The Story of a Baron (The Sisters of the Aristocracy) (8 page)

Chapter 13

Chapter Three: An Earl Returns to London

Richard Porterhouse, Earl of Afterly, regarded his house in Bruton Street with a bit of dismay. Covered with a layer of soot that dulled its bright yellow coloring, the three-story Rosehill House looked as if it needed a thorough bath. One of the shutters hung a bit crooked, its fastening probably loosened during a wind storm. A piece of clapboard looked as if it was about to fall off. And one of the pickets was missing from the fence.

Having been gone for over six months, Richard had forgotten how much maintenance a house required. Apparently, his estate manager, Cuthbert, had as well, since he obviously hadn’t seen fit to include the house in the list of duties he was to have overseen during the earl’s absence. Richard would have a word with the man once he located his sister and determined if anyone needed to be called out to meet him at Wimbledon Commons.

Smithton, the butler, greeted him at the front door, opening it before Richard even had a chance to climb the stairs.

“Ah, at least
you
haven’t changed,” Richard remarked as he made his way across the threshold and into Rosehill House.

“I have not, my lord,” Smithton replied, his bushy brows furrowing at the odd comment. “How was your trip, milord?”

The earl gave his hat and coat to the butler. “Exhausting. Exhilarating. Expensive,” he replied tersely. “Is my sister in residence?”

Smithton shook his head. “Not at this time, but I expect her shortly, milord.”

Richard nodded and let out a loud sigh. “Shopping again?” he guessed as he moved beyond the vestibule and into the main hall. A silver salver featured a stack of white folded papers, very few looking as if they might be invitations to the latest
ton
events. He would have to gird his loins before looking through the pile of invoices Cuthbert should have paid in his absence.
How much could a single woman spend in six month’s time?
he wondered.

“The Palace of Prose, I believe,” the butler said with a nod. “Her second time this week.”

Having learned in a recent missive from his estate manager that several servants had taken their leave of Rosehill House, Richard knew there wasn’t a groom nor a tiger who could have accompanied Geraldine had she taken the only carriage in the stables. He frowned. “How has she been getting about?” he asked.

Smithton glanced down at his shoes, their shine so clear he could see his reflection. “Hackney, my lord,” he said in a quiet voice.

Richard screwed up his face, somewhat surprised his sister would be so desperate as to hire a hackney when she probably could have walked to the most fashionable shopping areas. “Cuthbert is working on hiring a new groom,” the earl replied. “As well as a stable boy and another housekeeper.” He paused a moment, wondering if his butler would tell him
why
the other servants had left the Rosehill household. “Did our departing servants give any
reason
for their leaving?” he asked, not sure he wanted to hear it.

The butler nodded. “Two of them were hired away by Lord Abdington with the promise of more beef and less lobster at dinner,” he stated simply.

Richard nodded, deciding he, too, would move to another household if he didn’t have to eat lobster four times a week. “And the third?”

At this query, the butler looked down at his shoes again. When he didn’t give an immediate response, the earl rolled his eyes, noting the paint on the ceiling needed a touch-up. Or a completely new coat of paint. “Out with it,” he ordered.

Smithton sighed. “She said she couldn’t continue to work in a household plagued by ...” Here, the butler paused and took a deep breath, expecting he might be the next to take his leave of Rosehill House – and not of his own volition. “‘A lady so prone to scandal, it’s a wonder she doesn’t work in a brothel.’ Her words. Not mine,” he said with a shake of his head.

The earl stared at the butler for a very long time.
Good God! What has Geraldine been doing?
Richard had received one note explaining she’d been falsely identified as having been in the company of Lord Brotherly at Vauxhall Gardens wearing nothing more than her birthday suit.
How had Geraldine put it in her letter?
“It could not have been me, brother, as I was home having my hair washed that night, and as you know, I do not go out in public with a wet head.”

She had him there. The chit had so much hair, it took nearly a day for it to dry completely, or so she claimed.

As to the other incident he knew of, she could only claim her gown didn’t fit her as well as it should have, and the top half of her nipple became – how had she put it?
uncovered
– when Lord Atherton stepped on the hem of her gown whilst they were dancing at Lord Abdington’s ball.

He recalled a similar incident when Lady Barrick had been at a dinner party and her bodice had suddenly lowered, leaving both of her nipples entirely exposed. The poor viscountess hadn’t even been aware of what happened until all the conversation at the dining table had ceased and all eyes were suddenly on her. Or rather, on her nipples. Every bit the lady, the viscountess had merely readjusted her gown and continued her conversation with Lord Abdington, who probably hadn’t heard a word she’d said before or after the incident.

What else could have happened? He’d only been gone six months!

At the sound of horses in front of the house, Smithton excused himself and moved to open the front door. Lady Geraldine entered the vestibule, followed by her maid, who bore the brunt of her lady’s shopping excursion. “When you get a moment, have Cook boil some water. After riding in a hackney, I always feel as if I need a bath,” Geraldine complained. She was about to enter the hall when she stopped short. “Richard!” Dropping her reticule, she rushed to give her brother a hug.

Richard reluctantly hugged his sister, acknowledging her maid’s curtsy with a nod. “I’ve only just arrived,” he said as they separated. He gave his sister a thorough look, realizing almost immediately that she needed a new modiste. “You’re terribly pink today,” he said, not making the comment a compliment.

Geraldine shook her head. “It’s too much, I know,” she replied. “But Madame Eunice claims it’s all the rage in France.”

Richard raised an eyebrow, wondering which France condoned such dressing. Certainly not the one that included Paris.

Chapter 14

On Scandalous Incidents

At this point in the story, Evangeline gasped, one hand moving to cover her mouth. “Oh, my,” she whispered, glancing down at her monochromatic outfit. “This is truly the
last
time I wear such an ensemble,” she vowed, mortified by her decision to dress like Lady Geraldine. She had thought perhaps the woman’s choice of dress was truly fashionable – somewhere.

Jeffrey shook his head. “But you’re lovely in pink, my lady,” he countered, thinking his own cheeks were certainly that color given the descriptions of Geraldine’s scandals. What had he been thinking to write such dreck?

“Lady Barrick’s incident at Lord Abdington’s ball sounds exactly like what happened to Lady Pettigrew at Lord Torrington’s dinner party last year,” Evangeline commented, her brows furrowing. Although she hadn’t been present at the dinner party, the incident had been reported in every parlor she visited the following week.

Jeffrey stiffened, remembering the incident at Grandby’s house quite well. Although he barely knew the earl, he’d been invited to attend the intimate gathering of about forty guests. Well, not so intimate, he realized, remembering how the dinner table had been so long, he couldn’t see the ends from where he sat near the middle. He’d been placed directly to the right of Viscountess Pettigrew, where he had an up-close and personal view of the lady’s charms when they suddenly went on display. Which is why he included just such an incident in the book.

Who could make up such a story?

“Now that you mention it, I do believe I heard something about that,” he admitted, glad Evangeline wasn’t in attendance at the dinner party to witness how
long
he stared at the surprisingly pert plums on display. Surprising because Lady Pettigrew was nearly old enough to be his mother.

“But I don’t recall hearing anything about someone prancing about in their birthday suit at Vauxhall Gardens,” Evangeline added with a shake of her head, sure that would have been a topic of conversation in someone’s parlor.

That’s because it was at Kensington Gardens, and no one was there to see Lady Bostwick in all her glory
, Jeffrey thought to himself.
Well, except for her husband, George Bennett-Jones
. But since the viscount was the one to mention it during a fencing match, Jeffrey was fairly sure it was a true story.

Change the names, change the location, and voilá! Plot point!

Realizing Evangeline was staring at him, as if she expected him to either validate or repudiate the story, Jeffrey simply shook his head. “I’m sure I would have heard something,” he said with shake of his head. And then he held his breath, worried she might decide he wasn’t telling her the entire truth.

“You’re not telling me the entire truth, are you?” Evangeline said with a hint of disappointment.

Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Jeffrey shook his head. “Propriety, my lady, forbids me from sharing what little I know of Lady Bostwick’s adventure in Kensington Gardens.”

Geraldine blinked. And then a smile slowly appeared, lighting up her face in glorious amusement. “You needn’t say anything more, my lord,” she replied with a shake of her head. She might have missed most of the social events of a Season, but she did pay calls and was privy to most of the
on-dit
in Mayfair. Lady Elizabeth Carlington Bennett-Jones was a rather bold woman when circumstances required it. And even when circumstances didn’t.

Jeffrey took a moment to consider the viscount’s tale. He wondered if the man mentioned the incident as a means of embarrassing him, but then he thought perhaps it was a hint that Jeffrey could be enjoying a wife and a happier life should he leave bachelorhood behind. Bostwick had been a confirmed bachelor before meeting Lady Elizabeth. And now he seemed to be the happiest man in all of London.

“Should we continue reading?” Evangeline wondered, her head bent to one side as she regarded the baron. The man seemed lost in thought, as if he wished he were the viscount whose wife danced naked in the gardens.

Glancing in her direction, Jeffrey nodded. “Of course,” and finally returned his attention to the book.

Chapter 15

Chapter Three: Continued

Geraldine sighed. So her modiste’s suggestion of dressing all in the same color apparently wasn’t as fashionable as she claimed.
How could I know?
Geraldine wondered, realizing almost immediately she could read
La Belle Assembée
or some other fashion journal, should she really care as much as she probably should.

But fashion was the least of her worries now. At some point, she knew her brother would want a complete recounting of everything that had happened since his departure. And an accounting of her expenditures. She had no idea how she would explain the rumors about her and the men in whose company she was supposed to have been.

She hadn’t even met two of them. As for the third, she wouldn’t have necessarily minded being associated with Lord Barrick except that he’d been married to one of her best friends for the better part of three years.

Deciding she was in for a long evening, Geraldine excused herself and made her way to the parlor. Tea was sure to help make everything better, she thought. Tea and biscuits. And chocolate.

Chapter 16

The Spies Have It

“Oh,” Evangeline said as she straightened on the bench. “We’ve finished another chapter. Do you wish to keep reading?” she asked as she turned the page to Chapter Four.

Jeffrey glanced at the sky, noticing how clouds were moving in from the south.
The air smells like rain
, he thought in dismay. He didn’t want Evangeline to get caught with merely a parasol for cover. “I think not,” he answered as he pointed toward the fast moving clouds. “Perhaps we should continue tomorrow,” he offered, his disappointment apparent. “Unfortunately, I expect it will rain,” he said, thinking that to have two glorious days was at least one day too many given the British climate. Rain was due. Past due.

“Then you should come to Rosemount House. We can read in my brother’s library,” Evangeline offered. “Eleven o’clock?”

Jeffrey had to suppress a look of shock. How had the lady known he wasn’t usually up and about until past nine? Perhaps she wasn’t up until past nine, either. “Eleven o’clock,” he agreed. “May I escort you to your carriage?”

Evangeline considered the offer. “I suppose,” she replied, closing the book and tucking it into the crook of her arm. “I’m just down this path.” She waved to her maid, who got up from where she was lounging on the grass with a servant from another household. A rather handsome footman she thought looked awfully familiar.

The three strolled down the crushed granite path until they reached the Everly coach. As Jeffrey handed up Evangeline, he kissed the back of her gloved hand, promised her he would see her in the morning, and bade her farewell. Then he handed up Annabelle, performed a bow, and headed back the way he had come.

Lady Samantha watched as the baron passed by for a second time, hoping the man didn’t dare glance to his left. She held a finger to her lips until Lord Sommers disappeared on the other side of the square, and then turned to Lady Julia and burst out laughing.

“You are
impossible
,” Julia claimed, her own mirth barely contained. “However did you know they would sit in that particular bench?”

Samantha shrugged. “There aren’t that many in the square, so I figured they would choose the one in the middle,” she answered, threading her arm through Julia’s as they made their way out of the square toward her uncle’s house.

Shortly after meeting that morning, the two had made their way to Grosvenor Square with the intent of spying on Evangeline and the baron. And spy, they had. But boredom had nearly gotten the best of them. Watching two people read a book was about as exciting as watching each other do embroidery in the Fitzsimmons Manor parlor.

Just as they were about to take their leave of the large tree trunk they used for cover in favor of a walk back to Fitzsimmons Manor, they paid witness as Lady Evangeline suddenly and inexplicably landed in Lord Sommers’ lap.

Or almost landed in his lap.

They couldn’t quite tell from their vantage point what had caused her to suddenly almost tip over and nearly end up atop the rather astonished Lord Sommers. And then Evangeline had performed some sort of maneuver akin to a pirouette, her body suddenly balanced on her tip-toes as she spun about.

“Oh!” they had both exclaimed in unison, their combined voices loud enough that they were quite sure Evangeline had overheard them. But her own “Oh!” had drown out theirs, leaving them trying to suppress a sudden fit of the giggles. And then, when the baron and Evangeline had bent down to retrieve the book, which at some point had fallen off the bench, they watched with rapt attention as Lord Sommers lifted Evangeline’s hand and slowly brought it to his lips and Evangeline to her feet.

Their long sighs, both in unison, caused another fit of giggles.

“How long, do you suppose?” Samantha wondered, her gaze taking in the darkening skies above.

“How long for what?” Julia asked, not sure to what Samantha referred but thinking she was probably referring to the impending storm.

“Before they’re wed?”

Julia smiled and regarded her friend for a moment, realizing just then it was possible the earl’s sister would end up married to the baron. “I’ll bet they’re married within a month,” she said with a good deal of confidence.

Samantha nearly stopped in her tracks. “A
month?
” she repeated, looking ever so astonished. “Oh, all right. I guess I’ll take that bet,” she said with a sigh. “But I would have said three weeks.”

It was Julia’s turn to look astonished. And then even more shocked when the heavens suddenly opened up and rain began to pour down. Despite their parasols, the two were thoroughly drenched by the time they reached Fitzsimmons Manor.

As Evangeline settled into the town coach for the ride home from Grosvenor Square, she couldn’t help but think of how much the description of Lord Afterly reminded her of her brother. The similarities in their avocations were striking, both requiring they be absent from the London social scene for months at a time, leaving an unmarried sister without protection or the means to meet eligible bachelors.

Meeting men seemed to come easily to Lady Geraldine. She had obviously done
something
to warrant her reputation for being fast – something beyond the events featuring  Vauxhall Gardens or the ball – although the story hadn’t yet mentioned just what that
something
might be.

Geraldine’s behavior was bold, but that didn’t necessarily deter Lord Ballantine from finding her intriguing. Indeed, Evangeline wondered at the baron’s reaction to the earl’s sister. Was it just a man’s reaction to a bold woman that seemed to have him already snared in Geraldine’s net? Or did the man truly have feelings for her? They’d known each other since childhood; certainly that had something to do with his fondness for the lady.

When the coach parked in front of Rosemount House, Evangeline stepped out and waited for Annabelle, opening her parasol as rain began to fall. Once her maid was out and on her way into the house, the footman closed the door and the driver pulled away, intending to park the coach in the carriage house off the alley.

Evangeline stood in the rain, staring at the departing coach, staring at the crest adorning the door.

Everly.

Afterly.

Two earls who spent months away from London pursuing their avocations. Two earls who left behind sisters who were not married – not even betrothed.

If I can make the connection, certainly other readers will as well
, she realized in dismay. Suddenly light-headed, Evangeline swayed a bit as she stood on the front walk.

Her maid, not yet in the house, noticed her sudden distress. “Milady?” Annabelle said with a bit of concern, her line of sight tracking Evangeline’s so that she, too, was left watching the departing Everly coach.

Evangeline continued to stare at the gilded crest until it disappeared around the corner.

There could be no doubt.

Whoever had written
The Story of a Baron
had definitely used her brother as inspiration for the character of Lord Afterly.

Which had her wondering.

Who else had he used for inspiration?