Lustful Memoirs 0f A Bewitching Lady (Steamy Historical Regency Romance)

by Violet Hamers

  Could she…could she be feeling what he was? Thinking thoughts similar to his? The very idea had his body going rigid with tension.

  If he kissed her right now, would she push him away? Or would she melt beneath his touch?

  Andrew glanced in the direction of Lady Bienholm and was startled when he met her shrewd gaze. He flinched as a wave of shame washed over him and prayed she could not tell what had been on his mind just moments before. To have such thoughts about Miss Snowley when her mother sat within the same room was beyond unseemly.

  Tearing his eyes from Lady Bienholm, he returned them to Miss Snowley. She was still staring up at him, and he remember he had never answered her question.

  “Apologies, Madam, I do not know where my head is at today. I am quite well, though. Thank you for your concern.”

  She studied him a moment through narrowed eyes, and he wondered if she believed him. At length, however, her gaze softened and she smiled.

  “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps one day my husband will take me to India.” It took Andrew a moment to realize she had returned to their previous topic of discussion. She was looking at him in a way that he could only describe as expectant, but it did not unnerve as it might have with another lady.

  He was warming more and more to the idea of marriage every day he spent with Miss Snowley, and it was growing clear that the thought was not far from her mind either. They had only just begun courting, however, and he hesitated to move things too quickly.

  For one reason, he did not want Miss Snowley to feel any undue pressure in regard to accepting him. For another, the ton could be a vicious lot, and he was conscience of the rumors that might spread should they move so rapidly from courtship into marriage. No, it was better to wait a while before considering an engagement, though it would take every bit of his patience to do so.

  “My Lord, you have wandered away again.” Miss Snowley sounded as though she were fighting a giggle when she reclaimed his attention from his own thoughts.

  He met her gaze, embarrassment burning through him, as well as wonder at this lady. Anyone would be rightly offended by his lack of attention, but not her. Her eyes were twinkling, and a small smile curled her lips as though she were enjoying some familiar joke.

  He could not help his grin in return. “I am such an ill-mannered suitor today, Madam. I would have thrown me from this house long ago, if I were you.”

  She flashed her even, white teeth when her smiled broadened. “Worry not, My Lord. If I were tossed from people’s company every time I grew lost in thought, I would have no social standing whatsoever.”

  She was a marvel, truly. No man deserved such a good-natured and understanding angel as her. Andrew least of all, but he refused to give her up.

  “Miss Snowley, the Bagleys’ ball is in just a few days, and I wish for you to save me your first dance.” The words blurted from his mouth before he fully realized what he was asking, but he did not wish to take them back. “In fact, I intend to stay close to you throughout the night, if you find that agreeable.”

  Her cheeks turned a bright pink and her eyes filled with excitement she could not contain.

  “Yes, My Lord. I find that very agreeable.”

  A sense of calm settled over him at her words. He wanted the world to know that this lady was his, and come the night of the ball, no one would doubt it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Penelope nervously plucked at her thick mantle as the carriage rolled down the street toward Lord and Lady Bagley’s manor. She had been anticipating this night since Lord Romwich had informed her and Lady Bienholm that he would be in attendance. However, when he had told her just days earlier that he wished to remain close to her throughout the night, her excitement for the event had doubled.

  It would be expected of them to dance and interact with each other, given their courtship, but for him to voice such a desire meant he wanted to make a declaration of his dedication to her to all of London society. Her heart hammered almost painfully at the thought.

  “Penelope, darling, are you feeling well?”

  Blinking, Penelope gazed up at her mother, who sat on the bench across from her. The Baron was nestled in next to his wife and was also looking at Penelope with some concern.

  “Oh! Yes, I am perfectly fine,” she hurried to assure them. “I’m simply looking forward to the evening.”

  Her parents exchanged a knowing look.

  “Yes, there is much to look forward to tonight, isn’t there?” her mother said with a grin.

  “Indeed,” the Baron nodded. “Much to look forward to.”

  Penelope shook her head in exasperation. “Please do not make a spectacle of things.”

  Her mother pressed a hand to her chest and feigned affront. “Make a spectacle? When have I ever made a spectacle?” Dropping her façade, she gave her daughter a good-natured wink. “Fear not, sweetheart. Your father and I shall be on our best behavior this evening.”

  Her promise was hardly a comfort. When Lady Bienholm grew overly excited about anything, she had a difficult time not letting it show. Penelope knew the prospect of Lord Romwich as her future son-in-law caused her great elation, and she had caught her mother bragging about him to several ladies she had invited for tea recently. It had been mortifying.

  “Now, remember my dear,” her father said. “You and Lord Romwich may be courting, but you are neither married nor engaged. I will tolerate nothing but the upmost decorum in your behavior.”

  Penelope nodded. “Yes, Papa.”

  The carriage came to a stop the next moment, and the three Snowleys stepped out in the cold night air in front of the Bagley’s manor. The walk up to the front door was lined with lanterns and filled with other partygoers. The Baron extended his arm for his wife to take, and the two made their way along the path with Penelope close behind them.

  Once inside, servants waited to take their outerwear from them, and then they continued on past the foyer toward the small ballroom. All the rooms they passed were opened and filled with people. Penelope could not help but gaze into each open doorway for any sign of Lord Romwich. In the ballroom itself, they greeted their hosts, Lord and Lady Bagley.

  Penelope curtsied, but could not focus on the brief conversation her parents and the Bagleys had as she continued to search for the Marquess. He was nowhere to be seen, and disappointment settled on her like a weight on her chest.

  Suddenly, she noticed someone move next to her out of the corner of her eye. She whirled in breathless excitement to face who she hoped to be Lord Romwich. Her smile fell when she saw that it was only Harry.

  He frowned. “Goodness, what a face that is. I told you I would be here, did I not? Why do you seem disappointed?”

  Penelope shook her head. “I am sorry, brother. I thought you might be someone else and did not mean to seem put-off. I am very happy to see you.”

  “What joy to see both my children looking so fine,” Lady Bienholm’s voice suddenly wrapped around Penelope and Harry. They turned to find both the Baron and their mother’s focus on them, having finished with their hosts.

  Harry stepped forward and kissed Lady Bienholm’s cheek. “Mama, you look lovely this evening.”

  Their mother patted his shoulder. “Oh, darling, you are so kind. I am so glad to see you here.”

  He glanced toward Penelope. “Yes, well, I was promised a memorable evening.”

  “Come my love,” the Baron said, drawing his wife’s attention. “Lord Harrison and his wife are just there, and I wish to speak with him.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” she said, a twinkle of affection in her gaze. Turning back to her children, she blew them each a small kiss. “Darling, be a dear and keep your sister company, won’t you? We shall catch up with you in a moment.”

  The two were off, melting into the crowd before either Penelope or Harry could speak a word of response.

  With a heavy sigh, Harry shook his head. “I suppose it is easier to endure these things when the both of them
are distracted.” He gazed down at Penelope. “Otherwise Mama is constantly forcing my path to cross with every eligible young lady she knows.”

  Penelope giggled. “It is similar for me, except it is the eligible young gentlemen.”

  “You would think she would be exhausted by it all.”

  “I do believe it energizes her to play matchmaker,” Penelope replied with a good-natured grin.

  Harry’s chuckle was low and deep. “Speaking of eligible young ladies, did you not promise to introduce me to one this evening?”

  The good mood she had built up in his presence dissipated as her disappointment returned. “I am afraid I have not yet seen her, or any member of her family.”

  Harry shrugged, not nearly as affected by the lack of the Lockeder’s presence as she was. “Well, it is still early. They may yet arrive.”

  “I suppose you are right,” she murmured, though she worried they would not arrive in time for Lord Romwich to claim her first dance.

  Her brother’s shoulder suddenly bumped with hers. “Cheer up, Pen. The night has not been ruined yet.”

  He was right, of course, and she tried to smile and dispel her frustration.

  Harry’s expression was gentle. “Come, let us find refreshment before the dancing begins. Perhaps a sweet treat will lift your spirits.”

  She let Harry lead her toward the ballroom door to seek out the refreshment table, though she doubted that would help soothe her anxious heart. As they neared the doorway, four imposing figures walked through, and Penelope froze as relief coursed through her. Lord Romwich and Lady Dorothy entered behind two older individuals who Penelope thought must be the Duke and Duchess of Lockeder.

  The Duchess was an elegant lady with eyes that matched her son’s, and the Duke cut a strapping figure despite his graying hair and thick beard. She and Harry stepped aside to make way for them as they moved past toward the party’s hosts. Lord Romwich’s eyes found hers, and a small smile played about his lips.

  Once they were by, Harry moved toward the doorway again, but Penelope laid a hand on his arm to stop him.

  “Just a moment,” she said. “The lady I wished to introduce you to has just arrived. I would rather us wait until they pay their respects to Lord and Lady Bagley so that I might make the introduction between you two.”

  Harry’s brows lifted and he turned to gaze over Penelope’s shoulder at Lady Dorothy. His eyes lit up with interest, and he nodded.

  “A good idea, sister. Better not to wait for the introduction.”

  She hid her grin at the eagerness in his tone. The two waited as the Duke and Duchess spoke with their host and hostess, their children just at their backs. Lord Romwich glanced her way several times, and she felt her cheeks heat each instance his eyes found her.

  At last, the Duke and Duchess stepped away from the Bagley’s, and after a brief conversation amongst themselves, Lord Romwich and Lady Dorothy broke away from their parents and headed toward Penelope and Harry. Penelope felt Harry shift next to her, and looked to find him straightening his shoulders

  “Miss Snowley, what a pleasure to see you again,” Lady Dorothy said, her own excitement obvious in her voice. She peeked at Harry and a light pink color entered her cheeks.

  “You as well, Lady Dorothy. Lord Romwich.” She smiled at the gentleman, enjoying the fact that she did not have to hide her interest in him from the people around them. If it was not a known fact among the ton that they had begun courting, it would be by the end of the night.

  “Miss Snowley, you look very lovely this evening,” Lord Romwich inclined his head with a smile of his own.

  For a moment, she became so lost in his honeyed gaze, she forgot all about Harry. When he cleared his throat to regain her attention, she let out a startled gasp.

  “Oh, forgive me. Lady Dorothy, Lord Romwich, allow me to present my brother, Mr. Harry Snowley.”

  Harry bowed to Lord Romwich and greeted him. Turning to Lady Dorothy, his grin turned charming. “Lady Dorothy, such a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My sister has spoken highly of you, though I must say, her accounts of your beauty do not do you justice.”

  Lady Dorothy’s blush deepened to a bright red. Penelope glanced at Lord Romwich and bit back a grin as he glowered at Harry. Her brother either chose not to notice the gentleman’s displeasure, or was too engrossed in Lady Dorothy to see anything other than her.

  “Mr. Snowley, I must confess something,” Lady Dorothy said, a little breathlessly.

  “What is it, My Lady?” Harry stepped closer to her, and Penelope raised her brows at his boldness in front of the lady’s brother.

  Lady Dorothy appeared suddenly shy as she clutched her skirt in her gloved hands and dropped her gaze to the floor.

  “I must confess to knowing who you are already,” she said in a soft voice. “At…at least to knowing of you, that is. I am a great fan of your novels.” She peeked up at him from beneath her long lashes.

  Harry’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “My Lady, you have no reason to be shy around me. I am incredibly flattered to have you as a devoted reader. When I first sought to publish my works, I had no idea they would be read by such an illustrious personage as yourself.”

  Lady Dorothy bit her lip as she fought the smile Penelope could see tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  “You have a way with words, Sir,” the lady murmured. “It is rather spellbinding.”

  Penelope stole a look at Lord Romwich once more, and saw that he was readying to speak, no doubt with the goal of shooing her brother away. At that moment, however, the music for the dancing began, summoning couples to the floor.

  “My Lord,” she said, stepping between Lord Romwich and Harry and stealing the former’s attention. “I do believe I promised you my first dance of the evening.”

  He blinked down at her, as if only just remembering she was there. She might have taken offense if she did not already find his over-protectiveness of his sister humorous.

  “Indeed, you are right, Madam,” he said at length, shooting once last glare at Harry before returning his gaze to her. “I did claim you for my own this first round.”

  His words alone were enough to make her heart flutter, but the way in which he said them sent a thrilling tingle up her spine. There was a glimmer of something in his eyes that she didn’t quite understand, but it was dark and wicked, and made that strange heat bloom in her belly once more.

  He extended his hand to her.

  “Shall we?”

  She slid her palm into his, and instantly wished she was not wearing her elbow-length gloves. The time she had visited his sister at their home, and he had helped her to stand flashed through her mind. She remembered the rough feel of his palm against her, and the strength within his calloused fingers as they had curled around hers. The heat in her belly grew, and she longed to feel him skin-to-skin once more.

  Without a word, he guided her through the crowded room toward the gathering group of dancers. His eyes bore into hers as they lined up opposite of each other and waited for the steps to begin. Penelope could suddenly focus on only him. The rest of the room seemed to fade away as the music played and they stepped closer together.

  “I have missed you,” he murmured as they circled each other.

  “You saw me just yesterday morning,” she breathed, excitement making her light-headed.

  He shook his head when he was in front of her again. “A lifetime ago, it seems.”

  She couldn’t help but giggle. “You, My Lord, are overly dramatic.”

  He returned her grin as they stepped back and forward, facing each other. “I have often thought romantic gestures must be overly dramatic to be effective. And please, call me Andrew when it is just us two.”

  She lost her breath at his request. “Then…Penelope will do as well.”

  They moved to stand side by side, and he raised his hand so that she could lay hers flat on top.

  “Romantic gestures should simply be honest.” She picked u
p their conversation from where they left off, and felt her chest tighten when they made contact. “Dramatics make for better stories than for real life.”

  “I see.” His voice was a low rumble.

  He brushed his thumb against her little finger as they broke apart. She gasped as the small touch elicited lightning to travel up her arm.

  They moved far enough apart that neither could continue speaking without the neighboring dancers hearing them. In that time, she held his honeyed gaze and her heart hammered to an almost painful degree. He was staring at her with such intensity…more so than she had ever noticed before.

  What is he thinking?

  The look in his eyes startled her, but intrigued her at the same time. He could say so much with just his eyes. She only wished she was more fluent at reading them, like a fairy tale witch finding fortunes in a bubbling cauldron.