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

by Linda Rae Sande

  Richard shook his head and raised his eyes to the ornate ceiling, silently noting that at least this ceiling was in good repair. “It seems I shall have to start some of my own gossip,” he said sotto voce. He nodded towards the stairs. “We need to leave, or we’ll be past fashionably late.”

  Geraldine nodded, relieved at hearing her brother’s assurances. Within moments, they were in the town coach and on their way to the Tetherpound’s ball.

  “Have you been receiving gentlemen callers?”

  Geraldine straightened in the squabs, surprised her brother would bring up the topic when he had shown no interest earlier. “Of course not!” she responded with annoyance.

  “Jerry. I didn’t mean it like that. Has anyone ... has anyone been courting you?” he clarified, wondering if anyone besides Ballantine might be interested in her. “When I left, I thought perhaps Norwood was going to pay a call.” He thought about mentioning the baron, but decided to let Ballantine fend for himself.

  Her attention suddenly on the window to her left, Geraldine shrugged. “He did. However, I found his impertinent behavior unacceptable and told him to leave.”

  Her brother leaned forward in his seat, closing the space between them. “What the hell?” he responded, his imagination conjuring scenarios that might require him to call out the viscount. “What did he try to do?”

  Geraldine sighed and turned her attention back to her brother. “Nothing that would require a trip to Wimbledon Commons,” she said with a shake of her head. Thank the gods. She couldn’t imagine her brother would survive a duel with pistols at dawn. Or any other time of the day.

  Richard frowned, not sure if he could believe his sister. “Just who are you trying to impress this evening?” he wondered suddenly. “You look as if you were vying for the role of the Duchess of Sumptershire.”

  Geraldine gasped. The Duke of Sumptershire was at least fifty years old and probably a molly, given the gossip she had heard at Lady Farthington’s last soirée. “I will let a younger girl have at him,” she responded curtly as she turned her attention to the gas-lit street beyond the window.

  “And the coronet and other jewels associated with that dukedom?” he chided with a huff. “I cannot imagine you turning down that many sapphires.”

  Pursing her lips, Geraldine held back a tart response regarding his lack of imagination in favor of a simple, “Just his.”

  Why did her brother think only of the jewels she might acquire when becoming a wife?

  Richard settled back into the squabs. “If not a duke, then ... what?” he persisted. “You’re not getting any younger. It’s time we got you settled.”

  Bristling at his comment about her age, Geraldine realized she would need to give him an answer or he would simply persist in his questioning. “Merely a baron,” she replied, a look of disappointment coloring her face.

  Afterly frowned, surprised at her response. “Ballantine?” he guessed, not knowing of any other baron who was in the market for a wife. Or another baron who had practically claimed he loved her only the night before.

  He had known the man since they were children, even attended Oxford with him, although their disciplines didn’t allow for them to share the same class schedules.

  “The very same,” she replied, wondering how well her brother knew the man nowadays. “Seems he is ... rather pleasant. Not at all what I expected,” she admitted. “Although, I have no idea if he can afford me.” She dared not add that the man had more than intrigued her, that Matthew Winters had an accepting quality about him that had her believing she would be allowed a good deal of freedom should she become the Baroness Ballantine. Whether or not she would exercise that freedom depended on the baron’s feelings toward her – and his ability between the sheets.

  And how often he visited his mistress.

  If he has one, she considered, suddenly wondering if the man had the means to afford one. What if the baron was merely interested in her for her dowry?

  The earl regarded her with a quirked brow, intrigued by her comments. “What were you expecting?” he wondered, just as the town coach came to a halt in front of the Tetherpound’s Palladian mansion in Park Lane. Richard had the door open and was offering his arm to Geraldine just as the footman joined them.

  Geraldine ignored the question. “Does Ballantine know about my dowry?” she asked instead.

  Richard turned them toward the flagstone path leading to the front door. “I can’t say it’s ever been a discussion at our card games,” he commented coyly, not mentioning their conversation the night before. They hadn’t been playing cards at the time. “Why do you ask?”

  Pulling her silk wrap more tightly around her shoulders, Geraldine paused before answering. “I should like to think a man might wish to marry me for something other than my dowry.”

  The earl gave a grunt in response. “And if it’s half and half?” he responded with a hint of humor.

  His sister’s sudden inhalation of breath had Richard stopping in his tracks. “Is that not enough, sister?” he asked, his manner suddenly brusque.

  Hurt by his query, Geraldine wondered what to say. If a man merely wanted her for her dowry, then of course she would turn down his offer. If a man wanted her despite her boldness and sometimes brash behavior, then of course she would accept his offer.

  But if his reasons were a bit of both?

  Could she abide a man that would put up with her because he received twenty-five thousand pounds in compensation for taking her?

  “I do not think so,” she finally replied.

  Heaving a sigh of disappointment, Richard resumed leading them down the flags to the front door. “If you are not settled by the time I leave for Italy, you will have to return to Herfordshire when the Season ends,” he said with a hint of sadness – and perhaps a hint of warning. He decided not to mention the convent just then.

  Geraldine’s eyes widened. Another summer and winter spent in Herfordshire in a barely staffed house and a sorry excuse for a library? She had read every book in the house! “I cannot,” she replied with shake of her head. “I’ll find a companion. I’ll become someone’s companion,” she stated firmly. “But I will not go back to Afterly Park for another winter by myself.”

  Richard allowed another couple to move ahead of them at the front door. “We can discuss this later. If it’s still an issue,” he added, patting the hand that rested on his arm. “In the meantime, do try to enjoy the ball. Perhaps I’ll catch you kissing Ballantine in the gardens, and he’ll have to marry you,” he gently teased.

  Horrified, Geraldine stared at her brother. “You wouldn’t dare!” she countered, wondering how her brother had guessed that she planned to meet the baron in the gardens at midnight.

  Just because the baron didn’t know of her plan ...

  “I am having a bit of fun at your expense,” Richard replied with an uncharacteristic smile. He handed his hat to one of the footmen in the vestibule whilst Geraldine gave her wrap to another.

  Given the number of people still divesting themselves of their coats in the grand entry, Richard realized the Tetherpound’s ball was going to be a crush. “Besides, it sounds as if you’ve already set your cap on him,” he reasoned as he handed her a dance card.

  “And who have you set your cap on?” she countered, allowing him to tie the card’s ribbon around her wrist along with the charcoal pencil. They worked their way to the announcer when they realized the receiving line had already dispersed.

  “No one, as yet,” he replied, lowering his head to speak to the man who would call out their names as they descended to the ballroom. “Lady Geraldine and Lord Afterly,” he said before turning his attention back to Geraldine. “Perhaps when I am one-and-thirty,” he said with a shrug.

  One-and-thirty?

  That would be two years from
now!

  Geraldine had rather hoped her brother might decide to marry this year, giving her a sister with whom she could spend the long months whilst he was away on another expedition. “Have you truly no one in mind? What if something were to happen to you? You have no heirs, brother,” she said as they descended the wide stairs.

  Richard shrugged, his eyes scanning the crowd below in search of the Duke of Sumptershire. “Earldom goes back to the Crown,” he stated simply.

  Geraldine stared at her brother for a long time before she was suddenly aware of young matrons greeting her and young bucks greeting her brother and bent heads whispering to one another, no doubt sharing gossip featuring her. She could present herself as an innocent falsely accused – she was when it came to the story about Vauxhall Gardens – or she could simply pretend she really was capable of prancing about in her birthday suit and act every bit as bold as she was rumored to be.

  Pasting on a brilliant smile, she turned her attention to those around them and concentrated on finding dance partners to fill her card.

  Chapter 34

  The Fear of Scandal

  “Oh, dear,” Evangeline whispered as she finished reading the last page of Chapter Ten.

  “What is it?” Jeffrey wondered, raising his head from the book, rather pleased the chapter read as well as it did. Not having had a wife or sisters, he could only describe Geraldine’s preparation for the ball as he remembered his mother doing it when he was a small boy.

  He would watch as she attached earbobs to each earlobe and wrap a shawl about her shoulders and slide her dainty feet into dance slippers, all the while wishing he could attend the fancy balls with her and his father. Although some of his current associates eschewed Society events, he found he enjoyed them – the pomp, the pageantry, the beautiful clothes, the beautiful women – all because they reminded him of those evenings when he could spend a bit of time with his mother.

  “I fear Lady Geraldine will misbehave at the ball,” Evangeline replied, just as a maid carried a fresh tea tray into the library. “I’ll serve the tea, thank you,” she said to the maid, who curtsied and left the room, her shock at seeing Lady Evangeline in the company of a man still apparent on her face. The poor girl had nearly dropped the tray as she moved to set it down!

  Evangeline had a passing thought of how long it would be before the servants of the households on either side of Rosemount House would know of her male caller. After this morning’s visit by Lady Torrington, Evangeline wondered if her wish to add a bit of scandal to her life might be a bit selfish, especially if it meant a man would be forced to ask for her hand in marriage should Grandby make good on his wife’s threat.

  Allowing a wan smile, Evangeline leaned forward. “I meant to ask you earlier. How do you take your tea, Lord Sommers?” she asked as she poured a cup of tea. She had still been so discombobulated by Adele Grandby’s visit, she hadn’t noticed if the baron added any milk or sugar to his tea after she gave him a cup.

  “With just a bit of milk,” Jeffrey replied. “And, please, call me Sommers.” On seeing her expression of surprise, he shrugged and added, “Seeing as how we’re spending so much time together reading this book,” – and kissing – “It only seems appropriate.”

  Evangeline nodded, adding some milk to his tea before offering the cup and saucer to him. “Very well, Sommers.” She turned and filled a cup for herself, adding milk and two lumps of sugar before stirring it slowly.

  “Why do you suppose Lady Geraldine will misbehave?” Jeffrey asked suddenly.

  Evangeline took a sip of tea before giving the baron a shrug. “She seems of two minds, as if part of her wants to be prim and proper whilst another wants to shock and surprise people,” she remarked, suddenly realizing she could have been describing herself just moments ago.

  “I rather think most people are like that,” Jeffrey replied, furrowing his brows as he considered the comment.

  “You do?” Evangeline responded, obviously surprised.

  Jeffrey nodded. “We tend to show Society our proper selves, I suppose, whilst sometimes wishing we were doing less than proper things,” he said, realizing the words could certainly be applied to him. Just that moment, in fact, when he wished he could have been kissing the earl’s sister instead of reading the book.

  But he didn’t dare tell Evangeline that.

  Evangeline nodded her agreement. For some reason, she found the baron’s words a comfort. She had wondered just that morning if others sometimes wanted to do things that were out of character. Now that the baron had admitted as much, she felt a bit of relief.

  “Lord Norwick is a bit like that I suppose,” Jeffrey said suddenly, his brow furrowed.

  “What do you mean?”

  The baron inhaled and seemed to hold his breath a moment. “At one time, the earl owned ...” Here he stopped, realizing he couldn’t really tell a gently bred woman about the man’s businesses.

  “A brothel and a gaming hell?” Evangeline finished for him, the manner in the way she said the words suggesting she wasn’t the least bit offended by them.

  “Why, yes,” Jeffrey replied reluctantly. He paused a moment before continued. It was at moments like this when he wondered if Evangeline was just as bold and brazen as Geraldine. No topic of discussion seemed off-limits with the earl’s daughter. “He had to sell his businesses because he wanted to marry Lady Clarinda.”

  “She demanded it of him,” Evangeline agreed, already familiar with the story of how Clarinda had managed to land the earl as her husband. “I’ve always thought it showed good judgement on his part to give up the businesses,” she added with a shrug, “Seeing as how earls aren’t really supposed to work for their income. And Clarinda wouldn’t have married him otherwise.”

  Jeffrey stilled at Evangeline’s comment, realizing almost at once that writing a book could be considered work. What would she think of him if she ever found out he was the author of the very book they were reading? “I rather doubt Norwick actually did any work when it came to his businesses,” he said with a shake of his head.

  Evangeline considered his words for a moment. “I suppose not, seeing as his brother saw to the books,” she agreed.

  His brows rising in surprise, Jeffrey regarded Evangeline for a moment. “How is it you know all this?” he wondered.

  A blush suffusing her face, Evangeline gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I paid a call on Lady Pettigrew on a day when she was hosting the countess and Lady Torrington,” she explained. “Somehow they started to talk about how Clarinda ended up married to Lord Norwick, so the topic of his businesses came up.” She paused a moment. “And my brother used to ...” The blush returned, only brighter in color. “Patronize one of the businesses,” she finished, suddenly wishing she hadn’t brought up the topic.

  Jeffrey realized immediately to what she referred. Even he had spent a night in Norwick’s brothel, but only the one night – he couldn’t begin to afford any of the women who plied their trade in the exclusive brothel. Now, Harry Tennison had had a particular favorite among the high-priced harlots, but Jeffrey wasn’t about to share that information with Evangeline. Perhaps she already knew about that, as well.

  “Chapter Eleven?” Evangeline suddenly asked as she nodded toward the book.

  Jeffrey quickly finished his tea and nodded. “Chapter Eleven.”

  Chapter 35

  Chapter Eleven: The Tetherpound Ball

  “Ah, Lord Ballantine,” Lady Geraldine Porterhouse said as she glided toward the baron. “Just the gentleman I’ve been looking for,” she said as she gave Matthew Winters a deep curtsy and a brilliant smile.

  Caught off-guard, Matthew could barely get a bow in before the earl’s daughter had her hand stretched out in his direction. “Lady Geraldine, you have me most curious. Happily so,” he said before he kissed the gloved knuckles. A ring
with a very large green gemstone, probably paste, but he couldn’t be sure, nearly collided with his nose. “I am at your service, of course,” he offered, wondering why the most beautiful woman in the ballroom would be searching for him. Especially when she still seemed rather miffed at him whilst he returned her to Rosehill House following Lady Barrick’s birthday picnic.

  Perhaps she had come to realize he was not her enemy.

  Or perhaps her brother shared our conversation from the night before.

  Geraldine held out her other hand. A dance card and pencil dangled from her wrist. “One more, and it will be full,” she hinted, cocking her head to one side.

  His own eyebrows cocking up in surprise, Matthew found the open space on the card and wrote ‘Ballantine’ on the single empty line. “A cotillion, I see,” he commented, suddenly wondering who had managed to secure the only waltz of the evening. How could Lady Tetherpound only offer one waltz? he wondered, thinking the evening’s hostess must know men would leave the card room for a waltz. He was about to check the dance card when Geraldine, suddenly distracted by the curly-haired Earl of Wurthingham, pulled her hand away in order to touch the man’s sleeve, apparently in an attempt to gain his attention.

  Matthew watched as the expression on the face of the blond, blue-eyed earl brightened at the sight of Lady Geraldine. Bastard, he thought in annoyance. The newly minted earl seemed to have it all – and was apparently spending it as if he did, according to reports from around London. At least Geraldine still has her other hand on my sleeve, Matthew considered, rather enjoying having a woman on his arm. Unfortunately, the daughter of an earl soon gave up her tenuous hold on him as the crush in the ballroom suddenly increased. Geraldine gave him an apologetic look as she disappeared into the crowd.

  Matthew glanced toward the entrance as another wave of aristocrats descended the stairs into the brightly lit Tetherpound ballroom. Lady Tetherpound would have to be feeling quite proud at how many had chosen to attend her ball instead of paying homage at Nonmack’s. Lady York, one of the patronesses of the dance hall, was apparently giving out vouchers to all the young ladies – vouchers that allowed them to waltz – as enticements to attend that evening’s fête. With nothing stronger than weak lemonade and equally bad food, Nonmack’s was a destination for the ton in the rare event something better wasn’t offered.