So many of our historal romances, especially Regency romance, hinge on gossip and scandal. Is it a trope you use in your writing. If so, please put an excerpt of your current work-in-progress in the comments.

Mine is from To Mend the Broken-Hearted. My hero has just received a letter from my heroine’s brother.

He opened the letter, looking at the signature first, while Crick buttoned him into his clean shirt and put his feet into a pair of indoor shoes. Not the duke. Drew W. Lord Andrew Winderfield then, Lady Ruth’s brother. He read through quickly, surging to his feet so quickly that Crick fell backwards. “My lord,” the valet protested.

Val returned to his seat, but though he held his body still, but for presenting his wrists for the cuff buttons, and his neck for his cravat (build in discussion earlier), his mind continued in ferment. Lord Andrew wrote of the latest scandal seething through the beau monde, and Val was its object. Val lifted the letter so he could read the salient points again, while Crick fussed over his cravat.

“… your injuries have driven you mad, so that you are as much a monster within as you appear without…” No mealy-mouthed skirting around the point, there. Were all the Winderfields as direct?

“… you killed your brother and your wife, and your brother’s wife escaped by inches, having first hidden the children away for their own safety…” Which was no more than had been spoken in the village before they grew to know him again, though at least they knew that Val’s brother had been dead a fortnight before he arrived home, too sick to be a threat to anyone.

“… even the local villagers shun you, knowing of your madness…” Also true, or at least, it used to be.

The gossip wasn’t just about him, however.

“… would have warned you anyway, but this gossip also touches my sister’s honour. The common thread in the rumours about her is that you lived together for weeks. Some say you abducted her. Some say she came willingly. Either way — or so the rumours claim — you ruined her and cast her off when you had sated your lust.”

Drew seemed more amused than indignant when he wrote, “Those who believe that Ruth and her guards would allow such a thing don’t know our family very well. But they shall know us better, I warrant you.”

Winshire had ordered an investigation into the source of the gossip. Once Crick had placed his cravat pin, Val reached for the third page, which he read several times before allowing Crick to help him into his coat.

“Beyond a doubt, one person features as a common element in every story we have been able to trace back to its source. Your sister-in-law, the Countess of Ashbury, has denied all knowledge of the gossip, while making it clear that she gives it credence. However, every trail goes back to her, and everyone who admits to questioning her about the stories agrees that she supported them, with convincing detail. She told my cousin, who is part of her court, that she has sources who write to her from your household and the local village.”

Even without what they were saying about Ruth, Val would need to squash this nonsense for the sake of his girls. But the lies and half-lies about Ruth meant he needed to take action and be fast about it.

“Crick, tell Minsham that I need to see you and her in my study as soon as the girls go up to bed.” First step was to find the traitors under his own roof. Then the village. Then Society. Just a couple of months ago, he would have quailed at the thought of venturing to Brighton and even London. Now, any apprehension was swamped in the feeling that had him smile as he shrugged into the coat that Crick held ready. In a matter of days, perhaps a little over a week, he would see Ruth again.