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

The
Story of a Baron

Linda Rae Sande

This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

The Story of a Baron

ISBN: 978-0-9915075-2-8

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2014 Linda Rae Sande

V1.1

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Cover art by KGee Designs.
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To Rachel Falk
for being the best boss a writer could have

Chapter 1

A Visit to the Temple

March 1817

Jeffrey Althorpe, Baron Sommers, stepped into the entry of the Temple of the Muses and took a deep breath. The odors of leather, vellum and wood as well as a hint of vanilla assaulted his nostrils. Exhaling with a good deal of satisfaction, he glanced around to discover only a few shoppers perusing the stacks of books that lined the back wall. Several employees were behind the circular counter in the middle of the massive room whilst a few were off to the right unpacking what appeared to be that morning’s delivery of the latest books.

Jeffrey smiled. Although it might have been more fashionable to shop for books at Hatchard’s – its owner was said to be the bookseller to Queen Charlotte – Jeffrey rather liked James Lackington’s approach to book sales. The Temple’s original owner had painted “Cheapest Bookseller in the World” above the entrance to the place. For a man of Baron Sommers’ modest means, the bookstore was sometimes his favorite place to spend a late morning.

Since most of the patrons of the store tended to shop later in the day or even at night, Jeffrey found he preferred the morning hours. No crowds to fight and less chance that another customer might be after the same new titles as he sought.

When his presence was noted by one of the shopkeepers, Jeffrey nodded in the man’s direction. “Good morning, Mr. Pritchard,” he said as he made his way toward the open crates.

“And to you, my lord,” the short man responded with a bow. “Your book arrived late yesterday. I’ve already seen to its placement on the third floor,” Pritchard added with a wave toward the stairs. “New arrivals.”

Jeffrey stilled himself, forced himself to take a few careful breaths before he dared respond. “Thank you,” he managed to get out before a huge grin split his face as he nodded to the shopkeeper.

Turning around, the baron made his way to the other end of the lobby. He ascended the stairs to the second level of the shop, passing by a lounging room and through a gallery featuring the most expensive titles on its rows of shelving, titles which were bound in leather and suitable for a gentleman’s library. He climbed to the third level and paused by the lounging room, noticing a lady’s maid snoozing in one of the upholstered chairs. At the end of the gallery of mid-priced books, Jeffrey glanced at an elderly couple studying the stacks, engaged in quiet conversation.

Near the stairs to the next level, a shelving unit jutted out from the wall – a shelving unit that held the latest titles. Removing his hat, he headed in its direction, intent on finding his newly released book.

Pulling off first one glove and then the other, Lady Evangeline Tennison gave the third level shelving unit a quick glance. She opened her reticule and stuffed the gloves inside, seemingly unconcerned that they would become hopelessly wrinkled in the process. Absently pushing an errant lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she spotted the book she’d been hoping to find on this visit to the Temple of the Muses.

The Story of a Baron.

She leaned her head to one side, studying the leather-bound book. The binding surprised her; many of the books on the third floor weren’t bound in leather but sported covers made of dense card stock; only after a book proved worthy to its owner did it it receive a leather binding. The modest size of the spine suggested the book wasn’t made up of more than a few hundred pages.

Reaching out with one finger, she pulled the book forward, leaning her head to the other side to read the title on the front. Sure it was
The Story of a Baron
, she pulled it completely from the shelf and opened it slowly. A small smile touched her lips. The subject of the book couldn’t have much of a story if the book was only ... she checked the last sheaf in the book to find the page number.
Two-hundred and sixty-two
. Arching an eyebrow, Lady Evangeline rested the bulk of the book on one velvet-clad forearm and used her other arm to keep the pages open whilst she quickly scanned the last page of print. When she found the very last sentence, she read it to herself.

Forever
.

Evangeline looked up and glanced about, her heart pounding just a bit too fast.

Forever?

That
was the last sentence of the book? Well, it held promise, at least. And some degree of finality. But the simple word held absolutely no hint as to the quality of the rest of the book nor the author’s writing skill – or lack thereof.

For once, she chided herself for always reading the last sentence of a book before she decided whether or not to buy it. Usually the last line gave away a bit more about a book’s subject, a bit more about its characters, its tone, and whether or not it featured a happy ending.

But not this one.

Taking a deep breath, Evangeline did what she rarely did when considering a book – she shifted the pages so that the first page of the story was visible. Once again glancing about, hoping no one would notice, she found the very beginning of the story and read to herself.

Matthew Winters, Baron Ballantine, entered his favorite bookshop in search of a particular new title.

Evangeline inhaled sharply, realizing the subject of the book was doing exactly the same thing she was doing!

Success!

For if a character found pleasure in reading books, then certainly Evangeline could sympathize with him and his story.

Although other young women of her age might consider her a bluestocking – well, probably the entire
ton
considered her a bluestocking, although she had no evidence to support such a theory – Lady Evangeline didn’t seem to mind. Given she was the younger sister of Lord Everly, an earl who spent most of his time exploring the world, she found it was far more satisfying to spend her days engrossed in the pages of a book than be sequestered in the parlor with her latest needlework and a hope that someone – anyone – would pay her a call.

Her brother was rarely in residence. His latest trip to southern India had commenced over six months ago, his mission to study the tropical fish that populated the waters off the coast. A missive from him, delivered just the day before, claimed he was scheduled to board a ship that would take him around Cape Horn and deliver him to England in a fortnight.
Him and a crate full of whatever he could catch
, she thought with a grin.

The library at Rosemount House already housed a large aquarium populated with exotic fish from the southern waters. In need of a way to display his fish as well as keep them warm, the earl had employed an inventor, Henry Forster, Earl of Gisborn, to develop a tank and a heater. A combination of glass panes held together with steel strips and mounted inside a shallow metal pan, the aquarium was heated from below using the natural gas already being fed to the house for the purpose of lighting its interior. Despite Everly’s extended absences, the fish seemed to thrive, most probably due to the footman who saw to their daily feeding.

Lord Everly’s newest acquisitions would either join their brethren in the same tank or the earl would be setting up a new tank in the library. Evangeline allowed a smile. Some, like Lord Norwick, found the colorful fish tedious and troublesome. The earl claimed that, upon his entrance into Rosemount House, the fish had deliberately swum about to set up a wave that cascaded over the top of the tank just as he passed by. The resulting water splash managed to land on his favorite riding coat, leaving a water stain his valet was apparently unable to remove. Others, like her godfather, Milton Grandby, the Earl of Torrington, loved watching the fish as they moved about their environs, claiming they were a soothing sight. Grandby had occasion to visit the fish after especially challenging sessions of Parliament, claiming the little beasties had more sense than most of the lords.

Evangeline had no opinion of the creatures one way or the other. The fish had been in her brother’s library for as long as she could remember, and although they always seemed pleased to see her, waving their translucent fins when she paused to greet them, she figured they probably felt more affection for the footman who fed them.

At least Evangeline could count on Lady Samantha Fitzsimmons and Lady Julia Harrington to keep her company on occasion. Sam, Lord Chamberlain’s niece, was of the same age as Evangeline and in the same situation. Since their come-outs, neither girl had attracted a gentleman with the intention of marriage. And neither seemed particularly concerned by their lack of prospects. Julia, on the other hand, would probably be fending off suitors this season. The chit was younger and blessed with facial features men seemed to find most appealing.

Evangeline shook herself from her reverie and dared a glance at the second line of the book she held. She was about to read it when she was suddenly aware of someone standing nearby. Someone who smelled of sandalwood and citrus. Someone who was tall and lean. Someone who was apparently ... well, he was shopping for a book, no doubt, she chided herself. Why else would he be standing on the other side of the shelving unit, apparently perusing the new titles just as she had done when the store opened? Or rather, a few minutes
before
the stored opened. Mr. Pritchard was always kind enough to unlock the front door if she arrived prior to the official opening time. She was one of his best customers.

Lord Sommers took a quick glance over the three rows of shelving, realizing almost immediately that the book he sought was not among the titles on display. He was about to search for Mr. Pritchard and ask as to the whereabouts of his book when he realized there was a wide space between the books, a space through which he spied a young woman.

A young woman, lit by sunlight streaming in from a reading room window.

A young woman who appeared as if she were an angel.

A young woman who was resting the spine of a book on one forearm whilst she opened it with her other hand.

A young woman who appeared to be reading the very last page of the book.

A young woman who was now turning to the front of the book and apparently reading the first page!

It was then Jeffrey caught sight of the title page. A very brief sight, for the words,
The Story of a Baron
, flashed by in a blur.

She was reading the very book he sought!

How
dare
she? Didn’t she realize that by reading the end, she was spoiling it for herself? That by reading the beginning, she was ... well, she was doing the very thing he’d seen at least a half dozen other people do whilst they shopped for books, so he couldn’t fault her for that, he supposed. But she was reading
his
book!

Jeffrey stilled himself, realizing if he gave anymore thought to the woman’s actions, he would make his presence known. He didn’t wish to draw attention to himself. And upon further viewing, he found the young woman rather easy to watch.

She was blonde, he thought, although her bonnet hid far too much of her hair for him to be sure. Fair of skin with an oval face, she appeared young, but no longer young enough to be in the schoolroom. Her complexion was clear, her cheeks displaying a hint of color, no doubt due to having climbed the stairs to get to this level. Her pink lips were barely parted, the lower one a bit more plump than her upper one. Her lashes were so long, they hid her eyes whilst she read the book through a pair of gold wire spectacles that rested on the tip of her nose. And her left hand ...

Jeffrey straightened. The woman’s hand was
bare
, its long, slender fingers barely grazing the surface of the page that held her attention. Fingers that were free of adornment. Free of any rings. Including the one that should have been on her fourth finger.

Tearing his gaze away from the young woman’s fingers, afraid if he didn’t he would begin imagining what they might feel like when held by his own, Jeffrey pretended to look at some books. Stealing another glance in her direction, he wondered whom she might be.

Realizing the woman’s attention was no longer on the first page of the book, Jeffrey tore his gaze from her and stared at the first book on which his eyes could focus.
Sense and Sensibility
. He sighed.
Well, here was a book for the masses
, he thought with an arched eyebrow.

He rather doubted there was such a trait among the
ton
.

Wondering if the man were watching her, Evangeline stilled herself. He stood very still on the other side of the shelving unit, his face partially framed by the opening left when she removed the book she held. The little bit of him she could make out with her peripheral vision suggested he was at least twenty-five, perhaps thirty. His nose was definitely that of an aristocrat, which surprised her given the early hour. Most men of the
ton
weren’t up and about until well after ten. He sported rather long sideburns, their golden brown coloring suggesting the hair on his head might be the same.

She was tempted to bend her knees a bit and sneak a more direct peek, but she dared not call attention to herself. She did pretend to glance briefly at the books around the opening left when she pulled out the book she held and was rewarded with a clear view of the lower half of the man’s face.

Goodness! His jaw was quite square. From what she could make of his mouth ... Evangeline held her breath, aware that if she’d given into the sudden realization she’d felt, she would have allowed an audible gasp.

The man had lips that were positively enchanting. There could be no other word for them. They were perfectly shaped to form an easy smile.
Or a simple kiss
, Evangeline thought suddenly. She had to pinch her own lips together in an effort to keep her mouth closed or she would have looked like one of her brother’s fish.

Lifting her free hand to her spectacles, she slowly removed them from her face but kept them close as she pretended to read the book. The end of one bow found its way to her lips, where it was promptly clasped in place by her teeth. Daring another quick glance in the gentleman’s direction, she was relieved to see his attention was on something other than her. A twinge of ... regret, perhaps, caught her off-guard. His profile showed a face with impressive cheekbones. The square jaw ended in a slightly rounded chin. Having seen all but his eyes, Evangeline thought perhaps he seemed familiar to her, but without seeing his entire face, she was at a loss as to where she might have met him.

And then, quite unexpectedly, he turned and stared at her.