The Story of a Baron (The Sisters of the Aristocracy) (5 page)

Lady Geraldine’s look of contribution was replaced with one of surprise. “You are too kind,” she replied with a nod.

“I fear my appearance in The Palace of Prose may have kept you from your appointments this morning. What is your destination?” Matthew asked, thinking he would simply hire a hackney and see her on her way.

Geraldine cocked her head to one side, understanding that Lord Ballantine probably had errands other than hers planned for the day. Although her boldness hadn’t seemed to offend the man, she had apparently taken up too much of his time. “Madame Diana’s Emporium,” she said with an arched eyebrow, one hand pointing in the direction of the lady’s shop across the street – a shop featuring corsets and night rails and all manner of undergarments for ladies.

Matthew’s eyes followed the direction in which Geraldine pointed, his eyes pausing on yet another large gemstone on her finger. His face once again displaying embarrassment, he bowed and lifted Geraldine’s hand to his lips, giving the ring a thorough look. Although he couldn’t be sure, he thought perhaps the stone was merely paste. “Then I shall take my leave of you, my lady,” he said with a nod. He kissed the back of her hand and gave a cursory bow before he hurried off in the direction from which they’d come.

A startled expression still on her face, Geraldine watched the baron’s back as he made his way down New Bond Street. “Was it something I said?” she whispered to herself, wondering at the quick departure of the baron. “Or something he was about to do?” she murmured, a shiver of delight racing through her body. She smiled, deciding she rather liked the grown up version of Matthew Winters.

Geraldine gave one more glance at the baron’s departing back before making her way across the street to Madame Diana’s Emporium.

As she was about to enter the shop, she dared another look up and down New Bond Street, hoping to spot the baron. There was no sight of him, though. Allowing a sigh of disappointment, she passed through the doors of the lady’s establishment and disappeared from view.

Across the street, Matthew Winters watched from where he stood hidden in an alcove leading to a haberdashery. Although he thought about going back to The Palace of Prose to purchase the book,
In Pursuit of the Perfect Woman: A Gentleman’s Guide to Finding a Wife,
he decided he might not require its assistance after all.

Although Geraldine Porterhouse wasn’t the perfect woman, she might do in a pinch, he considered. And better someone he knew than someone he didn’t – even if she did come with a bit too much scandal.

Chapter 7

On Scandalous Thoughts About Women

Evangeline gave a sigh before she looked up from the book. “These two will certainly end up together,” she stated with a good deal of satisfaction. “I look forward to learning how, though.” She turned to regard Lord Sommers for a moment. “Even though they apparently knew one another when they were younger, Lady Geraldine seems a bit ... well, a bit
bold
for Lord Ballantine’s tastes.”

Jeffrey gave her a sideways glance, his face still red with embarrassment. The woman in the book was bold, yes, but the baron’s thoughts were more so. The fact that they were written out so explicitly and that Lady Evangeline seemed rather nonplussed as she read them had Jeffrey wondering if she were as bold as Geraldine.

He hadn’t even considered his book might be read by a woman when he was writing it, especially not a woman who was gently bred! How could Evangeline sit next to him and remain so ... so
calm
as a male member of the
ton
thought such scandalous thoughts about a woman? She hadn’t made so much as a peep of protest whilst reading that part of the first chapter!

“Did you not find the story a bit ... scandalous?” he wondered, keeping his voice down when he remembered her maid was sitting on the other side of Evangeline.

Frowning, Evangeline thought for a moment. “No,” she finally answered with a shake of her head. “Quite the contrary, given this is the story of a peer.”

It was Jeffrey’s turn to frown. “You expected it to be ... to be
more
scandalous because a
peer
is involved?” he asked outright.
Goodness!
What kind of books was Evangeline Tennison used to reading?

All kinds
, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. What else did the poor girl have to do all day but read books, given her brother was away on his scientific expeditions most of the time? She had probably read every single book in the Rosemount House library!

Evangeline shrugged before she realized the baron probably wasn’t used to reading fiction. He probably had to read books about farming and parliamentary procedures – books that would be better used to put a person to sleep. “Not scandalous, necessarily,” she said with a shake of her head. “But it was, no doubt, written by a man who is familiar with life in the
ton
, and from what I gather from my brother’s occasional comments on the matter, the men can be a bit ... uncouth.”

Jeffrey stared at the earl’s sister for a moment, wondering how it was she had deduced that the book was written by a man. “Why do you think it was written by a man?” he wondered, apparently no longer concerned about her feminine sensibilities.

Evangeline blinked, somewhat surprised by the question. “Well,” she hedged a moment. “The description of Lord Ballantine is as I would expect a man to describe him. There is no mention as to whether or not he is handsome, nor anything about the color of his eyes or the shape of his nose. If he has a square jaw or a strong chin. There’s also no description of his clothing. The color. The cut. Whether or not it’s made of quality fabrics. Does he wear boots or shoes? Are they shined?

“Had a woman written this, I’m quite certain those details would have been described in great detail,” she explained with a nod. “Of course, I could be wrong,” she added with a shrug, wondering at the baron’s quizzical expression as she gave him her list of reasons.

Straightening on the bench, Jeffrey regarded Evangeline for a moment. No, the lady couldn’t be wrong. She
wasn’t
wrong. And he rather doubted she was often wrong about anything. “And the description of Miss Porterhouse?” he asked, anxious to hear her take on the heroine of the story.

At his query, Evangeline suddenly seemed at a loss. “I have not met a woman quite like her whilst paying calls. Nor did I have any classmates who were like her in character,” she answered carefully, her head shaking a bit.

“Classmates?” Jeffrey repeated, his brow furrowing.

Evangeline nodded. “I attended Warwick’s Grammar and Finishing School,” she said. “For three years.”

“Ah,” Jeffrey answered, folding his arms across his chest. The finishing school was favored by aristocratic families who wished to have their daughters learn how to speak French, dance, draw and paint, play piano forté, and sew. “So, you probably attended with other young ladies of gentle breeding,” he decided, thinking the girls from Warwick’s probably didn’t plan practical jokes or pull pranks when they weren’t in class. At least, not like the ones he’d been guilty of at Eton and Cambridge.

Nodding, Evangeline said, “Most of my classmates are married now. And my experience with Society events is still rather limited, so perhaps there are women like Miss Porterhouse, and I just haven’t yet met them.”

Jeffrey gave her a sideways glance. “Are you sure you are not like Miss Porterhouse?” he gently teased, wondering too late why he wished she were.

Evangeline’s eyes widened in shock. “I most certainly am
nothing
like Geraldine,” she said, her emphatic response causing Jeffrey to raise a brow. “Even if they were the best of friends when they were children, she was far too forward with Lord Ballantine,” she argued. “I don’t know how she expects to find a suitable match when her reputation is already in question. Perhaps we’ll learn if she truly is ruined, for I rather doubt this is her first time being so forward with a member of your sex.”

His eyebrows furrowing so a fold of skin formed between them, Jeffrey shook his head. “What ... what makes you say that?”

Shrugging one shoulder, Evangeline lowered her voice before saying, “If she is so forward with Lord Ballantine, she is no doubt that way with other gentlemen,” she reasoned quickly, “Which means she is probably a target of gossip. Ballantine has heard she may have been intimate with as many as three gentlemen. I cannot believe he heard it directly from the guilty parties involved, which means he heard it in the form of gossip.”

Jeffrey considered her words for a long time before he nodded, realizing any man who came into contact with a character like Geraldine Porterhouse would talk about her. “Men are the worst gossips,” he said in agreement.

It was Evangeline’s turn to be shocked. “They are?” she asked in surprise.
Lord Sommers obviously hasn’t been in a Mayfair parlor at ten o’clock in the morning!

Suppressing the urge to laugh at Evangeline, Jeffrey merely nodded. And then he watched as her expression changed from one of astonishment to one of concern. “What is it?” he wondered.

Evangeline shook her head. “I was just wondering what was being said ... about me, is all,” she whispered, a flush of pink coloring her face. “If anything,” she added quickly, not wanting to suggest there was any reason she might be a source of gossip.

Recognizing her look for what it was, Jeffrey leaned in and said, “I have not heard a single offensive word spoken about you.” He could have claimed he hadn’t heard a single word of
anything
about her, but that would be a bald-faced lie. Most of what he had heard had more to do with the pity people felt for her – pity because the poor chit was stuck with Lord Everly, her inattentive and mostly-absent brother, as a protector. And there were those who referred to her as a bluestocking, but he didn’t find the term particularly offensive.
What was wrong with a woman who was educated?
he often wondered. Wouldn’t a man appreciate being able to speak on subjects other than the latest gossip and the fashions from France over breakfast with his wife?

I would
, he thought with a sigh.

He glanced in her direction and was surprised at the expression she showed. “What is it?” he asked.

“I find it very difficult to believe you,” Evangeline stated, determined to make sure the baron understood he wasn’t allowed to lie to her. “That is, unless you spend most of your time in your apartments and not out among the
ton
.”

Jeffrey frowned, a bit offended that she thought he lived in housing meant for a bachelor rather than in the house in Cavendish Square he had inherited from his father. His frown deepened when he realized she was accusing him. “Are you calling me a liar, Lady Evangeline?” he challenged in response, deciding he really was offended.
How dare she?

Evangeline’s brows arched up and then settled back down to their normal placement. “Not exactly,” she answered finally. “Yes,” she said after another pause.

Jeffrey blinked. And then he burst out laughing. “I, my lady, do not find the term ‘bluestocking’ an offensive word when describing the attributes of a lady,” he said in his own defense.

Bluestocking!

There it was. The word she’d been dreading. The term she had suspected was being used to describe her. And his flippant statement hadn’t made the word any less palatable.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Evangeline stared at the baron for a long time. She had known the
ton
had been saying things about her – about her tendency to read too much – and now the moniker of ‘bluestocking’ had been applied to her. She would never be able to lose the label; even if she claimed to be spending her days doing embroidery – which is exactly what she did most days – or drawing silhouettes or painting or playing piano-forté – she would never be anything but a bluestocking to those in the
ton
.

Jeffrey suddenly remembered her comment about staying in his apartments and thought it best to clear up that matter as well. “And I own a house in Cavendish Square, my lady. Although I spend my nights and mornings there, I spend far more time among my peers,” he said gently.

Still miffed at the suggestion she was a bluestocking, Evangeline straightened suddenly. “I must go,” she said, not wanting to spend another minute with a member of the aristocracy.

“My lady?” Jeffrey replied, concern evident in his voice.

“I promised Lady Samantha I would pay a call this morning,” she said, suddenly not able to make eye contact with the baron.

“Of course.” Jeffrey stood up and offered her his hand. Evangeline stared at it for a full second before placing her own gloved hand in his. She stood up, making sure the book ended up in the crook of her other arm. “Good day, Lord Sommers,” she said as she gave him a curtsy.

Jeffrey felt a bit of panic. He didn’t want her to take her leave of him, at least, not yet. “May I escort you to Lady Samantha’s?” he offered suddenly. “Fitzsimmons Manor is on my way,” he lied. Actually, Lord Chamberlain’s house was only on his way if he walked two extra miles and made at least three turns getting home from there.

Evangeline gave her a maid a glance. “I think not, Lord Sommers. I should hate to think of the gossip our jaunt would elicit.”

Jeffrey had to suppress the urge to wince at her comment. She was right, of course. Even with her maid following them, there would be someone who would claim there was something illicit going on between the two of them.
An affaire
.

A sense of disappointment settled over the baron before he remembered the book. “Then, when can we next meet?” he asked, pointing to the book. “To read?”

A rather pleasant shiver traveled down Evangeline’s spine as she considered Lord Sommers’ question. He seemed so eager! “What about tomorrow? In the middle of Grosvenor Square?” she suggested. “If the weather is fine,” she amended.

Jeffrey nodded. “Ten o’clock?” he offered.

Evangeline nodded. “Ten o’clock.”

Jeffrey was about to allow her to leave when he considered the unpredictable British climate. “And if the weather is not fine?” he wondered suddenly. “What then?”

The earl’s sister considered some options. Although it wasn’t particularly proper for Lord Sommers to call on her, the visit might generate some gossip that could work in her favor. Imagine the
on-dit
suggesting Lady Evangeline was being visited by a man whilst her brother was still abroad!
What’s the worst that could happen?
That she’d be ruined?
It would serve my brother right for having stayed away so long
, she thought spitefully.

A shiver of excitement had her holding her breath lest Jeffrey hear her sudden gasp. “The library at Rosemount House,” she said with a curt nod, feeling rather bold just then. “We can have tea and biscuits whilst we read.”

Jeffrey didn’t hide his surprise at her suggestion. And he suddenly found himself hoping for inclement weather.

Days and days of it.

“Very good, my lady,” he said as he reached for her hand. His lips brushed over her gloved knuckles before he straightened. “I look forward to tomorrow, and to Chapter Two,” he added. “Promise me you won’t read ahead,” he ordered with a cocked eyebrow.

Evangeline wondered if the baron expected a response, but she replied with, “I promise I will not,” before giving him a curtsy.

Giving her a deep bow, Jeffrey took his leave of Evangeline and her maid and headed back toward the bookshop.

He intended to have a word with Mr. Pritchard about the limited availability of his book.

One copy, indeed!