The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel
Page 29
Daring to look up, she reddened when his eyes ran over her clothes. Thankfully, he did not utter a word, and she garnered the courage to ask, “Please help me unsaddle Bessie?”
“My pleasure,” he replied, and Penelope had to stop herself from shivering at his voice washing over her. She held onto the pommel as Mr. Moore unlatched the girths underneath; then she lifted the saddle off. She was about to rest it on the shelf when Mr. Moore took it from her.
“Please,” he said. “Let me.”
Nodding she turned with her still-pink face turned away and took up a brush to smooth out the disorderly hair on Bessie’s coat. The horse whinnied softly at the care she was being given, and Penelope smiled softly.
“I have to get back before my brother comes,” she murmured. “He and Lord Hillbrook went out to Tattersalls to get new horses. This was my only free time to ride how I wanted to.”
“Pardon me for being forward,” Mr. Moore asked as he attended to the saddle. “But how did you want to ride?”
“A gallop,” she replied. “When he is here, the most I can do is canter, but I love riding hard enough for the wind to whip against me.” She lowered the brush and ran her hand over Bessie’s nose. “Good girl.”
“Lord Allerton and Lord Hillbrook are friends then,” Mr. Moore asked as he finished wiping down the saddle.
“Best of friends, from Eton to Oxford,” Penelope clarified. “They are business partners too. But…” she paused, knowing that it might be a mistake admitting this to a servant other than Martha but took the chance anyway, “he is confusing at times. When I first met him, he was nothing but a teaser and irked me to no end…but lately, he’s become somewhat of a suitor but the way he presents himself…I cannot decide if he is jesting or not.”
She looked over at Mr. Moore who had not said a word. It was a smart move as lower servants were not privy to their masters’ affairs as those who were in closer contact were. She laughed nervously.
“Forgive me for putting you in such a position,” she shook her head while her eyes were down. “It was not right of me to do so and I apologize. Thank you for your help, Mr. Moore. I’ll better be going on my way. Good evening.”
“Good evening, My Lady,” he replied.
Penelope felt his eyes on the back of her head but did not turn. It was best if she did not as she was not sure how she would react to the look in his eyes. Perhaps he viewed her as strange. What lady would not want to marry a well-to-do man who was in close contact with the family?
She walked through the backdoor, climbed the stairs and entered her rooms. She and Martha had a standing agreement—when she was out riding there would be a tub of cool water waiting for her to bathe in.
“My Lady,” Martha sighed as she came in. “Your hair is a fright.”
“I know,” Penelope replied as she sat down and watched Martha go for the comb. “But it was all worth it.”
Sitting, she was still as Martha painstakingly parted her dark hair and combed the snags out from the ends to the root. The tangles hurt when the comb dug into them and she winced heavily. Sometimes she even bit into her bottom lip to keep the pained cry from coming out. Eventually, her hair was in order and plaited into a braid as she went to take her bath.
“I spoke with Mr. Moore,” Penelope mentioned as the cool water caressed her skin. “He does not seem like much of a talker.”
“I have the same impression too,” Martha replied as she used the sponge on her mistress’ arm. “He is different, that I am sure off.”
Thinking back to Mr. Moore, Penelope blushed at the memory of his shirtless back. She did not dare speak of it to Martha. In fact, she did not dare speak of it with anyone at all. It was a memory she would push to the back of her mind and try to forget about it…. if she could. That memory would probably overlay itself upon Mr. Moore every time she saw him in the next few days.
But would she keep her composure if it happened?
Martha rose from her seat as Penelope stood from the water, stepped out and dried off. With Martha’s help she was she was soon dressed in a dark-blue evening gown and soft kid slippers. Her brother should be along anytime now, and she did not want him to have to search for her. Even if he did suspect that she had gone riding, no evidence was there, and no one was going to tattle on her.
Finding herself in the lower drawing room with a book on her lap, Penelope opened the book but instead of reading began to daydream. Sadly, she did not get to do it for long.
Mr. Moore came in to light the lamps, and she dipped her head as her daydream was of Mr. Moore. The memory of his bare skin and muscles were still stuck in her mind.
“Good evening My Lady,” he nodded.
“Same to you, Mr. Moore.” She tried to focus on her book.
Mr. Moore was methodological, if anything, closing the outer shutters with precision while lighting the lamps in the intersections. When he was done, she asked him. “Mr. Moore, would you please send for some tea for me?”
She knew it was not one of his assigned tasks, but she had asked anyway. He nodded. “It is no trouble, My Lady.”
As he left, she could hear the telltale sound of carriage wheels announcing the arrival of her brother and Lord Hillbrook. She calmed and focused on her book just before she heard Mr. Gastrell receiving the two. She felt her body tensing as their footsteps came closer and she could hear their conversation.
“That stallion was of a good Arabian breed, Dawson,” Lord Hillbrook said. “I have no idea why you did not bid on him.”
She closed the book and sat up just as Edward and the Baron entered. Lord Hillbrook was holding a box in his hand and instantly, she went tense. The box of Biscotti was still in the kitchen waiting for the bonfire.
“Because I do not want a horse that looks like an old knight’s destrier,” Edward huffed. “His thighs were as thick as your carriage wheel. I would be unlikely to live if he threw me, thank you very much.”
Lord Hillbrook rolled his eyes, “You should learn a thing or two about riding…probably from our lovely Lady Penelope.” His tone was lightly teasing, but Penelope took it as an indirect compliment.
“Lord Hillbrook,” she said while straightening her posture. “While I take your compliments with grace…” Penelope then looked at Edward who was souring and slyly added, “My brother…does not like to hear that I ride better than he does.”
“He should be used to it by now,” Lord Hillbrook smiled. “I’ve ragged him about it for years. Here are your biscuits, My Lady. It was a pleasure getting them for you.”
Pretending surprise, Penelope stood and curtsied before taking them. “Thank you, My Lord.”
Mr. Moore had entered with a tray of tea, and suddenly, the air had gone icy. The brittle atmosphere was about to shatter in shards when Penelope, looking between the two, leaped into action.
Deliberately placing herself between Lord Hillbrook and Mr. Moore, she took the tray, “Thank you, Mr. Moore.”
“You are welcome, My Lady. Good evening My Lords,” Mr. Moore bowed and greeted. “Do you need anything else, My Lady?”
Before she could say a word, Lord Hillbrook said icily, “No, she does not. You are dismissed.”
Mr. Moore bowed, said his calm farewells and exited. Holding the tray, Penelope spun to the two and said tightly. “That was uncalled for.”
“Penelope—” Edward tried, but she cut him off.
“Thank you for the biscuits, My Lord,” she said to the Baron. “But that dismissal was and still is uncalled for. If the trip to London took a toll on you and you are tired, I understand, and I will leave you be. Good evening, Edward and Lord Hillbrook.”
With the tray in her hand and halfway across the way to the house, she stopped and groaned. Ominous threads were tangling themselves around her soul. Something was going to go wrong, horribly wrong, but she did not know what…and that scared her dearly.
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Also by Emma Linfield
Thank you for reading The Remarkable Myth of a Nameless Lady!
I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, may I ask you to please write a review HERE? It would mean very much to me. Reviews are very important and allow me to keep writing the books that you love to read!
Some other stories of mine:
The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
A Duke Under Her Spell
Her Duke in Shining Armour
Unchaining the Heart of the Marquess
The Sullen Seamstress of Horenwall Manor
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Thank you for allowing me to keep doing what I love!
Emma Linfield
About the Author
Emma Linfield has always been passionate about historical romances. Ever fascinated with the world of Regency England and being utmost inspired by Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer’s work, she decided she wanted to write her own stories. Stories of love and tradition being mixed in the most appealing way for every hopeless romantic, much like herself.
Born and raised in Southern California, Emma Linfield has a degree in Creative Writing and English Literature, and she has been working as a freelance writer for the past 10 years. When she isn’t writing, Emma loves spending her time with her own prince charming and two beautiful children, all the while enjoying the famous Californian sun and ocean.
So, hop on to this exciting journey of Dukes, Earls and true love with Emma and find pleasure in the old fashioned world of Regency - an Era of pure romance, elegance and high fashion!