He moved his hand so his fingers could push her sleeve down her shoulder. Still covered by the bodice of her gown, her breast seemed to swell as his lips lowered onto her engorged nipple. When he pulled away, as much to take a breath as to ensure he hadn’t yet been discovered by the servant, Jeffrey noticed the nipple’s silhouette through the muslin. He couldn’t help himself as he captured the bud between his teeth and gently bit it. Evangeline’s slight hiss had him stilling his motions, had him pulling away just a bit.
“Please, don’t stop,” he heard despite the pounding of his pulse in his ears.
Startled, Jeffrey raised his eyes to hers. Barely open, Evangeline’s eyes seemed glazed and sleepy, their lashes forming an exotic curved curtain that barely hid her green eyes. “Shh,” he replied, leaning in to kiss her gently. He thrilled at how her lips responded, at how her body arched so her breast filled his hand and her nipple moved to rest between two of his fingers. And then, suddenly her breast was bare, her sleeve pulled down far enough that her nipple escaped the confines of her gown.
Pinching the ruched bud between his thumb and forefinger, Jeffrey deepened the kiss in the hopes that he could swallow any sudden sounds she might make in response to his ministrations. He felt her gasp against his lips, felt her body arch up against him. When he was sure she wouldn’t cry out, he moved his mouth down to the nipple and closed his lips around it, his tongue laving over and around it until he was aware of her body shuddering beneath his, her hands clenching on his lapel and the bulge in his crotch. The sensation had him gasping and holding his breath in order to keep from calling out.
Evangeline suddenly settled against the front of his body, her face pressed into the space between his shoulder and neck as she exhaled what sounded like a very satisfied sigh.
Coming back to his senses, Jeffrey carefully raised her sleeve to its place on her shoulder and adjusted her bodice as best he could.
Was that a moan of disappointment he heard as the fabric scraped over her breast? Or one of despair? Did the lady realize what had just happened? Was she already regretting the liberties he had taken with her?
Christ! I’ve taken advantage of a sleeping woman, he chided himself. A wanton, sleeping, gently bred woman who was the sister of one of his friends!
I am so going to hell!
When her lips suddenly found his, Jeffrey’s eyes widened. He barely had time to return the kiss before Evangeline pulled away. “Please, do not regret what has happened here,” she whispered, her voice barely audible with her plea.
Jeffrey frowned. Regret? Why in bloody hell would he ever regret these stolen moments of pure pleasure with Lady Evangeline?
And then he realized the loud snoring had ceased. Remembering the book that was barely perched on his thigh, he moved one hand to steady it as Evangeline smoothed her skirts.
“I apologize for not having answered your earlier question,” Evangeline said, her voice suddenly filling the quiet library.
Jeffrey furrowed a brow. “What question?” he wondered, and then wondered how she could remember anything. His own brain was quite useless at the moment.
Evangeline bent her neck to one side. “You wondered why I cannot believe Lord Ballantine is having difficulty in finding a suitable match,” she said.
Nodding, Jeffrey finally remembered the comment. “And why do you wonder?” he asked. “He’s not exactly a prime candidate for the Marriage Mart.”
“Why ever not?” Evangeline countered, her surprise at his response evident.
Jeffrey inhaled, just as surprised by her response. “The baron is ... broke. I shouldn’t think any lady would want to marry a man who only weds her for her dowry,” he claimed, the words helping to calm his manhood.
Evangeline’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as she shook her head. “But, she would if she felt affection for him,” she argued. “If he ... if he confessed his affection for her,” she added quickly. “Not every woman is looking to marry a rich man,” she whispered and then realized that perhaps most were looking for just such a match. Geraldine certainly was.
Jeffrey regarded Evangeline for a long time before he nodded. Perhaps there was hope for him. “Thank you for ... sharing that information,” he said in a whisper.
Nodding, Evangeline sighed. “I do believe this was a most satisfying chapter. Don’t you agree?” she asked aloud, as if nothing of the last fifteen minutes had happened.
A most satisfying chapter ... in the book? Or in their lives? he wondered suddenly. “Very, milady,” Jeffrey agreed with a slight nod, aware that the butler was still behind them and probably very awake. Or at least, very aware. “I do believe I should be taking my leave, though. It’s quite late, and I didn’t mean to keep you from your slumber.”
Evangeline suppressed a smile, figuring the baron had known she had fallen asleep at some point during the second or third page. “You have not, I assure you. I will show you out.” Rising from the settee in one smooth movement, the earl’s sister caught the baron by surprise. Jeffrey stood up, though not with as much grace. A bit unsteady on his feet and hoping his waning erection wasn’t too apparent, he offered his arm to Evangeline. “Thank you for hosting me at such a late hour,” he answered with a nod.
Evangeline led the baron out of the parlor and past Jones, whom she just then realized had apparently joined them in the parlor at some point during their slumber. Now he was struggling to stand. “Oh, no need to get up, Jones,” Evangeline said as she and Jeffrey headed toward the vestibule.
“Very good, milady,” Jones replied, wondering how long he had been sleeping. Refreshed by his nap, he watched as Lady Evangeline escorted Lord Sommers to the front door and gave the man his hat. He watched as the baron leaned over her hand and kissed the back of it. And he watched as she curtsied and watched Jeffrey Althorpe take his leave of Rosemount House before she closed the door. He watched as she leaned against it for several moments. Then he watched as she made her way up the stairs to her bedchamber.
Never in all his years as the Everly butler had he seen Lady Evangeline look so content as she did just then. Whatever had happened in the parlor that evening had happened without him paying witness to it, he realized. Perhaps the two had simply read the book as he was led to believe. Or perhaps they had engaged in inappropriate behavior, perhaps even kissed whilst he slept. But he doubted it. What was the likelihood that any member of the ton would find Lady Evangeline attractive enough to take advantage of her? Her spectacles would certainly deter any man, he considered.
Jones went about his evening duties, stopping only for a moment when he suddenly remembered something.
Lady Evangeline hadn’t been wearing her glasses when she was in the parlor. Nor had she been wearing them as she escorted Lord Sommers to the front door.
Jones sighed. Damnation!
Evangeline allowed Annabelle to remove all the pins from her hair and help her into her night rail before she dismissed her for the night. As she climbed onto her bed, the linens turned down to expose the white fabric, she felt the same shudder pass through her body as the one that Lord Sommers had incited in her earlier that evening.
How could she have allowed him the liberties she had?
How could she not?
She had awoken when her body was suddenly aware – suddenly alive– with the realization that she was pressed against a man. Even now, his scent of amber and citrus and tobacco reminded her of how his hand had caressed her breast, of how his lips had felt pressed against her own. Of how they’d felt as they pressed against the soft skin of her breast. Of how his tongue and teeth had gently nipped her engorged nipple and sent her into a rising tide of erotic shivers, each one more intense than the one before it, until she had thought she might faint from the sheer pleasure his erotic touches had incited. Even now, her entire body vibrated with the memory of it.
If only Jones hadn’t been in the parlor. If only they’d been allowed a few more minutes of pure pleasure!
I am as wicked as Geraldine, she considered, not nearly as scandalized by the thought as she probably should have been.
What a delightful night.
The thought had Evangeline smiling as she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 23
A Butler Summons an Earl
“I came as soon as I received your missive,” Grandby said as he stepped into Rosemount House, handing his hat to Jones.
The startled butler resisted the urge to say, “Obviously,” since he had dispatched a footman with the note only the hour before – and the footman hadn’t yet returned. “I remembered your orders that I should inform you should anyone ... unexpected ... pay a call on Lady Evangeline, my lord.”
Still a bit breathless from his quick trip, the earl gave the butler a nod. “Is she here now?” he wondered, keeping his voice low in the event the subject of their discussion was within earshot.
“She is not, my lord. She has gone to pay a call on Lady Pettigrew,” Jones responded with a shake of his head. “She timed her departure so that she would arrive promptly at ten o’clock,” he added with a lifted brow, as if he found her punctuality amusing. “May I ring for tea? Or perhaps you’d like something a bit stronger?” Jones wondered as he led Lord Torrington to the parlor.
Grandby gave the man a look of annoyance. “I don’t suppose Everly keeps his scotch out where just anyone ...” He stopped speaking as the butler moved to the sideboard and lifted a crystal decanter from a silver salver. Jones poured a dollop of the amber liquid into a tumbler and offered it to the earl. “Lord Everly has sent word that he is on his way back to these shores. I expect him within the week, my lord,” he explained with a wave toward the sideboard. So the spirits aren’t usually so available, Grandby realized.
Swirling the scotch in his glass before taking a careful sip, Grandby regarded the butler for a moment. The man was rumored to be one of the best among the households of the ton, his no-nonsense manner and stern countenance tempered with fair treatment of the younger servants in the house. He was also the reason Lord Everly could spend so much time away from London – and his sister – given his responsibility for Evangeline. Their parents had died before Evangeline was even out of the schoolroom, so it fell to her brother to provide protection. But his frequent and lengthy absences from London meant others looked after the girl in his stead. The only reason Grandby was involved in the girl’s life was due to his status as her godfather.
Having agreed to be a godfather to nearly every child born to the ton whilst he was in his early twenties, Milton Grandby, Earl of Torrington, had become something of a celebrity. During those few years when he so willingly said ‘yes’ to the queries, he was blissfully unaware of what he’d have to deal with once those godchildren were of marriageable age. Twenty-one goddaughters, he thought with a scowl. And all of them of marriageable age. At least six were now married, with two of those making up a ducal couple. With any luck, a few more would join their ranks before Parliament’s recess for Christmas.
“So, who paid a call at the unfashionably late hour of nine o’clock?” Grandby wondered before taking another sip of the scotch. He rarely drank before noon, but for scotch as good as Lord Every’s, he made an exception.
“Lord Sommers, my lord,” the butler replied, straightening to his full five-foot, seven-inch height as he stated the name.
Grandby blinked. Sommers? “Did you ... let him in?” he asked, wishing the butler would tell him everything without having to be prompted.
“I did,” Jones admitted reluctantly, “But only because Lady Evangeline insisted I do so. She happened to be on the landing at the top of the stairs,” he said as gestured toward the hall, “And heard his arrival.”
Grandby’s eyes opened wider. “And, did you tell him Lord Everly was not in residence?”
The butler tried hard not to roll his eyes, but failed and nearly interrupted the earl with his reply. “Of course, my lord, but it seems he was here to see Lady Evangeline.” This last he said in a whisper, as if he thought he might be overheard by a servant.
The earl stilled himself. Lord Sommers had an occasion to call on Lady Evangeline at nine o’clock at night? “And?” he prompted, his head canting to one side. At this rate he would miss luncheon with his wife, a meal he especially enjoyed sharing with the former Lady Worthington because of what usually happened after the meal.
“They came in here and ... they read a book,” Jones said with a shrug. “The baron took his leave about ten o’clock, apologizing profusely for having come so late,” he added.
“A book?” Grandby repeated. At the butler’s nod, the earl suddenly left the parlor and walked into the library. He glanced about, secretly wondering if the two had been secretly reading one of Everly’s many books on sexual congress. The man was said to have one of the most extensive collections on the topic, although some of the tomes apparently had to do with the mating rituals of creatures other than humans.
When he determined that all the books seemed to be in their place on the shelves, he suddenly remembered the book the two had been reading in Finsbury Square earlier that week. He went back to the parlor and turned his attention to the furniture. On the settee, he found The Story of a Baron, its pages opened to the end of a chapter. They’re still reading the book, he realized, surprised Evangeline hadn’t purchased her own copy. Or perhaps this was her copy and the baron hadn’t purchased one of his own.
The Temple of the Muses might have been sold out since the day the book made its debut, but Hatchard’s had them. He was sure that’s where his wife had purchased hers.
Humph, he thought as he repositioned the book on the settee. Sommers was a baron, he considered as he studied the tome. Grandby opened the front cover and read the title page, noting the date of publication. A new release, he confirmed. He shook his head when he saw the work was attributed to Anonymous. That could be anyone. Someone who really was a baron or another member of the ton or ... or not, he considered as he closed the book. The author could just be a hack making his living writing bad books.
Grandby was about to return the book to its resting place when he noticed the indentations in the cushion of the settee. Two distinct impressions had been left, one deeper than the other, and the lighter one indicative of a woman’s derriere. Had the two simply been reading the book as the butler claimed? he wondered suddenly. The Story of a Baron. Grandby took up the book again and opened it to the first page of the first chapter. He read the first line.
Matthew Winters, Baron Ballantine, entered his favorite bookshop in search of a particular new title.
Grandby lifted his head, wondering if Winters was really Sommers. He dared a glance at the very last line of the book.
Forever.
Grandby slammed the book shut, the sound breaking the silence in the parlor. What was the author thinking? he wondered with a great deal of annoyance. That certainly didn’t tell the reader very much. But it was an ending that held promise, he had to admit. Which was saying a good deal if the story was truly about a baron. And apparently the baron and the sister of an earl were reading the story. Together.
What else might they being doing together? Grandby wondered suddenly. There hadn’t been a whiff of scandal surrounding Lady Evangeline – poor girl was lucky if she was ever able to step foot in a ballroom given her brother’s propensity for being out of the country so much. Everly never seemed to have someone lined up to look after his sister, trusting that she would spend her days calling on other young ladies of the ton, and ...
Grandby inhaled sharply. And what? Did anyone call on her? Did she ever go shopping in New Bond Street? Or have an ice at Gunter’s whilst some young buck regarded her from the side of her carriage? Or take in a play in Drury Lane?
Or visit a chocolate shop? He knew about her morning treks to the bookshop and to Lady Samantha’s and Lady Julia’s for tea, for those trips coincided with his own morning strolls. But where else was she going besides the parlors of those on whom she paid calls?
Suddenly remembering he wasn’t alone in the parlor, Grandby turned to find the butler regarding him, one bushy eyebrow arched in question. “How often does Lady Evangeline leave the house after she pays calls?” Grandby asked with an eyebrow arched to match the butler’s.
Jones eyes looked to the coffered ceiling for a second before he replied, his brows briefly furrowing. “Every day, my lord. She likes to go for walks.” He dared another glance at the ceiling and made a mental note to speak with the housekeeper about the cobwebs that had attached themselves to the coffers.
A bit surprised by the butler’s response, Grandby allowed his face to show it. “Does anyone go with her?” he wondered, realizing the poor girl didn’t have a chaperone. Although that was probably a good thing. Some chaperones would just as soon lock up their charges behind closed doors and never let them out than spend the time to introduce them into Society.
“Usually she is accompanied by her lady’s maid. When Winslet is unable to due to her duties, the other maids take turns, my lord,” Jones replied. “Some don’t mind the walk whilst others are ... less enthusiastic about the exercise,” he added with a roll of his eyes.
“And, at night? Does the lady ... go out?” the earl asked, glad to hear that at least his goddaughter was getting some air everyday. Although, given the amount of soot in the winter, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing, either.
“Not unless Lord Everly escorts her, my lord,” Jones responded, “And that does not happen very often.”
The Story of a Baron (The Sisters of the Aristocracy) Page 12
