The Story of a Baron (The Sisters of the Aristocracy) (22 page)

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.

“Welcome back to civilization,” Grandby said, his comment directed to Harry.

The Earl of Everly nodded. “Thank you. And your appearance is most timely, as I was just telling everyone here that my sister is well looked after during my lengthy absences,” he said.

Grandby’s eyes narrowed a bit in annoyance. It wasn’t as if Harry Tennison had ever actually
asked
him to look after Lady Evangeline; Grandby had simply done so out a sense of duty to his goddaughter. “She is,” Grandby acknowledged with a nod. His gaze drifted to Jeffrey Althorpe, who seemed to straighten up suddenly when their eyes met. “She is, indeed,” Grandby added with a grin. He turned his attention back to Harry. “And before you leave on your next trip, I expect someone else will be seeing to her welfare on a daily basis.” With that, he gave a nod to the table in general. “I’m off for home to have dinner with my countess. Don’t stay out too late,” he said, his eyebrows waggling as if he knew they all probably would.

It was obvious from the earl’s statement that Grandby had overheard Lord Everly’s original comment about someone watching over Evangeline. And, on top of that, no one at the table missed the earl’s meaning regarding Evangeline’s future, including Harry.

The Earl of Everly stared after the earl, watching him as a footman saw to his coat and hat. Grandby expected him to have Evangeline settled in a marriage before he left for his next expedition.

Jeffrey watched as the Earl of Grandby took his leave of White’s, all the while wondering if the earl had been aware that he and Lady Evangeline were meeting to read the book. He had never actually seen Grandby whilst he was with Evangeline, but, truth be told, he hadn’t been aware of anyone else when he was with her. It was if the rest of the world didn’t exist when they were sitting side-by-side. At least he could be assured that Grandby hadn’t paid witness to the indiscretions that had taken place that one night in the parlor, a night he had replayed in his mind every night and every morning since. During lunch and whilst he ate dinner, as well. Even now, the thought of Lady Evangeline had his cock at attention. And his heart feeling rather glad.

Well, if Grandby intended for the chit to be married before Everly left on his next trip, Jeffrey realized he had better see to it he was the only one allowed to court her. For the idea of Evangeline with another man caused him to experience an emotion with which he was completely unfamiliar.

Jealousy
.

Chapter 44

A Godfather and His Wife

Adele Grandby, Countess of Torrington, hurried into Worthington House. She divested herself of her umbrella and coat, their surfaces dampened by the thick morning fog. Had anyone else but Clarinda Fitzwilliam, Countess of Norwick, asked for her company on a walk in the park on such a suddenly inhospitable day, Adele would have politely declined. But Clare was her best friend and a widow for barely two days. If the day had remained sunny and bright, the poor woman wouldn’t have been allowed the outing.

Milton Grandby appeared from the breakfast parlor. “There you are,” he said, glancing beyond her to see their butler hanging up her wet coat. “What were you doing out in this horrible weather?” he wondered, hurrying up to her to plant a kiss on the corner of her mouth.

Because of her late husband’s hesitance to show the least bit of affection, other than behind bedchamber doors, and sometimes not even then, Adele welcomed her new husband’s amorous attentions.

“Clare sent word she wanted to take a walk,” Adele replied. “It was a beautiful day just a couple of hours ago.”

“It was cold,” Grandby countered, his brows furrowing.

Adele shrugged, as if the weather hadn’t really mattered. “And then, after I left Clare at her coach, the fog suddenly rolled in.”

The earl nodded, a look of sadness crossing his face as he thought about the new widow. She had truly loved her husband, the Earl of Norwick. “How is she?” he wondered in a whisper, taking Adele’s hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm. He headed them toward the breakfast parlor.

“She’s ... heartbroken and a bit ... frightened,” Adele offered carefully, deciding not to tell her husband that the widow was also with child. As was she – Lady Evangeline’s observations had proven true – but she hadn’t yet decided how to tell Grandby that bit of news.

“Frightened?” he repeated, his brows joining together to form a salt-and-pepper caterpillar across his forehead.

“Of David’s brother, Daniel. Seems they had an awful row a few years ago. She’s afraid the man will evict her from Norwick House.”

Grandby allowed his wife to precede him into the breakfast parlor. “Daniel won’t evict her,” he countered with a shake of his head. He pulled a chair out from the table and saw to it Adele was seated before a footman hurried into the room. “Coffee, tea, pastries ...” He turned to his wife and raised a brow. “Cake?”

Adele regarded her husband with a wan smile. “Yes, cake,” she agreed, deciding she could indulge. She was eating for two and obviously already looking as if she did. At some point, she would have to have her modiste create a new wardrobe. “And what makes you say that?” she asked, surprised at her husband’s comment about Daniel Fitzwilliam.

“Daniel loves Clare. He has since before David even met her,” Grandby replied as he took his seat across the small table. At his wife’s look of disbelief, the earl shrugged. “They’re identical twins. She didn’t know which one she was marrying.”

Adele gave a snort of disbelief. “How can that be?” she countered, thinking Clarinda would be able to tell the difference between the two men. Twins usually had a feature or two that were a bit different.

“Haven’t met Daniel yet, have you?” Grandby countered. “Clare probably spent ... maybe ... an hour all told being courted by those two. David didn’t even realize he wanted to marry her until after his brother had already proposed. He moved in, got the girl, and the rest, they say, is history.”

Frowning at her husband’s claim, Adele shook her head. “
His story
, you mean,” she said with an arched eyebrow just as a maid delivered a tray with the tea service. A footman followed with a tray of biscuits and cake.

Grandby arched an eyebrow in return. “Good one, my lady, but I stand by my story.” He helped himself to a Dutch biscuit. “Clare will still be Lady Norwick a year from now,” he claimed. “She’ll just be married to the other twin.”

Pouring a cup of coffee for her husband and a cup of tea for herself, Adele realized she had done the right thing by recommending Clare give her brother-in-law the benefit of the doubt. Although she didn’t necessarily believe the countess would end up with the brother as a husband, she hoped they could at least be friends. “It was good of you to be the one to inform Clare,” she said in a quiet voice.

“I never want to have to tell another goddaughter that her husband has died,” he said with a shake of his head. He’d been the one summoned to confirm the identity of the man who had broken his neck in a fall from his horse in Oxford Street. And once he’d done so, he had ridden straight to Norwick House to inform Clarinda that David had died. He rather doubted he would ever again be welcomed in her home after bringing such tragic news. He would see her again in a couple of days at the funeral, no doubt.

Having been in Lady Norwick’s shoes only a few years ago, Adele understood some of what Clarinda was going through, somewhat only because she and Samuel Worthington were never in love. One of the early entrepreneurs of steam ships, her first husband had made a fortune – a fortune she had inherited upon his untimely death at the age of only forty. Then there had been one engagement prior to her meeting Grandby. James Weston had apparently been counting the days until she was out of mourning, beginning a courtship she found she welcomed because the man seemed so sincere in his attentions toward her. Once she learned Weston’s true intentions, however – he needed her fortune to pay off gambling debts and, presumedly, to allow him to continue to gamble – she ended the engagement.

When Grandby chose to escort her to all the society events last year, she was thrilled by the attentions of a man who usually chose much younger widows for the honor. At the end of the Season, she expected him to end their liaison much like he had done with every other widow he had ever escorted during an entire Season – with an expensive bauble and a parting kiss. Instead, Milton Grandby had asked for her hand in marriage and bestowed a rather large sapphire ring on her finger at the same time he was bestowing a rather long and luscious kiss on her open mouth.

Good God!
That kiss had shaken her to her toes.

How could she say no? The man had his own fortune, and although he occasionally gambled, he didn’t do so to excess. Now that she had been married to him for nearly six months, she couldn’t imagine a life without him. Which reminded her of Lady Evangeline and her lack of a husband. “Has Lord Everly returned to these shores?” she asked suddenly.

Grandby straightened in his chair, surprised by the question. “A couple of days ago,” he replied with a nod. “He was at White’s last night, in fact.”

“Arranging a match for Evangeline, I hope?” Adele hinted, her eyebrow arched.

The earl blinked. And blinked again. Even if Adele hadn’t brought up the subject, he would have at some point. Although Evangeline’s brother should have been seeing to a suitable match for her, he didn’t seem to be matchmaking the night before. “I think I may be able to arrange it on his behalf,” the earl hedged, his attention on something beyond Adele’s shoulder.

“It’s past time the poor girl was settled,” Adele said as she leaned forward and helped herself to another cake. “She spends her days doing exquisite embroideries, but everyone in the
ton
thinks she’s a bluestocking,” the countess complained. She refilled her teacup and offered more coffee to Grandby. He shook his head but took another biscuit.

He allowed a sudden grin as he considered how he was going to go about putting the final pieces of his plan into place without offending the Earl of Everly. “Tell me, are you still reading that book?
The Story of a Baron?
” he asked suddenly.

Adele had to suppress a grin as she shrugged. “I’m only about halfway through it, but ...”

“Who’s the baron?” Grandby asked suddenly as he leaned forward, his elbows on the table.

Blinking a few times, Adele shook her head. “You mean Matthew Winters?” she responded after a bit of hesitation. “Lord Ballantine.”

“In real life,” her husband clarified. “Whom do you think the book is
really
about?”

Stilling herself, Adele gave her husband’s question a good deal of thought. She had only thought the book a work of fiction. But now that she thought about it, some of the social situations seemed familiar. And the names of places, such as Nonmack’s and Black’s, were obviously opposites of the real names of Almack’s and White’s. And she thought Lord Afterly seemed rather similar to Lord Everly, but as for the other members of the aristocracy, she hadn’t really noticed any veiled identities.

Was Lord Ballantine supposed to be based on a real baron?

Grandby sighed. “Maybe I was just reading too much into it, but doesn’t Matthew Winters seem an awful lot like Lord Sommers?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

Adele frowned. “When did you have a chance to read the book?” she wondered with surprise.

Her husband rolled his eyes. “Only the first few chapters,” he said, not adding that he had done so whilst in Hatchard’s. He had no intention of spending any money on the tome.

The countess grinned, but considered his question. Once she gave it some thought, she decided that, yes, Lord Ballantine did seem a bit like Jeffrey Althorpe. “But Afterly’s sister, Geraldine, isn’t anything like Evangeline,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Of course not,” Grandby stated with a shake of his head. “Anonymous didn’t know her. Or know her well enough when he used her as the model for Geraldine,” he said with some authority.

Staring at her husband, Adele shook her head. “Why would you think Evangeline was the model for Geraldine? They’re ... they are nothing alike,” she argued, wishing she had managed to read more of the book.

“Tall, blonde, alone all the time?” he replied quickly. “I think Anonymous is rather fond of our Lady Evangeline,” he added with a quirked eyebrow.
And I think I may know who he is
, he thought to himself.

“Evangeline Tennison would
never
do the things Anonymous has Geraldine doing in that book,” Adele said as she shook her head. “Or, at least accused of, anway.”

Grandby regarded his wife for a long time before he replied. “Not yet, anyway.”

Although he was pretty sure he knew the true identity of Lord Ballantine, he had some work to do before he could confirm his suspicions about Anonymous. Depending on just who that someone was, that someone just might be asking Lady Evangeline for her hand in marriage.