Lustful Memoirs of a Bewitching Lady
A Steamy Regency Romance
Violet Hamers
Contents
A Thank You Gift
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
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Preview: Forbidden Desires of a Seductive Duchess
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Also by Violet Hamers
About the Author
A Thank You Gift
Thanks a lot for purchasing my book. It really means a lot to me, because this is the best way to show me your love.
As a Thank You gift I have written a full length novel for you called The Duke she Desires. It’s only available to people who have downloaded one of my books and you can get your free copy by tapping this link here.
Once more, thanks a lot for your love and support.
With love and appreciation,
Olivia Bennet
About the book
The greater the love, the more devastating the sense of betrayal.
Miss Penelope Snowley has been leading a double life.
Armed with beauty and ambition, the daughter of the Baron of Bienholr is determined to rise to the demands of her choices. When an unexpected meeting with a mysterious gentleman shakes her world, she unwittingly puts her reputation at risk.
With progressive views that set him apart from his peers, Andrew Wilson, the Marquess of Romwich strives to lead his family to prosperity. His courtly way of life is suddenly upended by a ravishing stranger he meets at a bookstore.
But Penelope has committed a scandalous crime…
Like a thorn in their flesh, her secret identity stands between them, and Andrew is her only hope for redemption. But first, he must make a choice: forgive her or chase her away from his life forever.
Chapter One
Penelope Snowley bounded down the stairs of her family’s manor, excitement making her heart beat with a wild rhythm. She had been awaiting this day for months now, and she had woken up well before dawn as anticipation made sleep impossible. If her mother, or any member of the ton for that matter, saw her like this, rushing through her home at a time in the morning when only the working man should be up and about, she would never hear the end of it.
The potential lecture in proper decorum she risked with her unladylike eagerness was not enough of a threat to slow her steps, however. When she reached the first floor, she turned and hurried toward the dining room, her footsteps echoing off the marble floor. Her father glanced up from his place at the table when she burst through the doors, but he did not seem surprised by her appearance so early in the morning. He was merely amused. Dropping his gaze back to his newspaper, Lewis Snowley, the Baron of Bienholm, took a sip of his coffee before addressing her.
“Good morning, my dear. What has you up at such an unfashionable hour?”
“Good morning, Papa.” She continued past him toward the sideboard and the dishes of food resting there. “I could not sleep. Was simply too eager to start the day.”
Her father chuckled. “Oh? And what plans do you have that have you up and about like a tradesman preparing for his day?”
Placing a piece of plum cake and toast onto a plate, she poured herself a cup of hot chocolate before joining her father at the table.
“Did you forget, Papa? Today is the day Harry’s novel is released. I want to be among the first to purchase my copy.”
Her father looked back up at her with an arched brow. “Could you not just request a copy from your brother? Is it necessary for you to purchase it yourself?”
She shot him a grin and shrugged. “I want to see it in the shop, displayed alongside his contemporaries. It was such a marvelous sight with his first novel. Besides, you know how I adore visiting the bookstore.”
“Yes, yes I do, sweet girl.” He shook his head with a small laugh. Though he might not understand it, her father was indulgent of her mild obsession with books. He often teased her, but he also spoiled her with every volume she ever wished for.
In Penelope’s opinion, there was nothing quite so pleasing as the smell of a freshly printed book. The crisp feel of the pages and the soft leather bindings always sent a delightful thrill running through her. That was nothing compared to the adventures she would find inside, however. The dashing heroes and brave heroines. The romances.
Those were her favorites. The stories she read most were like the ones that bore her brother’s name. Romances in which the heroes and heroines cast off the stringent rules of society for the sake of love, risking everything for the chance to be together.
Penelope was no fool. She knew those stories were true fantasy, but the way they displayed and played with emotion was captivating. A young lady trapped within the rules of propriety and duty could find temporary escape in the pages of such romances where passion and desire ruled the day.
“Will your mother be accompanying you?” her father asked, his tone taking on a stern edge as it often did when they skimmed the subject of propriety and her reputation.
“Mama is expecting to be called on by Lady Edwardson today, so she is unavailable to go with me. Do not worry, though. She is freeing up Mrs. Stewart so that she might act as my chaperone.”
Her father gave a curt nod of his head, his expression one of satisfaction. “Very good. Mrs. Stewart is a fine woman, and a dutiful chaperone.”
Penelope fought the urge to roll her eyes. Mrs. Stewart, her mother’s devoted abigail, was never her first choice as chaperone. She was often her only option when her mother was not free. When called upon, the woman took her chaperoning duties very seriously, and gave Penelope no amount of freedom or space.
It was no wonder her father thought so highly of her. There was no chance of Penelope stumbling into trouble with the eagle-eyed abigail dogging her every step. Her trip to the bookstore would not be nearly so enjoyable, but the only other option was to not go at all. Mrs. Stewart was a small price to pay in the end.
As Penelope tucked into her breakfast, she and her father fell into a companionable silence. Her father read his paper, the crinkling of the pages turning the only sound apart from her own chewing. She hurried to finish her meal, impatient to get on with her errand. When she was finished at last, she wiped at her mouth and pushed away from the table.
“Off already, my dear?” Her father folded up his paper and set it on the table next to his empty plate.
“Yes, Mrs. Stewart will be waiting by the door with my bonnet and
scarf.”
“Have fun, but do be careful.” He took another drink of his coffee. “I will be at the office the rest of the day with your brother. A shipment of fabrics is arriving from India. Harry is supposed to be meeting me here…ah, there you are, my boy!”
Penelope turned toward the door in time to see her brother stroll through, a wide smile on his handsome face. He was tall and long-legged, with chestnut-brown hair and sparkling blue eyes that matched Penelope’s in shape and shade.
“Good morning, Father. Oh, Penelope! I did not expect to see you this morning.”
Moving across the room, Penelope pushed up onto her tiptoes to place a quick kiss on this cheek. “Good morning to you, Harry. I was just on my way out to purchase your newest novel.”
He furrowed his brow. “There is no need for you to go out, I can give you a copy…”
“Do not bother, son,” their father cut in. “Our dear Penelope is determined to see your novel in the bookstore in all its glory.”
“A convenient excuse to wander the shelves for hours, no doubt.” Harry’s tone was teasing as he grinned down at her.
She gave him a light, playful slap to the shoulder. “I am simply supporting my brilliant brother. And if I happen to discover another novel or two while I am there that I believe I might enjoy, all the better.”
“Our peculiar, clever girl,” her father grinned. “You had best be on your way, my dear. Your mother would not like you to be out all day long.”
“Yes, Papa.” Shooting one last smile up at her brother, Penelope hurried from the room, eager to find Mrs. Stewart and get on their way.
Chapter Two
“Have you heard the wonderful news, brother? Mr. Snowley’s newest novel is available for purchase today!”
Andrew Wilson, Marquess of Romwich, gazed up from his newspaper to grin at his younger sister. “Is that so, Dorothy? How marvelous.”
Of course, he was well aware of the book’s release date. Since it had been brought to his attention that the publishing house his father owned was planning to print Mr. Snowley’s second novel after the wild success of his first, Andrew had kept an eye on its progress. He wanted to surprise his sister with her very own copy for her birthday in a week’s time.
“Oh, I adored his first novel,” Dorothy gushed, her pretty brown eyes sparkling. She sat across from Andrew at the dining table, looking lovely in a light green gown that made the color of her bright red hair seem more vibrant. “He is such a brilliant storyteller. He was all that the ladies of the ton could talk of for months!”
“Well, let’s hope he can produce such profitable results a second time around,” their father’s deep voice boomed from his place at the head of the table. George Wilson, Duke of Lockeder, shot his daughter a good-natured wink. “That publishing house is proving one of our more lucrative investments, thanks in large part to that young gentleman’s success.”
Andrew shook his head with a smile, dropping his eyes back to his paper. While the Duke did not have a hand in the day-to-day running of his publishing house, nor most of his other businesses, he had strict orders to his managers that he be kept abreast of all profits, losses, and the reasons behind both. His father was an intelligent and shrewd gentleman with a mind for numbers and a drive for commerce.
He was also a loving father to his children, and a doting husband to his wife. Andrew admired the gentleman more than anyone else he had ever met, though they often appeared at odds to those on the outside looking at their relationship. The Duke was an old-fashioned gentleman in much of his thinking, and Andrew strove to keep an open mind. They often clashed as a result, but Andrew never felt dismissed or unheard, even when they argued.
Dorothy shook her head. “His profitability is not what matters, Papa. He is brilliant. An artist!”
“He writes romantic drivel that appeals to the silly sensibilities of naïve young ladies,” Andrew made the droll observation, peeking back up at his sister to catch her reaction. Her eyes narrowed into a glare, and her jaw clenched. He fought not to grin. Oh, how he loved to tease her.
“Andrew, you are such a bloody…”
“Language, Dorothy!” their mother Joan’s shocked voice reverberated through the room from her place at the table.
Ducking her head, Dorothy offered the Duchess an apologetic look. “Apologies, Mama.”
When she gave Andrew another silent death stare, he smirked in response. The Duke chuckled, and the Duchess narrowed her eyes at him.
“Her poor behavior is your fault, you know. You spoil her and indulge her unladylike tendencies too much. How do you expect her to make a fortuitous match when she is prone to swearing like a sailor when her temper is pricked?”
The Duke grinned at his wife, his love for her obvious in his eyes. “My darling, you have nothing to fear. Our daughter is beautiful, accomplished, and will bring a generous dowry with her into marriage. Any gentleman who dismisses her because of her colorful language in the face of all her assets would be a fool who I would not approve of marrying her anyway.”
The Duchess pursed her lips in apparent disapproval, but the crinkles around her eyes betrayed her desire to laugh. Though well into middle-age, Joan Wilson was still a strikingly beautiful lady, with hair like burnished gold and honey-colored eyes that Andrew had been fortunate enough to inherit from her.
At that moment, a liveried footman appeared at the dining room door and met Andrew’s gaze.
“My Lord, you wished for me to inform you when it was half-past the hour.”
With a nod, Andrew replied, “Indeed I did. Thank you.”
With a bow, the footman turned and left the room. Andrew folded his paper, set it by his plate, then pushed his chair from the table. The Duchess frowned up at him as he stood.
“And where are you off to this early in the morning?”
He moved to her side to drop a kiss on the top of her head. “I have an errand to run, and I am quite busy the rest of the day.”
Her gaze was still quizzical, but she patted his hand. “Just see that you are back before the noon hour. Lady Westerford is planning to call, and I believe her lovely daughter, Lady Clara, will be joining her.”
Dorothy giggled behind her hand. Andrew shot her a warning look. It was not uncommon for their mother to push eligible young ladies his way, hoping he would take an interest in one. None of her attempts thus far had been successful, much to her obvious chagrin.
“I shall endeavor to be back in time, Mother, but I can make no promises.”
His mother sighed in disappointment. “Very well. Do your best, my dear.”
“I will.” Before she decided to try and guilt him into returning, he made his way toward the door, and temporary escape from his mother’s marital plotting.
Andrew could not fault her efforts. He knew his duty to his family and his current and future titles. An heir was of vital importance, and should, in his parents’ eyes, be one of his upmost priorities. A child was one thing, however. He often dreamed of becoming a father. Teaching his son all the ways to be a man. No, it was not the prospect of gaining an heir that gave him pause in settling down.
It was what came before. Marriage was an intimidating prospect. To be tied to one person for the remainder of his life seemed…stifling. Suffocating. Especially when his only options for a wife came from the silly, giggly, featherheaded ladies of the ton he most usually encountered. The notion made him somewhat nauseous.
No, marriage was not an institution he was keen to take part in.
At least, not for as long as possible.
Someday, he would do his duty and pick a well-bred young lady to take as his wife, and hopefully she would not drive him into his cups. In the meantime, he would enjoy his bachelorhood. What man would willingly give up his freedom if he had the choice to keep it? No lady could really be worth his independence.
Chapter Three
Penelope let out a happy sigh as she wandered among the shelves of the bookstore, a feeling of t
otal contentment settling over her as she skimmed her fingers along the soft leather spines surrounding her. This was her paradise. Her personal heaven on earth. The one place she had found where she need not feel constrained by societal expectations of her. Where her station did not matter, as the silent tomes around her were too preoccupied with their own adventures to care.
Lustful Memoirs 0f A Bewitching Lady (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 1