Games of Desire for Lady Hellion: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Olivia Bennet

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  But before you go, turn the page for an extra sweet treat from me…

  Preview: Fiery Chronicles of a Bewitching Lady

  Prologue

  It was the night of the annual ball held by Lord and Lady Grimshaw at their massive country estate. The party was already underway by the time Lady Celine Bloomington arrived, on the arm of her father, John Bloomington, the Earl of Rexham. They had shown up fashionably late, and the dancing had already begun.

  “It’s a good turnout,” Lord Rexham murmured as they looked around the room. He was a silver-haired gentleman, with sparkling blue eyes. Celine let her gaze travel the room. There were long-lasting candles, burning in the massive chandelier in the ballroom of Grimshaw Manor. Everywhere she looked, she saw light catching on jewels and silks.

  She was dressed in a pale green silk which showed off her auburn hair and creamy skin. She wore a white ostrich feather in her hair, and long cream-colored gloves over her elbows. In her hand, she held a white lace fan. Around her neck, she wore a glittering diamond necklace.

  “It is the summer’s first big do,” Celine murmured. It was the first of the country balls, held in May, just when the ton was arriving at their estates for the summer. It was not to be missed. Members of the ton travelled to Tunbridge Wells from all parts of England to attend. Festivities would be on-going, throughout the next four days, though Celine and her father had no plans to attend those.

  Celine’s mother had recently been struck by apoplexy. Beverly Bloomington, the Countess of Rexham, had assured both her husband and daughter that she would be well cared for that evening. From her bed, she had unceremoniously shooed them out of Rexham Hall. Unable to deny her the pleasure of listening to all of the details of the evening, her husband and daughter had gone.

  “I’m going to greet Lord Falmore,” her father said, patting her on the hand. “I have something I’d like to discuss with him.”

  Likely, a dull, business-minded talk.

  Celine was happy to be excluded.

  “Good.” Celine and her father separated. She walked over to join a discussion with the most polished ladies in the room. Though she didn’t much care for them, she would mingle, as was expected of her.

  “I’ve heard that Lord Burnham is unattached,” Lady Arabella Stanley was just saying. “He’s quite attractive.” Celine felt stung. Lord Burnham was certainly unattached. After he and Celine had gotten into a heated disagreement, he had ended their formal courtship just a week prior. His betrayal still smarted.

  “Well, his looks are where the attraction ends, unfortunately,” Celine said. They all gave her withering stares, then turned away. Clearly rebuffed, Celine sniffed, wrinkling her nose as she opened her fan. She had wanted to be married at least two years ago. She was upset and devastated over remaining unmarried at one-and-twenty.

  It isn’t for lack of trying.

  She turned away to find Lady Grimshaw coming to her rescue. She was dressed in a soft gray silk, her gunmetal-gray hair arranged neatly on top of her head. Her neck was adorned with three strands of freshwater pearls mingling with glittering diamonds that caught the candlelight.

  “Lady Celine!” she said, slipping her arm into Celine’s. She took her aside, speaking in a low voice. “How is Lady Rexham doing, the poor dear thing?” She looked at her with wide, concerned eyes. Celine immediately detected false pity.

  “She’s as well as can be expected,” Celine replied, mustering as much politeness as possible. “Thank you for asking.”

  “Getting old is certainly not for the weak, I’ll tell you. Poor Lady Rexham! And to think, her only daughter still unmarried,” Lady Grimshaw simpered, patting Celine on the arm. “Your mother wants to see you married before she passes, My Lady. I was so relieved when my own daughter was able to secure a husband only a few weeks ago.”

  Celine, souring, flashed Lady Grimshaw a smile. Though she had been trying her best to find a husband, she had failed, yet again. Her own father said it was her fault—that she was too stubborn. Celine merely believed that she was being reasonable when she was looking for a gentleman who truly appreciated her keen mind and sharp wit.

  “Well, as you know, My Lady, it is not always easy to find a match that is both advantageous and romantic, which is something that I aspire to find. After all, why settle for something less?” Snake-oil slipped into Celine’s tone, as it usually did when she was mixing with the ton.

  Lady Grimshaw glared at her. She opened her mouth to say something, when she was interrupted.

  “Lady Celine!” a familiar voice called out. Celine turned. Leon Jeremiah, the Viscount of Lillington and Celine’s childhood friend, was approaching. Though she hadn’t seen him since they were both five-and-ten, Celine would have recognized him anywhere. The intervening years hadn’t changed him much. He still had the same dark hair and dark eyes—his smile was still bright, guileless. Lord Lillington had merely grown into himself. His black jacket and pale breeches were very modish, his boots gleamed.

  Celine flashed him her most winning grin. It had been several years since he had been sent away to boarding school, in compliance with his late military father’s will. The former Viscount of Lillington wished for his only son to be sent away, rather than remaining at the family’s county seat with his stepmother.

  “It’s so good to see you, My Lord,” Celine replied, genuine for the first time that evening. She gave him an elegant curtsy, as he bowed to her.

  “I was hoping that you’d be here this evening,” he assured her.

  Lady Grimshaw immediately moved on, calling out to someone else. Celine breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Thank you for cutting in,” she muttered. “You’ve saved me from being shamed for not finding a husband.”

  “Well,” Lord Lillington said, bowing to her gallantly. “Look no further, My Lady. Lady Grimshaw was telling me earlier that I would make the perfect husband for you.”

  “Oh, did she?” Celine raised an eyebrow, grinning at him wickedly as they both laughed. “And please, we’ve been friends for so long. Surely, we can call each other by our Christian names.”

  “Of course, Celine,” Leon said.

  While they had been close during their childhood, there was no spark between them. Their relationship had been largely epistolary for the past six years. They were merely good friends, and nothing more.

  “Darling!” her father called out as he neared them. He had a very good-looking gentleman walking with him. Celine’s eyes were drawn to him immediately. “I want to introduce you to Vincent Hickory, the Earl of Tremaine. Lord Tremaine, this is my daughter, Lady Celine Bloomington, and her friend, Leon Jeremiah, the Viscount of Lillington.”

  Lord Tremaine greeted Leon pleasantly, then turned to Celine, taking her hand, bowing over it. She dropped a curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, My Lord” she murmured.

  “The pleasure’s all mine, My Lady,” Lord Tremaine said. He was golden-haired with dark brown eyes. He smiled, baring a row of perfect teeth.

  “My father’s spoken of you very highly,” Celine commented. Lord Rexham and Lord Tremaine had recently entered into a business agreement. Celine knew the basics of it, but hadn’t paid much attention. Now, she wished that she had, for Lord Tremaine was very attractive.

  When she glanced over, her father and Leon were already deep in discussion. She turned back to Lord Tremaine. He smiled at her.

  “What brings you to Tunbridge Wells?” she asked.

  “My family recently purchased property in the area,” he replied. “I have been appointed proprietor of it.”

  Celine nodded, though she had no interest in land or money. She was looking for love.

  “Your father tells me that you’re a great reader,” he said, sparking her interest even more.

  “Yes. I am.
” She opened her fan, to hide her grin yet allow him to see the interest in her eyes. His own eyes were holding her gaze. Lord Tremaine’s lips were in a half-smirk, which hinted at confidence on his part.

  “I have a high respect for a lady who reads,” he declared, taking a sip from the glass in his hand.

  “Good to hear,” she murmured, snapping her fan closed to reveal her smile.

  The musicians were just tuning up in the corner for the next dance. Having only just arrived, Celine had not even gotten a single name on her dance-card.

  “Are you taken for the first dance, by any chance?” he asked, noting her downward glance at the tiny card affixed to her wrist with a silk ribbon.

  “No,” she replied. “My father and I have only just arrived.”

  “Would you do me the honor, My Lady?” He set his drink down on the nearby table, and offered her his arm.

  “I will.” She beamed, taking the arm that he offered her. Beneath the fine cloth of his jacket, his muscles were hard and shapely. She was pleased to find that Lord Tremaine was very good at dancing.

  What’s more, he’s an interesting conversationalist: two marks in his favor.

  After the dance ended, he leaned in, whispering in her ear.

  “Care to join me in a turn about the terrace?” he asked, grinning devilishly, his eyes on her own. She smiled.

  “Of course, My Lord.” Celine slipped her hand into the bend of the proffered elbow. Her pulse was racing, her face warm from blushing. She glanced back, to make sure that her lady’s maid was following to chaperone.

  Lord Tremaine grabbed another full glass as they passed the refreshments table. He glanced at her, his eyebrow raised.

  “A glass of punch, My Lady?”

  “No thank you.” She shook her head, declining. She would have wine with dinner, but that was all.

  Celine felt as though she were already intoxicated by Lord Tremaine’s good looks, his gallant behavior, his intelligent discussion. As they went out the open French doors, they walked out onto the flagstones of the terrace. Celine fanned herself. It was much cooler out-of-doors. After dancing, it was refreshing.

  They moved away from the more crowded part of the terrace. Celine let her eyes travel around the sight before her. Though the gardens were slowly darkening under the purplish twilight, they were lit up by torches, placed along the path. The flora revealed in the golden light was breathtaking. She could spy the lush, crimson roses which were Lady Grimshaw’s particular favorite.

  “I saw you speaking with Lord Lillington,” Lord Tremaine commented.

  Celine frowned, as he slurred his words a little.

  Is he drunk?

  She could put up with a little slurring. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lift the glass to his lips.

  “He’s been a good friend to me, ever since childhood,” she explained.

  “I’m sure that you’ve both grown out of each other, since then,” he said dismissively.

  “Hardly,” she stated in dismay, watching as he took another large sip of the amber-colored liquid in his glass. That was not punch. He was wavering where he stood. “We’re good friends. We always have been, My Lord.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen cannot be friends.”

  “Of course they can,” Celine replied, heatedly. “Why should I eschew a dear friendship due to a difference of sex?”

  “Do you always argue, so vexingly?” Lord Tremaine raised an eyebrow. Celine detected a tensing of his jaw that seemed to herald disaster. Yet, she couldn’t help but speak her mind. It was her way.

  “I’m confident in my measure of others,” she remarked. “I trust that my opinion, which is based on my experience, is correct.”

  “That is rather confident of you.” He leered, leaning in too close. His breath was hot against her cheek, and smelled strongly of drink. Celine felt the world tip sideways. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so safe in Lord Tremaine’s company.

  He’s far more intoxicated than he has let on.

  “I imagine so,” she agreed, no longer enjoying the conversation. She was suddenly sickened by his closeness. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go back to the ballroom.” She curtsied, though Lord Tremaine did not bow to her. He was frowning. As she turned to go, he grabbed her arm, stepping in close. “My Lord, let go of me!”

  Celine attempted to wrench herself out of his grasp. However, his foot was caught on the hem of her gown, and he staggered, wobbling and grabbing onto her gown. Her gown tore, opening down the front.

  Celine gasped—she had never, in her entire life, been so rudely treated. She felt utterly violated. Her throat tightened, and she did her best not to cry.

  “Just you wait until I tell my father about this,” she growled, tugging herself away as she held up the remains of her gown to cover herself. “He’ll never work with you again.”

  He laughed, stepping back. Holding her torn gown together, she fled. Her lady’s maid, who had seen all, rushed to her side.

  “My Lady,” Regina said, horrified.

  Celine’s eyes filled with tears as Regina ushered her over to a corner. “Let me fix it,” the maid said.

  Regina was able to fix Celine’s gown in a way that made it look as though nothing had happened. Then, Celine returned to the gathering, arriving in time for dinner to be served. She found her seat, in between her father and Leon.

  “So,” her father asked in a low voice. “You seemed to be getting on well with Lord Tremaine.”

  “No,” she murmured, her face heating up as she blushed. Celine’s throat tightened. She had never been so embarrassed in all her life!

  At least no one witnessed it.

  That was her one consolation after being pawed, and her gown torn open.

  Her father raised an eyebrow. His lips quirked upward, while his eyes widened. “No?”

  Celine shook her head. This was what always happened between Celine and any potential suitors. She knew that he suspected something. Luckily, her father didn’t press any further. He nodded, his face troubled.

  “Very well. You know best, my sweet,” he said as they were given the go ahead to take their seats. Dinner was served, and Celine focused on the appetizer course—scallops in butter sauce.

  Across the room, she heard Lord Tremaine, roaring in anger at someone. All gathered looked on, watching as Lord Tremaine got up, knocking over his chair before staggering out of the room.

  “I say, Tremaine!” Lord Grimshaw called after him. “Are you well, My Lord?”

  Lord Tremaine waved his hand over his shoulder, then left. The gathering tittered.

  “Apparently, Lord Tremaine cannot manage his liquor!” Lord Grimshaw announced, making a face.

  “Apparently, he can’t keep his hands to himself, either,” Lady Broadesmere said. When everyone looked her way, she added, “I saw Lord Tremaine touching Lady Celine Bloomington in a most scandalous manner.” Lady Broadesmere turned her wide, seemingly-innocent eyes toward Celine. “Out on the terrace.”

  All that were gathered gasped. Celine felt her face grow hot as all eyes were turned toward her. Her heartbeat was a loud drum in her ears. She set down her fork.

  “He drank too much, then he fell on top of me,” she explained, her voice sounding very small in the very silent dining room. Her voice quavered. Her vision blurred from tears.

  It wasn’t my fault.

  It felt like a bad dream.

  Any second, and I’ll wake up.

  She could hear it as they all began to talk to each other in low asides. Their eyes were still on her. She looked over at her father, who was frowning. A traitorous tear fell down her cheek.

  “Perhaps, that’s why she can’t find a husband. Particularly since any gentleman will do in a pinch,” Lady Foxmore added.

  “That is unconscionable, Madam,” Leon snapped, coming to her rescue. In that moment, Celine realized that the tables had turned on her. There was nothing that she could do. They all blamed her for Lord Tremaine’s drunk
en pawing.

  Quickly, recovering her courage, Celine stood up, rage at her own impotence filling her. She left her tears, gleaming on her cheeks.

  “How dare you, all of you,” she said, looking around at faces she had known all her life. “Why am I being punished for a gentleman’s indiscretion? All of you are a bunch of silk-coated hypocrites.”

  When no one responded, Celine ran from the room, throwing all propriety to the wind as she made her escape. When she reached the hallway, she burst into tears. When she turned, Leon was following after her.

  “Oh, no,” she sobbed. “They’ll think—”

  “To hell with them,” he snapped, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. “I needed to make sure that my friend is all right.”

  Celine gratefully accepted his handkerchief, then allowed him to ferry her toward the door.

  Chapter 1

  One month later

  Captain Theodore Huxley, stood at the railing of his ship, the Petonia. A cool wind was blowing off of the dark blue-gray water. He was dressed neatly in his dark blue coat with gold buttons and epaulettes. On his head, he wore a large black tricorner hat.

  He was used to life on the sea. The Petonia had left Boston about two months prior. Any day now, they would arrive back in England, the land that Theodore had once called home. He tugged at his full beard thoughtfully.

  He pulled the letter from his pocket, glancing at it. It had found its way to him just before the Petonia had disembarked from Boston Harbor. The letter promised him a return to his old life. He put it back in his pocket. There was no returning for Theodore.

  On the advice of this friend, he had become a Captain and purchased the Petonia. So far, his friend’s advice had been exactly right.

  Even four years after the fact, Theodore still mourned the loss of his wife and daughter as if it had happened only a few hours before.