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

by Violet Hamers

  Dear Miss Snowley,

  Forgive my haste in writing to you so soon after your visit. I know this is not the proper order of things, and that should it be discovered I am corresponding with you in such a way, I risk both our reputations. Thus, my reasoning for sending this to you in the hands of a trusted servant rather than the morning post. Forgive me for my impertinence, but I confess, I could not wait another day to contact you after you granted me permission to do so.

  Since our meeting, I have struggled to put you from my mind. I hope you do not think me overly bold, but I have developed a fascination for you in the short time we have been acquainted. You are witty, charming, and in truth so lovely to me, I find myself wandering the Duke and Duchess’ gallery in disappointment as no piece of artwork within it can compare to your beauty.

  I wish to see you again at the earliest possible opportunity. My assumption is that you might wish this as well. If I am correct in this supposition, I ask that you not write a response, as I do not wish to risk your reputation any more than I already have. Instead, meet me in the little park down the street from your home tomorrow at eleven o’clock. We will call it a happy coincidence to come upon each other there, and I will invite you to walk the promenade with me.

  If I do not see you there, I will know that I have read our situation incorrectly and you do not have an interest in me. I swear to never bother you again, though I hope this is not the case as I have a great interest in you, Madam.

  I await your response to my confession tomorrow with bated breath.

  Yours sincerely,

  Andrew, Marquess of Romwich

  Penelope stared at the paper, stunned by the Marquess’ boldness not only in sending it, but in his invitation to her. Her heart began to race, both with exhilaration and panic. What if someone else had discovered the letter before it had reached her? What if her mother or father had seen it?

  She could not decide if she were incensed or elated at Lord Romwich’s action. After a moment of contemplation, however, she decided she could not be angry with him. In truth, it was a rather romantic gesture, and she was too thrilled at the confirmation of his interest to care overmuch about the risk.

  It has arrived to me safely, after all. No harm was done.

  However, what did cause her concern was his invitation to meet. It was a rather daring plan, and she wondered if he was truly so enamored with her that he did not care about the potential consequences, or if he was simply so arrogant, he did not believe it possible for them to get caught.

  Moving back to her seat at the window, Penelope sank onto the cushioned bench as she considered what to do. He had been correct in assuming she wanted to see him again. She was desperate to, in truth, but why was he arranging for them to meet in such a way instead of formally presenting himself to her father and mother? Nibbling on her lip, she could not help but worry at his true intentions.

  What if he does not wish to court me at all? What if he desires me for some more…salacious role?

  A mistress, perhaps. The thought had her stomach twisting with dread. What if that was it? What if he did not see her as a potential wife? Though her father was a peer, his status was much below that of a Duke. Penelope was not even permitted the title of “Lady” within society. She was far from an equal match for a Marquess.

  Perhaps he felt the same. She did not doubt his desire for her, as he had confessed he found her beautiful in his letter and that he had grown fascinated with her, but that did not mean he wished to marry her. Penelope was an innocent, but she was not so naïve as to think Lord Romwich was one as well. It was not required of gentlemen as it was of ladies to maintain their chastity. They could indulge their carnal desires without reproach.

  The paper crumbled in her fingers as her hands clenched in agitation. Did Lord Romwich only wish to slate his hunger for her, then move on to take a more suitable lady as his bride? Penelope swallowed at the lump that formed in her throat at the terrible idea. No, she could not believe that of him. He could not be so dishonorable as to sully a lady then leave her with nothing but her tattered reputation and dignity.

  Yet, even as her mind insisted his intentions were pure, a small voice in the back of her head continued to sow doubt.

  You are nothing compared to him.

  Shoving back to her feet, Penelope smoothed the letter back out and folded it with sharp movements.

  Enough of this. There is only one way to know for sure what Lord Romwich seeks from me.

  She would accept his invitation and meet him in the park, then demand he tell her for certain whether he wished to court her, or wished for…something else. If the latter, she would end all contact with him there and then.

  Penelope had worked too hard to protect her reputation, and she would not sacrifice it for anyone. Not even the likes of Lord Romwich.

  Chapter Eleven

  Andrew bounced on the balls of his feet, his nerves frayed as he waited to see if Miss Snowley would meet him. He had been experiencing an immense amount of stress about it since he sent the groom to deliver his letter. He knew what he was risking in sending it before they began courting officially, but he had not been able to help himself. Miss Snowley was haunting his dreams each night, and monopolizing his thoughts each day.

  He had to see her again and determine for certain if she felt as strongly for him as he did for her. Then, he would present himself to her family and make his intentions clear.

  His heart raced as he gazed down the walking path one way, and then the other. It was coming on eleven o’clock, but there was still no sign of her. He cursed the weather, as it had not done as he wished and cleared. Just as it had been the day before, the air was cold, and a light drizzle had been falling all morning. Blessedly, that had stopped for the time being. A small miracle, at the very least.

  What if she does not come? What if I was incorrect and she has no interest in me at all?

  The thought made him nauseous. Surely, he had not misread her, had he? The way she had glanced his way time and time again when she had called on Dorothy just three days ago, and the light blushes that had graced her cheeks when their eyes had met, had made it clear that she desired him. Whenever her teeth had bit into her plump bottom lip…

  Andrew shook himself to dispel the thought. He could not think about her that way. Not now, else he risked losing control of himself if and when she arrived. He would be too tempted to touch her. To kiss her. To press himself against her and feel the softness of her body…

  Damn it all! Stop! You will embarrass her and yourself if you do not stop this thinking.

  A motion to his left caught his attention. Turning, all the air rushed from his lungs when his eyes landed on Miss Snowley. She was beautiful in a patterned gown and light blue mantle to protect her against the cold. Her dark hair was tucked up under her bonnet, but he could see tiny curls that had escaped to rest across her forehead.

  Today, she was not accompanied by her abigail, much to his relief. Instead, a lady bearing a striking resemblance to Miss Snowley, though several years her senior, kept pace with her as they moved down the path. By the look of her clothing, he could tell she was no servant. The lady did not appear bothered by the poor weather as she was chatting away with an absentminded smile lighting up her lovely face.

  He watched them approach for several moments, and simply enjoyed the sight of Miss Snowley. When her gaze landed on him, however, she did not appear as glad to see him. Her expression was grim, her chin raised in what he thought might be resolve. Andrew frowned. What could she be thinking to make her look so cross?

  Feeling suddenly hesitant, he almost stopped himself from stepping directly into their pathway. Miss Snowley was watching him so intently, however, he dared not avoid her.

  Forcing a charming smile to curl his lips, he approached the ladies with more confidence than he truly felt anymore.

  “Ah, Miss Snowley, what a pleasant surprise,” he said, sticking to his plan of their encounter being nothin
g more than a happy coincidence.

  Both ladies stopped in front of him, the older of the two blinking up at him in surprise before turning to Miss Snowley.

  “Sweetheart, do you know this gentleman?”

  Sweetheart?

  Miss Snowley kept her eyes locked on Andrew for a moment before turning to her companion. Her expression softened.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I do, Mother. This is the Marquess of Romwich. He is Lady Dorothy’s brother, and she introduced us when I called on her for tea the other day.”

  She comes with her mother?

  Suddenly, he missed Mrs. Stewart’s presence. He had not anticipated this added pressure to their already precarious situation. His smile wavered but a moment before he regained his senses.

  “A pleasure to meet you, My Lady,” he said, bowing low to the Baroness.

  “The pleasure is mine, My Lord,” she replied with a graceful curtsy. When she stood fully again, her gaze swept over him and her expression was one that he had become intimately familiar with over the years.

  Calculation.

  Like so many mothers before her, he could practically see her mind begin to whirl with ways to push her daughter onto him. Unlike every other time he had seen that look in a lady’s eyes, however, it did not bother him. It would be beneficial to have her on his side from the start, after all.

  “What brings you out into the cold and wet, My Lord?” Lady Bienholm asked, her arm snaking through her daughter’s to pull her close to her side.

  “A meeting concerning some business of my father, the Duke of Lockeder,” he said, the lie sliding easily from his tongue. He had practiced it in his head in preparation for this outing. “I had an errand at a shop just across the park and thought it better to cut through the green on foot rather than have my carriage drive all the way around.”

  Lady Bienholm nodded. “Fresh air can do wonders for a person’s constitution, even in such poor weather.”

  “Indeed, My Lady.” Turning his gaze to Miss Snowley, he asked, “What brings you ladies out on such a dreary day?”

  Miss Snowley stared back at him, her eyes no warmer than when she had first approached. “I am afraid I was feeling rather confined in the house and begged my mother to allow me a quick stroll through the park. She insisted on accompanying me, for the very reason she has said. Fresh air.”

  “Fresh air,” Lady Bienholm confirmed with a tilt of her chin.

  “Well, it appears you are walking my way,” Andrew said, indicating down the path. “May I join you for a bit?”

  “That would be lovely,” Lady Bienholm exclaimed, a wide smile dimpling her cheeks. “We would be happy for you to join us, would we not, Madam?”

  Miss Snowley’s eyes bored into him. “Yes, most happy.”

  She looked as though the prospect of his presence would incite just the opposite emotion within her, and he yearned to discover what it was she was upset with him about. Had his letter offended her? Had he overplayed his hand, misunderstanding the situation after all? Yet, she was here. She had chosen to respond to him by appearing today. So, what was it that was bothering her?

  Turning so they all faced the same direction, the trio began walking along together. Lady Bienholm was pleasant in her demeanor and speech, taking up the responsibility of directing their conversation. She inquired about his family, particularly his father’s multiple enterprises. He lightly touched on the subject, recognizing that the details were not what mattered to her. She was trying to determine if his fortune was secure.

  As he and Lady Bienholm conversed, Miss Snowley remained troublingly silent. The desire to question her burned within him, but he dared not ask her to convey her troubles to him so openly in front of her mother.

  His plan was going awry. If she was she being chaperoned by a servant, they would have at least been able to walk together a reasonable distance ahead of the woman. He could not expect such space to be granted by her mother. If Andrew did not come up with some solution, some excuse to steal a few private words with Miss Snowley, he did not know that she would elect to see him again based on her present attitude.

  As his mind scrambled for a solution, a carriage passed by on the neighboring path. It came to a sudden stop, catching his attention. The door of the vehicle swung open, and a lady with powdered gray hair piled high on her head poked her head out into the light drizzle.

  “Lady Bienholm! Is that you, my dear?”

  Lady Bienholm and Miss Snowley both came to a halt, and Andrew paused his strides as well. He looked to Lady Bienholm, who was beaming with affection at the lady in the carriage.

  “Lady Carter! Yes, it is me,” she called with a wave. Turning to her daughter, she placed a hand on her shoulder. “Excuse me, dear. I will be but a moment.” Glancing up at Andrew, she added, “You will remain well within my sights.”

  Andrew stared at her in disbelief as she hurried toward the carriage. Looking up to the heavens, he could not help but think it was divine intervention at play. Turning his gaze down to Miss Snowley, he saw that her cheeks were pink, and she was staring at the ground, her hands wringing together in agitation.

  Her obvious distress made his chest ache, and now that they were blessedly as alone as was possible, he swore to himself that he would uncover the cause of it. He would not have her look upon him with such detached coldness ever again.

  Chapter Twelve

  No, please, Mama! Do not leave me alone with him!

  Penelope willed her mother to sense her angst, but to no avail. Lady Bienholm was already halfway to Lady Carter’s carriage, abandoning her daughter to the unpleasant conversation she no longer wished to have.

  When she and her mother had arrived in the park, Penelope had been ready to confront Lord Romwich about his intentions toward her. However, the moment she saw him, her courage fled her.

  He had looked so beautiful, even in the gray and drizzle around him. So dashing in his greatcoat and Hessians, she had lost her ability to speak momentarily. Luckily, her mother did not suffer such an affliction in the gentleman’s presence and was able to carry the conversation for her daughter.

  Now, though, her mother was not there to shield her, and she was suddenly terrified to demand the answers she was so desperate to know. What if she was wrong about his character, and everything was as she feared?

  “Miss Snowley, are you quite all right?”

  His deep voice startled her from her chaotic thoughts. She turned wide eyes up to him, and found him frowning down at her in concern.

  “Yes, My Lord…I mean…no…I mean…I am so sorry…”

  “Miss Snowley, please take a breath,” he commanded in a gentle tone, turning so he faced her fully.

  She did as she was told, breathing in through her nose and releasing the air from her mouth. The process did make her feel somewhat calmer. At least enough to form a coherent sentence.

  Facing him, she tilted her head back so she could meet his honey-gold gaze.

  “My Lord, I must ask you something terribly impertinent. Though you may think me forward, I am afraid if I do not know your response, I will have no peace of mind from this point onwards in any of our interactions.”

  He arched a brow, a shadow of unease crossing his face.

  “Very well, Miss Snowley. Ask whatever it is you must to bring peace to your mind.”

  Gulping, Penelope struggled to form the words for several tense moments. As the seconds ticked by, she could see him growing impatient with her delay.

  At last, she opened her mouth, and her question rushed forth like water through a broken dam.

  “My Lord, do you intend for me to be your mistress?”

  Silence stretched between them, so cold and thick, it penetrated her mantle and made her shiver in a way the weather could not. Her face burned with her embarrassment, but she could not take the words back. Would not, even if given the chance. She had to know. It was killing her slowly not to know.

  Lord Romwich stared at her in clea
r shock, and what might have been just a shade of horror. His mouth hung open like a fish, a sight that would have been funny had Penelope not been so terrified of what his answer would be.

  At long last, he closed his mouth, but then opened it back up to say, “Why would you believe such a thing, Miss Snowley? What could I have possibly done to make you think so little of me?”

  She realized her implication of him too late. Her main concern as her thoughts had spiraled wildly had been her own reputation, but she never stopped to consider what her accusation would mean for his. Guilt uncurled in her belly like thorny vines, and spread throughout her body, clawing and scratching her insides until she wanted to writhe at the pain.