names.

On the note of using names from within the Bridgerverse, the Marquess of Ashdown was not married when we met him. I’d also like to know what Julia Quinn has against Earls and Marquesses, Marquesses especially.

Second note of using names in the Bridgerverse, I refuse to use Baron of Kent because it is a factual/historical disaster. More on that here.

This only applies to aristocracy of Britain/UK [minimally Ireland, read here], if I do more of Europe/anywhere else I will link it below but let me know if you want that.

All of these posts may be edited/expanded at any time as my research continues.

Further posts:

General info, start here!

Glossary

A brief history of the peerages/titles

The different peerages [England, Great Britain, United Kingdom, Scotland, Ireland]

How royal titles work

Peerage applications and functions in the modern day

Privileges of the peerage

How titles apply to the child of peers

Rank and precedence within the peerage

Titling rules for non peers

Other roles and titles I can give address information for

Female inheritance of titles

Territorial designations, and when the surname differs from the title name

Haven’t decided if I will do a post on grammar rules when writing peers because despite studying etiquette and titles for over a decade, and linguistics and grammar for seven years, the grammar/capitalisation rules of writing peers broke my final straw of sanity. Let me know how much you want it, or just drop any specific questions.

Put any questions about any of this in my ask :)

–GW xo

[grace-williams-xo]

If you ever wanted to know anything about English peers or titles [royals included],,,, I did weeks of hyper focused research so you don’t have to! There are 12 posts, here is the master post with easy to ready tables about basic forms of address and links to the 11 other deep dives.

LOWKEY if it doesn’t get a modicum of attention I’ll cry and I wish I was kidding

[ailendolin]

Together - A QCABS Fic

Characters: Reynolds/Brimsley

Summary: In the aftermath of Charlotte stopping George's treatment, Reynolds is not okay.

He used to dream this day would come. These last few months, he’s been trying so hard to find a balance between duty and treason that he doesn’t know where one ends and the other begins anymore. There were times when he prayed someone would see what was going on just so he wouldn’t feel so alone with the secrets he was carrying, and immediately felt ashamed for his selfish wish. He should not be breaking under the strain of his duties, no matter how difficult they might be. He should be better than this. If he had been, he might not have failed his king and the man he loves above all.

Continue Reading

[princess-of-songs]

How Charlotte and George fall in love over the course of Even Days.

[claudiatherelentless]

Just. I dunno.

Thinking.

Season 3 takes place shortly after Queen Charlotte.

The Future Queen Victoria was born at the end of QCABS.

Kate and Anthony, Prudence and Harry, Phillipa and Albion, and probably Penelope and Colin are all having babies within a year of Victoria's birth, putting them directly among her Peerage. There are also a few Basset children so far. We know more Bridgerton grandchildren are on the horizon. More young Nobles within Victoria's age range.

Lady Ledger and Lady Danbury were among Charlotte's Ladies in Waiting. Victoria will need Ladies.

Victoria was Crowned at 18 and married at 20.

Now I'm not saying Shonda is setting up a Queen Victoria: A Bridgerton Story, but I am saying that if she ever wanted to I would be Enraptured.

I'm also saying Bridgerton fic writers should write spinoffs where the Bridgerton Grandchildren are Victoria's courtiers

[andthebubbles]

i've had a thought... i'm gonna assume that when anthony and benedict were born, edmund wasn't viscount yet... (unless qcabs has stated otherwise?? i didn't really watch it skjfgnkfg) so where did they stay when they were in london? because i assume the current viscount stays at bridgerton house...... if edmund was still alive past 1803, anthony would've probably had his own house and stayed in it with kate... so before edmund's father dies, he probably stays in idk a townhouse in mayfair maybe?

(i suppose i now have a headcanon that edmund's father died sometime between benedict and colin's births (hence the largest age gap between them compared to any other siblings (esp when you use their show ages)))

idk, i suppose there's always a possibility that edmund and violet just stayed at bridgerton house along with the 7th viscount. ??? (why is this so hard to imagine)

anyway, this is me pondering the year 1786 and getting increasingly confused.

eta: i know in the books there's number 5... but when did they buy that. wellll i suppose i could use it in the fic.... eeeehhh

[writtenbygracewilliams]

Peerages & Titles: female inheritance

[Full list of disclaimers is in the master post but tl;dr is that sources for this information are not consistent, sources may be modern, and this may be edited/expanded at anytime as my research continues.]

I knew this was gonna be a messy one but I didn’t think it would lead to me reading a 40 pg UK parliamentary report 😭 strap in, but it’s fascinating and also lowkey relevant to the Featherington’s and Michaela Stirling.

Some baronies and earldoms in the peerage of England may be inherited by women/daughters.

Some old earldoms issued by letters patent are able to pass to heirs of the body, with no male preference, and follow the same rules of baronies by writ (see below).

In the early medieval period earldoms were passed to the son of the earl, or the brother of the earl if he had no children. If he had a single daughter, his son-in-law would inherit the lands and usually the peerage—but more complex cases may have been decided by the crown. [If passing to a son-in-law, it would presumably be abeyant until she married but I did not find this specifically mentioned.]

In the 13th century, the son-in-law would automatically inherit the peerage when inheriting the land.

In the 15th century, the earldom reverted to the crown—who would often regrant it to the eldest son-in-law.

In the 17th century, the earldom would revert to abeyance unless and until there was only one remaining daughter.

Women may inherit certain baronies in the peerage of England, if they were baronies by writ. From the late 14th century [1388 to be exact] most peers have been created by letters patent, however most baronies created before this time were by a writ of summons.

Having no letters patent, or remainder, baronies by writ are not limited to male heirs. A baron who left a sole daughter may have his daughter inherit the barony, and either be a baroness in her own right or her husband will inherit the barony. [I cannot confirm which for the life of me, but based on prior knowledge I lean toward the latter.] [Maybe it’s a choice? Highly unlikely.]

Where there is more than one daughter, the barony will fall into a state of abeyance between the co-heirs.

The co-heirs should reach an honourable agreement (without bribery or corruption) as to who will claim the title, the claimant then petitioning the crown to terminate the abeyance.

A claimant must represent at least one third of an abeyant title, and the title must not have been abeyant for more than 100 years.

If there is ever only one remaining co-heir, they do not have to petition the crown in order to assume the title.

The crown may intervene and terminate an abeyant title at any time.

The inheritance of Scottish peerages varies, but in many instances [and this applies to all Scottish peers] a daughter may inherit the title, and will do so over her younger sisters. Co-heirs and abeyance are avoided entirely in the peerage of Scotland. [I have plans to extend this point since the introduction of Michaela, bear with me, but as always feel free to drop q’s in my ask]

Many original limitations for succession in the peerage of Ireland are not known. Today, there is only one Irish viscountcy and one barony that may pass through the female line and they are both held by the same person. [Viscount Massereene and Ferrand].

Titles that cannot be inherited by daughters do not automatically go to daughter’s sons, a special remainder must be in place. [This is what Portia does/forges to say that her first grandson will inherit the Featherington estate, she creates (forges) a special remainder.]

For example, IF the Featherington Barony was created by writ [it clearly was not, but I think it would be cool if it was] then after the death of Lord Featherington the barony would have become abeyant. [Instead it becomes dormant]. Phillipa, Prudence and Penelope would have to agree amongst themselves who should inherit the title. Do I see that happening? No, they’re a trainwreck, but it would make good tv. Queen Charlotte [technically the Prince Regent] could intervene at any time to choose who will take the title/peerage/estate.

Kind of can’t believe I got through that, mad props if any of you did. Link to the master post here with all the peerage information, drop any questions in my ask :)

–GW xo

[writtenbygracewilliams]

Peerages & Titles: how titles apply to the children of peers

[Full list of disclaimers is in the master post but tl;dr is that sources for this information are not consistent, sources may be modern, names are all Bridgerton characters unless in red, and this may be edited/expanded at anytime as my research continues.]

The eldest son of a Duke, Marquess or Earl uses his father’s subsidiary title as a courtesy title, without the use of The. For example, The Duke of Hastings is also The Earl Clyvedon so his eldest son [and heir apparent] is be Earl Clyvedon.

If a Duke, Marquess or Earl does hold any subsidiary titles, it’s common for his eldest son to make one up entirely. He may be addressed as Lord Windsor, despite his father not holding any peerage of Windsor, or the title of Viscount Windsor or Baron Windsor to avoid confusion with an existing Lord Windsor.

A holder of a courtesy title is not a peer, therefore not entitled to sit in the House of Lords. However, until 1999, by way of writ of acceleration, a peer with more than one peerage could enable his heir apparent to attend and vote in the House of Lords while he was still alive—using one of his father’s subsidiary titles. It was introduced in the mid 15th century and was a rare occurrence, only used 98 times in over 400 years.

If an eldest son did not receive a writ of acceleration, it was not uncommon for a new peerage to be created for him. There are examples of this happening where the father is a baron, meaning that he has no subsidiary titles.

Until the 20th century, it was relatively easy for eldest sons with no courtesy title or peerage to be elected to the House of Commons if they still wished to be in politics.

Eldest daughters do not get a courtesy title, because they are not heir apparent.

In the peerage of Scotland, both heir presumptives and heir apparent of a peer use the title/address of Master or Mistress. For example, The Master of Edinburgh. This is not a courtesy title, and the heir of a Duke, Marquess or Earl may still use a courtesy as outlined above.

The sons (and son’s wives) of Dukes, Marquesses and Earls who are not heir apparent are addressed as My Lord/Lady or Lord/Lady, using their first name and surname—though the surname may be dropped following the first use/reference. For example; Simon and Daphne’s son (aside from the heir apparent) would be addressed as Lord Edward Basset. That son’s wife is Lady Edward Basset. This title persists after the death of his father, but because it is considered a courtesy and it is not inherited by his children.

The sons (and son’s wives) of Viscounts and Barons are addressed as Sir, Mr, Madam or Mrs. This is why Benedict, Colin and Gregory are all Mr Bridgerton. To differentiate between brothers, Mr Bridgerton would refer to the eldest son and the younger sons may use their first names as well when required. [Much like the bottom point, about daughters].

The daughters of Dukes, Marquesses and Earls who are addressed as My Lady or Lady, using their first name and surname—though the surname may be dropped following the first use/reference. For example; Simon and Daphne’s daughters would be addressed as Lady Amelia Basset, Lady Belinda Basset and Lady Caroline Basset. If they married a man with any peerage, or courtesy peerage, they would take that rank and title. If she marries a commoner, she retains her rank and title but uses her husband's surname instead of her maiden name. Her husband does not gain any right to a courtesy title/style. For example; if Amelia married commoner William Brien, she would become Lady Amelia Brien, but he would remain Mr William Brien, and their children would not inherit any titles.

The daughters of Viscounts and Barons are Miss (unmarried), Mrs (married to a commoner) or Madam (married or unmarried)

The eldest unmarried daughter of a family is addressed using their surname, and all subsequent daughters are addressed using their first name with the surname optional. This is why it is Miss Sharma for Kate and Miss Edwina or Miss Edwina Sharma for Edwina. Once Kate marries, Edwina should be formally addressed as Miss Sharma.

Link to the master post, drop any other questions in my ask :)

–GW xo

[writtenbygracewilliams]

Peerage & Titles: rank and precedence within the peerage

[Full list of disclaimers is in the master post but tl;dr is that sources for this information are not consistent, sources may be modern, and this may be edited/expanded at anytime as my research continues.]

Sovereign > Royal family > Archbishop of Canterbury > Archbishop of York > Great Officers of State [eg Prime Minister] > Peers

Peers of England > Peers of Scotland > Peers of Great Britain > Peers of the United Kingdom > Peers of Ireland

However, never will a peer of a lower rank precede one of a higher rank [regardless of peerage]

Duke > Marquess > Earl > Viscount > Baron > Baronet

A married woman will always take on the title and precedence of her husband, even if it is her subsequent marriage and/or a lower rank or title.

A dowager peeress precedes the present holder of the same title. For example; Violet precedes Anthony.

A divorced peeress is no longer entitled to the privileges and styles of peeress that their marriage granted them. However, in the case of a Duchess, she may use the title without the The. For example; if they were to divorce, Daphne would go from Your Grace, The Duchess of Hastings to Daphne, Duchess of Hastings. The inclusion of the first name is to differentiate from a future wife of The Duke. If Simon remained unmarried, Daphne may be simply Duchess of Hastings.

Duke > Marquess > Duke’s eldest son > Earl > Marquess’s eldest son > Duke’s younger son(s) > Viscount > Earl’s eldest son > Marquess’s younger son(s) > Baron > Viscount’s eldest son(s) > Earl’s younger son(s) > Baron’s eldest son(s) > Viscount’s younger son(s) > Baron’s younger son(s) > Baronets

Children of the eldest son of a peer have precedence. For example; if Edmund was still alive [meaning Anthony would not yet be Viscount] then it would be Edmund > Violet > Anthony > Baby Edmund II > Benedict > Colin > Gregory > Anthony’s younger son(s)

Daughters take precedence after the eldest son’s wife, but before the younger son(s)’s wives. For example, if Edmund was still alive, Daphne [as Duchess, as she takes her husband’s precedence] Edmund > Violet > Anthony > Kate > Benedict > Colin > Gregory > Eloise > Francesca > Hyacinth > Sophie > Penelope > Lucy.

Canon example, because Anthony is Viscount, Daphne > Violet > Anthony > Kate > Baby Edmund II > Edmund II’s wife > Anthony’s younger son’s > Anthony’s daughters > Anthony’s younger son’s wives > Benedict > Sophie > Colin > Penelope > Gregory > Lucy > Eloise > Francesca > Hyacinth. Much like Daphne, Francesca will outrank Anthony once marrying an Earl.

Let’s all get on the same page about the full ranking/precedence, at the end of s3. Simon > Daphne > Auggie > John > Francesca > Saphne’s younger children (boys first) > Violet > Anthony > Kate > John & Francesca’s hypothetical eldest son would go here > Portia > Baby Polin, Baron Featherington > Baby Edmund II > John & Francesca’s hypothetical younger children (boys first) > Baby Polin’s eldest son > Kanthony’s future children (boys first) > Baby Polin’s younger children > Benedict > Sophie > Colin > Penelope. Polin will be outranked by their grandchildren. [I know that canonically John and Francesca have no children, but I wanted to illustrate].

This one melted my brain a little ngl. Master post here, it’s got general peerage info and links to all my other deep dives. Drop any questions in my ask :)

–GW xo

[writtenbygracewilliams]

Peerage & Titles: non peerage related titling rules

[Full list of disclaimers is in the master post but tl;dr is that sources for this information are not consistent, sources may be modern, names are all Bridgerton characters unless in red, and this may be edited/expanded at anytime as my research continues.]

The eldest unmarried daughter of a family is addressed using their surname, and all subsequent daughters are addressed using their first name with the surname optional. This is why it is Miss Sharma for Kate and Miss Edwina or Miss Edwina Sharma for Edwina. Once Kate marries, Edwina should be formally addressed as Miss Sharma.

Correct address to a Mr on an envelope for a letter of a personal nature is Esq. (as in Esquire). This is antiquated in modern times, and should not apply to modern AUs/works/translations.

A married woman is known by her husband’s name, as in Mrs Colin Bridgerton. A widow is addressed the same way.

A divorced woman, traditionally, uses her own first name but retains her husband's surname. As in, Mrs Penelope Bridgerton. [This is NOT me manifesting their divorce or unhappiness, I swear I love them].

If someone has a profession that warrants a title [ie Doctor] but is also otherwise titled [such as a peer] then their profession goes after their name. For example; Lord John Windsor, M.D.

Link to the master post, drop any other questions in my ask :)

–GW xo

[writtenbygracewilliams]

Peerages & Titles: privileges of the peerage

[Full list of disclaimers is in the master post but tl;dr is that sources for this information are not consistent, sources may be modern, and this may be edited/expanded at anytime as my research continues.]

This post/information especially, it was difficult to ascertain what privileges did/didn’t exist at certain time periods. The first one is obviously historic, and the later ones are definitely current but I have trouble confirming the specifics of some of these privileges throughout history. Sources welcome!

Until 1948, peers could be tried for [some] crimes by other peers in the House of Lords instead of in the ordinary judicial system. The last occurrence of this was a manslaughter trial in 1935. This privilege also extended to the wife of peers.

Peers have no automatic salary or income, even those in the House of Lords. They receive a stipend for travel expenses for each day they are present in parliament. They cannot receive this if they are a minister.

May, at the discretion of the Lord/Lady of the Black Rod, use the Chapel of St Mary Undercroft in the Palace of Westminster for family weddings and christenings.

Personal right of access to the sovereign at any time, though this is obsolete in modern times.

Right to be exempt from civil arrest, which has only been used twice since 1945.

All privileges are forfeited if a peer disclaims their peerage(s).

Link to the master post, drop any other questions in my ask :)

–GW xo

[writtenbygracewilliams]

Peerages & Titles: applications and functions in the modern day

[Full list of disclaimers is in the master post but tl;dr is that sources for this information are not consistent, sources may be modern, and this may be edited/expanded at anytime as my research continues.]

No hereditary peerages have been created, outside the royal family, since the 1980’s. Instead, new peers are life peers.

Since 2014, peers may resign from the House of Lords but retain their title and style.

Since 1963, a hereditary peer may fully disclaim from their peerage. This must be done within one year of inheriting the peerage, or before their 22nd birthday if they are under 21 when they inherit. Anyone who disclaims a peerage loses their title, rights and privileges (as does their spouse) and is ineligible to receive any other hereditary peerages, though they may receive a life peerage. The peerage becomes dormant until their death, and is then passed on in the usual manner.

Male inheritance primogeniture was discontinued for royals in 2012.

Male inheritance primogeniture still exists within the peerage, despite repeated attempts at abolition and reform.

Women were unable to sit in the House of Lords, even if they held a peerage in their own right, until 1963.

The automatic right of hereditary peers to sit in the House of Lords disappeared in 1999.

Most peers currently in the House of Lords are life peers, and a sovereign may create unlimited life peers.

Despite same sex marriage being legal in the United Kingdom since 2013, same sex spouses are still unable to gain the privileges or titles of being married to a peer.

Peerages generally do not have landholdings because of their peerage anymore. The only remaining Duchy’s in the United Kingdom are the Duchy of Lancaster and the Duchy of Cornwall.

Adopted children of peers are not able to inherit any peerage, however, since 2004 they have been equally and automatically entitled to the same styles and courtesy titles as peers biological children.

Link to the master post, drop any questions in my ask :)

–GW xo

[writtenbygracewilliams]

Peerages & Titles: general info

[Full list of disclaimers is in the master post but tl;dr is that sources for this information are not consistent, sources may be modern, and this may be edited/expanded at anytime as my research continues.]

Let’s go! This is the general/summary info I think you should know when writing peerages, and I think is a good starting post before the deep dives. [All can be found in the master post].

All peerage holders are considered peers of the Realm.

Anyone can have multiple and seemingly unlimited peerages [be Viscount of one thing, Earl of another and Duke of another etc] but they will always be addressed as their highest title.

A Baron is never The Baron Featherington, as the higher titles are styled.

The wife of Baron is not [or very rarely, it’s complicated] referred to as Baroness. A Baroness is a woman who holds a Barony in her own right. Portia Featherington is not a Baroness.

Of is used when the peerage of a Marquess or Earl is based on a place, not a family name. For example; if Danbury was a place, then Agatha would be The Countess of Danbury. It is not a place so no of is used.

Duke’s always use of regardless of if it’s based on a place or surname.

Whilst Baron, Viscount and Earl may be based on a place or family name, they are more commonly based on a place/territory [despite most of the Bridgerton examples being based on family names] however the of is not typically used for Barons or Viscounts.

I believe it might be technically possible for a Marquessate or Dukedom to be based on a family name, but I’ve not seen any examples of this and it’s based on a place like 99% of the time if not always.

Some sources say a Marchioness may be called Marquise, however this is the French title, and some sources regarding titles in the UK are very against it.

Dukes and Duchesses are not addressed with their name, hence why it’s not in the table.

All formal letters sent to a peer should be signed Yours faithfully and all social/informal letters should be signed Yours sincerely

First names were rarely used, even by close relations and in intimate settings, until the early–mid 20th century in England. They were often limited to children growing up together and boys/men at school.

Parents may ignore children’s titles when addressing their children, but very often a mother would use one if it was available—such as a son’s courtesy title.

Men could show intimacy through using a close friend's name without the title; for example, just using Bridgerton or Hastings.

Spouses often remained formal, even in private, and would commonly use My Lord/Lady or sometimes pet names such My Dear or My Love. However, this depended on the couple and their intimacy.

Link to the master post with all the forms of address here. Drop any questions in my ask :)

–GW xo

[writtenbygracewilliams]

Peerages & Titles: glossary

[Full list of disclaimers is in the master post but tl;dr is that sources for this information are not consistent, sources may be modern, and this may be edited/expanded at anytime as my research continues.]

Please let me know if you come across any other terms that you think should be in this glossary!

Heir apparent: an heir to a peerage/title that cannot be overtaken in the order of succession ie the eldest son

Heir presumptive: an heir to a peerage/title who may be overtaken in the order of succession. For example; Queen Elizabeth II was only ever heir presumptive because if ever her mother gave birth to a boy before she became queen, her younger brother would’ve become heir apparent

Male inheritance primogeniture: the rule that younger sons outrank older daughters

Abeyance: a peerage with multiple claimants, but awaiting the determination or appearance of the current/next owner, usually because of two equally eligible daughters [as is the case with some Baronys and Earldoms]

Dormant: a peerage that is believed to have an heir, but is unclaimed

Extant: peerages currently in use

Extinct: a peerage where all the heirs of the original peer have died out; the peerage then reverts back to the crown

Peeress: a female peer, including the wives of peers

Life peer or peeress: a non hereditary peerage, first created in 1876 but not widely used until 1958

Baronet: a hereditary title below a Baron, they are considered aristocracy, but are not peers or of noble status

Subsidiary title: a lesser title held by the same peer, such as an earldom or viscountcy held by a duke.

Remainder: a patent with a great seal, but no signature, that designates how a title will descend after the death of the current titleholder.

Special remainder: patents that provide exclusions to the usual limitations of who may inherit a title.

Writ of acceleration: the process of enabling an heir apparent to sit and vote in the House of Lords, using his father’s subsidiary title.

Letters patent: an order written by a head of state that grants office, title, right, status etc on a person or corporation. In the United Kingdom, their issue creates peers of the realm (among other things). They are the most common way a peer is created, and English and British letters patent must specify the manner in which the title will descend—Scottish letters patent do not. In rare instances a letters patent is lost, or does not specify how a title will descend, the House of Lords has determined the title to descend to heirs male. Letters patent are not absolute and may be amended or revoked by an act of parliament.

Writ by summons [also known as by writ, or writ of summons]: a document issued by the monarch that allows someone to sit in parliament. At the start of each new parliament, all those who have established the right to sit in parliament are issued are writ of summons. Without being issued one, they cannot sit or vote in parliament. While they are still issued today, they are not issued to non peers as a manner of creating a peerage. [The last writ by summons that created a peerage was in 1610]. Writs created in error still create a peerage, unless they were canceled before the recipient took their seat in parliament.

Link to the master post with all the forms of address here, drop any questions in my ask :)

–GW xo

[writtenbygracewilliams]

Peerages & Titles: how Royal titles work

[Full list of disclaimers is in the master post but tl;dr is that sources for this information are not consistent, sources may be modern, and this may be edited/expanded at anytime as my research continues.]

The full style of the monarch is Charles the Third, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of His other Realms and Territories King, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith [Queen Elizabeth II used the same].

The full styles of King George III were George the Third, by the Grace of God King of Great Britain, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, Archtreasurer and Prince-Elector of the Holy Roman Empire, Duke of Brunswick-Luneburg from 1760–1801; George the Third, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland King, Defender of the Faith, Arch-treasurer and Prince-Elector of the Holy Roman Empire, Duke of Brunswick-Luneburg from 1801–1814; George the Third, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland King, Defender of the Faith, King of Hanover, Duke of Brunswick-Luneburg from 1814–1820.

Full list of the styles of English monarchs can be found here.

Monarchs always also hold the Duchy of Lancaster, Duchy of Normandy [used when on the Channel Islands] and Lord of Mann [used when on the Isle of Man, only from 1765 when it was purchased by King George III].

On Lord of Mann; Queen Elizabeth II was referred to as Lord of Mann however Queen Victoria was Lady of Mann. I imagine it is personal preference, somewhat influenced by public perception/opinion at the time.

The monarch, man or woman, is referred to as the Duke of Lancaster and Duke of Normandy. Despite their difference in regards to Lord/Lady of Mann, both Queen Elizabeth II and Queen Victoria were referred to as Duke’s.

If a peer succeeds to the throne, the peerage merges with the crown and ceases to exist.

A fount of honour is someone with exclusive right to grant titles of nobility and orders of chivalry. In the United Kingdom, it is the monarch. [The concept is older, but the specific term dates back to late feudalism around the 15th century. It is appropriate in your fics.]

A Queen Regnant is a queen ruling in her own right.

A Queen Consort is the wife of a king.

A Dowager Queen is the widow of a former king.

Queen Mother refers to a dowager queen of a queen regnant, but is rarely used as a formal title.

A Queen Regnant’s husband is never the king consort, as a king will always outrank a queen, but they are still a royal consort. They are whatever other title(s) they may hold. They are not automatically a prince. Queen Elizabeth II made her husband Prince Philip in order to elevate his title and status to be in line with that of their children, otherwise he would have remained only The Duke of Edinburgh. The only man to hold the official title of Prince Consort was Prince Albert, husband of Queen Victoria, who held no other peerages or titles.

The Prince of Wales belongs to the heir apparent of the Crown, an heir presumptive does not hold the title. Therefore, the Princess of Wales is/was only a title for the wife of the Prince of Wales. [Given the abolition of male inheritance primogeniture for royals in 2012, it is unclear whether this would change in modern/future applications. It is entirely possible, given girls can now be heir apparent, that a girl may one day hold the title of Princess of Wales in her own right].

The heir apparent also holds the Duchy of Cornwall.

The Princess Royal is the oldest daughter of the monarch, and the highest title for a female member of the royal family (other than queen). Queen Elizabeth II was never The Princess Royal, as there can only ever be one at a time and her aunt Princess Mary of York already held the title when Elizabeth became eligible.

All people in the below tables are real British royals from the 19th–21st centuries.

Link to the master post with other forms of address, drop any questions in my ask :)

–GW xo