The Wild Passion of an Eccentric Lady
A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL
EMILY HONEYFIELD
Copyright © 2019 by Emily Honeyfield
All Rights Reserved.
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Table of Contents
The Wild Passion of an Eccentric Lady
Table of Contents
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The Wild Passion of an Eccentric Lady
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
A Seductive Lady Rescued From Flames
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
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The Wild Passion of an Eccentric Lady
Introduction
Emilia Spencer is an artist with an intrepid mind, and she doesn’t want to compromise with a loveless marriage. She has reason to believe that, despite his high class, Lord Pendergast is not the man that can capture her heart. When she meets Simon, a handsome artist, her life takes an unexpected turn and a burning passion grows between them. Will she manage to escape an undesired betrothal, and lose herself in a forbidden passion?
Simon James, a heartbroken young man, now finds himself apprentice to Britain’s most prominent artist. One fateful day when Emilia comes to their studio in a state of desperation, Simon meets the woman that will change the course of his life. Begging for an apprenticeship, Emilia is turned down, but Simon comes up with an ingenious plan that ties the two of them together in a false engagement. Will his plan be a success? Will he resist the enticing, blue-eyed lady or he will fully dive into their love?
A tale filled with passion, confusion, and denial. When everything seems to be going according to the plan, circumstances take a turn for the worse. Emilia cannot escape so easily from Lord Pendergast, but Simon doesn’t give up on her. Will fate be favorable to them? Will they deny their growing love, or will they succumb to a rising fervent desire?
Chapter 1
Simon James stood in the meticulous, sun-drenched artist’s studio, gazing out the window. He leaned one elbow upon the pane and marvelled at the endless expanse of green pastures below.
Not far from London, the studio in Harlow Greens provided the famous artist, Sir Gregory Kingsley, the chance to enjoy the beautiful countryside and clothe himself in silence whilst he worked, while still enjoying the close proximity to town. Simon thought that it had been a fine decision on Kingsley’s part, but he was beginning to wonder if, as apprentice to the artist, all of that silence might lead him to insanity.
Not that there was any reason for Simon to reach such a state. He was still young in years; six and twenty, and he had the dashing good looks of a Norseman, with his blond hair and sparkling blue eyes, tall, broad frame, large hands, and remarkable bearing. Simon had enjoyed a good education, although he was the only son of a lowly, widowed Baron. He could have chosen a more reliable trade, such as becoming a doctor or barrister, but instead, painting was his passion and called to him, morning, noon, and night. It was not uncommon for Simon to skip his tea altogether in order to seclude himself in his room, nearby to the famous studio, and paint throughout the night. Kingsley would scold Simon on these occasions, saying that the young man needed his strength to paint successfully. Simon would try to heed the older man’s advice, but often to no avail.
And Simon could see clearly that his skill was improving. There was a huge benefit to watching Kingsley paint his famous landscapes throughout the day, but portraiture was Simon’s ultimate goal. He found much more fascination in faces than in pastures and shrubs. Simon would never tell this to Sir Gregory for fear of offending him, if the older artist could even be offended.
He was the most famous scenic painter in all of Britain. That was nothing to shake a stick at. But Simon did recall Kingsley telling him on occasion that he, too, had once wanted to only paint portraits. There was a good market for these paintings amongst the bon ton of London, but it was always the scenic paintings that sold best. So, Kingsley devoted all his time and attention towards that.
Simon could understand why Kingsley sacrificed his true desire. Merely beholding Montgomery House, where the studio resided, gave one the sense that it was quite all right that Kingsley had “sold out.” It was an estate without parallel, and none of it could have been paid for without Kingsley being the master scenic painter that he was.
Simon, however, would not go down the same route. He didn’t wish to have a large, fancy estate. All he wanted was a modest studio and days upon days of doing exactly what his heart desired. Well, he did think all of this, anyhow, before Lady Susana came around.
Lady Susana was the girl that had captured Simon’s heart and soul. As he still leaned upon the window pane, he thought of her striking red hair, her green eyes, and pretty little lips that he constantly desired to kiss. Sadly, Lady Susana was the daughter to a duke, making her union with Simon utterly impossible.
No, Lady Susana would never resign herself to becoming a baroness, and certainly not a baroness married to an artist. Simon sighed deeply and considered how different the feelings in his breast were from the happy, shining countryside just outside that window. He turned back to look around the artist’s studio and continued with the mundane duties that he attended to each day.
The brushes needed to be cleaned, and not only was this task mind-numbingly dull, it also smelt of acid. The cleaning solution was incredibly potent and burned Simon’s hands and nostrils, but the task was still vitally important and must be undertaken. He anticipated the day when, in his modest studio, he would also have an apprentice, if only so that there would be someone else to clean the brushes.
The studio was rather a large room, shaped more like a rectangle than a square, and off in the opposite side Simon could see where Kingsley sat in silence, painting his latest masterpiece. The famous artist had been silent for some time whilst he worked, and this gave Simon the time and space to consider how Lady Susana had broken his heart. Whether or not that time of contemplation was beneficial was anyone’s guess.
“Remarkable,” Kingsley said to himself, and a little smile came to Simon’s lips. It was not uncommon for Kingsley to admire his own paintings, and not without cause. Simon could see from across the room that the l
atest landscape was, indeed, remarkable. “Come and look, Simon.”
“Yes, sir,” Simon replied, walking over to where the old man sat. And although Kingsley wasn’t terribly old in years, he appeared much older than the age suggested. Simon assumed that this was from decades of hard, solid concentration that turned Kingsley’s hair to a lighter silver than it should be.
“Isn’t it marvellous?” Kingsley asked with a smile.
“Your best one yet,” Simon replied, truly marvelling at the pastoral scene, complete with a hazy, setting sun and dark, expansive fields.
“That would be a matter of opinion,” Kingsley said, lifting his brow and returning paintbrush to canvas.
“It will sell quickly.”
“They all do.”
“You should celebrate,” Simon said, doing his best to be cheerful.
“We’ll have a fine supper tonight. No more of this business with country stew. I’ll demand a pheasant be prepared.”
“Lovely.”
“And we’ll go for a nice walk into town. Just as soon as you’re done with the brushes.” Simon sighed yet again. It wasn’t just the dread of the brushes but also the memory of Lady Susana. “What is the matter?” Kingsley asked, sensing that something was amiss. Although Simon didn’t wish to go into detail, he still knew that there was very little that he could hide from his master.
“I got a dreadful piece of news today,” Simon said, thinking that he wasn’t going to utter this bit of information to another soul.
“Speak.”
“I told you of Lady Susana, in passing,” Simon said.
“You told me of your affections, yes,” Kingsley replied.
“Well, I fear that I read in the paper today that she is to be engaged. To a Spanish prince.”
“That can’t be,” Kingsley said, finally turning to Simon.
“It’s the truth.”
“But did you not tell me that she is the second daughter to a duke?”
“I did.”
“Then how the devil can the second daughter to a duke marry a prince?”
“In my opinion,” Simon said, walking back over to the brushes, “her beauty is so exquisite, that I wouldn’t be surprised if a foreign king wished for her hand.”
“There is no such beauty.”
“There is,” Simon assured him. “I tried to paint her once, and my hand shook as I picked up the brush. That’s how intimidating her divine beauty is.”
“Obviously, it’s not intimidating enough to frighten a prince,” Kingsley said humorously. Simon had no words to respond to this. All he could feel was pain. “I do not mean to make light of your situation, young man. If appearances were the catalyst for matchmaking, then surely the girl would be yours by now. You, yourself, appear as though you’re something out of a painting.”
“Hardly,” Simon replied, not thinking much of his looks, but sensing that ladies admired him. He could see their glances as he walked through town, but Simon thought nothing of it. He was not concerned with appearances, or even material things. Simon believed that the soul was the most important element of all, and Lady Susana had captivated his soul for some time.
“The memory of the girl will pass,” Kingsley assured him, turning back towards his painting.
“Yes,” Simon replied simply, thinking that perhaps that was not the truth. No, they had spent too many precious moments together for her memory to pass. Lady Susana lived in a nearby town, also outside of London, and the two of them would share stolen moments with one another. It was highly scandalous for a girl of Lady Susana’s standing to be out in public with a young gentleman whilst unescorted, so Simon and Lady Susana were very crafty in how they would meet one another. Only once had they shared a kiss, and Simon was convinced that it was the greatest memory of his life, for he would never forget the way in which her lips felt upon his.
Of course, if society learned about what transpired between Simon and Lady Susana, her reputation would be utterly ruined. Simon often thought of the irony of that; how nothing whatsoever would happen to his own reputation, merely because he was a man and had no standing in society. Still, he had never once pressured Lady Susana to meet with him.
On the contrary, she was the one that suggested it, and Simon would often feel terror in her presence. Naturally, there was tremendous longing, as well. But the terror stemmed from the rich, rare beauty that Lady Susana exhibited, and her carefree ownership of herself. Simon always sensed that Lady Susana would disappear into thin air some day.
So, it came as no surprise when she would arrange meetings between the two of them and fail to appear. Was she baiting him? Toying with his heartstrings? If so, Lady Susana had been remarkably successful in that enterprise.
“There are plenty of fish in the sea,” Kingsley finally said, and although Simon thought it incredibly trite, he merely nodded his head in acknowledgement.
“Have you ever been in love?” Simon asked, wishing to distract his mind.
“Only once.”
“And what happened?”
“She didn’t wish to marry a painter,” Kingsley explained.
“If only she could see you now!”
“Oh yes, she did become penitent as soon as I made a bloody fortune. And isn’t that just how things always work? But at that point, I had fallen out of love with the woman. And what’s more, if it was just money that she was after, was it ever really love in the first place?”
Simon considered for a moment just how strange love really was. It’s all a matter of perspective, in the end. Love could blind a man into thinking that his love was necessary, vital, and in need of requiting. Time and distance allowed one the chance to see a former love for what it truly was. Sadly, Simon had not yet had that time and distance, and so his love for Lady Susana still felt very real.
“Do you know the secret to becoming a successful painter?” Kingsley asked.
“Clearly, I do not,” Simon said with an ironic laugh.
“Peace and quiet,” Kingsley went on to explain, getting up from his trusty stool and walking away from his easel. “I have made a success of myself because there is nothing to distract me. Had I married that woman, and she bore my children, just think of all the chaos and distraction that I’d have to deal with every day. Instead, I have this vast, beautiful home,” Kingsley said, lifting up his arms in pride. “I have servants to take care of all my needs, a cook to prepare my meals, and a heartsick apprentice to clean my brushes,” he added humorously.
“So you do not regret forgoing a family.”
“I do not. I couldn’t be happier with my life. Painting is my love. It is my family. Painting keeps me company. It’s all that I’ve ever wanted for my life,” Kingsley said, taking off his artist’s cloak.
Simon thought of how noble Sir Gregory Kingsley really was. He was a man that was perfectly at ease in his own skin and within his own life. It was the gift that years and maturity could give, and that’s what Simon craved. The only difference was that Simon craved a wife. He craved a family. Simon wished to enjoy all of that with Lady Susana, but now it was entirely unattainable.
“Your perspective is refreshing,” Simon said.
“Well, just think of all the spare time you have now, boy! More time to focus on your craft. More focus to learn the things that I have to teach you. I brought you to Montgomery House because I saw a remarkable potential in you; unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Under my wing, you’re sure to achieve your greatest dreams in life. But it requires patience and dedication, and women can get in the way of all this, no?”
“I do suppose.”
“Don’t just suppose. Know it in your heart and soul. Let the woman marry her Spanish prince and spend the rest of her life in a drawing room greeting dignitaries. I promise you that you shall be the happier of the two.”
For the first time, a genuine smile came to Simon’s lips. Perhaps Kingsley was right. Perhaps he was going to benefit from the heartbreak immensely. A wave of hope came
over him, and his appetite was finally restored. Simon began to look forward to that evening’s pheasant.
The Wild Passion of an Eccentric Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 1