In 1775, a shallow young baronet married an eighteen year old lady with far more money than looks or learning. They lived tolerably well together for a few years, until at last Lady Seymour Dorothy Fleming Worsley ran away with their mutual friend, Maurice Bisset. The lovers hoped Sir Richard Worsley would initiate divorce proceedings against Lady Worsley so they could marry each other, but Sir Worsley was far too angry to do so. Instead, he sued for separation and further, sued Bisset for a prodigious sum of 20,000 pounds for committing criminal conversation with his wife. Criminal conversation, or "crim con," was basically showing, not that sex necessarily took place, but that there was a possibility of it. The man who "damaged" the husband's "property" by having sex with the wife could be sued for whatever the union--and the wife--was considered an appropriate number. Unfortunately for Sir Worsley, his wife refused to let him financially ruin her lover. She gave the defense a list of her former lovers and flirtations, and had each testify on the stand that she had numerous affairs before she ever ran off with Bisset, and had even been treated for an STI. She ruined her own reputation to such an extent that although the jury found in Sir Worsley's favor, the settlement was placed not at the ruinous 20,000 pounds Sir Worsley demanded, but at a single shilling. A single shilling!
Sir Worsley was understandably wrathful that he'd dragged his private life into the public eye just to get a single shilling, so he refused to let Lady Worsley have her clothing and jewels (worth nearly 10,000 pounds themselves). Her linen and adornments were her only form of wealth, as women weren't allowed to have property, so this was a serious blow to Lady Worsley. In revenge, she published a sixteen page poem attacking his honor and masculinity, claiming that she'd been forced to take lovers because he was too impotent to perform his marital duties. The pamphlet spread throughout England, was repeatedly reprinted, and caused such a scandalous outcry that Sir Worsley gave in and returned her clothes to her.
Their battle was not yet done. Instead of hiding away in shame that her adultery had been discovered, Lady Worsley became even more of a social butterfly, hanging with the Prince of Wales and his fast, fashionable set. She had a brass plate affixed to the inn she'd hidden in with her lover, proclaiming that it was the place she'd gotten her freedom. She wore breeches(!) to ride horseback astride (!) and got drunk in public. She ran up large debts which, as he was technically still her husband, Sir Worsley was obliged to pay.
First Sir Worsley, then Lady Worsley left England for other, more liberal climes. Sir Worsley toured the Ottoman Empire, amassing an amazing collection of art that he acquired only semi-legally. He tried to buy a pleasure slave but was thwarted by the high prices--he did manage to buy a small black boy, who he beat mercilessly (even by the standards of his contemporaries) and eventually discarded or sold. He became the ambassador to Italy, but lost his position and a fortune in artwork when Napoleon conquered the area. Meanwhile, Lady Worsley lived in France for several years, falling in with the Chevalier de Saint Georges and then barely surviving the revolution. She was perpetually in debt, but eventually Sir Worsley died of a stroke and she got back the fortune she'd brought to their unhappy marriage. Only in her 40s at this point, she immediately married her current paramour, a man in his 20s, and lived happily with him for thirteen years before expiring and leaving her fortune and estate to him and her illegitimate daughter Charlotte (born sometime after her sojourn in France).
It's a fascinating tale, and Rubenhold tells it well. She provides a great deal of legal and historical context, without ever getting bogged down into pedantry. Because I never understand all the allusions and jokes in satirical cartoons of the era, I really appreciated her style of explaining and describing them without losing the humor. Overall, a readable tale that skates that delicate line between gossip and history.