She had him there. The chit had so much hair, it took nearly a day for it to dry completely, or so she claimed.
As to the other incident he knew of, she could only claim her gown didn’t fit her as well as it should have, and the top half of her nipple became – how had she put it? uncovered – when Lord Atherton stepped on the hem of her gown whilst they were dancing at Lord Abdington’s ball.
He recalled a similar incident when Lady Barrick had been at a dinner party and her bodice had suddenly lowered, leaving both of her nipples entirely exposed. The poor viscountess hadn’t even been aware of what happened until all the conversation at the dining table had ceased and all eyes were suddenly on her. Or rather, on her nipples. Every bit the lady, the viscountess had merely readjusted her gown and continued her conversation with Lord Abdington, who probably hadn’t heard a word she’d said before or after the incident.
What else could have happened? He’d only been gone six months!
At the sound of horses in front of the house, Smithton excused himself and moved to open the front door. Lady Geraldine entered the vestibule, followed by her maid, who bore the brunt of her lady’s shopping excursion. “When you get a moment, have Cook boil some water. After riding in a hackney, I always feel as if I need a bath,” Geraldine complained. She was about to enter the hall when she stopped short. “Richard!” Dropping her reticule, she rushed to give her brother a hug.
Richard reluctantly hugged his sister, acknowledging her maid’s curtsy with a nod. “I’ve only just arrived,” he said as they separated. He gave his sister a thorough look, realizing almost immediately that she needed a new modiste. “You’re terribly pink today,” he said, not making the comment a compliment.
Geraldine shook her head. “It’s too much, I know,” she replied. “But Madame Eunice claims it’s all the rage in France.”
Richard raised an eyebrow, wondering which France condoned such dressing. Certainly not the one that included Paris.
Chapter 14
On Scandalous Incidents
At this point in the story, Evangeline gasped, one hand moving to cover her mouth. “Oh, my,” she whispered, glancing down at her monochromatic outfit. “This is truly the last time I wear such an ensemble,” she vowed, mortified by her decision to dress like Lady Geraldine. She had thought perhaps the woman’s choice of dress was truly fashionable – somewhere.
Jeffrey shook his head. “But you’re lovely in pink, my lady,” he countered, thinking his own cheeks were certainly that color given the descriptions of Geraldine’s scandals. What had he been thinking to write such dreck?
“Lady Barrick’s incident at Lord Abdington’s ball sounds exactly like what happened to Lady Pettigrew at Lord Torrington’s dinner party last year,” Evangeline commented, her brows furrowing. Although she hadn’t been present at the dinner party, the incident had been reported in every parlor she visited the following week.
Jeffrey stiffened, remembering the incident at Grandby’s house quite well. Although he barely knew the earl, he’d been invited to attend the intimate gathering of about forty guests. Well, not so intimate, he realized, remembering how the dinner table had been so long, he couldn’t see the ends from where he sat near the middle. He’d been placed directly to the right of Viscountess Pettigrew, where he had an up-close and personal view of the lady’s charms when they suddenly went on display. Which is why he included just such an incident in the book.
Who could make up such a story?
“Now that you mention it, I do believe I heard something about that,” he admitted, glad Evangeline wasn’t in attendance at the dinner party to witness how long he stared at the surprisingly pert plums on display. Surprising because Lady Pettigrew was nearly old enough to be his mother.
“But I don’t recall hearing anything about someone prancing about in their birthday suit at Vauxhall Gardens,” Evangeline added with a shake of her head, sure that would have been a topic of conversation in someone’s parlor.
That’s because it was at Kensington Gardens, and no one was there to see Lady Bostwick in all her glory, Jeffrey thought to himself. Well, except for her husband, George Bennett-Jones. But since the viscount was the one to mention it during a fencing match, Jeffrey was fairly sure it was a true story.
Change the names, change the location, and voilá! Plot point!
Realizing Evangeline was staring at him, as if she expected him to either validate or repudiate the story, Jeffrey simply shook his head. “I’m sure I would have heard something,” he said with shake of his head. And then he held his breath, worried she might decide he wasn’t telling her the entire truth.
“You’re not telling me the entire truth, are you?” Evangeline said with a hint of disappointment.
Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Jeffrey shook his head. “Propriety, my lady, forbids me from sharing what little I know of Lady Bostwick’s adventure in Kensington Gardens.”
Geraldine blinked. And then a smile slowly appeared, lighting up her face in glorious amusement. “You needn’t say anything more, my lord,” she replied with a shake of her head. She might have missed most of the social events of a Season, but she did pay calls and was privy to most of the on-dit in Mayfair. Lady Elizabeth Carlington Bennett-Jones was a rather bold woman when circumstances required it. And even when circumstances didn’t.
Jeffrey took a moment to consider the viscount’s tale. He wondered if the man mentioned the incident as a means of embarrassing him, but then he thought perhaps it was a hint that Jeffrey could be enjoying a wife and a happier life should he leave bachelorhood behind. Bostwick had been a confirmed bachelor before meeting Lady Elizabeth. And now he seemed to be the happiest man in all of London.
“Should we continue reading?” Evangeline wondered, her head bent to one side as she regarded the baron. The man seemed lost in thought, as if he wished he were the viscount whose wife danced naked in the gardens.
Glancing in her direction, Jeffrey nodded. “Of course,” and finally returned his attention to the book.
Chapter 15
Chapter Three: Continued
Geraldine sighed. So her modiste’s suggestion of dressing all in the same color apparently wasn’t as fashionable as she claimed. How could I know? Geraldine wondered, realizing almost immediately she could read La Belle Assembée or some other fashion journal, should she really care as much as she probably should.
But fashion was the least of her worries now. At some point, she knew her brother would want a complete recounting of everything that had happened since his departure. And an accounting of her expenditures. She had no idea how she would explain the rumors about her and the men in whose company she was supposed to have been.
She hadn’t even met two of them. As for the third, she wouldn’t have necessarily minded being associated with Lord Barrick except that he’d been married to one of her best friends for the better part of three years.
Deciding she was in for a long evening, Geraldine excused herself and made her way to the parlor. Tea was sure to help make everything better, she thought. Tea and biscuits. And chocolate.
Chapter 16
The Spies Have It
“Oh,” Evangeline said as she straightened on the bench. “We’ve finished another chapter. Do you wish to keep reading?” she asked as she turned the page to Chapter Four.
Jeffrey glanced at the sky, noticing how clouds were moving in from the south. The air smells like rain, he thought in dismay. He didn’t want Evangeline to get caught with merely a parasol for cover. “I think not,” he answered as he pointed toward the fast moving clouds. “Perhaps we should continue tomorrow,” he offered, his disappointment apparent. “Unfortunately, I expect it will rain,” he said, thinking that to have two glorious days was at least one day too many given the British climate. Rain was due. Past due.
“Then you should come to Rosemount House. We can read in my brother’s library,” Evangeline offered. “Eleven o’clock?”
Jeffrey had to suppress a look of shock. How had the lady known he wasn’t usually up and about until past nine? Perhaps she wasn’t up until past nine, either. “Eleven o’clock,” he agreed. “May I escort you to your carriage?”
Evangeline considered the offer. “I suppose,” she replied, closing the book and tucking it into the crook of her arm. “I’m just down this path.” She waved to her maid, who got up from where she was lounging on the grass with a servant from another household. A rather handsome footman she thought looked awfully familiar.
The three strolled down the crushed granite path until they reached the Everly coach. As Jeffrey handed up Evangeline, he kissed the back of her gloved hand, promised her he would see her in the morning, and bade her farewell. Then he handed up Annabelle, performed a bow, and headed back the way he had come.
Lady Samantha watched as the baron passed by for a second time, hoping the man didn’t dare glance to his left. She held a finger to her lips until Lord Sommers disappeared on the other side of the square, and then turned to Lady Julia and burst out laughing.
“You are impossible,” Julia claimed, her own mirth barely contained. “However did you know they would sit in that particular bench?”
Samantha shrugged. “There aren’t that many in the square, so I figured they would choose the one in the middle,” she answered, threading her arm through Julia’s as they made their way out of the square toward her uncle’s house.
Shortly after meeting that morning, the two had made their way to Grosvenor Square with the intent of spying on Evangeline and the baron. And spy, they had. But boredom had nearly gotten the best of them. Watching two people read a book was about as exciting as watching each other do embroidery in the Fitzsimmons Manor parlor.
Just as they were about to take their leave of the large tree trunk they used for cover in favor of a walk back to Fitzsimmons Manor, they paid witness as Lady Evangeline suddenly and inexplicably landed in Lord Sommers’ lap.
Or almost landed in his lap.
They couldn’t quite tell from their vantage point what had caused her to suddenly almost tip over and nearly end up atop the rather astonished Lord Sommers. And then Evangeline had performed some sort of maneuver akin to a pirouette, her body suddenly balanced on her tip-toes as she spun about.
“Oh!” they had both exclaimed in unison, their combined voices loud enough that they were quite sure Evangeline had overheard them. But her own “Oh!” had drown out theirs, leaving them trying to suppress a sudden fit of the giggles. And then, when the baron and Evangeline had bent down to retrieve the book, which at some point had fallen off the bench, they watched with rapt attention as Lord Sommers lifted Evangeline’s hand and slowly brought it to his lips and Evangeline to her feet.
Their long sighs, both in unison, caused another fit of giggles.
“How long, do you suppose?” Samantha wondered, her gaze taking in the darkening skies above.
“How long for what?” Julia asked, not sure to what Samantha referred but thinking she was probably referring to the impending storm.
“Before they’re wed?”
Julia smiled and regarded her friend for a moment, realizing just then it was possible the earl’s sister would end up married to the baron. “I’ll bet they’re married within a month,” she said with a good deal of confidence.
Samantha nearly stopped in her tracks. “A month?” she repeated, looking ever so astonished. “Oh, all right. I guess I’ll take that bet,” she said with a sigh. “But I would have said three weeks.”
It was Julia’s turn to look astonished. And then even more shocked when the heavens suddenly opened up and rain began to pour down. Despite their parasols, the two were thoroughly drenched by the time they reached Fitzsimmons Manor.
As Evangeline settled into the town coach for the ride home from Grosvenor Square, she couldn’t help but think of how much the description of Lord Afterly reminded her of her brother. The similarities in their avocations were striking, both requiring they be absent from the London social scene for months at a time, leaving an unmarried sister without protection or the means to meet eligible bachelors.
Meeting men seemed to come easily to Lady Geraldine. She had obviously done something to warrant her reputation for being fast – something beyond the events featuring Vauxhall Gardens or the ball – although the story hadn’t yet mentioned just what that something might be.
Geraldine’s behavior was bold, but that didn’t necessarily deter Lord Ballantine from finding her intriguing. Indeed, Evangeline wondered at the baron’s reaction to the earl’s sister. Was it just a man’s reaction to a bold woman that seemed to have him already snared in Geraldine’s net? Or did the man truly have feelings for her? They’d known each other since childhood; certainly that had something to do with his fondness for the lady.
When the coach parked in front of Rosemount House, Evangeline stepped out and waited for Annabelle, opening her parasol as rain began to fall. Once her maid was out and on her way into the house, the footman closed the door and the driver pulled away, intending to park the coach in the carriage house off the alley.
Evangeline stood in the rain, staring at the departing coach, staring at the crest adorning the door.
Everly.
Afterly.
Two earls who spent months away from London pursuing their avocations. Two earls who left behind sisters who were not married – not even betrothed.
If I can make the connection, certainly other readers will as well, she realized in dismay. Suddenly light-headed, Evangeline swayed a bit as she stood on the front walk.
Her maid, not yet in the house, noticed her sudden distress. “Milady?” Annabelle said with a bit of concern, her line of sight tracking Evangeline’s so that she, too, was left watching the departing Everly coach.
Evangeline continued to stare at the gilded crest until it disappeared around the corner.
There could be no doubt.
Whoever had written The Story of a Baron had definitely used her brother as inspiration for the character of Lord Afterly.
Which had her wondering.
Who else had he used for inspiration?
Chapter 17
Rain, Rain, Come Again Any Day
At precisely eleven o’ five in the morning, Jeffrey Althorpe, Baron Sommers, jumped down from his less-than sporty phaeton (it was black rather than the more coveted red in color), handed the reins to a stableboy who had hurried out from the carriage house, and climbed the steps to the front door of Rosemount House. A bit nervous, he straightened his waistcoat before lifting the lion-head knocker, and then, just as he was about to release it, the door suddenly opened.
A portly butler regarded him with a raised brow.
“Lord Sommers to see Lady Evangeline,” he said in an even tenor, hoping the nervousness in his voice couldn’t be heard. Or the pounding of his heart against his rib cage. When the butler continued to regard him without stepping aside, he added, “I have a ... a reading engagement with her.”
Jones nodded and stepped back, opening the door wider as he did so. He took the baron’s hat and placed in on a shelf in the vestibule before hanging the baron’s coat on a hook. He nodded again. “One moment whilst I announce you,” he said, his deep baritone a bit of a surprise to Jeffrey.
The baron used his few moments alone in the entry to study the exquisite embroideries that decorated the watered silk covered walls. He wondered who might have done them; they appeared too new to have been done by Evangeline’s grandmother – or mother – and they weren’t the typical samplers he’d seen in his own mother’s parlor. A pair of the stitcheries featured single stems of plants with their leaves, as if they were botanical
studies. Another pair of stitcheries looked as if it were part of the same series – it was similar in appearance but instead featured flowers, one of which Jeffrey recognized as some type of rose. Before he could study the second flower, the butler returned to the vestibule.
“Lady Evangeline has asked that I escort you to the library,” Jones stated, apparently not too happy about the arrangement.
Jeffrey wondered at the butler’s reticence as he followed the man and then remembered Lord Every hadn’t yet returned from his travels. A man calling on an unmarried woman was rather unseemly, he supposed, causing another wave of nervousness to take hold.
He checked his reflection in a mirror as they passed through the great hall. At least he didn’t appear too wind blown from his quick drive from Cavendish Square. The baron would have ridden his horse, but given the impending rain, he didn’t wish to arrive splashed with mud.
Despite knowing the Earl of Everly for several years, Jeffrey hadn’t been in the house but one other time, and that was when the earl had unveiled his prized tank of tropical fish. The brightly colored beasties didn’t seem particularly interested in the parade of humans that stopped to admire them, but Jeffrey remembered how they seemed to take particular exception to David Fitzwilliam, Earl of Norwick. Every time the tall man was near the tank, the fish would swim about until a wave of water would crest over the top edge and splash onto the earl. The resulting water stains ruined his favorite topcoat. “Those fish will be the death of me,” he was fond of saying, and not because he was fond of the fish.
Jones suddenly turned and waved a hand into the double-wide doorway of the library. Jeffrey gave him a nod and turned his attention to the elegant room, but not before he noticed another pair of embroideries on the hall walls – embroideries so vivid, the subjects appeared as if they were real.
The Story of a Baron (The Sisters of the Aristocracy) Page 8