So, I told you guys before how I had an aristocratic friend from the Gordon clan who tells THE BEST stories about his ancestors. I've been a bit reluctant to repeat anything he said that I couldn't verify elsewhere, because I don't know if his family would appreciate me repeating secrets/private family stuff. Most people would say, "You can't libel the dead. LET'S GO TO TOWN!" but it still feels rude to me.
Anyway, I was delighted to discover one of my favorite stories of his was already on Wikipedia (in a very abbreviated version), so *rolls up sleeves* let's do this:
George Gordon, the 3rd Earl of Aberdeen. Slightly before the Victorian time, but as I've said, Georgian and Regency rakes are literally the best. You just don't get bad boys like this no mo'. So George is traveling through Wakefield, gets a bit peckish, and stops at the Stafford Arms for dinner. He has a fantastic meal and, rather dashingly, asks that the cook be brought out so he can compliment the fare.
The cook, who is a fetching young lady, comes out, and he gives her the total glad-eye. In my head, I imagine he says something utterly skeezy, like, "Well, I know what's for dessert." Or "You look good enough to eat." Or "Baby, you can knead my dough any day" ( . . . ew?). So, since he's a handsome young lord, she agrees and they do The Sex.
He leaves and goes away for a while, fopping his foppish foppery all over England. A short while later, he passes through Wakefield again and decides to visit his favorite 5-star restaurant/cat house. He calls for the cook and says, "Who loves ya, baby? Where ma' food at?" And she says, "How about you EAT SOME LEAD, SUCKA?" and pulls a gun on him.
I imagine this was the double-take to end all double-takes, because this is most definitely not where he pictured the night going. And she's all, "I'm not just a cook. I'm a cook with dreams. Like, say, the dream of being the Countess of Aberdeen. And my mother said I'd never amount to anything." And she pulls a priest out of hammerspace.
Between the two choices, he decides to marry his beautiful sexy-times cooker-of-good-food at gunpoint, rather than get shot in the face. Probably a wise move. Anyway, they apparently had a happy marriage which resulted in 6 children. The moral of the story is: don't seduce women until you're already married, so this sort of thing won't happen. Wait, no, that's a terrible moral. The moral is: love acknowledges no class boundaries, especially when what you love is being alive.