Chapter 1
A Visit to the Temple
March 1817
Jeffrey Althorpe, Lord Sommers, stepped into the entry of the Temple of the Muses and took a deep breath. The odors of leather, vellum and wood as well as a hint of vanilla assaulted his nostrils. Exhaling with a good deal of satisfaction, he glanced around to discover only a few shoppers perusing the stacks of books that lined the back wall. Several employees stood behind the circular counter in the middle of the massive room whilst a few were off to the right unpacking what appeared to be that morning’s delivery of the latest books.
Jeffrey smiled. Although it might have been more fashionable to shop for books at Hatchard’s—its owner was said to be the bookseller to Queen Charlotte—Jeffrey rather liked James Lackington’s approach to book sales. The Temple’s original owner had painted “Cheapest Bookseller in the World” above the entrance to the place. For a man of Lord Sommers’ modest means, the bookstore was sometimes his favorite place to spend a late morning.
Since most of the patrons of the store tended to shop later in the day or even at night, Jeffrey found he preferred the morning hours. No crowds to fight and less chance that another customer might be after the same new titles as he sought.
When his presence was noted by one of the shopkeepers, Jeffrey nodded in the man’s direction. “Good morning, Mr. Pritchard,” he said as he made his way toward the open crates.
“And to you, my lord,” the short man responded with a bow. “Your book arrived late yesterday. I’ve already seen to its placement on the third floor,” Pritchard added with a wave toward the stairs. “New arrivals.”
Jeffrey forced himself to take a few careful breaths before he dared respond. “Thank you,” he managed to get out before a huge grin split his face as he nodded to the shopkeeper. “You will keep my name secret from anyone who asks?”
Mr. Pritchard nodded vigorously. “I shan’t tell a soul.”
Turning around, the baron made his way to the other end of the lobby. He ascended the stairs to the second level of the shop, passing by a lounging room and through a gallery featuring the most expensive titles on its rows of shelving, titles which were bound in leather and suitable for a gentleman’s library. He climbed the stairs to the third level and paused by another lounging room, noticing a lady’s maid snoozing in one of the upholstered chairs. At the end of the gallery of mid-priced books, Jeffrey glanced at an elderly couple studying the stacks, engaged in quiet conversation.
Near the stairs to the next level, a shelving unit jutted out from the wall—a shelving unit that held the latest titles. Removing his hat, he headed in its direction, intent on finding his newly released book.
Pulling off first one glove and then the other, Lady Evangeline Tennison gave the third level shelving unit a quick glance. She opened her reticule and stuffed the gloves inside, seemingly unconcerned that they would become hopelessly wrinkled in the process. Absently pushing an errant lock of blonde hair behind her ear, she spotted the book she’d been hoping to find on this visit to the Temple of the Muses.
The Story of a Baron.
She leaned her head to one side, studying the leather-bound book. The binding surprised her; many of the books on the third floor weren’t bound in leather but sported covers made of dense card stock. Only after a book proved worthy to its owner did it receive a leather binding. The modest size of the spine suggested the book wasn’t made up of more than a few hundred pages. What surprised her more was that it was only one volume. Due to the cost of paper and binding, most books were released in three volumes.
Reaching out with one finger, she pulled the book forward, leaning her head to the other side to read the title on the front. Sure it was The Story of a Baron, she pulled it completely from the shelf and opened it slowly. A small smile touched her lips. The subject of the book couldn’t have much of a story if the book was only... she checked the last sheaf in the book to find the page number. Two-hundred and sixty-two. Arching an eyebrow, Lady Evangeline rested the bulk of the book on one velvet-clad forearm and used her other arm to keep the pages open whilst she quickly scanned the last page of print. When she found the very last sentence, she read it to herself.
Forever.
Evangeline looked up and glanced about, her heart pounding just a bit too fast.
Forever?
That was the last sentence of the book?
Well, it held promise, at least. And some degree of finality. But the simple word held absolutely no hint as to the quality of the rest of the book nor the author’s writing skill—or lack thereof.
For once, she chided herself for always reading the last sentence of a book before she decided whether or not to buy it. Usually the last line gave away a bit more about a book’s subject, a bit more about its characters, its tone, and whether or not it featured a happy ending.
But not this one.
Taking a deep breath, Evangeline did what she rarely did when considering a book—she shifted the pages so that the first page of the story was visible. Once again glancing about, hoping no one would notice, she found the very beginning of the story and read to herself.
Matthew Winters, Baron Ballantine, entered his favorite bookshop in search of a particular new title.
Evangeline inhaled sharply, realizing the subject of the book was doing exactly the same thing she was doing!
Success!
For if a character found pleasure in reading books, then certainly Evangeline could sympathize with him and his story.
Although other young women of her age might consider her a bluestocking—well, probably the entire ton considered her a bluestocking, although she had no evidence to support such a theory—Lady Evangeline didn’t seem to mind. Given she was the younger sister of Lord Everly, an earl who spent most of his time exploring the world, she found it was far more satisfying to spend her days engrossed in the pages of a book than be sequestered in the parlor with her latest needlework and a hope that someone—anyone—would pay her a call.
Her brother was rarely in residence. His latest trip to southern India had commenced over six months ago, his mission to study the tropical fish that populated the waters off the coast. A missive from him, delivered just the day before, claimed he was scheduled to board a ship that would take him around Cape Horn and deliver him to England in a fortnight. Him and a lined crate full of whatever he could catch, she thought with a grin.
The library at Rosemount House already housed a large aquarium populated with exotic fish from warm southern waters. In need of a way to display his fish as well as to keep their water warm, the earl had employed an inventor, Henry Forster, Earl of Gisborn, to develop a tank and a heater. A combination of glass panes held together with steel strips and mounted inside a shallow metal pan, the aquarium was heated from below using the natural gas already being fed to the house for the purpose of lighting its interior. Despite Everly’s extended absences, the fish seemed to thrive, most probably due to the footman who saw to their daily feeding.
Lord Everly’s newest acquisitions would either join their brethren in the same tank or the earl would be setting up a new tank in the library. Evangeline allowed a smile. Some, like Lord Norwick, found the colorful fish tedious and troublesome. The earl claimed that, upon his entrance into Rosemount House, a school of fish had deliberately swum about to set up a wave that cascaded over the top of the tank just as he passed by. The resulting water splash managed to land on his favorite riding coat, leaving a water stain his valet was apparently unable to remove.
Others, like her godfather, Milton Grandby, Earl of Torrington, loved watching the creatures as they moved about their environs, claiming they were a soothing sight. Torrington had occasion to visit the fish after especially challenging sessions of Parliament, claiming the little beasties had more sense than most of the lords.
Evangeline had no opinion of the creatures one way or the other. The fish had been in her brother’s library for as long as she could remember, and although they always seemed pleased to see her, waving their translucent fins when she paused to greet them, she figured they probably felt more affection for the footman who fed them.
At least Evangeline could count on Lady Samantha Fitzsimmons and Lady Julia Harrington to keep her company on occasion. Sam, Lord Chamberlain’s niece, was of the same age as Evangeline and in the same situation. Since their come-outs, neither girl had attracted a gentleman with the intention of marriage. And neither seemed particularly concerned by their lack of prospects. Julia, on the other hand, would probably be fending off suitors this season. She was younger and blessed with facial features men seemed to find most appealing.
Evangeline shook herself from her reverie and dared a glance at the second line of the book she held. She was about to read it when she became aware of someone standing nearby. Someone who smelled of sandalwood and citrus. Someone who was tall and lean. Someone who was apparently... well, he was shopping for a book, no doubt, she chided herself. Why else would he be standing on the other side of the shelving unit, apparently perusing the new titles just as she had done when the store opened? Or rather, a few minutes before the store opened. Mr. Pritchard was always kind enough to unlock the front door if she arrived prior to the official opening time. She was one of his best customers.
Lord Sommers took a quick glance over the three rows of shelving, determining almost immediately that the book he sought was not among the titles on display. He was about to search for Mr. Pritchard and ask as to the whereabouts of his book when he noticed there was a space between the books, a space through which he spied a young woman. Or at least portions of her. The space wasn’t large enough for him to see all of her at one time.
She was lit by sunlight streaming in from a reading room window, the ethereal light making her appear as if she were an angel. The spine of a book rested on one forearm whilst she opened it with her other hand, apparently turning to the very last page of the book.
She was reading the last page!
After a moment, she turned to the front of the book and was apparently reading the first page!
It was then Jeffrey caught sight of the title page. A very brief sight, for the words, The Story of a Baron, flashed by in a blur.
She was reading the very book he sought! My book!
How dare she? Didn’t she realize that by reading the end, she was spoiling it for herself? That by reading the beginning, she was... well, she was doing the very thing he’d seen at least a half dozen other people do whilst they shopped for books, so he couldn’t fault her for that, he supposed. But she was reading his book!
Jeffrey stilled himself, once more realizing if he gave anymore thought to the woman’s actions, he would make his presence known. He didn’t wish to draw attention to himself. And upon further viewing, he found the young woman rather easy to watch.
He thought she might have blonde hair, although her bonnet hid far too much of it—and her features—for him to be sure. Fair of skin, with an oval face, she appeared young, but no longer young enough to be in the schoolroom. Her complexion was clear, her cheeks displaying a hint of color, no doubt due to having climbed the stairs to get to this level. Her pink lips were barely parted, the lower one a bit more plump than her upper one. Her lashes were so long, they hid her eyes whilst she read the book through a pair of gold wire spectacles that rested on the tip of her nose. And her left hand...
Jeffrey straightened. The woman’s hand was bare, its long, slender fingers hardly grazing the surface of the page that held her attention. Fingers that were free of adornment. Free of any rings. Including the one that should have been on her fourth finger.
Tearing his gaze away from the young woman’s fingers, afraid if he didn’t he would begin imagining what they might feel like when held by his own, Jeffrey pretended to look at some books. Stealing another glance in her direction, he wondered who she might be.
Realizing the woman’s attention was no longer on the first page of the book, Jeffrey quickly stopped his perusal of her and stared at the first book on which his eyes could focus. Sense and Sensibility. He sighed. Well, here was a book for the masses, he thought with an arched eyebrow.
He rather doubted there was such a trait among the ton.
Wondering if the man was watching her, Evangeline paused in her reading and glanced up. He stood motionless on the other side of the shelving unit, his face partially framed by the tops of the books and the bottom of the next shelf. The portion of him she could make out with her peripheral vision suggested he was at least twenty-five, perhaps thirty. His nose was definitely that of an aristocrat, which surprised her, given the early hour. Most men of the ton weren’t up and about until well after ten. He sported rather long sideburns, their golden-brown coloring hinting the hair on his head might be the same.
She was tempted to bend her knees a bit and sneak a more direct peek, but she dared not call attention to herself. She did pretend to glance briefly at the books framing the vacant spot left by the book she held and was rewarded with a clear view of the lower half of the man’s face.
Faith! His jaw was quite square. From what she could make of his mouth... Evangeline held her breath, barely able to suppress an audible gasp.
The man had lips that were positively enchanting. There could be no other word for them. They were perfectly shaped to form an easy smile. Or a simple kiss, Evangeline thought with a grin. She had to pinch her own lips together in an effort to keep her mouth closed or she would have looked like one of her brother’s fish.
Lifting her free hand to her spectacles, she slowly removed them from her face but kept them close as she pretended to read the book. The end of one temple found its way to her lips, where it was promptly clasped in place by her teeth. Daring another quick glance in the gentleman’s direction, she was relieved to see his attention was on something other than her. A twinge of... regret, perhaps, caught her off-guard. His profile showed a face with impressive cheekbones. The square jaw ended in a slightly rounded chin. Having seen all but his eyes, Evangeline thought perhaps he seemed familiar to her, but without a look at his entire face, she was at a loss as to where she might have met him.
And then, quite unexpectedly, he turned and stared at her.
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