For the next several minutes, she tried to focus on his charming sister, but she was painfully aware of Lord Romwich standing in the room with them. When she felt bold enough, she glanced his way, and each time found him watching her. When he spoke to her, the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end, and gooseflesh rose along her arms. His voice was a deep baritone that settled around her like a thick cloak.
Though she was enjoying her time with Lady Dorothy, her shoulders were stiff with tension, and that strange heat was burning through her, practically an inferno now. Every time he spoke to her or asked her a question, the heat increased. It had settled between her legs, and the sensation was…
Penelope squeezed her hands in her lap. Dorothy was speaking again, but Penelope was so distracted by her thoughts, she only heard the last part of her question.
“….finished the new novel?”
Blinking, Penelope returned to her senses and chided herself for being so rude.
“I beg your pardon, My Lady, but could you repeat your question? I am afraid I did not catch it in full.”
Lady Dorothy nodded, seemingly unoffended by Penelope’s lack of attention.
“Of course! I was asking if you had finished Mr. Snowley’s newest novel? I understand you purchased it just the other day.”
Penelope felt the blood rush from her cheeks, and she looked toward Mrs. Stewart as panic overtook her.
Has she given us away?
If their story was to be believed, Lady Dorothy should not know about Penelope’s visit to the bookstore. She held her breath as she watched for some reaction from Mrs. Stewart. Some realization that she would report back to the Baron and his wife. She appeared unconcerned by the question, however, and gazed on with mild interest. Penelope let out a sigh. Perhaps she was not paying as close of attention as she appeared to be.
Turning back to Lady Dorothy, she caught Lord Romwich’s eye from his position by the fireplace. He was glaring at his sister, looking ready to give her a thorough tongue-lashing for her slip. Penelope thought it best she continue the conversation as if nothing were amiss before he said anything he might regret.
“Yes, I did purchase the book just the other day, My Lady, and while I have not yet finished it, I am very familiar with its ending.” She and Harry had discussed it at length to determine the most satisfying way to conclude the story.
“Is it as wonderful as his first work?” Lady Dorothy asked, her eyes wide. There was a child-like excitement about her that Penelope found disarmingly charming. She briefly thought of Harry, and how much he would enjoy Lady Dorothy’s clear devotion to him. It would boost his ego to no end to have a Duke’s daughter as his admirer.
In response to Lady Dorothy’s question, she nodded. “I believe so. In fact, I believe it might be even better than his first. It is quite a wonderful work.”
Lady Dorothy set down her teacup and clasped her hands to her chest. “Oh, your brother must be so charming if he is capable of such wonderful writing. So romantic in his thinking.”
Penelope could not help her wry smile. “I suppose that is one way to look at it, My Lady.”
“My brother bought me a copy,” Lady Dorothy confessed. “It was meant for my birthday next week, but I caught him returning home with it and demanded he give it to me early.” She giggled, appearing as though she had pulled off some great coup and was exceedingly pleased with herself. Penelope could not help but be enchanted by the lady’s good nature and humor.
She cast her gaze toward Lord Romwich, who appeared exasperated by his sister. However, she did not miss the gleam of adoration in his eyes as he watched Lady Dorothy.
“That was most kind of you, My Lord,” Penelope could not help murmur.
His eyes switched back to her, and the soft gleam was gone, replaced by something that had her heart racing and her lips parting to try and catch her breath. Something dark. Something forbidden. Something tempting and sinful.
She had to look away from him before that something in his eyes overwhelmed her. Turning back to Lady Dorothy, she caught her peeking at her brother and then returning her gaze to Penelope. It was obvious she was fighting a smile. Penelope felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment for perhaps the hundredth time since she had entered the room.
“My brother is the most generous soul,” Lady Dorothy said, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she studied Penelope. “It is a wonder he has not yet been snatched up by one of the ladies of the ton.”
She could not stop the little gasp that escaped her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lord Romwich straightening from the mantle, though she could not make out his expression clearly. She did not think his sister’s comment had pleased him, however. Lady Dorothy did not appear one for subtlety, and Penelope was unsure how to navigate the dangerous territory she had brought them too. She dared not look at Lord Romwich again, for fear of his reaction.
Would he appear angry? Saddened? Would he be watching her closely for her own reaction to the confirmation of his bachelorhood?
Better to divert attention from the subject. Change the focus of the conversation.
“Have you had a chance to read any of my brother’s books yet, My Lady?” Yes, this would be a much safer topic of conversation.
Lady Dorothy’s eyes lit up again, and Penelope felt her shoulders sag in relief when it was clear the lady was successfully distracted. While her brother’s marital status might be a subject of priority for the lady, it seemed to pale in comparison to her obsession with Harry’s works.
“I have only started it,” Lady Dorothy replied with a wide grin. “Yes, I can tell already that it will be a truly breathtaking story. He has written such a terrifying beast of a man as his hero. I cannot wait to see how he is redeemed!”
Penelope raised her brows. “Are you so sure he will be redeemed?”
Lady Dorothy rolled her eyes. “Of course he will be. What would be the point of the story, otherwise?”
She was right, of course. The hero would find eventual redemption in the arms of his lady love, but Penelope was curious to know why Lady Dorothy was so adamant about the fact. Most of the ladies who read such novels simply enjoyed the romance and sometimes scandalous nature of the characters’ relationships. The growth of the characters was not necessarily their reason for engaging in the story.
Lady Dorothy, however…perhaps she had picked up on the different layers of the novel, apart from its central love story?
“Not the romance?” Penelope ventured. “The passion between the hero and heroine?”
Lady Dorothy tilted her head, her brow furrowed. “Obviously, those are the main themes of the story, but none of those can come about without the hero’s redemption. He is too unlovable, at present. It would be unbelievable to think his heroine would fall for him as he is at the start of the story. Something must happen to reestablish his humanity else the story is not fully rounded and complete.”
Penelope was impressed. Lady Dorothy, in addition to her humor and charm, was also intelligent and intuitive. Rare traits in a well-bred lady, at least in Penelope’s experience in dealing with other ladies of the aristocracy.
“So, how do you think his lady love will bring him redemption?” Penelope asked. She was enjoying herself and feeling more relaxed than she had the whole visit.
Lady Dorothy scoffed and shook her head. “It should not fall on the lady to bring him redemption. He must find it for himself.”
Penelope could not agree more, but she was fascinated to know Lady Dorothy’s reasoning. “Why?”
The lady blinked as if surprised Penelope even had to ask. “Because, if he is able to find it himself, his love for the heroine will be true and not dependent on what it is she can do for him.”
Penelope felt her mouth split into a smile as she nodded in agreement. “Yes, I believe that to be the case as well.”
She was beyond impressed with Lady Dorothy and her ability to understand the hidden lessons in the story.
W
ith a grin of her own, the lady said, “That is what makes those types of stories so appealing, do you not agree? They display how we wish the world could be rather than what it truly is.”
“And how do you wish the world could be?” Lord Romwich’s deep voice cut through the little bubble that had built up around Penelope and Lady Dorothy as they talked. To her shock, Penelope realized that she had momentarily forgotten him, she had been so absorbed in her conversation with his sister. Now she was all too aware of his presence once more, and her shoulders stiffened as her nerves took hold again.
Lady Dorothy met her brother’s gaze. “I would wish for a world where two people come into a relationship on equal footing, bringing with them nothing but their love for each other, and seeking nothing in return.”
Lord Romwich’s brows arched, and his expression was incredulous. “When you speak of a relationship, do you mean marriage?”
His sister nodded. “I do. The way we conduct marriage is so contractual, with both sides hoping to gain from the other with hardly a thought to the true emotions they might feel.”
“Marriage is a contract,” he replied. “A mutually beneficial one where assets are gained, fortunes are secured, and titles are won. A marriage does not need love to be successful.”
“Perhaps it does, but we are too fiscally-minded to know better.” Lady Dorothy turned from her brother to Penelope. “What do you think, Miss Snowley? Would our society not be better if love were at the forefront when choosing who to tie yourself to for the remainder of your life?”
Penelope was not sure how to respond. She did not want to seem naïve in front of Lord Romwich, but in truth, she sympathized with Lady Dorothy’s argument.
“I…do not think I am well enough versed in the business of marriage to offer a thoughtful answer,” she stuttered at length.
“Oh, do not be silly,” Lady Dorothy waved her hand, dismissing the notion. “You are more than capable of drawing an intelligent conclusion for yourself.”
“Yes, Miss Snowley,” Lord Romwich agreed. “We are eager to hear your response.”
Penelope gulped, sliding her eyes to meet his. There was a challenge in his gaze, as if he were daring her to speak her mind. She was not one to back down from a challenge easily, but she hesitated to show him her more outspoken side so soon. What if he thought her overbearing? Too opinionated for his tastes? Would his interest in her lessen, or disappear altogether?
Do I truly want to invest my time in a gentleman who would rather I be silent?
“Very well, My Lord. I will admit, I do agree with much of Lady Dorothy’s way of thinking. A lifetime commitment such as marriage seems to me something that should involve the heart as well as the head and should not be entered for selfish or material means. However, I do acknowledge that view is not completely practical, and marriage, like most other institutions, should be considered with a clear, thoughtful head before being entered into.”
The little half-smile he graced her with eased her worry that she had overstepped in his mind.
“A practical romantic,” he said, his eyes gleaming with interest. “How charming. Is it in your nature to challenge convention, or a trait you were taught?”
“I do not know about that, My Lord,” she said, feeling bolder under his gaze. “It is not my way to challenge convention, but simply question if there might be a better way to go about things. It is beyond my control and ability to change anything, however, and I am content letting more educated individuals than myself decide how things should be.”
“Truly?” He appeared skeptical.
She smiled serenely, though she was not being completely honest. Yes, she would leave it to more intelligent people than herself to dictate the rules of the world, but no, she was not content with it. “Truly.”
He did not look as if he believed her, but he did not press the issue further. His expression turned thoughtful. In that moment, Penelope realized she had inadvertently brought the conversation back around to the very subject she had meant to avoid in Lord Romwich’s presence.
Returning her gaze to Lady Dorothy, she said, “My brother would be most impressed with your insight into his writing.”
Her words had the intended effect, as Lady Dorothy clapped her hands together in glee and reclaimed the focus of the conversation. “Do you truly think so? It would be such a joy to converse with him about his writing and gain a greater understanding of his process in coming up with such marvelous stories.”
Penelope bit her lip, her fingers fidgeting around her cup. “My…my brother is a little peculiar when it comes to his writing, My Lady. He does not like to discuss his process with many people, other than myself. I fear you would be disappointed by his lack of openness.”
Lady Dorothy frowned. “Oh, that is disappointing to hear.” She fell silent for a heartbeat of time, but then her smile returned. “Still, that does not mean I cannot meet him, yes? We can talk of other things if he wishes to avoid the subject of his art.”
Penelope was surprised by the lady’s easy acquiescence to Harry’s perceived wishes. “Yes, I suppose that is true, My Lady.”
“Then you must introduce us,” Lady Dorothy declared, placing her hand on Penelope’s arm and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Please?”
There was an earnestness in the lady’s plea that had Penelope eager to see her happy. “I am sure my brother would be most honored, My Lady. I will be happy to introduce you to each other at the earliest opportunity.”
Lady Dorothy’s smile brightened her whole face. “You are a dear soul, Miss Snowley. I do believe a wonderful friendship is ahead of us.”
The thought delighted Penelope. “I believe that as well, My Lady.”
Even as her soul felt light at the prospect of a lasting friendship with Lady Dorothy, something compelled her to look over at Lord Romwich. She nearly jolted in shock at the narrowed-eye glare he was casting her way. Her heart twisted with dread. What had she done to make him appear so cross?
Have I ruined my chances with him before they had even begun?
Chapter Nine
Dorothy was ruining everything! She was supposed to be creating a greater opportunity for Andrew to engage with Miss Snowley, and instead she had succeeded in dominating the lady’s attention from him. He had tried to insert himself into their conversation several times, but with little success of keeping Miss Snowley’s focus on him.
He knew he was being selfish, and his irritation with his sister was childish, but the visit was coming to an end soon and he did not feel he had made much, if any, progress with Miss Snowley. He should have known this would happen given her last name. Dorothy was like a dog with a bone when it came to Mr. Snowley and his novels, and it should have crossed his mind that she would latch onto Miss Snowley’s relationship to the gentleman and forget all else.
Grinding his teeth, he glared at Dorothy, willing her to sense his displeasure. At that moment, however, Miss Snowley turned to look at him again. Too late, he realized he had not stopped glaring when he met her gaze. She appeared startled, dropping her eyes from him and wringing her hands in her lap as if suddenly nervous. Or, worse yet, frightened.
Damned fool! He berated himself. You are mucking this up every which way.
He did not know what to do. How could he salvage this? If only he could be alone with her! That was impossible, of course, but he considered the next best thing. How to put distance between her and Dorothy? An idea came to him and he took a quick step away from his post by the fireplace.
“Miss Snowley, do you have any interest in artwork?”
She whipped her head back toward him, her blue eyes wide with surprise.
“I…I do, My Lord.” There was a slight tremble in her voice. Damn it all, was she that frightened of him now?
Stretching his mouth into the most charming smile he could manage, he cast a glance toward his sister. “Do you not think Miss Snowley would enjoy a quick tour of the manor’s gallery, My Lady? I believe she would enj
oy the Duke and Duchess’ collection.”
Dorothy arched a brow, clearly baffled at his intent. “Er…I suppose she might, My Lord.” She looked to Miss Snowley. “We should be happy to give you a tour, unless you are eager to get home?”
Miss Snowley slowly nodded, though her eyes remained locked on him. She looked thoroughly confused, but the fear was leaving her expression. Did he dare to believe she appeared hopeful?
“That would be lovely, My Lady, My Lord.” The tremble was gone from her voice. Andrew wanted to sigh with relief. “I am afraid it must be a very brief tour, however, as my parents will be expecting me back soon.”
Lustful Memoirs 0f A Bewitching Lady (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 6
