The Baron and the Bluestocking

by G. G. Vandagriff

  “That whichever way I look at the matter, I cannot get around the fact that I am in love with you.”

  She went off in a peal of laughter. “Do not tell me! You have been reading Miss Austen’s Pride and Prejudice!”

  Awareness struck him. “But I am not as bad a Mr. Darcy, surely?”

  “You abhor my background, do not agree with my opinions, do not know how we shall get on, but in spite of all that, you think you love me. Does that not sound like Fitzwilliam Darcy?”

  Christian cut into his partridge with fury. “Am I to presume your answer is the same as Elizabeth’s?”

  “No, it is not precisely the same. I, too, have been troubled by the very great attraction between us. But I thought it not strong enough to do away with your scruples. I am surprised by your proposal.”

  He watched her fidgeting with her napkin. “Hélène, let me see your eyes.”

  She brought them up to meet his. Heat flared between them, taking his breath. “Give me your hand.”

  Reaching across the small, round table, she grasped his hand. Hers was cold. He brought his other hand up and chafed hers to warm it. “I think you are a little in love with me,” he said.

  She nodded. “I have sought to talk myself out of it. Like you, I have my doubts. I am afraid any love between us would eventually grow cold, we think so differently about women’s issues.”

  “I think, rather, you are afraid to give up your single status. You are afraid you would like being married and would no longer feel the need to exercise yourself on the part of single women of limited means.”

  She pulled her hand away. “That is not true!” Her eyes sparked, her cheeks flushed. “See! We are already at odds!”

  “But we love each other,” he said, aware that he was challenging her. His confidence blooming, he went further, “You cannot marry Delacroix or Blakeley when you love me.”

  It was as true a statement as he had ever made.

  { 16 }

  HÉLÈNE WAS STUNNED at Shrewsbury’s words. He actually was admitting his feelings and the reasons why he was fighting them. Just like Mr. Darcy, in fact. Hardly flattering. Then why was her heart racing like a gelding on a summer morning?

  This would not do! “You know, I cannot help the estate into which I was born. But you are possessed of everything—looks, rank, wealth. Just as Lord Delacroix is. At least he does not find my birth and breeding beneath him. He is willing to brave the ton by marrying me.”

  “As am I,” Shrewsbury said, matter of factly. “My thoughts have changed materially on that subject. I must beg your forgiveness for ever thinking myself superior to you in any way. It was unconscionable. It is not your social status that matters. It is the state of your heart. I have come to appreciate that you, unlike the ton beauties that I have known, are concerned with things of substance. Your life is an example of charity and true nobility of character.”

  He took her breath away! Was it possible he had changed so materially? “Thank you, my lord. You have indeed changed in this matter. Like Darcy, you have had to fight your own prejudices.” Indeed, the conversation seemed out of a novel. She could not believe they were discussing such things—finally bringing them out into the open. Hélène endeavored to keep her wits about her before they went sailing out the window.

  “Like him, at least I am honest,” Shrewsbury said. “I do not know what Delacroix’s game is, but I do not believe him to be of good character. I have told you that a man of his stamp and arrogance has only one use for women who will not increase his consequence.”

  Not hungry, she made a great show of cutting up her partridge, but then only pushed the meat around her plate. “He may not be as black as you think him. I am pleasantly surprised at how much interest he takes in the school.”

  “Hélène.” He spoke her name as a warning. She looked up at him. His eyes implored her. “Do. Not. Marry him.”

  “I have the feeling he can be very unpleasant when crossed,” she said.

  “Is he bullying you, then? Shall I have a word with him?”

  “He is so determined, I do not think he would listen to you.”

  “Is he imposing on you?” Shrewsbury’s eyes narrowed and his bottom lip stuck out belligerently.

  “Nothing more than kisses.” She put the back of her hand up to her lips. “But I do not like them.”

  The baron’s silverware clattered as he stood. “He has had the gall to kiss you? You let him?”

  “I had never been kissed before. I thought I might like it. But I did not.”

  He strode to her side, drew her to her feet, and took her face between his hands. “This is how you kiss someone when you are in love with them.”

  He teased her with gentle kisses on her eyelids, on the ridge of her brow, below her ear, down the edge of her jaw, and finally on her lips. These kisses awoke a fire in her, and by the time he kissed her mouth, she was eager and ready to respond. His lips were warm and searching, and she answered him with her own kiss. The harshness of life had made a hard place inside her that melted away into sweetness—a tenderness that flowed throughout her body like a river of honey. Soon his arms were around her, and hers about him. They locked together perfectly, and she felt safe. He kissed her throat down to her collarbone, and then rained kisses along there through her clothing as she sighed with a rapture that was completely new to her.

  “I am so relieved,” she said.

  “Relieved?”

  “Yes. I thought there was something wrong with me, that kisses could not arouse feeling in me. But kissing you . . . it is beyond words.” Her wits were well and truly gone. She thought she had reached heaven. So this is what all the fuss is about.

  His look was soft. “It is beyond words. I never thought to feel this way, Hélène.” He kissed her on the lips again, then resolutely put her away from him. “Unfortunately, I hear the rattle of the serving cart down the hall. We had better resume our places.”

  No sooner had she seated herself than Hélène saw the footman reenter to clear away the pheasant. What am I to do? I want this feeling to go on forever. And kissing Lord Delacroix again would surely sully this experience.

  When the cheese and biscuits were laid before them and the footman had left, she realized that things between her and Christian were more confused than ever. She endeavored to get hold of her senses. “I must admit that I do love you, Christian, but I still do not see how we can marry. You scorn things that are of overmastering importance to me.”

  “We will talk of these things in more detail when we are not so overcome,” he said.

  “I fear we will always be overcome in one another’s presence.”

  “It is a conundrum,” he admitted. “One thing is easily solved, however. My mother is a good sort. She can teach you very well how to go on in society. So your inexperience really ought not to be a problem. I was so busy fighting my attraction to you, I made a mountain out of a molehill.”

  “I should rather be taught by the duchess, who has proven to be a good friend. But then, you know, if I had a choice, I would rather continue my teaching than live among the ton.”

  “I cannot live in Chipping Norton when Parliament is in session,” he said with a frown.

  “I should not want you to. You see how it is. We are both doing important things. But I do not want to be parted, Christian. We must be together completely, or resolve to part. And now, I do not think I could bear that.”

  His look was soft as a caress. “Allow me to think about the situation. You give your excellent mind to it, as well.”

  Putting her hand across the table, she sought his. He grabbed it and brought it to his lips where he kissed it passionately.

  “We will find a way for everything to be managed satisfactorily,” he said. “After all, we must.”

  *~*~*

  Lady Virginia, Lady Delacroix, and Lord Delacroix all sat in on her reading of The Mysteries of Udolpho that afternoon. Hélène did not know where Christian had disappeared t
o. However, all four were present for the girls’ games. Christian actually participated in croquet, giving the girls tips on moderating their sometimes too-enthusiastic swings.

  Lady Virginia said to Hélène, “This is a very worthwhile endeavor.”

  “It is somewhat wasted on this lot, I feel,” said Lady Delacroix.

  Hélène said, “These girls have never known a moment’s kindness before.”

  Lord Delacroix said, “Exactly, and they are unlikely to find the world very kind after they leave here and go into service or take factory jobs.”

  “That is why the world must be changed,” said Hélène simply.

  Lord Delacroix chuckled. “And you think to play God?”

  “I refuse to believe that God ordained the class system. It is an outgrowth of the feudal system and what we now call The Dark Ages. How can it remain in this age we call The Enlightenment?”

  “You expect the upper class to give up their rights?” Lady Virginia asked. “That is surely naïve.”

  “No, they would never do that. What I expect is for more of them to act like Lord Shrewsbury and use their wealth and influence to help those who have less than they do. That is what the Bible teaches. Do you not remember the Parable of the Rich Young Man?”

  “Ah,” said Lord Delacroix again. “You hold Lord Shrewsbury up as perfection, yet again. Is he my rival then?”

  Hélène placed her hands on her hips. “We are having a serious discussion here. This is not about my affections. This is about redressing the ills of the poor.”

  Seeing that one of her charges had fallen while playing tag, Hélène excused herself and went to see if the girl was injured. She suspected that her own blood was well and truly boiling.

  *~*~*

  That evening, the party of five dined together at the White Hart. Hélène was inclined to be silent.

  Over the soup, Lady Virginia said, “Lord Shrewsbury, what you are doing for these orphan girls is most admirable.”

  “The only thing I did was to have the idea and put together a board of patrons. Lady Clarice and the teachers have developed the program. Miss Whitcombe-Hodge is an example of the kind of teacher that will change lives.”

  Hélène felt the warmth of his love and regard burn away the anger in her toward this company during the afternoon.

  Lady Delacroix spoke. “She expressed the belief this afternoon that the world must change. Are you aware that she is a Revolutionary? Like the French? Would you have us all decapitated?”

  Lord Shrewsbury looked up from his soup and glared. “Are you aware that Miss Whitcombe-Hodge’s own grandfather and mother fled to this country to escape the guillotine?”

  “So, she is French!” crowed Lady Delacroix.

  “Now, Mama,” said Lord Delacroix. “I am certain Miss Whitcombe-Hodge would never favor such a drastic approach to the problem. She favors parliamentary change. We have discussed it.”

  “I am in the room,” Hélène said. “In fact, I am seated at this very table.”

  Lady Virginia addressed her, “Hélène, you are the epitome of charity. We should strive to emulate your attitude.”

  “’Tis more than an attitude,” said Shrewsbury. “It is a way of life. But let us change the subject. We are making Miss Whitcombe-Hodge uncomfortable.”

  “When do you return to town, Lord Shrewsbury?” Hélène asked as an inn servant cleared her soup bowl and replaced it with a guinea fowl.

  “I would like to have a word with our carpenter about building a teacher’s preparation room onto the school. I need to get some figures to take back to the board.”

  “Oh, that would be a wonderful addition,” Hélène said. “Our office is terrible crowded.”

  “That is what I understand.”

  “Do you ride, Miss Whitcombe-Hodge?” Lord Delacroix inquired.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. The duke of Ruisdell keeps quite a few horses in his stables. He used to lend them to my family. One of his grooms taught me to ride when I was fifteen. Why do you ask?”

  “Perhaps tomorrow afternoon we can go riding after the girls’ games. I have found a stable attached to the inn that is willing to hire out their horses.”

  “Oh, that would indeed be a pleasant outing!” Hélène said. It had been a long time since she had been on a horse. She even had her old habit among the things she had brought from the vicarage. The fact that she had not worn it terribly often was the only thing that had kept it from becoming threadbare like the rest of her clothes. She turned to Christian, “Lord Shrewsbury, shall you be able to join us?”

  “I am afraid not. That is the precise hour I shall be meeting with the carpenter.”

  Hélène tried not to let her disappointment show. Turning to Lady Virginia, she said, “Shall you be coming?”

  “I would not miss it, were it just me, but Mama does not ride.”

  “Perhaps you and she would like to take tea with the other teachers at Mrs. Blakeley’s house?”

  “That would be most kind,” Lady Delacroix said.

  After dinner, Christian partnered her at whist, while they challenged Lady Virginia and her brother. Lady Delacroix sat by the fire in their private parlor, embroidering linens with the family crest. Hélène hoped they were not meant for her household.

  A problem emerged when Lord Delacroix made it clear he expected to walk her home to the Blakeley’s. Christian frowned at her.

  Thinking quickly, she said, “I wish to consult with Lord Shrewsbury regarding the teacher’s preparatory room he is proposing to build. I have some particular requests and will not be able to talk to him tomorrow before he speaks with the carpenter.”

  As Delacroix conceded the privilege to Shrewsbury with bad grace, Hélène harbored hopes for a goodnight kiss.

  As they walked away from the inn, she said, “Thank you for rescuing me. I am certain Lord Delacroix would have wanted to kiss me. I do not know how I could have avoided it.”

  “Perhaps I should tell him that I will not have you imposed upon.”

  “He will then assume we are betrothed, which we are not.”

  Christian sighed. “How can you kiss me as you did this afternoon and not agree that we are meant for one another?”

  “I will think about it seriously, as I promised I would do. I do not want to doom us to future unhappiness. It is enough that I have fallen in love with you when I had not the least intention of doing so! You have known my feelings about marriage from the very start.”

  He grinned at her. “But that was before you knew me and fell under my spell.”

  “Recall: you thought me the most tremendous shrew.”

  “I did, as a matter of fact. With the stumbling blocks before us, it is remarkable we have come this far, darling. Add to that the fact that I was certain I would never love again.”

  “The duchess told me about her sister.”

  “You would like Sophie. She is a passionate thinker, like you. Her passion happens to be music. I think my feelings for her prepared me to love you.”

  Hélène felt a spur of what she realized to be jealousy. “Did you ever kiss Sophie?”

  “Never. She loved Frank and never pretended otherwise. Now I am glad of it.”

  “Not nearly as glad as I am,” Hélène said with great feeling.

  They had reached the Blakeleys.’ The butler informed Hélène that Master Samuel awaited her in the parlor. She had just begun to register disappointment when Lord Shrewsbury took her hand and led her into the unoccupied dining room.

  “Hang Blakeley. I will not be deprived of a good night kiss.”

  He surrounded her with his arms and drew her to him. She put her head against his chest, and he kissed the top of her head. Since her father’s death and her descent into penury, she had never felt safe, but she felt so now. Hélène wanted to fight it; she had determined never to put herself under the protection of a man again. But Christian was not just any man . . . He began kissing her face and then her lips. His actions were
heated, and stirred desire in her she had never known. He brought her lower lip into his mouth and stroked it with his tongue. She pressed closer to him. She was certain the world was tilting. Nothing was ever going to be the same in her life again.

  Hélène gave her whole heart to this man. He kissed her neck, her bare shoulders, her back. Unable to contain herself, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled his head down, bestowing a crushing kiss upon his mouth.

  “I do love you, Christian. But now I think I must go to Samuel, before I lose my head entirely. I will speak to you tomorrow after my ride?”

  He kissed her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “Until tomorrow.” When he had gone out the front door, she entered the parlor.

  “I say, Miss Whitcombe-Hodge, could you look over this speech? I know it is late, but I have not seen you all day.”

  “Of course, I will look at it,” she said, and with as much presence of mind as she could muster, she did.

  { 17 }

  ONCE HE WAS PARTED FROM HÉLÈNE, Christian realized that just as Frank had predicted, Christian was surprised by the ardent feelings he harbored for her. More than surprised. Stunned. He had indeed thrown away his shopping list!

  In his bed at the inn, he didn’t analyze his feelings, instead he let love sweep over him like a tide. He loved and was loved in return. Even if Hélène hadn’t said she loved him, he would have known it from her kiss. Remembering the wholeheartedness of her embrace, his heart opened again, and he allowed the memory to promise happiness to come. He wouldn’t think of the stumbling blocks. Not now.

  *~*~*

  In the morning, he faced the entire Delacroix family at breakfast. Lady Virginia had been speaking to the innkeeper.

  “Lord Shrewsbury, I have the most amusing idea. Not far from here is a fifteenth century haunted ruin. Mama and I adore ruins. Could we not make an expedition?”

  Shrewsbury acknowledged that he owed his guests some entertainment. Hélène would be busy at the school all day. “Where is this fascinating place?”

  “It is called Lovell Minster and is down the valley on the other side of the Evenlode River. I inquired and the road is good, even for a carriage.”