The Story of a Baron (The Sisters of the Aristocracy) (11 page)

Chapter 22

A Late Night Read

Restless and still wide awake, Evangeline wandered through the rooms on the second floor of Rosemount House. The dim light from the lamp she carried wavered about, casting eerie shadows on the walls. She stepped into the mistress suite, inhaling deeply in the hope of capturing the scent of her late mother. A whiff of rosewater was all she could smell, though. At least the maids were diligent about keeping the room clean.

Setting the lamp on the dressing table, she took a seat and regarded the hinged box set in the middle of the vanity. She thought about Geraldine Porterhouse and her desire for baubles as she allowed a string of her mother’s pearls to slip over her fingers. Had Eva Tennison requested her husband buy them for some ball or soirée? Or had he bought them as a gift for his beloved wife? Evangeline thought perhaps it was the latter. The little she could remember of her mother suggested the wisp of a woman was sweet natured and easily satisfied – quite unlike the materialistic Geraldine.

Why would Anonymous have made his lead female character such a selfish woman?
she wondered. There was no doubt Geraldine and Ballantine would end up married in the end. But what kind of union could they have if she were never satisfied with where she lived, or with what she wore, or with the baubles in her jewelry box? How long could the baron abide her endless demands?

Forever
.

Suddenly remembering the last line of the book, Evangeline felt a shiver pass through her.

Poor Ballantine.

Forever broke.

Picking through the gold and sliver trinkets in the velvet-lined box, Evangeline paused as her finger hooked onto a gold ring. Adorned with a single large sapphire, the band glimmered in the candlelight. Evangeline held it up to the lamp, admiring the color. The engraving, a tiny script wrapped around the inside of the band, required she lift her glasses onto the end of her nose. “For my forever love, Eva. Your devoted Harold.”

Evangeline straightened, stunned by the simple words. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes.
Forever
. Slipping the ring onto a finger, she held out her hand and admired the sapphire against her pale fingers. Had this ring been her mother’s wedding band? Or a ring her father had bestowed on her for a special occasion?

Thinking she would ask her brother, she was about to examine the rest of the jewelry when the sound of a knock at the front door broke the silence. Startled, Evangeline wondered who might be paying a call so late. Her brother was still away – perhaps a friend of his thought him already back in London. Or perhaps it was a note from the earl, letting her know his ship had docked in Wapping.

Curious, Evangeline descended the steps, hurrying toward the vestibule. She recognized the sound of Baron Sommers’ hushed tones even before she spied him from the hall.

“Lord Everly isn’t in residence, my lord,” Jones said with a shake of his head. “Shall I leave word you called?”

The baron lowered his eyes and paused before replying. “I was actually calling on Lady Evangeline. I know it’s late, but I ...”

“Lord Sommers!” Evangeline interrupted before the butler could respond. “It’s so very good to see you again. I hope all is well?”

Jeffrey’s face brightened at the sight of Evangeline. “My lady,” he said with a bow. “I apologize for calling so late ...”

“Do come in,” Evangeline stated, waving him into the hall. “Jones, could you please see that tea is delivered to the parlor?”

Before the butler had a chance to raise a protest, Evangeline had hooked an arm into Jeffrey’s and was leading him to the main floor parlor. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence this evening?” she wondered, glad for the interruption and even more glad that he had come to pay a call on her and not on her brother.

“Curiosity, I’m afraid,” the baron replied with a pained expression. “My lady, I have spent the entire day wondering about Ballantine and Miss Porterhouse,” he admitted. “I simply cannot sleep until I know what has happened with their ride in the park.”

Evangeline stared at Jeffrey, wondering if he’d been thinking the same things as she had. “I find myself in a similar quandary,” she replied before moving to the sideboard. “Would you care for a scotch? Or something else stronger than tea, perhaps?” she offered, realizing he would probably be at White’s this time of the night.

Jeffrey joined her at the sideboard. “You make an excellent hostess,” he said quietly, reaching for a crystal decanter. “But I’ve got this.” He poured two fingers of scotch into one of the glasses and started to return the decanter to its salver. “Did you ..?” He paused, wondering if she had intended to pour a glass for herself. “Want scotch?” he finally managed to get out. “Or ..?” he glanced about the sideboard and noticed several bottles. “Madeira or claret?”

Her face pinking up, Evangeline shook her head. “No, my lord. Tea will be fine for me.” The sound of a throat clearing had her turning her attention to the door whilst she was sure Jeffrey took an entire step backwards.

The butler stood on the threshold with a tea service and an expression on his face that suggested he was none too pleased with Lord Sommers’ presence in the parlor. “Tea, my lady,” he said in his rich baritone.

“Thank you, Jones. On the table in front of the settee is fine,” Evangeline said as she waved to the low table. She moved to serve herself as the butler held his ground next to the table. Sensing his distrust, Evangeline said, “Lord Sommers and I are going to continue our reading. From the same book,” she explained in a quiet voice. “But we’ll be no more than an hour,” she added when she saw her words weren’t changing Jones’ disposition.

“Very well, my lady,” he finally answered, reluctantly taking his leave of the parlor.

Evangeline watched him go, thinking he would probably hover outside the open door until Jeffrey left the house. Turning her attention back to the baron, she found him gazing at her in a most peculiar way. “What is it, Lord Sommers?” she asked as she lifted the tea pot and poured herself a cup.

Jeffrey stood holding his glass of scotch, wondering how he was going to respond to her query. “You’re nothing like Geraldine, are you?” he finally replied.

About to pour the milk into her tea cup, Evangeline paused and stared at the baron. “I ... I should hope not,” she replied, wondering if she should feel offended. He’d made the comment as if he had thought she were. Perhaps he had before now. But why would he think her so shallow? So insecure that she would feel the need to do the things Geraldine did in her attempts to land a husband?

Evangeline shook her head as if to clear it, deciding she didn’t wish to dwell on the subject. Setting down the milk pitcher, she added a lump of sugar and nervously stirred her tea. Jeffrey was still staring at her, though, his expression unreadable. “I cannot believe Lord Ballantine is finding it difficult to secure a suitable wife,” Evangeline commented as she lowered herself onto the settee. She’d had a footman move the small couch so light from a nearby window would illuminate a book whilst she read during the day. The position of the furniture meant they were seated with their backs to the door, but Evangeline had found the rearrangement more comfortable for conversation when Lady Samantha paid a call earlier that afternoon.

“What makes you say that?” Jeffrey wondered as he moved toward the settee.
The Story of a Baron
, its pages already opened to where they had left off earlier that morning in Grosvenor Square, lay on the low table in front of her. The page was marked with a rather elaborate bookmark. “That’s a rather interesting piece of art,” he remarked as he indicated the bookmark.

“Father made it for Mother when he was courting her,” Evangeline explained, indicating the bookmark. “But he didn’t seem to realize that adding these gemstones would leave impressions in the pages if you actually closed the book with it inside,” she added as she indicated the swirls of colored stones that created a floral pattern atop the flat metal strip. At the very apex of the metal strip, where the bookmark extended beyond the top of the pages, the gemstones were larger and made up the shape of a single tulip.

“It’s beautiful,” Jeffrey commented. “Was your father a jeweler? When he wasn’t an earl, I mean,” he clarified, hoping she wouldn’t think his question offensive to her father’s position as a peer of the realm.

Evangeline nodded. “He was. Or rather, he would have been if he hadn’t been the heir to the Everly earldom. He loved working with silver and gold,” she said with a shrug.

Jeffrey furrowed his brows. “If your father was so interested in jewelry ...”

“Metallurgy,” Evangeline interrupted. “He was really more interested in metals and how they could be shaped and bent and curled. But Society is far more tolerant of a jeweler than a metallurgist,” she said with an arched eyebrow. “As was my mother, I suppose.” This last was said with a wan smile.

Nodding his understanding, Jeffrey considered the late earl’s hobby for a moment. “Then, from where did your brother get his fascination with flora and fauna and ... exploration?” he wondered, his curiosity apparent in how he regarded his hostess.

Evangeline considered the question for a long time before she finally shrugged. “I have no idea,” she admitted. “He’s always been more comfortable out of doors,” she added with a shake of her head. “Catching flutterbies and fire flies and snakes and all manner of small animals. Made for a rather entertaining childhood for me, although I admit I did not care for the snakes.”

“I should think not!” Jeffrey said quite firmly. “You could have been poisoned!” This last was said with such alarm that Evangeline moved a hand to her breast and leaned back a bit.

“Oh, I rather doubt it,” she replied then, suddenly hoping she hadn’t underestimated the snakes her brother collected. “They were common snakes the gardeners would find whilst they scythed the lawn,” she added with a grin. “But I appreciate your concern for my welfare.”

Jeffrey nodded, suddenly at a loss for words. He pointed at the book. “I take it you are as curious as I am?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Evangeline grinned. “I cannot tell you how tempted I was to read ahead,” she admitted as she patted the cushion next to where she sat.

Jeffrey took the seat next to her, careful to keep his thigh away from hers. “So, you didn’t give into temptation?” he wondered as he waved at the book, noting it was open to where they had left off earlier that day.

Grinning, Evangeline shook her head. “I have steadfastly avoided this room since I returned home this morning,” she claimed as she leaned over to get the book. Using his left hand, Jeffrey caught the edge of the front cover and helped in lifting the tome onto his thigh.

“I do not care for snakes, so please believe me when I say that I shall never expose you to such an abomination,” Jeffrey stated suddenly, for no other reason than to ensure she understood he meant her no harm. Ever.

Evangeline blinked before giving him a brilliant smile. “I believe you, my lord,” she replied with a wink.

A wink!

Jeffrey stilled himself, goose bumps making their way over his entire body. Did the woman have any idea what her simple gesture had done to his sense of self? To his sense of well-being?

Perhaps she merely had something in her eye.

Or was she flirting?

God, I can only hope
, he thought before he realized Evangeline had already started reading.

Jeffrey quickly turned his attention to the page below and started reading the next chapter in
The Story of a Baron
.

Christ! Did I really write this drivel?
he wondered as he tried to remember writing the scene in which the heroine, Geraldine Porterhouse, flirted with Lord Ballantine as he drove her to the birthday party for Viscountess Barrick.
She is shameless,
he thought, wondering how he could have written a female character who would behave as Geraldine did – unlike any other gently bred woman. The chit would end up a spinster if she continued to act as she did, and yet, he knew first hand that she would end up happily married to the baron.

She had to. He had written the scene in which she declared her undying love for Ballantine. Had written the scene in which they promised they would remain together forever.

Forever.

What was I thinking?
he wondered suddenly.

I was thinking of Lady Evangeline
, he answered himself. Imagining how she would behave given her brother’s extended absences from London, her freedom from his rebukes allowing her to entertain guests at all hours in her home and pay calls on any man who showed her the least bit of attention.

Jeffrey shook himself. Lady Evangeline did no such thing! She was nothing like Geraldine. She would never pay calls on an unmarried man at midnight, even if he wanted her to. And, at the moment, he could think of no more welcome caller than Evangeline Tennison. At any time of the day or night.

“Are you finished with this page?” Evangeline whispered as her forefinger moved to turn the page.

Not having read a single word of the pages spread below him, Jeffrey inhaled sharply. “Yes,” he lied, and then watched as her slender finger lifted the paper and slowly flipped it to his side of the book so that the next spread lay before them.

A quick glance at the top line reminded him where they were in the story.
Jesus!
At any moment, she would be reading about the baron’s sexual fantasies regarding Geraldine! About how Ballantine imagined she looked without her walking gown covering her generous bosom. Of how she looked with her stays and her petticoats removed from her body. Of how she looked wearing only her stockings and her dance slippers, one leg slightly in front of the other in an attempt to hide the dark curls at the top of her thighs. Of her pert breasts swollen and ready for his tongue and teeth to claim her. Of how she would inhale sharply but allow him all the liberties Jeffrey had ever dreamed of taking with Lady Evangeline.

I am going to hell!

“I rather doubt that,” Evangeline whispered, patting the hand that rested on the edge of the book.

Christ!
Had he really just said that last bit out loud? He must have, for what other reason would Evangeline have to make such a comment?

“Thank you,” he whispered, turning his head so his nose was just grazing her coiffure. The scent of lilies and honeysuckle had him inhaling slowly. Did she have any idea how good she smelled? Of how intoxicating her very presence could be?