Sam Clemens, editor and proprietor of The Teatime Tattler, juggled the delicate porcelain cup and the matching plate, wondering how he was meant to drink the one and eat the dainty iced confection that adorned the other.

The aristocracy learned such tricks in the nursery, but Sam had never claimed nor wished to be one of them. His own more humble folk were good enough for him, though one could not deny the ton made good copy, providing an unending stream of scandal to delight his readers.

No doubt Her Grace thought to impress him into agreeing to suppress one story or another — perhaps one about her outrageous son? The Merry Marquis entertained the whole of London with his antics, and Sam had no intention of agreeing to ignore a useful piece of copy just because the Duchess of Haverford favoured him with an invitation to tea. He responded to a polite enquiry about the health of his brother’s family. The younger Clemens sibling had emigrated to the Americas, and was raising his hopeful family there. Sam often thought of visiting them, especially his namesake, young Samuel, but his commitment to his paper did not leave time for a long sea journey.

He couldn’t fault the lady’s graciousness. She noticed his dilemma with the cup and plate, gave a twitch of her eyebrows and a nod to a hovering footman, and moments later a small table materialised at Sam’s elbow. The duchess, meanwhile, continued to show a great interest in the exploits of young Sam, as reported in his mother’s letters. Sam took a grateful sip of his tea.

At last, Her Grace came to the point. “Mr Clemens, I am sure you wonder why I invited you here today.”

He appreciated her forthrightness. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I did.”

“I have been approached by a number of people who wish me to use my influence to stop you publishing articles and letters about the forthcoming book from the Bluestocking Belles,” she explained.

“For, Your Grace,” he asked, “or against?”

“Both,” the duchess replied. “Some support the detractors, some the authors. A pretty conundrum, is it not?”

Sam took a deep breath, ready to make his position clear. Surrounded by the evidence of heritage and wealth, faced by the great lady herself, one step down from royal and every inch a noble, he found it harder than he expected to voice the rejection he planned. Before he could speak, she continued.

“Let me put your mind to rest, Mr. Clemens. I have no intention of interfering either way, except perhaps to pen a letter myself. Publish as you will. I will watch with interest to see whether the salacious rumours prove to be true.”

Watch The Teatime Tattler over the next eight weeks as the debate unfolds. The first shots have already been fired, and we expect more, starting 3 September.