The baron made his way to the third story of the shop, figuring the book he sought, In Pursuit of the Perfect Woman: A Gentleman’s Guide to Finding a Wife, would be mid-priced. At least, Thomas Christianson, the Earl of Atherton, had assured him it was affordable. Atherton had also sworn by the book’s recommendations, claiming to have used its advice to gain not only a loving wife, but one who came with a substantial dowry and a disposition that not only tolerated his mistress, but encouraged him to take another. “You never know when the first one will tire of you, dear,” she’d apparently said, “So it’s best to have another waiting in the wings. Or between the sheets, I suppose.”
Matthew wasn’t sure if he believed his friend’s recollection of Lady Atherton’s position on mistresses, but the man did have money with which to gamble at Black’s. Although Matthew didn’t gamble to excess – he couldn’t afford to do so given his limited means – he thought it would be an improvement for his position in Society to stay at the gaming tables longer than half an hour once a week.
The baron stopped in his tracks as he reached the top of the stairs. Although it was too early for most shoppers of the famed bookseller, the third floor could claim at least one other on this pleasant day.
One of the female persuasion.
A female who was rather beautiful, in fact. Lit from above by a skylight and dressed entirely in pink, she appeared almost angelic as the beams of light cascaded around her. Although her head was bent over an open book and somewhat shadowed by the brim of her pink bonnet, her profile suggested she was young but at least of marriageable age.
As Matthew Winters regarded the tall gel at the end of the hallway, he thought she seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place where he might have met her. In a ballroom, perhaps, or maybe she had been perched on a phaeton parked outside of Hunter’s Tea Emporium.
The thought reminded him that he’d promised his mother he would escort her to Hunter’s for an ice sometime that week. Given the fair weather, he figured he had best fulfill the obligation sooner than later. If it rained, he’d be forced to enter the premises and endure being introduced to every available unmarried daughter of the peerage.
Well, a number of them anyway.
The shop wasn’t large enough to accommodate all of them.
The baron made his way past the shelves featuring books on botany and physiology and around a table on which was an artfully arranged display of books on keeping a household.
Convinced the woman was about to take her leave of the book shop, Matthew was determined to introduce himself before she did so.
Passing the sportsman’s section, he paused to glance at a book on fly-fishing. He was about to open the slim volume when he noticed the woman motioning toward one of the lounging rooms. He was nearly in greeting distance when her lady’s maid suddenly appeared in the doorway.
Damnation!
The woman turned and regarded him for only a moment, recognition suddenly apparent in her eyes. “Ah, Lord Ballantine,” the willowy blonde said as she held out her hand in his direction. The maid suddenly stepped back and pretended to study a book on art history.
Stunned, Matthew had to force his mouth to stay closed. Apparently they had met in the past, but he still couldn’t put a name to the face. She was poised, not the least bit embarrassed about her height, and definitely not a milkwater maid. “My lady,” he answered as he took her hand and kissed the back of the pink silken glove. “You have me at a disadvantage, I’m afraid,” he admitted, deciding a bluff wouldn’t work.
The woman, who sported a light pink pelisse and matching parasol, which, thankfully, remained closed, gave him a brilliant smile. “Geraldine Porterhouse. I believe you play cards with my brother, Richard.” After a slight pause, she added, “Lord Afterly,” in her light voice. A familiar voice.
Matthew gave a quick shake of his head. Of course, I wouldn’t have known the lady’s identity! The last time he had seen Lady Geraldine Porterhouse, she was still in the schoolroom! “I suppose no one gets away with calling you ‘Jerry’ these days,” he commented in a teasing voice.
Her sea green eyes widening in surprise, Geraldine raised a hand to cover her mouth. “You do remember! Although, I must admit, I wish you didn’t,” she replied with a wan smile. A pink flush colored her face before she could lower her head.
The brim of her pink hat briefly hid her features from Matthew. She’s become a lovely creature, he thought as he wondered to whom she was married.
Her parents, the Earl and Countess of Afterly, had both drowned when their Continent-bound ship went down near the coast of Spain. They had been on their Grand Tour of Europe, their trip nearly complete when they perished. Richard Porterhouse, still in his twenties, inherited the earldom. But his penchant for traveling – his avocation was archaeology – meant his younger sister was left on her own for months at a time. At least the poor chit was a sociable creature; she managed to attend a variety of ton events despite not having an escort nor a companion at her elbow. Even though he had only been back in London a few days, Matthew had already heard some gossip about her – everyone in the ton had heard about the supposed exploits of Lady Geraldine Porterhouse.
“It looks as if you were about to take your leave. May I escort you to your carriage?” Matthew offered, extending an elbow in her direction.
Geraldine glanced back to ensure her maid still shadowed her. “Why, that’s very kind of you, my lord,” she replied, moving to rest her hand on his arm as if she did it everyday. “I am actually on my way to shop in New Bond Street.”
“Call me Ballantine, of course,” he replied quickly, daring a quick glance at Geraldine’s jewel-bedecked hand on his arm. There were three rings, but none on her fourth finger.
The daughter of an earl gave him a nod. “A barony seems to suit you, Ballantine,” Geraldine commented as she allowed him to lead them down the stairs. “How long has it been?” she wondered.
Matthew knew she referred to the death of his father, a rather unexpected event that left his mother an almost helpless widow and a barony near receivership. “Coming up on four years now,” he finally answered, chiding himself on how he had allowed the innocent question to result in a sudden fit of melancholy.
They made their way to the front of the bookstore, Geraldine’s maid following close behind. Not comfortable making small talk, Ballantine wondered what topic he might bring up to keep the gel talking. “Forgive me, but I don’t recall reading about your wedding. Who is the lucky man, if I may ask?” he wondered as a footman saw to the door.
Turning her head to regard the baron as they passed through the front doors of the establishment, Geraldine had to resist the urge to snort. “You didn’t read about a wedding involving me because there hasn’t been one,” she countered with a shake of her head and a quick wave of the hand decorated with gemstones. Or, perhaps they were paste. He couldn’t really tell.
Matthew nearly stopped in his tracks. Not married? Geraldine Porterhouse was one of prettiest chits in the ton! Her father had been an earl. Her brother was now the Earl of Afterly. How could she have avoided the bonds of marriage? “But you’re ... betrothed, certainly,” Matthew replied, glancing up and down the street in an attempt to determine which piece of equipage would be taking the chit to her next destination.
Geraldine Porterhouse gave an audible sigh. “I am not, actually,” she replied with an eyebrow that arched suggestively. “A situation that will probably not change until my brother can see fit to spend more than a fortnight in London. Or a highwayman kidnaps me and takes me to Gretna Green,” she added in a suddenly excited voice, one eyebrow arching up again, as if she found the prospect of an elopement preferable to a more respectable betrothal.
Frowning, Matthew wondered where in the world Richard Porterhouse might be at the moment. “Is Afterly still in Greece?” he guessed, his frown fo
rming a vertical line between his brows.
“Rome now, I think,” Geraldine replied with a shrug. “But I’ve received word he will be returning soon. Which means he’s about to run out of funding and needs to come home to beg for more,” she said sotto voce. “I certainly hope he remembered his promise to bring me back a bauble or two from Italy. Seems the least he can do after leaving me alone for so long.”
Matthew nodded his understanding. Richard Porterhouse spent months abroad on archeological expeditions, digging up bits of pottery and other remnants of societies long dead. “Does he truly leave you ... alone?” Matthew asked with concern, a shiver of excitement traveling down his spine as another part of him anticipated what he could be doing with the divine Miss Porterhouse until her brother returned from the Continent. Kissing her, certainly. Divesting her of the ridiculous pink gown she wore. Taking his time as he learned every inch of her with his tongue and teeth and the tips of his fingers. Burying himself inside her. Taking his pleasure until he was delirious. Giving her pleasure until she nearly fainted. And then doing it all over again the next day.
“Why, Lord Ballantine, you naughty boy,” Geraldine replied with a lifted eyebrow, her voice suggesting she wasn’t teasing but guessing exactly what he was thinking.
His face reddening at her comment, Matthew wondered how he could respond. Agree with her assessment? He was thinking rather naughty thoughts of her just then.
Deny he had been thinking any such things? He could, but then he’d be telling a lie.
Ignore her comment? Ignore it, and then say something completely unrelated so she would be forced to change the subject?
He was about to agree with her when the earl’s daughter suddenly stopped, forcing Matthew to spin to his right as her hand still clung to his arm. Geraldine’s maid, only a few steps behind them, nearly collided with her mistress.
Almost face-to-face, Matthew regarded Geraldine with a stunned look. “My lady?” he said in alarm.
Geraldine blinked, and her mouth was open as if she were about to speak, but no sound came out at first. Lowering her face, Geraldine sighed. “I apologize, my lord,” she said in a small voice. “I ... I cannot believe I could be so ... bold. So brazen. You must think me awfully uncouth,” she added in a most apologetic tone.
Matthew stared at the suddenly sorrowful woman who stood before him. Her confident air had been replaced with one of contrition, her willowy frame appearing shrunken as her shoulders slumped. He thought he saw her eyes brighten with unshed tears. And at the thought that she might start to cry right there in the middle of New Bond Street had the baron in a state of near panic. “My lady, whatever you are thinking, let me assure you, there is no reason to believe that you have offended me, for you have not,” he assured her. “And I ... I do not think of you as particularly bold. Or brazen,” he added for good measure.
Liar, he thought just as quickly. For, compared to other ladies of the ton, he suddenly realized Lady Geraldine was rather bold. And a bit too brazen, in fact. And the only woman on the planet with whom he could imagine enjoying the scandalous activities they could perform in his bedchamber.
Or hers.
I am going to hell.
Geraldine lifted her head, her eyes finally meeting his. One tear had escaped and was leaving a wet trail down her cheek. “I merely meant to tease,” she whispered, lifting her reticule in an attempt to find a handkerchief. Before she could get it open, though, Matthew had his own out of his pocket and was gently dabbing at her cheek.
He could admit he was guilty of the very crime she mentioned. He should own up to it. He should put her out of her misery and admit she was right. But he found he rather liked this version of Lady Geraldine. Teary-eyed damsel in distress. All woman. All soft and pliable. Angelic.
I could put her on a pedestal and worship her, he thought with a sigh.
But I’d rather worship her naked body in my bed, his baser side argued.
Christ! He hadn’t realized how much he missed having a mistress until that very moment. If he spent two more minutes with the lady, she would be in grave danger of losing her maidenhead – if she even still possessed it, given the on-dit that suggested she had been intimate with at least three gentlemen. Matthew had a passing thought that her jewels might have been gifts from those gentleman, a thought that had his good mood suddenly turning sour.
Matthew glanced around, desperate to find an excuse to take his leave of her. “Let me assure my lady that you may tease me whenever you wish,” Matthew finally said, not realizing how his words could be misinterpreted.
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.
H
e 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.
The Story of a Baron (The Sisters of the Aristocracy) Page 4