The Wild Passion of an Eccentric Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Emily Honeyfield

  “I merely want to paint,” Emilia said, belying her true need.

  “But you have such talent,” Simon went on. “Truly, you don’t need to be an apprentice to learn how to be a great painter.”

  “I . . . I—” Emilia’s resolve was wearing down. Although she thought that telling Simon the truth would be disastrous, she seemed to feel comforted by him and even trusted him. None of this Emilia could explain. “I am trying to escape.”

  “What are you trying to escape from?” Simon asked, deep concern written on his face.

  “I shall be engaged to a wealthy man,” Emilia said, in disbelief that she had even uttered it. Simon all at once appeared disappointed.

  “May I offer congratulations?” he said with trepidation.

  “Unfortunately, no,” Emilia said, now intent upon telling the whole story. “In London, I help to take care of my father. His health is not good, and he’s never been a titled man. All that being said, I’m being courted by a man named Lord Huntley Pendergast. I wish I could speak well of Lord Pendergast’s character, but to do so would be impossible. I’ve been told that he’s also steeped in corruption. My father, being blind to such things in his ailing health, will not tolerate my refusal. I thought that if I was granted an apprenticeship, it might console my father and delay the courtship for a while. Within that time, I’m hoping that Lord Pendergast will see that I’m not a traditional girl in any sense of the word and his affections will go elsewhere,” Emilia said, looking down at the table as she explained. She was afraid to look up and see how Simon was reacting to all of this. Once she did so, Emilia was surprised to find great compassion in his eyes. And also, something akin to anger.

  “I see,” Simon said, knitting his brow.

  “Becoming Sir Gregory Kingsley’s apprentice was my only hope. My last resort. Once, I even considered joining a nunnery, if only to escape. But to do so would require my father’s approval.”

  “Senseless that you’re not allowed to make your own decisions for your future,” Simon replied, his tone measured. Emilia could see that his jaw was knit, and he was in deep contemplation.

  “This is the way of the world,” Emilia went on. “And try as I might to get around it, there is no way to escape.” Emilia suddenly felt ashamed of herself. Ashamed that she had revealed so much to an utter stranger, and ashamed that she didn’t have the wherewithal to truly escape the prison that she found herself in. Images of Lord Pendergast came to mind; the way that he scowled and smiled in that lopsided way. And although Simon James was not a gentleman in the traditional sense, he was behaving far more like a gentleman that Lord Pendergast ever did.

  Every time that she encountered Lord Pendergast, he seemed to look her up and down, appraising her form. He would leer at her. It was not that way, at first. Where Simon was large and tall, Lord Pendergast was much the same, but his figure was imposing and not appealing.

  Lord Pendergast would boast of his successful trade business abroad, but his reputation was riddled with scandal. It was not her father’s fault that he turned a blind eye. In her father’s estimation, the match would be a success. Emilia knew the truth to be otherwise.

  In all truth, Emilia had to admit to herself that for various reasons, Lord Pendergast appeared to her as a god in the initial stages. He was a man of remarkable standing, but she could no longer see any of that. After what he had done to her, she only saw ugliness in his countenance.

  With Sir Gregory Kingsley turning her down, Emilia was now sure that marrying Lord Pendergast was her fate. She had tried one last time and used all of her savings to bring herself to Montgomery House. Looking down at her tea, shame welled up within her once more, and Emilia felt the need to flee.

  “You have been too kind,” Emilia said, wishing to get out of that house before Simon could see her tears. It made her unbearably sad to go. Even from their brief conference, Emilia could tell that she and Simon would have got on handsomely. In fact, they could have even been the best of friends. All the while she had been talking endlessly about herself, and Simon didn’t say anything about where he came from.

  “You are leaving?” Simon asked, as though the notion shocked him in some way.

  “Yes, I must,” Emilia replied. She briefly considered that she could get into that hackney coach and have the driver take her far away. But to do so would be to give up her father, her friends, and her social standing for the rest of her days.

  “I shall grab your sketches,” Simon said, walking towards the door and opening it for her.

  “It’s quite all right,” Emilia replied. “I won’t need them now.” In fact, she never wished to see them ever again. To do so would remind her of what her heart truly longed for, and how she wouldn’t be able to have it in this lifetime. “I wish you all the best of luck,” Emilia said, walking towards the front door and opening it for herself. She didn’t turn back to look at Simon’s face once more. She stepped out into the courtyard and got into the coach, the tears finally beginning to fall.

  It was one of the worst days in Emilia’s recent memory. Thank the heavens that Simon James had been there, an angel that she would never see again.

  Chapter 3

  Simon James watched Emilia leave the room for but a moment before his body took over, not allowing him to just sit there and stare. Emilia’s story and her account of Lord Huntley Pendergast incensed Simon for reasons that he could not explain. None of it would do. Simon felt an instinctual pull towards Emilia that could not be denied.

  The beauty and uniqueness of her eyes captivating him, as well as her look of desperation. What’s more, her art was truly skilful, and Simon knew that if she stuck to her craft, she could be an incredible painter one day. To sit by and watch as the girl, although still a stranger, was courted by some brute and gave up on her talents was too much for Simon to bear.

  Getting up from his seat, Simon was determined to catch Emilia before she got into her hackney coach. Rushing down the hall, when Simon opened the front door he discovered Emilia just as she was stepping up.

  “Halt!” Simon called out, then shuddered to think how overly grand his proclamation was.

  “What’s that?” Emilia called back, turning to him.

  “Stay,” Simon said, approaching the coach.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, get down from there,” Simon said, surprised by his own tone of voice. He sounded like a general in times of war. Emilia seemed utterly confused by Simon’s order, but slowly got down and stepped upon the cobblestone of the courtyard. “My apologies if I have startled you,” Simon then said in penitence.

  “It’s quite all right,” Emilia replied in confusion.

  “It’s just that I don’t think you should go.”

  “I have no choice.”

  “You do have a choice. You have agency in your own life.”

  “It doesn’t really seem as though that’s true,” Emilia said, looking down towards the ground.

  “I wish to help you.”

  “There’s nothing that can be done.”

  “Miss Spencer, you must not think that way,” Simon said, wondering where the devil he thought he had the right to say such a thing to her. Simon had no authority over Emilia, merely an instinctual need to protect her which came over him immediately and forcefully.

  “Teach me how to think, then,” Emilia said, looking up into his eyes. Simon was overwhelmed by her beauty yet again. One eye blue and the other quite green. He had never seen anything like it, and although Emilia still appeared dejected, as she looked up into his eyes Simon thought that he detected a glimmer of hope.

  “I have formed a plan.”

  A mischievous smile came to Emilia’s lips. “Since I left the tearoom you have already formed a plan?” she asked humorously.

  “I think quickly,” Simon replied, returning her smile. Yes, it was absurd of him to chase after her so and propose an idea to save her from her doom, but better to embrace that absurdity than watch as
Emilia left Montgomery House forever.

  “What do you propose?” Emilia asked.

  “Are we going or not?” the coachman asked from his post. The chap was rather annoyed.

  “Will you be patient, sir?” Simon said, not liking the coachman’s tone of voice, even if he had a job to do.

  “Crikey,” the coachman replied, shaking his head in frustration.

  “Speak. I wish to know your plan,” Emilia said, eyes wide.

  “Well, the plan was formulated in haste, and if it makes you uncomfortable in any way, then you can merely forget about it.”

  “Have out with it,” Emilia said. “Anything would be better than what it is that I face.”

  “It would go something like this,” Simon began, placing his hands upon his hips. “Lord Pendergast is merely courting you, yes?”

  “Viciously so.”

  “But he has offered you no engagement?”

  “None.”

  “Say that I was to court you instead,” Simon went on, his heart beating wildly in his chest. “I could make you my fiancé. Of course, this would not be a true engagement but merely a divertissement that could shake Lord Pendergast from you. If we were to hold the engagement for long enough, then perhaps Lord Huntley Pendergast would lose interest entirely. Although, I don’t see how that could ever be possible,” Simon added, shaking his head in shame that he had accidentally uttered that last bit.

  “I . . .” Emilia began, although she seemed utterly speechless. “I’m unsure of how to make that work.”

  “You can leave the details to me. I will tell Kingsley all so that he might play along.”

  “I fear that I need to sit,” Emilia said, bringing her hand to her head.

  “Are you unsteady?” Simon asked, reaching out and grabbing her arm.

  “A bit,” Emilia replied.

  “Come, let’s sit here,” Simon replied, leading Emilia to the stone steps that led up to Montgomery House.

  “I’m not waiting around with a fainting woman on my hands!” the coachman called out.

  “Silence, you imbecile!” Simon said, rage suddenly filling him. Then, he took a breath and realized his error. “Your sensitivity and understanding are required at this time,” he added with more measured tones.

  “My time shall be paid for,” the coachman said, more subdued, as well.

  “Indeed, it shall,” Simon replied, helping Emilia to be seated on the step. Then he sat down beside her, wishing to pull her into him so that she might lean upon his chest, but to do so would be wildly inappropriate, and he feared that he had already scared the lady too much by sharing his plan. “Is this better?” Simon asked, hoping that she felt more steady and confident.

  “Yes,” Emilia replied simply.

  “If my offer has offended you, then please banish it from your mind.”

  “It has not offended me,” Emilia said, turning her eyes up towards him once more. “In fact, I am rather intrigued.”

  Joy swelled in Simon’s breast to a degree that he had not felt in some time.

  “That pleases me.”

  “But I have a question for you.”

  “Anything,” Simon replied.

  “Why would you go to all this trouble? You barely know me.”

  Simon stopped to consider his words. He himself didn’t know why he felt so compelled to help Emilia, but there was an explanation that would suffice, if he had the courage to tell it. “There was a lady,” Simon began. “A lady that I loved very much. Still love,” he said, thinking that he might as well admit to it. He watched as Emilia’s eyes went down towards the ground, and Simon wondered if there was some disappointment in hearing his words. “Her name is Lady Susana, and she’s daughter to a duke. As you can tell, I’m but a lowly artist’s apprentice.”

  “There’s nothing lowly about that,” Emilia said.

  “That is kind of you,” Simon replied with a bashful smile. “But this Lady Susana, although she led me to believe that she loved me in kind, I have just learned that she is to be a wife to a foreign prince.”

  “My God!” Emilia exclaimed.

  “I had much the same reaction. I know that it was never possible that she and I could be together. Or at least, I understand that in hindsight. But being a hot-blooded man,” Simon said, watching as a warm flush came to Emilia’s cheek, “I do desire some measure of retribution.”

  “I could be your revenge,” Emilia said warmly.

  “I admit that it would give me a great deal of satisfaction to be falsely engaged to a woman of your beauty,” Simon said, and Emilia’s flush turned even brighter.

  “You don’t need to say that,” Emilia replied, looking away.

  “You don’t need to be so embarrassed. It’s the truth.”

  “And so, we can help each other,” Emilia said, seemingly changing the subject away from her beauty.

  “That is what I propose, yes.”

  “And you’re doing this . . . in order to get the lady back?”

  “Although I don’t know if it’s possible or no, I think that the illusion will help Lady Susana to see that she truly loves me.” Simon began to feel like a cad. Could he ever really have Lady Susana? It seemed entirely impossible. But he knew in his soul that Lady Susana did love him, and more than anything, he wished to have her admit to it.

  Simon thought that there was a real chance of this occurring if Lady Susana could see him happy with another woman in his arms. He knew that it was foolish to go to so much trouble, but he was a man well-versed in human frailty.

  “She has truly broken your heart,” Emilia said thoughtfully, looking deep into Simon’s eyes.

  “Yes,” Simon replied plainly, unable to deny it.

  “Just as you wish to help me, I wish to help you,” Emilia went on. “But yet again, I need to mention that I can’t fathom the details of such a plan.”

  “I will do everything to uphold the illusion,” Simon continued to explain. “I will go to your father tomorrow and let him know my intentions to court you. I will get Kingsley to back us, which will improve our standing in society to a great extent. Then, once the engagement is called off at the right time, I will take great pains to clean up the social damage and ensure that your character shines more brightly than ever before.”

  “And you truly think that you can do all that?” Emilia asked.

  “I know that I can.”

  “There is one more question that I have which is more important than all of this.”

  “What is that?” Simon asked.

  “Will you help me to improve my art?” Emilia said, and Simon could tell that she was being humorous.

  “There’s nothing that I can do to help you. In fact, there are things that you could teach me,” Simon said, returning her humour.

  “I have not yet seen your work,” Emilia said.

  “You shall see it,” Simon assured her.

  “For whatever reason, I imagine that you’re a genius.”

  “No, no,” Simon said bashfully, shaking his head.

  “It’s true. Why else would you be selected by Sir Gregory Kingsley?”

  “Good fortune.”