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

by Linda Rae Sande

  The gardener had obviously been busy. Flower pots on either side of the front door steps displayed a riot of colors, and the front lawn was just beginning to display the green shades of spring.

  Taking a deep breath, which didn’t smell as bad as he might have expected, Harry climbed the steps of Rosemount House. The front door opened before he reached it. Jones stood to one side, giving him a short bow as he stepped aside. “Welcome home, milord,” the butler said as he took the earl’s top hat and cane.

  “Good to be home, Jones,” Harry replied as he gave the vestibule a cursory glance. His sister had obviously been spending her time embroidering, he realized as he stopped to study the pair of stitcheries of plants. Her intricate stitches had captured every detail of the Pteridophyta and Metroxylon sagu, and Harry had to allow a grin. “I see Evangeline has been keeping busy,” he murmured as he peered through his spectacles. Who knew she had an interest in ferns and palms?

  Having set his master’s hat on the shelf and seen to his cane, the butler sobered. “She has, milord, although ...” He paused, not quite sure how to inform the scientist that his sister had also been consorting with a baron.

  Harry turned his attention from the embroideries to a nearby mirror. Shocked at how tanned his face had become during his weeks spent on the Indian Ocean, he blinked. Probably just as well, he thought, given he intended to visit an island off the coast of Spain on his next expedition. He was about to turn his attention back to the butler when two footmen entered with one of his trunks. “That can be taken to my study,” he instructed, “And the other to my bedchamber.” The earl turned to regard Jones. “Although ... what?” he queried.

  Jones regarded the earl with a hint of surprise. There were times the man didn’t seem to be aware of his surroundings or acted as if he hadn’t heard a word spoken to him, but now was obviously not one of those times. “She has recently bought a book and has been reading it ...”

  “Harry!” Evangeline called out from the top of the stairs. His sister grabbed a handful of her skirts and rushed down the stairs, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she nearly knocked him off his feet.

  “Eva,” he replied with a grin, ignoring Jones to return his sister’s hug. “I see you’ve taken good care of things in my absence,” he commented, noting his sister seemed another inch taller than when he had last seen her.

  “It’s kind of you to say so, although I think you have your manager to thank for the general condition of the house,” she responded as she turned and walked with him toward the library. She knew he would want to check on his fish before seeing to anything else. “A colorman was just here last week matching paint for the front door, and two days later, it was painted.”

  Harry stepped aside to allow his sister to enter the library before him. “Any trouble while I was away?” he asked as he followed her in. He rushed over to the large glass tank that held his prized collection of tropical fish.

  “Lord Norwick died.”

  The earl peered through the glass, one finger touching it as he appeared to count the number of fish as they swam about. He straightened suddenly and turned to regard his sister. “Here?” he asked, his brows furrowed in concern.

  Evangeline blinked. She shook her head, wondering why her brother would think the earl had been at Rosemount House. Everyone in the ton knew David Fitzwilliam despised her brother’s fish. “No. Yesterday, in Oxford Street. A caddy said he’d been thrown from his horse.”

  Harry frowned. “But ... Lord Norwick is an expert horseman,” he replied as he shook his head, his eyes glazing over. “Poor Clare,” he whispered as he considered the widowed countess. The woman was still so young, and she had not yet borne a child. “Have you arranged for flowers to be sent?” he wondered, thinking that David’s brother, Daniel, was probably already making plans to return to London from the Norwick estate home in Sussex.

  “Lilies, of course,” Evangeline answered with a nod. “I thought to pay a call on Lady Clarinda tomorrow. To pay my respects.”

  The earl nodded, his manner still most sober. “He always said my fish would be the death of him,” he murmured, glancing back at the tank. “I must admit, I’m quite relieved to see they’ve all seemed to survive my absence.”

  Evangeline moved to stand next to the tank. “Mosby does an excellent job caring for them,” she said, referring to the footman who saw to the daily fish feeding and occasional tank cleaning. “He captures rain water and adds a bit of salt to it before pouring it into the tank,” she explained, watching intently as one of the angel fish swam by. “But I know he’s concerned at the dwindling supply of food. I do hope you’ve brought some back with you.”

  Harry nodded. “Food as well as more fish,” he answered, his mood still grim. “Their crate should have arrived here yesterday.”

  Her eyes wide, Evangeline seemed stunned by the comment. “Oh, dear. I do hope it was brought indoors,” she commented, thinking the evening would have been too chilly to leave the crate of fish out of doors.

  Finally allowing a smile, Harry shook his head. “The cold would not have been a problem,” he countered. “As long as it didn’t freeze,” he amended.

  “No. Not for over a month,” Evangeline replied. “Do you suppose we’ll have a summer this year?” she wondered, thinking it was still far too chilly given it was already March.

  Her brother nodded. “It will most certainly be warmer than last year. Amazing what volcanoes can do to our weather,” he said absently, referring to a series of eruptions that had wreaked havoc on the climate of the North American continent as well as Northern Europe the year before. “All that rain helped clear the air. Sunlight can get through now.”

  He regarded his sister for a moment, realizing he was surprised she was even at home in the middle of the day. Perhaps she didn’t pay calls everyday, or she was expecting someone to visit her this day. “I trust you’ve been behaving,” he commented with a hint of amusement.

  Stunned, and having missed the glint of humor in his eyes, Evangeline’s face reddened suddenly. “What have you heard?” she wondered, her eyes wide.

  Surprised at his sister’s reaction to his simple tease, Harry shrugged. “I’ve been away for six months. And I just returned to these shores yesterday,” he replied. “I haven’t heard a thing.” A look of suspicion crossed his face, though. “Is there something you need to tell me, Eva?” he asked as his brows furrowed.

  Realizing she had overreacted, Evangeline shook her head. “No, there’s nothing,” she replied with a shake of her head.

  Harry nodded, wondering if perhaps there really was something his sister wasn’t telling him. If there was, he would surely hear about it at White’s. After a bath and a change of clothes, he would be paying a visit to the venerable men’s club. One evening there, and he would be caught up on all the on-dit of London.

  Chapter 43

  The Gentlemen at White’s

  The Everly town coach pulled up to White’s, stopping for only a moment to allow its single occupant to step out. Harry Tennison, Earl of Everly, gazed up at the men’s club and wasn’t surprised to see that absolutely nothing had changed during the time he had been gone.

  He took a deep breath before stepping over the threshold of White’s. His last visit had been almost exactly six months ago, and although the men’s club occasionally accepted a new member and the betting book changed on a daily basis, he could count on the club being the same as when he last visited.

  A butler greeted him in the foyer, taking his hat and cane. “Your usual card game has been set up in the front room,” he said as he gave a bow. “A Scotch for you, milord?”

  Harry blinked, surprised that the butler not only remembered his drink of choice but could act as if he hadn’t been absent for six months. “That would be splendid,” Harry replied as he made his way out of the foyer and
into the club. Several members acknowledged him with greetings. Some stopped and spoke with him. And when he made it to the table where he played cards when he was in town, there were his usual opponents, all sitting in their usual chairs.

  “Now here is a sorry sight,” William Slater, Marquess of Devonville said with a hint of amusement as he shuffled the cards.

  Viscount Barrings acknowledged Everly with a nod and a wave toward his empty chair. Sir Richard stood to shake his hand. And Baron Sommers gave him a nod and a look that suggested he might not be as pleased to see him as the others.

  “Gentlemen,” the earl said as he took his place at the table. “I am back from the Indian Ocean and the Cape. It seems another Season has begun. I believe I am in need of an update.”

  As Lord Devonville dealt the cards, he gave the earl a nod. “It’s about time you returned. I do believe there was talk that you must have drowned so your earldom was going back to the Crown,” he teased gently.

  Harry colored up a bit. “I was gone a bit longer than I had planned, but I did send word. And my sister was obviously receiving my letters since she wrote in response to each one,” he said in his own defense.

  The marquess completed dealing the cards and moved to pick up the pile in front of him. “You’ve no doubt heard about Norwick,” he said carefully. “Terrible shame. Good thing he had his own spare. His brother, Daniel, will take his place in Parliament.”

  “And at Norwick House, no doubt,” one of the gentlemen said as he waggled his eyebrows. Barrings could be uncouth at the worst times.

  Harry frowned, not appreciating the insinuation that Daniel Norwick would be taking his brother’s place in Lady Clarinda’s bed. The earl had secretly held a candle for the gel for years, as had probably half the men in White’s. But it was true that Daniel would probably marry Clarinda once her mourning period was over. He had courted her before David suddenly stepped in and insisted he was going to marry her.

  “Anything else happen while I was away?” Harry wondered, wanting to change the subject to less serious matters.

  Lord Barrings shrugged. “There is a book causing a bit of a stir.”

  Jeffrey Althorpe straightened in his chair. “Oh? And what book might that be?” he asked as he pretended to rearrange his cards.

  “My wife is reading it,” Sir Richard offered. “Some dreck about a baron lusting for an earl’s sister.”

  Jeffrey paled. From where had Sir Richard’s wife, Lady Mary, purchased her copy of the book?

  “And the sister is fast,” Devonville chimed in, one eyebrow arching up suggestively. When the others gave him an incredulous look, he added, “I found a copy in the parlor last night after Lady Devonville went to bed. “The Story of a Baron. Read three chapters before I retired for the evening,” he admitted before taking a puff of his cheroot.

  Harry’s attention was suddenly on the marquess. “My sister is reading that book,” he commented before tossing a chip onto the ante. “I’ll open. I noticed it was wide open in the library. I do hope the tale isn’t too inappropriate for a lady,” he commented absently. Although he knew Evangeline had read nearly every book in his library, he wanted to promote the appearance that she hadn’t. Especially those detailing every possible sexual position – with colorful illustrations.

  Jeffrey felt a flush of heat color his face and took a quick sip of brandy in an attempt to hide it. At least his book didn’t have colorful illustrations!

  Barrings turned to Jeffrey. “You’ll have to read it and let us know how true it is,” he teased. “Seeing as how you’re the only baron among us.”

  “Lady Geraldine is not fast,” Sir Richard countered, ignoring Barrings’ comment. “She’s merely the victim of malicious gossip.”

  “But the baron doesn’t seem to care, so what does it matter?” Barrings countered. “They’ll end up married, he’ll get double her dowry, and all will be well.” The viscount turned his attention to his cards.

  Harry glanced about, entertained by the conversation. “I suppose I am saved from having to read it, then,” he remarked as he patiently waited for the Marquess of Devonville to bid.

  The marquess tossed his cards into the middle. “I fold,” Devonville said, although he didn’t seem too upset by having to do so. “And isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? Out of the five of us here, what? Three of us are leg-shackled. I know I originally did so to get a dowry,” he admitted without a hint of shame – or regret. “Although I suppose I also did so because it was my duty. The whole ‘siring an heir’ requirement,” he said sotto voce, once eyebrow arching up.

  Sir Richard shrugged. “I did, too, but I married my lady because I was rather fond of her,” he stated. “And, truth be told, I still am.”

  Suddenly wondering where the books had been purchased – he had purchased every copy of The Story of a Baron from the Temple of the Muses – Jeffrey dared to ask. “Where might I obtain this, The Story of a Baron?” he wondered aloud.

  Sir Richard continued the bidding and threw some chips into the center of the table. “Hatchard’s, probably,” he replied.

  Jeffrey held his breath. Of course! How could he have overlooked Hatchard’s? More aristocrats probably shopped there than at the Temple of the Muses. Damn!

  When he realized the players were giving him a look of expectation, he tossed a bunch of chips into the middle. “I’m in,” he said with a nod.

  “My wife only gets her books at Hatchard’s, so I expect that’s where she got her copy,” Sir Richard commented, his attention suddenly on his cards. “And I’ll raise you ten.”

  “I fold,” Barrings said as he tossed his cards down.

  Jeffrey finally focused on his cards, stunned to see a full house. He moved a stack of chips to the middle. “Call,” he announced. He glanced around the table, surprised that no one seemed to comment on the other characters in the book. “Anyone ... seem ... familiar in this book you’ve been reading?” he asked carefully.

  Sir Richard showed his two aces and two kings. “Familiar?” he repeated, his brows furrowing as he watched Jeffrey carefully lay out his full house.

  Harry tossed his cards onto the felt tabletop. “Damn. It’s my first night back. The least you could do is let me win the first hand,” he said with a good deal of humor.

  Jeffrey reached for the pile of chips in the middle of the table. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said with a good deal of relief. Although his take wasn’t particularly large, it would cover his expenses for a few weeks.

  “As for familiar, I suppose only the settings are,” Devonville offered. “The men’s club is called Black’s – obviously a nod to White’s. And Nonmack’s is Almack’s. Same bad lobster patties,” he commented with a grin.

  Barrings nodded, but his brows furrowed. “There is an archeologist – an earl – that seems to be away frequently,” he mentioned as he gathered up the cards.

  Stiffening, Jeffrey held his breath, wondering if the viscount would make the connection to Lord Everly.

  “The chit’s brother,” Devonville offered in Jeffrey’s direction.

  “And she wouldn’t have her sullied reputation if her damned brother would bother to stay in London during the Season,” Sir Richard stated with a hint of disgust. “The man is off on archeological expeditions for months at a time and leaves the poor girl without so much as a ...” The baronet suddenly paused, his mouth open as he stared at Harry.

  The Earl of Everly stared back at Sir Richard, his brows furrowing. He shook his head. “What?” he wondered as he realized Barrings had stopped shuffling the cards. Suddenly, everyone but Baron Sommers was staring at him. What the hell? Some character in a book leaves his sister alone for months at a time, and ...

  Harry straightened in his chair, his expression darkening. “Now, see here ...”

  “I do not
believe Sir Richard meant any offense to you,” Jeffrey offered as he turned to regard the earl. “The Earl of Afterly is nothing like you,” he said with a shake of his head.

  “Of course, not,” Sir Richard countered, his head shaking a bit. He blinked and turned his attention on Jeffrey. “What do you know of the Earl of Afterly?” he asked, his brows furrowed into a single bushy line across his forehead. “I thought you said you hadn’t read the book.”

  Jeffrey groaned, realizing he had given away too much. “You said Afterly was an archeologist,” he accused quickly, hoping he could erase any suspicion his comment might have generated among the rest of the card players. “I hardly think anyone would equate what Everly does with archeology.”

  Barrings resumed shuffling the deck. “But you have to admit, you do leave Lady Evangeline alone for months at a time,” he said to the earl.

  Sighing, Harry regarded the viscount and nodded. “I do. However, she always has a maid with her when she’s out and about, and I’ve seen to it she has someone seeing to her welfare on a daily basis.”

  Jeffrey stilled himself. Someone sees to Lady Evangeline’s welfare? On a daily basis? He had spent hours with the chit every day for nearly a week, and at no time had anyone appeared to check on her. No one except for the butler, of course, but Jones could hardly be expected to follow Evangeline when she was out making calls or meeting him to read in the square.

  Or could he?

  But certainly I would haven noticed if the butler had followed Evangeline to Grosvenor Square! Jeffrey was still pondering where the butler might have hidden himself when Barrings began dealing the cards.

  “Good evening, gentlemen.”

  All eyes turned to Milton Grandby, Earl of Torrington, as he stood with his hands in his pockets, regarding them with a mischievous grin.

  “Good evening, Grandby,” William Slater, Marquess of Devonville replied with a nod. A chorus of greetings were exchanged by the others at the table.