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

by Violet Hamers

  The only way to know was to see her again.

  “Whether she is truly different or not is yet to be determined,” he replied to Penelope’s assertions, careful to hide just how correct she was. She would be incorrigible if he admitted she was right.

  Her expression was smug, as if she could read his thoughts. “She will be, Harry. I know it. Lady Dorothy will steal your heart before you realize it has happened.”

  He did not reply. Turning, he looked out the carriage window, pointedly ignoring Penelope and her superior smile.

  * * *

  The outing was proving enjoyable. Penelope had worried there might be awkwardness between the gentlemen, given how displeased Lord Romwich had appeared at Harry’s attention to Lady Dorothy. However, other than a narrowed-eyed glare at the beginning of their outing, he had proven a perfect gentleman.

  So far, they had visited a haberdasher, where the ladies had admittedly enjoyed themselves to a greater degree than the gentlemen. To make it up to them, they had visited a cigar shop next. In between, Penelope and Lady Dorothy huddled together against the winter chill, their booted feet sinking into the snow that had accumulated in the last several days. Andrew walked on Penelope’s side, and Harry walked on Lady Dorothy’s.

  “Oh, shall we visit the book shop?” Lady Dorothy suddenly asked, pointing in the direction of the store just ahead of them and coming to a stop. It was the same shop in which Penelope had first encountered Andrew. Was Lady Dorothy aware of that fact? Surely, she had to be. Was there some ulterior motive behind her suggestion, or did she genuinely wish to visit the store?

  Penelope felt her cheeks heat at the memory of that first meeting with Andrew, and she thought she could sense him tensing next to her.

  Is he remembering that day as well?

  She could not fight her silly grin as she replied, “I think that is a brilliant idea, Lady Dorothy.”

  “I do as well.” Andrew’s low, rumbling voice made Penelope shiver. She bit her lip, feeling suddenly warm despite the frigid temperature.

  “Then I suppose that is settled,” Harry said, grinning down at Lady Dorothy, completely oblivious to the rising tension between his sister and Andrew. “May I escort you in, My Lady?”

  Lady Dorothy did not hesitate to loop her arm through his offered one.

  “How kind of you,” she replied, a pretty blush coloring her fair cheeks. She and Harry walked ahead toward the store entrance, their chatter and laughter trailing behind them.

  Penelope’s eyes were on them, but her attention was entirely focused on the gentleman still standing next to her. They were silent for several moments, then he extended his arm out for her to take.

  “May I have the honor, Penelope?” he asked. There was something in his tone that made her gasp for a breath. Excitement, maybe? Anticipation?

  She thought it could also be longing. Penelope hoped so, at least. It would mirror the longing she felt for him every time they were together. Though she could not explain what it was she longed for, exactly, she knew it was something intimate and wanton. Something more appropriate for the cover of night and the privacy of a bedroom than in the public in the light of day.

  Her thoughts were running away from her again, taking her to a place she thought it better to avoid at present. Smiling as serenely as possible, she slipped her hand around his elbow.

  “You may, Andrew,” she said at last. His eyes were intent on her, as though he were studying her like she held the answer to question that plagued him. Then, his expression softened and he pressed his arm into his side so her hand was trapped against his solid form.

  She gasped again, and he grinned. “Best not to keep the others waiting.”

  Penelope could only nod as he led her down the street after Harry and Lady Dorothy, who had already reached the entrance to the book shop. They were still absorbed in each other as they waited for Penelope and Andrew to catch up.

  When the four of them stepped inside, Penelope’s body instantly relaxed as the warmth of the store wrapped around her. She took a moment to breath in the familiar scent of the place, and let out a contended sigh.

  “You seem more at ease here than the last time,” Andrew teased her in a murmur, so that only she could hear his words.

  She peeked up at him, smiling shyly. “I was caught off guard the last time. I am more…aware of my surroundings today.”

  He chuckled. “That is good to hear.”

  Penelope moved to pull her hand from his hold, but he did not relinquish it.

  When she glanced up at him with a raised brow, he merely said, “Is there a particular book you would like to search for?”

  He meant to stay with her? She had anticipated him wanting to search for books of his own interest rather than be forced to follow her around as she browsed through her novels. The romances she loved were not his first choice for reading material, she knew. Yet, he was staring at her expectantly, intent on remaining at her side.

  “I…I have no one in particular,” she replied a little breathlessly. “I only wish to look and see if there is anything new that appears interesting.”

  He nodded. “All right, then lead the way.”

  She hesitated but a moment, and then began walking into the rows of bookshelves with Andrew falling into step with her. He continued to maintain a firm grasp of her hand with his arm, but she did not try to steal it back from him again.

  When they came upon a section of the books she enjoyed, she stopped and let her eyes scan the spines. He said nothing, allowing her the quiet she relished when perusing new titles. She could hear Harry and Lady Dorothy just one row over from them, and with a jolt she realized that this was the closest to being truly alone with Andrew she had ever been.

  Suddenly, she did not know what to say or how to act. She felt shy and afraid that she might make a fool of herself in front of him somehow. Every other time they had been together, there had been someone nearby to act as a buffer when she lost her wits, as she was want to do when near him. Now, she had no one. Harry and Lady Dorothy would be of no help to her, and would not even be aware of her distress.

  Pretending to be suddenly entranced by one of the books, Penelope removed it from the shelf and stared down at its cover to avoid looking up at Andrew.

  “Explain to me what it is you love so about these types of books?” he asked, either unaware of her attempt to circumvent speaking with him, or ignoring it.

  Can he tell what a nervous wreck I have become?

  Penelope shook her head to clear her thoughts. Now was not the time to doubt herself with him.

  Gathering her courage, she replied, “I find them to be a fascinating display of human emotion and desires, unfettered by the rigorous standards and rules of society.”

  “Indeed?” He appeared thoughtful, reaching out to pluck up a novel for himself. Opening the cover, he skimmed the first few pages, his brow furrowing each second. Closing the book again, he looked at her with a frown. “I do not understand.”

  “Oh?” She could not help the sting of disappointment that poked at her. “What do you not understand, Andrew?”

  He held the book in his hand aloft. “The writing is so simple, and the story so…derivative. How are these effective displays of the human experience?”

  Each word he spoke felt like a blow to Penelope’s middle. How could he dismiss such marvelous works so easily? “I did not say they were effective displays of the human experience, Andrew. I said they were fascinating displays of human emotion and desire. They do not encompass all of human experience, just the more intimate ones of love and…and lust.”

  She stumbled at the last word, having forgotten where she was and to whom she was speaking in her desire to defend her beloved novels. Andrew’s eyes flashed, and for a moment, he stared at her with what she could only describe as hunger. Seeming to shake himself from whatever thoughts had invaded his mind, his expression shifted to one of more appropriate interest.

  “Forgive me, Penelop
e, I misunderstood you.” He returned the book in his hand to the shelf.

  “There is nothing to forgive,” Penelope murmured, placing the book she held back on the shelf as well. She felt suddenly foolish for her impassioned response to his earlier question. It was clear he did not like the novels, and did not think much of her liking them either. She should have insisted he go to explore books more of his interest on his own.

  Turning to look up at him, she said, “I think I would like to leave now, Andrew.”

  He frowned. “Indeed? We have only just arrived, Penelope.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I know. I just…I am feeling overwarm. It is quite stuffy in here, is it not?”

  He gazed around the shop, as though her complaint of the heat would manifest in a physical form.

  “I myself am quite comfortable, but if you are overwarm…”

  “I am,” she insisted, turning and tugging him along down the aisle. She wanted to get away from this place before he said something to ruin it for her and sour her memory of their meeting.

  “Very well.” He sounded startled as she dragged him through the shop toward the door. Harry and Lady Dorothy must have heard their hurried exit, because they appeared from among the shelves to gaze at them in confusion.

  “What is going on?” Harry asked.

  “I am feeling unwell,” Penelope said without looking at him. “I apologize, but I think it is best that we leave.”

  She offered no further explanation, but after a heartbeat of silence, she heard the pair begin to follow after them.

  Thank goodness. Now, please, let us get away before he says something else.

  When they stood back out on the street, Penelope took a large gulp of air and felt her anxiety begin to soothe.

  “Are you all right, Penelope?” Lord Romwich asked, releasing her hand at last so that he could look her fully in the face.

  She nodded with a relieved smile. “Yes. I am feeling much better now.”

  He gave her a curious look before shrugging.

  “I am glad for that. Where shall we go to next?”

  They ultimately decided on the nearby sweets shop, which was a favorite of Lady Dorothy’s. Penelope did not care where they ended up, so long as it was not the bookstore. She was afraid of what more Andrew might say about the novels she so loved, and of what her own reaction to his words might be.

  Things had only just begun for them, and she did not want to think less of him, or for them to quarrel over something as trivial as romance stories. It was better to avoid the subject all together, she decided. So long as she could enjoy her novels without having to hear his criticisms of them, there was no danger of her coming to hate him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Over the course of the next few days, Penelope and Harry met with Lady Dorothy and Andrew for several more outings. They also called on each other at their homes for tea in the afternoons. Lady Dorothy and Harry grew more and more besotted with each other with each meeting they had, and Penelope could see they were well on their way to falling blissfully in love.

  Unfortunately for her, things were not progressing as smoothly with Andrew. No matter how hard she tried, she could not forget his criticisms of her novels. His words ate at her, and she worried that perhaps they had less in common than she initially believed. She also found that he was overly critical, and gave his opinion all too willingly about things, even when not called upon to do so.

  As a result, things between them had become tense and she lost her patience with him often.

  It all came to a head about one week after the visit to the bookstore. Harry and Penelope were calling on Lady Dorothy and Andrew at Lockeder Manor one cold afternoon. The four sat in the same parlor that Penelope had been brought to when she had first officially met the Wilson siblings. They were enjoying tea and conversation, and Penelope was feeling more at ease with Andrew than she had in days.

  He had not said a negative word the entire visit so far, remaining pleasant and measured when asked to offer his point of view on something. It was such a relief to Penelope, and she began to think that perhaps she had simply been overly sensitive after their unfortunate visit to the bookstore.

  Harry and Andrew were in the midst of a discussion around their respective businesses, and Penelope could see that Lady Dorothy was growing increasingly agitated that Harry’s attention was elsewhere. She smiled into her teacup, very pleased with Lady Dorothy’s growing attachment to Harry. Penelope thought them a good match. They were both charming and personable, but also strong-willed and intelligent.

  Their relationship was like two pieces of one whole coming into perfect alignment, whereas she and Andrew…

  She glanced at the gentleman and felt that familiar rush of heat pulsing low in her belly. What were they like, the two of them? She struggled to come up with an appropriate image. It did not seem like they should fit together, but the connection they felt to each other was too powerful to be ignored. It was overwhelming and passionate, like a gathering storm rumbling in the distance.

  Lady Dorothy suddenly pushed to her feet, yanking Penelope from her fanciful thoughts.

  “Mr. Snowley, I do not believe you have seen the gallery, have you?” she asked, her voice a little too high as she interrupted the two gentleman’s discussion. They turned to stare up at her in surprise.

  Harry blinked up at her. “Why, no, My Lady. I do not believe so.”

  “Such a shame,” she said hurriedly. “All these visits, and you have not yet been given a tour of the most splendid area of the house.”

  “That might be somewhat of an overstatement, sister…” Andrew began to say, but Lady Dorothy shot him a cold look that silenced him.

  “Nonsense, My Lord,” she snapped. “It is the most splendid part, and dear Mr. Snowley must see it this instant.” Reaching down, she took Harry’s hand and tugged him to his feet.

  Andrew stood as well. “My Lady, what are you…?”

  “Escort Miss Snowley, won’t you, brother?” Lady Dorothy said, cutting him off once more. She hooked her arm through Harry’s and smiled up at him. “Come along. The Duke has the most marvelous collection. You will love it, I am sure.”

  Harry grinned down at her. “Then by all means, My Lady. Show me the way.”

  The two were moving toward the parlor door before Penelope had a chance to put her teacup down.

  “I suppose we should hurry and follow them,” Andrew grumbled in exasperation. He offered Penelope his hand to assist her from the chaise. “I suspect my sister was non-to-pleased of my stealing Mr. Snowley’s focus from her.”

  Penelope grinned as she took his hand and rose to her feet. “I am sure she will calm with time, once they are more settled with each other.”

  “Is that what you are with me, Penelope?” he asked in that low, dark tone he took on when he was speaking just to her. “Settled?”

  He took her hand and wound it around his arm as her breaths grew heavy. His eyes remained on her, however, their honeyed depths demanding an answer.

  “No, Andrew,” she whispered, gazing up at him. “I do not believe I will ever feet settled with you.”

  His smirk was arrogant. “That is pleasing to hear.”

  Before she could collect her wits, he was leading her from the room after their siblings. Lady Dorothy’s animated voice could be heard down the hallway, and they followed after it. By the time they reached the gallery, Penelope had managed to calm her racing heart and was breathing evenly once more. The effect this gentleman had on her continued to astonish her.

  She and Andrew wandered the room together, keeping to themselves, but always in sight of Lady Dorothy and Harry. Andrew showed her some of the pieces of art that she had not had time to see when she was last in this part of the manor, and she relaxed in his company, feeling more comfortable with him with each moment that passed. It felt as though she was finally finding her footing with him.

  They came upon a statue of a beastly figure towering over a lo
unging woman. At first glance, it appeared the woman was cowering from the creature above her, which had the appearance of half a man, and half an animal.

  Yet, upon closer inspection, it became clear that the beast was not attacking the woman, and that she was not afraid of him. He stood over her to protect her, and she lay relaxed and serene, with a small smile on her pretty face. She trusted the beast to watch over her. The image was so touching, Penelope clutched her hand to her heart as she gazed upon it.

  “Do you find this piece particularly moving, Penelope?” Andrew asked, noticing her rapt attention to it.

  She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. It is so lovely. It reminds me of my brother’s latest novel.”