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

by Linda Rae Sande

  The excitement ... no, the pride he’d felt on entering the bookshop that morning completely disappeared. All because Lady Evangeline had beat him to his own book!

  Or had she?

  Perhaps he could talk her into allowing him to buy the first copy. Surely the woman could be reasonable. He would simply explain that he had written the book and wanted to buy the shop’s first copy.

  And then he would promise her the next one!

  Jeffrey’s new-found excitement was doused almost as quickly as it had been ignited. He couldn’t tell Lady Evangeline he was the author! He didn’t want the entire ton to know he had written a book that sometimes poked fun at the aristocracy. Nor did he wish to be known as its author should someone take exception to its content. He’d been most careful in the names and descriptions he used for his cast of characters, changing them so that no one would be offended. But what if someone he hadn’t used as inspiration accused him of slander? Or, worse, leaving said person out of the story when they wanted to be featured?

  “Pardon me, my lady, but I wondered if I might have a word with you?” he ventured as he stood on the threshold of the lounging room. At first, he thought Lady Evangeline was the only person in the room, but a young woman dressed in maid’s livery was standing in front of one of the chairs. He remembered her from when he had glanced into the room on his way to the New Arrivals section.

  Lady Evangeline, still holding his closed book on her arm, was clearly startled as she turned to regard him. Her eyes were bright, as if she were about to cry. “So that I might make an even larger cake?” she responded lightly.

  Jeffrey stood staring at the young woman for a few moments before he realized he had offended her with his comment about cake. “Truly, my lady, I meant no offense with my comment,” he claimed as he shook his head. “And, in fact, I intended to inform you of your mistaken impression on the evening we met, but then I thought it would be wrong of me to do so. And so it is I who has made a cake of it.” He paused a moment, hoping she was following his logic. “By not making myself clear,” he added with a nod.

  Lady Evangeline regarded the baron for a moment, still surprised by his sudden appearance and even more surprised by his words. His tone was apologetic, his eyes suitably downcast and his manner most sober. “So ... no cakes?” she managed to get out before she had to suppress a sob by swallowing. Hard.

  Jeffrey reached for her hand and leaned down to brush his lips over the back of it. “Only at tea, milady,” he said with a shake of his head. He was unaware that he still held onto her bare fingers until he felt her gentle tug. “Oh, pardon,” he said, a flush coloring his face as he released her hand.

  The earl’s sister nodded, noticing his embarrassment. Suddenly not wanting to add to it, she asked, “And what, pray tell, brought you to the Temple today?” she asked carefully, realizing it would be best to change the topic of conversation. All the talk of cake had her feeling a bit hungry and wishing The Temple of the Muses offered a tea service.

  Her question could not have been more perfect. “That book,” Jeffrey replied as he pointed to the tome she held on her arm.

  Her eyes widening, Evangeline glanced down at The Story of a Baron. “Oh?” she replied.

  “I wish to buy it,” he stated.

  Straightening to her full five-foot, eight-inch height, Evangeline said, “As do I.”

  The room was suddenly rather warm.

  Jeffrey frowned. “May I ask ... why?” he wondered.

  Evangeline’s eyes widened a fraction before she shrugged. “I thought to learn more about a baron, I suppose,” she replied, deciding not to add that she was still intrigued by the very man who stood before her. She had been ever since that night at Lord Weatherstone’s ball. “And since it’s written by Anonymous, I’m thinking the author is probably a baron himself, so the story may be autobiographical.”

  Forcibly closing his mouth, Jeffrey swallowed. How had she managed to come to the correct conclusion? Well, half correct anyway. Most of what was in the book was what Jeffrey hoped would happen.

  “As a baron, I thought to learn more about one of my brethren,” Jeffrey responded after a moment. “Do you suppose you might allow me to buy it today? I would be sure to give it to you when I am finished,” he offered, thinking the gift of a book wouldn’t break one of Society’s rules.

  Evangeline stifled a gasp, but her maid did not. “Really, Annabelle, it’s not as if the gentleman has offered to buy me a gown or jewels,” she scolded. Although, the thought of Lord Sommers buying her anything caused a fluttery sensation in her stomach. And one of annoyance. If he kept her much longer, she would miss her opportunity to call on Lady Samantha at eleven o’clock. For tea. With cake.

  “I would be happy to buy you your own copy,” Jeffrey offered, pouncing on the alternative she offered. Or almost anything you wanted, he thought, realizing the chit had him on the verge of frustration. And lust. And impatience.

  One of her eyebrows arched up. “Is there a reason you cannot wait until Mr. Pritchard can get you another?” Evangeline wondered, realizing she really didn’t want to wait to read the tale.

  And why should she?

  She’d been sure to arrive at the store just before it opened for the very purpose of acquiring the book. If this ... this brigand was so determined to get his hands on the same book, he should have arrived before I did!

  “My lady,” the baron stated with a sudden hint of annoyance. “I could wait, I suppose, but is there any reason why you cannot wait?” he countered, his hands clasping behind his back in an effort to still them. He feared if he left them loose he might be tempted to strangle the chit. Or pull her very hard against the front of his body. He had never in his nine-and-twenty years been tempted to take the life of a woman and kiss her all at the same time, but at the moment, he thought he might actually be capable. Of both. At the same time.

  Oh, why couldn’t he have arrived just a few minutes earlier? Had he managed to wake up when he planned, he would have been at the front door when the shop opened! As it was, his valet reminded him of the date when he opened the bedchamber drapes and added, “You said you wished to be on your way early this day.”

  Despite the valet’s very best efforts, it still took the same amount of time it always did to shave and dress him. Jeffrey even left the house without having so much as a cup of coffee or a bit of breakfast. And with all this talk of cake, his stomach was reminding him of his oversight.

  It was all going so wrong!

  If only the bookshop offered a tea service!

  Evangeline stared at the impertinent man, stunned he would suggest that she give up her claim to the new book simply because he couldn’t wait to read it. Did other patrons of The Temple of Muses have this problem when they wanted a new book? When they planned their morning for the express purpose of arriving upon the opening of the store to acquire said book?

  She rather doubted it. But, given the baron’s apparent zeal for the same book, she realized that he had probably planned his morning much the same as she had. He had probably arisen a bit earlier than usual, rushing through his morning toilette in an effort to be out of the house and at the storefront precisely at nine o’clock. Perhaps he had been delayed due to his valet or his breakfast or traffic. Perhaps it had been his intention to arrive before the store actually opened, much like she had. Did circumstances really dictate that she be the one to claim the book simply because she had arranged everything in advance and it had all worked out for her when it had not for this gentleman?

  This gentleman.

  The thought struck her suddenly. This is Lord Sommers, she reminded herself. The only gentleman to go out of his way to gain an introduction to her at Lord Weatherstone’s ball.

  “You intended to be here earlier, didn’t you?” she finally answered, realizing the baron was star
ing at her with a look of expectation ... and perhaps, something else.

  “I did. I ... My morning did not work out as I intended,” he agreed, his sigh audible in the quiet surrounds. Jeffrey’s gaze softened suddenly. If he imagined her without the ridiculous bonnet, he could almost see the honey blonde, blue-eyed vision he’d spied consorting with the potted palm. The willowy blonde he absolutely had to be introduced to before he took his leave of Lord Weatherstone’s ball.

  And I was ready to strangle her, he thought with a suddenly guilty heart.

  “Forgive me, Lady Evangeline,” he whispered, his head dropping into a bow. “I ... I have been an absolute ass and ...” He paused, realizing almost immediately what word had just come out of his mouth. Closing his eyes for a moment, he hoped beyond hope that he hadn’t just spoken the inappropriate word loud enough so the lady could hear. “And worse,” he added, his head shaking from side to side.

  The chit stared at him a moment, her look of surprise slowly replaced with one of contrition. “Lord Sommers?” she said with a hint of a question, the sound of her voice suddenly one of awe. “I ... I apologize. I did not consider we might both find this book equally important,” she said as a becoming blush colored her face.

  Jeffrey stilled himself. Despite the serviceable pelisse and ridiculous bonnet she wore, he still found her delectable. Did her damned brother not give her an allowance for a decent modiste? Probably not. The earl was off on one of his expeditions to discover who knew what – something about fish, Jeffrey remembered just then, – leaving his comely sister all alone and fending for herself in the largest city in the world. “It is I who should apologize,” he countered, shaking his head in dismay. “About the cake. You must think me the worst kind of rake,” he stated, his eyes rolling up and around to emphasize his plight.

  “Of course, not,” Evangeline replied with a shake of her head. “You’re simply as desperate as I am,” she reasoned. “We both wish to read the same book on the day of its release.”

  Jeffrey nodded. “And there is only the one copy.”

  Evangeline nodded in return. “There is.” After a moment, she angled her head to one side. “Had you planned to spend the day reading it?” she wondered, thinking that if he had not, she would offer to read it and then turn it over to him later. After all, how long would it take to read the book? It was the story of a baron, for goodness’ sake.

  His eyebrows rising to meet his hair, Jeffrey nodded. “The entire day,” he agreed with a sigh.

  Wondering if her maid was still within earshot, Evangeline glanced around. “Me, too,” she replied, suddenly forgetting about her intention to call on Lady Samantha at eleven o’clock. Giving the baron a shrug, she considered their options. She could read it and then have it delivered to the baron’s residence. Or she could allow him to read it first and have it delivered to Rosemount House. Or ...

  “Would you agree to read it ... together?” she offered with a raised eyebrow. “The weather is fine. We could find a bench in the square ...”

  “And read it side-by-side?” the baron wondered, a shiver of excitement racing up his spine. His voice was quiet, as if they were arranging a clandestine affaire.

  A shiver passed through Evangeline, the sensation leaving behind goose bumps on her arms and down her spine. “I think we shall have to. Although I can read upside-down when circumstances require, I would not wish to do so when reading for pleasure.”

  Another shiver passed through Jeffrey. Pleasure. The woman read for pleasure. Probably because she has nothing else to do, poor thing. He could think of several other things she could do for pleasure, none of them involving books. All of them involving him. Naked, between the linens of his favorite bed in the family estate in Herefordshire. Or in his bedchamber in Sommers Place in Cavendish Square. “Of course,” was all he could manage, hoping his arousal wasn’t going to make itself evident behind the placket of his breeches.

  “Then, it’s settled,” Evangeline stated with a curt nod. Clutching the book in one arm, she led the way to the stairs, knowing her maid would hurry to join them at any moment. Before she reached the bottom of the stairs, she had both gloves pulled onto her hands. When she passed by the circular desk, she merely nodded to one of the clerks, who acknowledged her with a quick nod and a receipt ready for her to sign.

  By the time they reached the front door of the bookshop, Lord Sommers had hurried forward to open the door.

  He stood aside as Lady Evangeline and her maid took their leave of the store. When he noticed Mr. Pritchard staring at him with a look of shock, he gave the man a shrug. “Perhaps you can order me another?” he said sotto voce. He tossed a shilling in the man’s direction. “Good day,” he called out and hurried to catch up to the women.

  Chapter 5

  Affaire in the Square

  A moment later, Grandby descended the stairs into the lobby of the bookshop, his eyes darting about as if he expected books to come flying off the shelves. When he was noticed by the manager, he gave the man a nod and hurried up to him. “Did Lady Evangeline leave with Lord Sommers?” he asked sotto voce.

  Harold Pritchard nodded, wondering at the earl’s lowered voice. “She did,” he confirmed, a bit reluctantly. “With his book,” he added, one eyebrow cocked up.

  Grandby frowned, wondering if the man meant that Lady Evangeline had run off with a book that belonged to the baron or if he meant the baron had written the book. If Lord Sommers was in pursuit, Evangeline was at a disadvantage given her heeled shoes. And the fact that she was of the feminine persuasion. “Good day,” he said quickly, donning his hat as he took his leave of the shop and wondered why his goddaughter would have done such a thing as steal a baron’s book.

  He spotted the pair as they made their way into the center of the square. From the way they walked side-by-side, Lady Evangeline’s hand on Lord Sommers’ arm, it didn’t appear as if Lord Sommers was in pursuit of Lady Evangeline, nor did he seem like he was in a hurry to retrieve his book. Evangeline’s maid followed behind, apparently unconcerned that her mistress was in the company of the baron. Curious, the earl crossed the street and entered the square, deciding he needed to keep an eye on the situation.

  Located in Finsbury Square, the building that hosted The Temple of the Muses proved the perfect backdrop as Lord Sommers and Lady Evangeline settled themselves onto a park bench. The baron made sure to leave a few inches between them at first, but when Evangeline opened the book to the first page, she allowed him to pull the book in his direction so that one side of it rested on his left thigh while the other was held by her gloved hand which she supported on her right thigh.

  “Are you a fast reader?” Jeffrey wondered as he allowed her to turn the front pages until the first page of Chapter One appeared. “I ask only because I am not,” he clarified, not wanting to attempt to race her to the finish of each spread.

  “Not particularly,” Evangeline replied with a shake of her head. “But if I get to the end of a page before you do, I shall wait until you have indicated you are ready for the next.”

  Jeffrey nodded and then wondered if he should feel a bit offended. Did the earl’s daughter think him incapable of reading at the same speed as she? Although he usually didn’t read quickly, he had written the book – he could probably skim the thing and be done in a hour or so.

  Of course, he had no idea what his publisher had done with the manuscript after their last meeting. An editor might have changed the story a bit, or added a character or deleted a chapter. He might have changed his prose so much the life would be sucked out of his carefully constructed words, or perhaps the man had embellished the story to make it more flowery or less comedic or more dramatic or completely ridiculous. I’ll have to read it completely, he realized, giving Evangeline a nod when he realized she was waiting for a response. “I am ready, my lady,” he said with more certainty than he felt
.

  “As am I,” Evangeline replied with a grin. She lowered her spectacles so they rested on the end of her nose and began to read.

  Chapter 6

  Chapter One: In Another Time and Place

  Matthew Winters, Baron Ballantine, entered his favorite bookshop in search of a particular new title. Having just returned from the family estate in Shropshire, a poorly maintained pile set against a hill and overlooking pastures dotted with sheep and a fishing pond, the baron found the library in his bachelor apartments just as depressing as when he’d left it the year before.

  He had missed the fall sessions of Parliament in favor of helping with the harvest and seeing to repairs on several structures on Ballantine properties. Christmas at Ballantine Park had been boring in the extreme – three days of drifting snow prevented him from leaving the estate, even to ride his horse. Once the snow had melted, it was time to arrange for seed and sowing. Not particularly fond of farming and having tenants who could see to the lands, Matthew decided it was time to return to Mayfair.

  The Season was about to begin.

  Despite the pleasant weather and a stack of invoices that demanded his attention – and most of his bank account – Matthew was determined to spend the day ensconced in his library reading. Trouble was, he had read every book on the shelves.

  Well, read was probably too strong a word.

  The tome on farming had at least been opened and occasionally used for reference, and the two on parliamentary procedure had been excellent sleep aides, but Ballantine was in search of more satisfying fare. Nothing fictional, he had decided the night before, but rather something to help with a particular problem. Hence, his trip to his favorite bookshop, The Palace of Prose.