This could all be a misunderstanding.
Her mind was unable to comprehend how she had come to be here. A joke, perhaps. A cruel jest at my expense.
She was, after all, nearly a commoner among the aristocracy. What could a Duke’s son really want with her?
“Madam?” Mrs. Stewart’s voice was a gentle nudge.
Penelope gave herself a little shake, as if to chase away her overwhelmed thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin and squared her shoulders.
“Come, Mrs. Stewart. We do not wish to keep our hostess waiting.”
Chapter Seven
Andrew paced the parlor like a caged animal, impatience eating at him. Miss Snowley was due to arrive at any moment, and he could hardly wait.
“You will wear a hole in the rug if you do not calm yourself,” Dorothy tittered from her seat by the fireplace. “What would Miss Snowley think if she arrived to find you in such a harried state?”
Andrew cast her a cold look, but she only giggled.
“Do not tease me, sister. Not now. I am too on edge.”
Tilting her head, Dorothy studied him for several moments. “What kind of lady could twist you up so with just a look, I wonder?”
He lifted his shoulders in a distracted shrug. “Once she arrives, it will be my pleasure to find out.”
She must be arriving by now. What time is it? What if she is delayed?
His thoughts were growing more frantic by the second as his anticipation grew. He tried to imagine what she might be like. Would she be witty? Soft-spoken? Would she possess a sense of humor? He was to the point where he did not care if she turned out to be a slow-witted mute, so long as she arrived…
The parlor door opened, and Andrew spun on his heel as his heart seemed to stop. Their butler, Bensen, stepped into the room and bowed his head.
“My Lord. My Lady. Miss Snowley has arrived.”
Andrew’s chest tightened. He choked out, “Please see them in. Thank you, Bensen.”
Dorothy stared up at him with wide, astonished eyes.
“Take a breath, for goodness’ sake,” she said with a wry grin. “You will startle poor Miss Snowley with those wild eyes.”
Andrew released a deep breath through his nose, much like an agitated stallion when presented with a willing mare. As irritated as she made him, he knew Dorothy was right. He needed to calm himself before Miss Snowley walked into the room. The last thing he wished to do was startle her away.
Closing his eyes, he breathed in, forcing his shoulders to relax and his hands to unclench at his sides. When he opened his eyes again, he took care to arrange his expression into one of polite welcome.
“Much improved,” Dorothy commented with a nod.
A heartbeat later, the door opened once more and Bensen reappeared, ushering in the lady and her chaperone. Andrew recognized the eagle-eyed abigail from the bookstore. He had not thought of her when contriving his plot, and a moment of worry twisted his gut.
What if she sees through this façade and determines my true intentions?
His concern was short-lived, however, when his eyes landed on the object of his recent obsession. All rational thought fled his mind, and whatever breath he had taken into his lungs was immediately expelled. She was more beautiful than he remembered, which struck him as impossible.
Today, she wore a gown of light blue muslin that deepened the color of her eyes. Her hair was pulled into a tight chignon at the back of her head and braided into a crown over her forehead. An elegant floral-patterned shawl was slung around her and draped over both of her forearms. She was elegant and understated, and he appreciated that she did not rely on an overly fancy gown to illuminate her natural appearance.
Her eyes briefly met his from across the room. Those pink lips parted just as they had in the bookstore, and her cheeks colored a light red. His gut clenched in response, and he felt the familiar tightening in his loins that plagued him whenever she entered his mind. His immediate and intense reaction to her stunned him anew, and he wondered if she was similarly affected by him?
She turned her gaze from him so quickly, if he had not been watching her as intently as he was, he would not have known she had looked at him at all. He wanted to say something to her but knew that would give them away. As the one to extend the invitation, it was Dorothy’s duty to introduce them.
As if reading his mind, his sister rose from her seat with a gracious smile and moved toward their guests.
“My dear Miss Snowley, I am so happy you accepted my invitation.” She took the lady’s hands in hers as if they were old friends.
For her part, Miss Snowley did not hesitate to respond and play along. She returned Dorothy’s smile with one of her own, and the sight was stunning.
“You were most gracious to extend it, My Lady,” she said. Andrew clenched his fists and bit his tongue to keep from making a fool of himself and reacting to the sound of her sweet voice. It reminded him of birdsong, so gentle and melodic. He wanted her to speak again. Wanted to listen to her speak for hours.
Have I gone soft in the head? I am thinking like a lovesick schoolboy!
Without releasing one of Miss Snowley’s hands, Dorothy drew her toward the sitting area where Andrew stood. His heart raced as the ladies drew near, and he swallowed against his nerves, clasping his hands behind his back to hide their slight tremor.
“May I introduce my brother, the Marquess of Romwich?” Dorothy’s perfect smile remained in place, her voice never wavering.
Miss Snowley dipped into a curtsy. “Lord Romwich. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”
He had never heard anything as satisfying as his name on her lips. His mind veered to a forbidden place where she whispered it into his ear under the cover of night…
Snapping himself back into reality, he bowed politely and spoke in as even a tone as he could manage. “Miss Snowley, the honor is mine.”
She glanced up at him shyly, a small, secret smile playing around her lips. The sight of it sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through him.
Andrew glanced toward the abigail, who curtsied to him and Dorothy. As she rose, however, she gazed at Andrew through narrowed eyes. His collar felt tight as she scrutinized him without openly staring. Did she recognize him? Would she report back to the Baron and his wife? If she did, Andrew’s plans would be ruined.
After a tense moment, however, the abigail’s eyes returned to normal, and her expression of suspicion eased away. Bensen, who had remained in the room, directed her to a chair near the door. She sat and folded her hands in her lap, her face one of patient contentment as she watched over her charge from afar.
Dorothy led Miss Snowley to the chaise she had occupied earlier and invited her to sit. Once the ladies were settled, Dorothy looked up at Bensen.
“The tea service may be brought in at your convenience, Bensen.”
The butler inclined his head. “Right away, My Lady.”
As Bensen left to fetch their refreshments, Dorothy turned her attention back to Miss Snowley. Andrew rested his hand on the mantle of the fireplace and let his eyes rest on the lovely lady who continued to steal glances his way. He could not stop the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Miss Snowley,” Dorothy began, “it was such a pleasure to meet you the other day at the…”
“Milliner,” Andrew interjected quickly, shooting a look at Mrs. Stewart. “Did you not say you met Miss Snowley at a milliner’s?”
Dorothy frowned up at him, her brow furrowed. He implored her with his eyes to go along with him. After a moment more of staring at him in confusion, she turned back to Miss Snowley, whose own eyes were wide with alarm.
“Yes…the milliner,” Dorothy nodded. “It was so good to meet you at the milliner’s the other day.”
“You as well, My Lady,” Miss Snowley replied, her voice breathless. Her eyes shot up to Andrew briefly, then to her abigail across the room from her before returning to his sister. “It was such a pl
easure, truly. I have been able to think of little else since.”
While she faced Dorothy, it was clear her words were meant for Andrew. His chest filled with pure male pride at the thought that she had been thinking about him since their previous encounter. It was only fair, as he had not been able to expel her from his mind, either.
Dorothy’s eyes traveled between him and Miss Snowley before settling back on their guest.
“Miss Snowley, I wish for us to come to know each other,” she declared, patting the lady’s hand. “I wish for us to become friends.”
Miss Snowley’s face lit up with a genuine smile. “I would like that very much, My Lady. Pray tell me, what is it you would like to know?”
Andrew had given Dorothy several suggestions before Miss Snowley’s arrival of questions to ask her, so that he might get to know her better. While it would not be completely inappropriate for him to ask her himself, now that they were introduced, he still felt some of his inquiries would be better received coming from another lady.
“What are some of your interests?” Dorothy asked the first question. “What activities do you enjoy in your leisure time?”
Miss Snowley considered the question a moment before responding. The pause showed she was thoughtful and took care with her words. Andrew welcomed that quality in her. “I do not suppose my interests are that much different from other ladies. I enjoy reading and music…”
“Do you play an instrument?” Andrew could not help himself, and the question flew from his mouth, cutting her off.
She blinked up at him in surprise, but her gaze warmed as they stared at each other. “The pianoforte, My Lord. My mother was insistent that it be included in my education.”
“All ladies of accomplishment should have an appreciation of music,” Andrew said, his blood heating as her eyes remained on him. “As well as the ability to create it.”
Dorothy sighed, reclaiming his and Miss Snowley’s attention. “For me, it is the harp. What else, Miss Snowley? Do you have interest in all your accomplishments?”
With a shy little laugh, Miss Snowley shook her head. “No, I am afraid not, My Lady. I cannot stand needlework.”
Dorothy let out her own laugh, though it was louder and bolder than Miss Snowley’s. “Indeed, I have little patience for it as well. How is your drawing?”
Miss Snowley appeared to be enjoying herself as she leaned in closer to Dorothy, as if relaying some dark secret. “Positively dreadful. I have no talent for it whatsoever, much to my mother’s despair.”
The two ladies giggled as if they were old friends already. Andrew could do nothing but watch in fascination, having no idea what to say to contribute to their exchange. He felt a small sting of jealously toward Dorothy and the easy way with which she engaged with Miss Snowley. He wanted those beautiful blue eyes focused on him. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh and bring that little curl to her lips.
Luckily, at that moment a footman entered the study with the tea service. He arranged everything in front of the ladies, then poured them both cups to their likings.
Turning to Andrew, the lad raised a dark brow. “My Lord? Would you like any refreshment?”
Andrew shook his head. “Thank you, no. Not at this moment.”
His stomach was so tight, he did not think he could eat or drink anything as long as Miss Snowley remained in the house. The footman bowed to him and the ladies and retreated.
“Would you like anything, Mrs. Stewart?” Miss Snowley called out.
The abigail offered her a polite smile and shook her head. “No, Madam. You are very kind to ask.”
Once the ladies were settled with their teacups, they turned back to each other and a sense of panic shot through Andrew that Dorothy would monopolize Miss Snowley’s attention once again.
“Do you ride, Miss Snowley?” he asked, desperate for a way to break into their tightening circle of comradery. Too late, he realized the potential double meaning of his words, and the image they provoked in his mind had him gritting his teeth to control his manhood. Her…above him…her dark hair streaming…her face twisted in ecstasy….
Enough! You are a gentleman, not some classless stable hand. Control yourself!
Miss Snowley turned her gaze back to him, and though there was a subtle pink to her cheeks, she did not appear to have picked up on the potential innuendo of his words. Her eyes were bright, and her expression relaxed. Of course her mind would not jump to such lewd conclusions. She was an innocent, as would be expected of any proper young lady like her. Even Dorothy, for all her self-proclaimed worldliness, did not blink at his question.
“I do enjoy riding,” Miss Snowley answered, unaware of the torment he suffered at her confession. “I have a lovely mare at our country estate that I often take out when we retreat there.”
“Oh, your family has a country home?” Dorothy’s eyes lit up. “Whereabouts?”
“In Hampshire, near Winchester. It is not a very grand place, but there is room for a stable and a little park in which my father and brother can hunt. We do not spend as much time there as others would their country homes, though, as my father cannot be far from his business, and my mother cannot be far from him.”
The last was spoken with a great deal of affection and a soft expression. Clearly, her mother’s devotion to the Baron was something that touched her. He knew his own parents loved each other dearly, but with an intensity that was sometimes uncomfortable for him, their son, to witness. Yet now, gazing at Miss Snowley, their passion did not seem so strange. So…irregular.
“I am sure it is lovely,” Dorothy beamed. “I would so enjoy visiting some time, and you must come to our estate as well.”
“You father is in the textile industry, as I recall. Is that right, Miss Snowley?” The Baron’s business was a safe subject for him to question her on. No chance of his imagination running wild when discussing textiles.
“Yes, indeed.” There was a proud glint in her eyes, and her shoulders straightened ever so slightly. “He owns a very successful import business and brings in materials from all over the world. Just this week, for instance, he had a shipment arrive from India.”
“I would imagine that country has quite the booming market.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulder against the mantle.
With a shrug and an apologetic smile, she said, “I must confess, I know very little of the details. My brother manages the business alongside my father, so he would be the one to ask, My Lord.”
“You have a brother?” Dorothy’s brows arched in instant interest. “What is his name?”
“Harry. Harry Snowley.”
Dorothy’s eyes shot wide. “He is not the Mr. Harry Snowley, is he? The Mr. Snowley of literary fame?”
Miss Snowley chuckled. “The one and the same, My Lady.”
Dorothy’s jaw dropped. “You are the sister of Mr. Snowley? I had assumed you were some relation, but I did not imagine you were as close to him as a sibling.” She grasped Miss Snowley’s hands once more, her gaze shining with an almost frightening eagerness. “I adore his novels.”
“He will be happy to know that, My Lady.”
Dorothy glanced toward Andrew, and the mischievous glint in her gaze had him tensing in worry. With Miss Snowley’s revelation of her close relation to Mr. Snowley, Andrew grew afraid that the visit would no longer go according to his wishes. To say that his sister adored Mr. Snowley’s work was rather an understatement. He watched her turn her attention back to Miss Snowley, her eyes calculating.
What is she planning?
Chapter Eight
The visit was going smoother than Penelope could have hoped, at least in regard to the conversation and her interactions with Lady Dorothy. When she and Mrs. Stewart had initially arrived, she had worried that she would lose her wits upon seeing the gentleman from the bookstore again and make a fool of herself. Indeed, when she walked into the parlor and saw him standing tall and proud, just as handsome as she remembered,
if not more, rational thought escaped her.
His honey-gold eyes bore into her as if he wished to see through her, or straight into her soul. There had been an eagerness in his gaze that he could not quite hide, and it sent a thrill of delight coursing through her. She realized she was on the verge at staring at him openly again, before a formal introduction, and quickly diverted her gaze.
Yet, she could feel his eyes remain on her, even when she had turned away. His sister introduced him. Lord Romwich. At last, she had a name to put with his gorgeous face. Then, he had spoken her name. It had been in polite greeting, nothing more, but it had made her heart flutter like a tiny bird.
She had been nervous at first that Mrs. Stewart would recognize Lord Romwich. He was of course dressed differently today, and had been wearing a hat at the bookstore, but how could one forget those mesmerizing eyes? However, the abigail seemed none the wiser as she sat apart from the trio and kept a diligent eye on her charge. That was a relief, at the very least. It was one less obstacle for Penelope to worry about at present.
Lustful Memoirs 0f A Bewitching Lady (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 5
