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

by Emily Honeyfield

  “There’s no room for competition,” Lady Crawford said, “for Emilia is already Mr. James’ fiancée.”

  Lord Pendergast turned to Simon in shock, as though he hadn’t heard that bit of the story. “Is that so?”

  “It is,” Simon replied plainly.

  “Then the competition gets even more fun,” Lord Pendergast said, his eyes not wavering from Simon’s.

  A wave of anger came over Simon, which he was not expecting. Was Lord Pendergast truly entertaining the thought of continuing to try for Emilia’s hand? Such thinking seemed ridiculous. Even though the anger was swift, if there was one thing that Simon was good at, it was keeping his cool under such circumstances.

  “As gentlemen, I think it best that we talk of other matters,” Simon said, sensing that they were going down a path that they couldn’t soon return from.

  “Have you tried the cake?” Lady Crawford asked Lord Pendergast, and Simon concealed a smile. The lady of the house’s fascination with cake no doubt contributed to her lofty size. Far from thinking it a scandal, Simon admired that the woman unabashedly liked what she liked.

  “I have not, Madam.”

  “Well, you really must. The chocolate is divine!” Lady Crawford said with great enthusiasm. “In fact, I’m due for another piece. If you’ll excuse me,” she said, and both men bowed and watched as Lady Crawford returned to the refreshments table.

  There was an awkward moment or two where Lord Pendergast and Simon merely stood there, wondering what to say next. Lord Pendergast’s carefree charm quickly saved the moment.

  “I should like to come by the studio one day. I hear that it’s quite the experience.”

  “I’m sure that Kingsley would like to have you.”

  “I trust that you’ve seen Emilia’s work,” Lord Pendergast went on.

  “I have. It’s extraordinary.”

  “A strange thing, for a woman to paint.”

  “I don’t think it strange in the slightest.”

  “And that’s why you have won Emilia’s hand. But tell me, how long have you been courting Emilia?” Lord Pendergast’s expression turned dark and contemplative.

  Simon’s heart began to pound in his chest as he struggled for how to reply. This was one element of the plan that he and Emilia had not figured out. Timing. He tried to glean what Emilia would wish to say at that moment, and the first thought that came to mind, he uttered.

  “One year.”

  “I see.”

  “We met at the studio, naturally.”

  “Naturally.”

  “And how long had you been courting Emilia?” Simon asked, thinking that if he had to endure the discomfort of such a question, then Lord Pendergast would have to do the same.

  “All her adult life,” Lord Pendergast said, and there was tenderness in his gaze.

  Was this all a show? Could anyone really be trusted? Or was Lord Pendergast a much more gentlemanly fellow than Simon ever expected him to be?

  “I do not mean to create difficulty,” Simon said, trying to be as noble as possible.

  “No one ever does,” Lord Pendergast replied, and that was when Emilia returned, looking much more at ease.

  “The air outside is delightfully refreshing this evening,” Emilia said.

  “Thanks to the rain,” Lord Pendergast replied. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”

  With that, Lord Pendergast was gone, and Simon was in awe at the totality of the exchange. Although it could be considered one of the most potentially awkward conferences in his history, he was amazed at how well-behaved everyone involved appeared to be. Nothing like the prickly exchange that he had earlier that evening with Lady Susana.

  “Are you all right?” Simon asked Emilia.

  “I should ask you the same,” she said, and from the sound of her voice, she seemed winded, as though she’d just walked along an endless field on a windy day.

  “There are so many questions that I wish to ask.”

  “Yes?”

  “Indeed. I must admit that Lord Pendergast was a different fellow than I thought he would be. And what’s more, he’s the Duke of Westmoreland. I should think that over half of the ladies at this ball would vie for his hand.”

  “Trust me, they are,” Emilia said darkly. “But not everything is as it seems on the surface.”

  “Explain.”

  Emilia looked from side to side for fear of being overheard. She took Simon by the arm and led him to the far corner of the room and spoke in hushed tones. “I must admit that I was surprised at first when the duke was courting me. I have very little standing in society, and he said that it was because he was interested in my character. I was excited at first, and found Lord Pendergast to be handsome and appealing, but I couldn’t shake this voice that cried out within me that something was wrong. Nonetheless, I let down my guard and allowed him to court me. I even allowed him into my heart. That was when I heard through the gossip mills that I was quite deceived in him. Not only was he involved in corrupt business practices, but Lord Pendergast was also courting several different women at the same time.”

  “What?” Simon said in awe.

  “It’s true. I could scarce believe it myself. Why would he do such a thing?”

  “My question exactly.”

  “I thought about it for some time,” Emilia went on. “I considered whether or not I should just let it go, but I felt so much indignation that I couldn’t do so. Therefore, I confronted the Duke of Westmoreland, and he did not seem penitent in the least. In fact, he openly admitted to the practice and said that it was customary in society for a man of his standing to take several mistresses, as well as a wife. Then, he went so far as to say that he wasn’t yet convinced whether he should take me as a wife or mistress. As you can imagine, I was filled with rage and disgust when he said this to me. It was so belittling that it dampened my good opinion of myself.”

  “It pains me to hear you say that,” Simon said, his heart breaking as he listened to Emilia’s story.

  “Well, I told him in no uncertain terms that I was no longer interested in the arrangement, and Lord Pendergast had the gall to tell me that he could have any woman that he chose, including myself. I wished to tell all of society about his evil ways, but I knew that, considering his immense social status, not only would people not believe me but they’d also turn the truth-telling against me. There was no way I could tell my father about what he said.”

  “You’ve been suffering in silence,” Simon said, knitting his brow. Everything that Emilia was saying filled him with rage, and he had to stifle the impulse to find Lord Pendergast in the ballroom and take care of him like a sailor might, with a fist. But to do so could damage the rest of Simon’s career. It was amazing to think of what natural barriers there were in high society. There were those that were bound to win and those that were bound to fail.

  “It has been impossibly trying,” Emilia said, wringing her hands. “I’ve been desperate to think of a way out of all this. I really did think that when I came to Kingsley’s studio it was my last resort. When you came up with this plan, it seemed like the plausible way to set myself free, even if it did damage to my reputation in the end.”

  “It won’t damage your reputation,” Simon said, bringing out a hand and placing it upon Emilia’s upper arm. It was a patch of bare skin between the top of her glove and her gown. Simon did not intentionally reach out to her flesh, but he delighted in its warmth. Emilia’s eyes softened as he did so. “I’ll make sure that your character will always be in good standing.”

  “Upon meeting you, I immediately felt all that desperation escape me. It was like a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders.”

  “Emilia!” a voice cried out, and Rose fast approached them.

  “Rose, you are out of breath,” Emilia said.

  “I have been dancing all night. I fear that I might faint.”

  “Well, we can’t have that.”

  “Can we
go home now?” Rose asked, exhaustion written on her face.

  “Why?” Emilia asked.

  “Because I can’t dance another step, and the lemonade isn’t getting any sweeter.”

  “Now, Rose, mind your manners. Simon and I are still enjoying ourselves.”

  “Of course, you are,” Rose said, rolling her eyes, “because you’re in love.”

  Simon felt Emilia turn towards him, and their eyes locked. Were they truly in love? It surely felt like it. And after hearing the true story of Lord Huntley Pendergast, Simon was more intent than ever on protecting Emilia at all costs. She had already been through too much.

  “Go have a seat and rest yourself,” Emilia said, “and we can go shortly.”

  “I’ll sit by Hortensia. She’s fine company,” Rose said, walking towards the sleeping chaperone.

  “Her whims can’t always be respected,” Emilia said sombrely.

  “I cannot believe how quickly the evening has gone,” Simon said.

  “I was just thinking the same.”

  “You know, you don’t have to worry about Lord Pendergast any longer,” Simon said softly. “You’re safe.”

  Emilia’s face softened once more, and a warm smile came to her lips.

  “However can I repay you?”

  “You already are repaying me,” Simon said, gazing across the room and spotting Lady Susana. She was holding her nose up into the air. Simon considered introducing Emilia to the lady, but considering all that they had endured that night, there was no reason to expose her to even more stress.

  Just then, Emilia flung herself into Simon’s arms and whispered in his ear. Having her so near sent a shiver down his spine. “I’m eternally grateful to you,” Emilia said.

  “And I, you,” Simon whispered back. He looked up once more and found Lady Susana still looking at him and shaking her head. Simon looked away. Lady Susana was not his concern.

  Chapter 8

  “I find this whole ordeal rather amusing,” Kingsley said with a delighted grin. He was sitting on his customary stool with a cup of tea by his side.

  “Do you?” Simon asked.

  “Yes, the more that I think of it, the more amusing it becomes. The Duke of Westmoreland? My word, but the girl does have interesting taste.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t think there’s a lady in Britain that would turn down the affections of the Duke of Westmoreland,” Kingsley said. “It shows Emilia’s strength of character.”

  “That is the truth.”

  “When I met the duke, I must say that I found him rather striking. I was surprised that he was commissioning a landscape instead of a portrait of his robust self. He struck me as a very interesting man with much to hide.”

  “You have no idea,” Simon said under his breath, thinking of the tale that Emilia had recounted.

  “But, society itself runs on secrets. If everyone’s secrets came to the forefront, the whole system would collapse. Everything is based upon subterfuge.”

  “You’re wise to see all that,” Simon said. Although he knew that Kingsley basically kept his neck out of the dealings of the bon ton, he always remained a keen observer from afar, and that was something that Simon admired. “Tell me, how do you plan to keep your head upon your shoulders during this plan of yours?”

  “I always keep my head upon my shoulders,” Simon said, and watched as Kingsley turned to him with a serious expression upon his face.

  “Boy, do you realize that you’ve got yourself tangled up in one of the biggest scandals to come around in some time? Far be it from me to judge, because I find the whole enterprise delightful, but I don’t know that you’ve fully thought through the consequences.”

  “To my reputation?”

  “No, far more important than that. The effect that it may have upon your work. If your reputation were sullied, it might make you an even more famous artist because everyone in society likes someone with a past. But it’s not fame that I’m concerned with, it’s your skill as a painter. Since coming to Montgomery House in your early years,” Kingsley continued to explain, “you have become one of the most focused artists I have met outside myself. This bodes well for your future. But if Emilia Spencer captures your imagination morning, noon, and night, then I fear for your talent.”

  Simon was mildly offended. How was it that Kingsley thought that he could lose his focus? The notion was improbable, at best. Simon always had his sights set on his career goals, and even if Emilia was pulling at his heartstrings, he knew that they were of a similar mind, and neither of them would lose sight of their dreams.

  At least, that’s what Simon hoped. But Kingsley was right in the sense that Simon hadn’t thought everything through fully. There were some odds and ends that he thought he would figure out along the way.

  What’s more, Simon understood without Kingsley needing to explain that what Kingsley was referring to was not their public work, of which Simon didn’t have a large collection, but of his private work. He and Kingsley shared the understanding that the most important work that they did was not for the public eye.

  It was the work that they did in the studio and more specifically, the work that Simon did on his own time to enhance his skills. This secretive kind of work was the lifeblood of what Simon and Kingsley did best. It was the work that lay beneath the surface that was the most important.

  And Simon did fear for this work. In the past few days since attending the Crawford ball, he had not been painting at night, as he had been accustomed to. Simon didn’t know the reason for the distraction, but he put it at the back of his mind, thinking there would be plenty of time in the days to come.

  After Kingsley shared his concerns, it drove home to Simon the fact that his master did have a point that Simon was in denial of. Yet still, at night he would lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking of Emilia and replaying all the events from the Crawford ball in his mind. There was so much triumph in it, and Simon found it intoxicating spending a whole evening by Emilia’s side. He somehow felt like a bigger man when he did so; even though he was already a rather big man.

  “Come, sit here,” Kingsley said, motioning to a stool adjacent to his. There was an easel in front on it and a landscape that Simon had barely touched the day before. “We work best in tandem.”

  Simon seated himself and picked up his brush, wetting it in the glass of water then drying it on a cloth that had already met a rainbow of colours. He had started with the background of the landscape first, using light colours to create a sense of distance and perspective.

  In the foreground, the darker colours would create the arbor of a garden, roses, and a tea table with a woman sitting there, reading a book. It was a rather romantic tableau, and most of it was still in his imagination, but he liked to think that eventually, the woman sitting at that table would be Emilia. Perhaps she was in their very own garden. Bloody hell, Simon’s mind was getting the best of him.

  Turning to where Kingsley sat, he marvelled that the master had already completed the great work that sat on his easel but days before. Now, he was working on a grand, dark, mysterious forest setting, where in the distance there were rolling hillsides; the only portion of the landscape that was drenched in sunlight. How was it that Kingsley managed to make so much progress on a new piece in so little time? It baffled and fascinated Simon.