The Story of a Baron (The Sisters of the Aristocracy) by Linda Rae Sande Page A

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?

Chapter 17
    Rain, Rain, Come Again Any Day
    At precisely eleven o’ five in the morning, Jeffrey Althorpe, Baron Sommers, jumped down from his less-than sporty phaeton (it was black rather than the more coveted red in color), handed the reins to a stableboy who had hurried out from the carriage house, and climbed the steps to the front door of Rosemount House. A bit nervous, he straightened his waistcoat before lifting the lion-head knocker, and then, just as he was about to release it, the door suddenly opened.
    A portly butler regarded him with a raised brow.
    “Lord Sommers to see Lady Evangeline,” he said in an even tenor, hoping the nervousness in his voice couldn’t be heard. Or the pounding of his heart against his rib cage. When the butler continued to regard him without stepping aside, he added, “I have a ... a reading engagement with her.”
    Jones nodded and stepped back, opening the door wider as he did so. He took the baron’s hat and placed in on a shelf in the vestibule before hanging the baron’s coat on a hook. He nodded again. “One moment whilst I announce you,” he said, his deep baritone a bit of a surprise to Jeffrey.
    The baron used his few moments alone in the entry to study the exquisite embroideries that decorated the watered silk covered walls. He wondered who might have done them; they appeared too new to have been done by Evangeline’s grandmother – or mother – and they weren’t the typical samplers he’d seen in his own mother’s parlor. A pair of the stitcheries featured single stems of plants with their leaves, as if they were botanical studies. Another pair of stitcheries looked as if it were part of the same series – it was similar in appearance but instead featured flowers, one of which Jeffrey recognized as some type of rose. Before he could study the second flower, the butler returned to the vestibule.
    “Lady Evangeline has asked that I escort you to the library,” Jones stated, apparently not too happy about the arrangement.
    Jeffrey wondered at the butler’s reticence as he followed the man and then remembered Lord Every hadn’t yet returned from his travels. A man calling on an unmarried woman was rather unseemly, he supposed, causing another wave of nervousness to take hold.
    He checked his reflection in a mirror as they passed through the great hall. At least he didn’t appear too wind blown from his quick drive from Cavendish Square. The baron would have ridden his horse, but given the impending rain, he didn’t wish to arrive splashed with mud.
    Despite knowing the Earl of Everly for several years, Jeffrey hadn’t been in the house but one other time, and that was when the earl had unveiled his prized tank of tropical fish. The brightly colored beasties didn’t seem particularly interested in the parade of humans that stopped to admire them, but Jeffrey remembered how they seemed to take particular exception to David Fitzwilliam, Earl of Norwick. Every time the tall man was near the tank, the fish would swim about until a wave of water would crest over the top edge and splash onto the earl. The resulting water stains ruined his favorite topcoat. “Those fish will be the death of me,” he was fond of saying, and not because he was fond of the fish.
    Jones suddenly turned and waved a hand into the double-wide doorway of the library. Jeffrey gave him a nod and turned his attention to the elegant room, but not before he noticed another pair of embroideries on the hall walls – embroideries so vivid, the subjects appeared as if they were real.
    Jeffrey tore his gaze away and instead looked into the library. Aubusson carpet covered the entire floor. Dark green upholstered furnishings carved from cherry wood were arranged for the specific