Slowing to allow her maid to catch up, Evangeline finally turned her attention to Annabelle. “I apologize. I don’t know what came over me back there,” she whispered hoarsely. She glanced about, surprised at the number of nurses and children who milled about, at the number of young matrons walking with their husbands, at the number of footmen who hurried through the square, no doubt running errands for their households. Fumbling in her reticule, a difficult task given the book she held under her arm, Evangeline finally pulled out her time piece. “I told Sam I would have tea with her and Lady Julia today,” she said before stuffing the gold chronometer back into her reticule. “If we hurry, we can be there at eleven.”
Still a bit breathless, Annabelle merely nodded her understanding. Lady Samantha would expect them, she knew. And while her mistress would be enjoying tea in the Fitzsimmons Manor parlor, Annabelle hoped she would be enjoying a few moments in the servant’s hall having tea with a footman. A very handsome footman.
Seated in one of the floral upholstered chairs in the Fitzsimmons Manor parlor, Lady Samantha Fitzsimmons sighed as she removed several stitches from her latest attempt at embroidery. Usually after a few minutes or so of sewing, she attained a rhythm with the needle and thread that allowed her mind to wander without having to be too concerned about the size and placement of her next stitch. Today was apparently not a usual day.
Her best friend, Lady Julia Harrington, never seemed to have difficulty with the intricate sewing. She was also prolific. Julia managed to finish two or three samplers for every one Samantha completed. But the earl’s daughter wasn’t nearly as skilled at painting as Samantha. In fact, Julia had given up further attempts at that particular art when her last piece, a still life of a bowl of fruit, was misidentified by her father as a cairn in Devonshire.
“I wonder what’s become of Eva,” Samantha commented as she dared a glance at the mantle clock. She had expected Lady Evangeline to appear at ten o’clock on the dot, for the sister of the Earl of Everly was usually quite punctual.
Julia lifted her head from her embroidery hoop, absently pushing an errant golden blonde lock behind her ear. “Today is Tuesday,” she remarked calmly. “New books at the Temple,” she added with a lifted eyebrow.
Samantha relaxed. “Of course. How could I forget?” The brunette returned her attention to her stitching. “What topic do you suppose she’ll choose this time?” she wondered, always surprised by the variety of books Evangeline managed to procure – and read in their entirety.
“Barons, in fact.”
Both eliciting gasps of surprise, Julia and Samantha lifted their heads in unison to find Lady Evangeline on the threshold of the Fitzsimmons Manor parlor. “Barons?” Samantha repeated with a grin, setting aside her embroidery hoop and rising from her chair to greet her friend.
Julia did the same, hurrying over to kiss Evangeline on the cheek. “Oh, do tell,” she urged as she took hold of the book that Samantha held on one arm.
“The Story of a Baron?” Samantha read from the front cover. “Why, Eva, I had no idea you were interested in barons,” she teased as she moved to ring the bell for tea.
Giggling, Julia rested the book on one arm and flipped it open with her free hand. She read the first line aloud. “Matthew Winters, Baron Ballantine, entered his favorite bookshop in search of a particular new title.” She turned the first few pages, noting how they were already bent. “You’ve already started reading this,” she accused as she flipped to the back page.
Evangeline nodded. “Indeed. And not by myself,” she replied as she moved to take her usual place on the settee facing the fireplace. Although the navy striped velvet was worn, Evangeline found the settee the most comfortable piece of furniture in the parlor.
“Oh?” Samantha waved to a maid who was wheeling the tea cart into the room. “I’ll serve, thank you,” she said to the maid as she leaned over to prepare the pot and pour the tea.
“Who was your companion then?” Julia wondered, returning to her seat with the book still open to the last page. She read the last line. “Forever?” she added before looking up in surprise. “This is a work of fiction!” she exclaimed as she rifled through the pages. “Written by ... “ She flipped to the title page and furrowed her delicate eyebrows. “... Anonymous.”
Evangeline Tennison rarely read fiction; at least, if she did, she didn’t tell her friends about those books. She instead regaled them with information she gleaned from books on philosophy, natural science, and history.
Evangeline accepted the cup of tea Samantha held out for her. “Lord Sommers,” she said as she added a lump of sugar and a bit of milk to the cup and stirred.
Samantha nearly spilled the tea she had just poured for Julia. “Who?” she asked, her own eyebrows furrowing.
“Jeffrey Althorpe,” Julia answered, looking up from the book. “A baron. And a bachelor, no less,” she teased, closing the book and setting it aside, apparently more interested in discussing possible gossip involving a member of the ton than learning any more about the book just then.
Taking a sip of tea, Evangeline wondered how to explain herself. “He was at the Temple of Muses, and he wanted to buy that book,” she said as she pointed toward Julia. “But, seeing as how I was there first and had already decided to purchase it, we agreed to read it together until Mr. Pritchard can get another for Lord Sommers.” Rather proud she was able to distill her morning into a simple statement, Evangeline helped herself to a lemon biscuit, sat back and took another sip of her tea.
But Julia glanced over at Samantha, a look of surprise on her face. “You’re reading a book with a ... with an unmarried man?” she whispered in shock, blinking as if she might have something in her eye.
Samantha allowed a giggle. “Oh, Julia. It’s not as if they were reading it in private,” she said with a wave of her hand. She turned to look at Evangeline. “You were reading it in public, were you not?” she asked then, privately hoping that perhaps Lady Evangeline and Lord Sommers were involved in some sort of clandestine reading engagement that might lead to a more scandalous clandestine activity.
Finally! Some gossip that might involve Evangeline!
“Of course!” Evangeline responded, nearly spilling her tea. “We were ... we were on a park bench in Finsbury Square,” she explained, her face showing a bit of a pink blush just then.
“This morning?” Julia asked, one finger pointing toward the floor.
“Yes. And ... we’re meeting tomorrow morning in Grosvenor Square to continue,” Evangeline replied, figuring she may as well tell her friends the plan for reading the book the next day.
Barely able to contain her excitement, Samantha clapped her hands together. “So, you’ll be sitting ... right next to him?” she asked with widened eyes. “Thigh to thigh?” she added whilst her eyebrows waggled suggestively.
“Sam!” Evangeline scolded, her blush returning to color her face a bright shade of pink. “We don’t sit ... that close,” she argued, realizing just then that they really did sit quite close. Scandalously close, truth be told.
Julia sighed. “But I’ll bet the people who saw you thought you two were ... married,” she whispered hoarsely, her eyes closing as she imagined the cozy scene in the park.
Evangeline regarded her friend for a moment, wondering why the thought didn’t offend her. She wasn’t sure how many people would have even noticed her and the baron sitting on the park bench, their heads bent over the book spread open on their laps.
A shiver passed through her as she remembered just how snug were the breeches Lord Sommers wore, his muscular thighs straining the Nankeen fabric to near bursting. Her own thigh nearly touched his, although there were layers and layers of muslin and lawn and cambric between them. Their shoulders had touched a few times – how could they not, given how broad his were? – though neither of them seemed to mind e
nough to beg pardon or make mention of it.
But would a passerby merely think them a married couple rather than the two unrelated members of the ton they were? It would be an easy enough supposition to make. “Perhaps,” she finally replied with a shrug, trying her best to seem nonchalant. “And, anyway, what does it matter? We’re merely reading a book,” she said before taking another sip of her tea.
Samantha sighed, her head cocking to one side. “How romantic,” she breathed in a quiet, teasing voice.
Evangeline frowned and set her cup and saucer on the low table in front of her. “Sam! We were reading,” she said a bit too forcefully.
“Ah, but you were sitting thigh to thigh, right out in public, for anyone to see,” Samantha countered, her voice still soft and her brown eyes lifted up.
Daring a glance at Julia, who was doing her best to keep from giggling, Evangeline finally allowed a smile. “It was rather exciting at first,” she acknowledged. “But nothing to write to my brother about,” she added, her manner becoming more serious.
“And speaking of the wayward Everly, just when will he return to London?” Samantha wondered, her interest piqued. Having been orphaned at a young age and raised by a much older aunt and uncle, Samantha relied on her friends to keep her informed of the latest on-dit. Given Evangeline’s parents had perished on the Continent before she was old enough for her come-out, Samantha always felt a bit of kinship with her. And a fondness for her brother. Harry Tennison, Earl of Everly, may have spent most of his time on expeditions that took him to the four corners of the planet, but when he was in London, he was the closest thing Samantha had to a brother.
Evangeline smiled, glad the topic had turned to something other than Lord Sommers. And thighs. “I expect him in a week at most,” she replied, helping herself to another lemon biscuit. “But I don’t expect he’ll stay long. He’s already decided on his next trip. He wants to go to some island off of Spain. Minorca, I think he said.”
Samantha shook her head. “He cannot leave until you are settled,” she stated firmly, as if she would see to ensuring the earl did his duty.
“Oh? What’s this?” Julia asked, lifting her eyes from the book. She had The Story of a Baron open and had been reading the first page.
Squirming on the settee, Evangeline shook her head. “I don’t expect him to keep that promise,” she replied, referring to her brother’s vow that he would see to a husband for her before he departed for yet another expedition.
She wasn’t sure she wanted him to find a suitable husband for her. What if he arranged for her to marry someone from his club? Some old fart of a lord who still needed an heir? Or some younger twit who needed her dowry to pay off gambling debts? Or a bald, chinless widower? Oh, the horrors! It was bad enough she had only attended one ton ball and a few soirées the Season prior. Very few of the eligible bachelors even knew of her existence. Which made her wonder suddenly: How many aristocrats were left unmarried? Desirable ones, anyway?
Well, she knew of one, at least.
Lord Sommers.
The thought had her suddenly reeling for a moment. Jeffrey Althorpe, Baron Sommers, was unmarried. And probably not yet thirty. Handsome. With those muscular thighs and broad shoulders and long sideburns that gave him an air of authority, he was certainly desirable.
But did the man wish to marry anytime soon?
Evangeline sighed. Perhaps she could find out whilst they read the book. Shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh.
A shiver racing down her spine, Evangeline had to hide her sudden grin from her friends lest they begin teasing her all over again. Even if nothing ever came from her time reading with the baron, at least she was spending time in the company of an eligible bachelor.
Chapter 10
A Lady in Pink
Despite his wish for rain or snow or sleet or even hail, the next day was sunny and bright when Jeffrey awoke an hour earlier than usual. His anticipation at seeing Lady Evangeline had him out of bed at half-past eight o’clock.
His valet, not used to Lord Sommers being up so early, rushed about with various coats and boots for his approval as Jeffrey prepared to join the lady in Grosvenor Square. In his haste to shave his master, Timmons nearly removed Jeffrey’s sideburns on one side of his face, and then had to spend time evening out the one on the other side so it matched. Satisfied with results, he saw to Jeffrey’s stockings and doeskin breeches and then proudly displayed a pair of Hoby boots with a new shine. Although they were worn, the boots would have to do; arranging an appointment with the boot maker was nearly impossible this time of year.
At precisely ten o’clock, Jeffrey stepped out of his town coach and onto Brook Street. Straightening his coat sleeves, he glanced about and realized he and Evangeline hadn’t set an exact location within the park setting to meet. She’d only said, “In the middle.”
Jeffrey made his way along one of the diagonal paths toward the center of the square, deciding it shouldn’t be too difficult to find a lady of the ton with her maid at this time of the morning. Most of the other ladies were either paying calls or receiving calls in their parlors.
A flash of pink and black caught his eye, and he hurried past a large tree to discover Lady Evangeline making her way to a nearby park bench. Jeffrey allowed a smile to show; Evangeline was dressed entirely in pink, much like Geraldine Porterhouse had been in the first chapter of The Story of a Baron.
The chit even carried a pink parasol!
Although he had intended to show that Lady Geraldine didn’t have very refined taste when it came to her gowns, the sight of Evangeline garbed entirely in pink had him thinking that perhaps he had erred in his choice of apparel for Geraldine. Evangeline was quite stunning in her ensemble.
Perhaps he had been fashionably correct when he’d written about the lady’s approach to dressing, he realizing as he slowed his gait, intending to allow Evangeline a moment to choose their park bench before he made his presence known. Her maid, dressed entirely in black, settled onto an adjacent bench as he watched. She opened a small basket and took out what appeared to be knitting needles and a ball of yarn.
Evangeline was just about to take a seat when Jeffrey made his presence known with a shout and a wave. She smiled, an expression that seemed to make the morning sunshine even brighter than it was. Jeffrey caught his breath and took her hand. “Good morning, my lady,” he said before kissing the back of her hand. “I trust you are well this morning? In all your pink glory?” he added in a teasing voice.
Her face pinking up to match her walking gown, Evangeline regarded the baron for a moment. “I have never worn an outfit such as this. With everything the same color,” she amended quickly. “I thought I would give it a try. And make it easier for you to find me.”
Jeffrey nodded, a bit disappointed to learn that he hadn’t quite guessed right when describing a lady’s preference for monotone ensembles. “And found you, I did. And? Do you have a favorable opinion of Lady Geraldine’s mode of dress?”
Evangeline gave him a shake of her head. “I have not. In fact, I shall never wear this much pink ever again in my life,” she said firmly.
Feeling a tad disappointed at the prospect of never seeing her in a color that was rather flattering next to her pale skin and honey blonde hair, Jeffrey frowned. “’Tis a pity,” he said as he took a seat next to her on the bench. “Now, where were we when we finished yesterday?”
Evangeline had to stifle a gasp at the baron’s words. ’Tis a pity ... because he liked the color pink? Or because he thought her pretty in pink? Or ... When she realized he was giving her a look of expectation, Evangeline remembered his query. “Chapter Two,” she answered, a bit breathless. She pulled the book onto her lap and opened it, offering one side to the baron. Jeffrey gave her a nod and held onto the side that rested on his thigh. Much like they had the day before, the two
bent their heads and began to read.
Chapter 11
Chapter Two: A Lady in New Bond Street
An hour after Matthew had taken his leave of Geraldine Porterhouse, he watched the lady as she exited the modiste’s shop and made her way across New Bond Street. Her poor maid followed behind, one arm wrapped around a box barely perched on one hip whilst a hat box dangled from the other hand.
Thinking the two might be making their way to the Porterhouse residence on foot, he was about to wave them down and offer his town coach when he saw Geraldine hailing a hackney. Although one passed them by, apparently already carrying a fare, the one right behind it stopped. He watched as the two stepped up, the maid waiting for Geraldine to climb in before she followed. Once the door was shut, the hackney was off and headed toward Piccadilly.
For a moment, Matthew imagined intercepting the hackney, imagined opening the door and insisting the two join him in his equipage rather than endure a hackney ride back to Porterhouse Place. But had he done so, he realized he wouldn’t be able to come up with suitable topics for conversation, nor would he be able to work up the courage to ask her to join him for a ride in Hyde Park during the fashionable hour. Truth be told, he’d rather take her on a ride when no one else was in the park, so they might have Rotten Row all to themselves.
Coward, he thought suddenly. He had deliberately stayed in New Bond Street, ducking in and out of stores whilst keeping an eye on Madame Diana’s Emporium for the sole purpose of crossing paths with Geraldine again. And now that he had allowed her to get away, he chided himself for his cowardice.
The Story of a Baron (The Sisters of the Aristocracy) Page 6