Andrew flinched, feeling as though he had been slapped across the face. How casually Mr. Snowley spoke of Penelope’s rebuff of him…as though it were not a total devastation that Andrew was not sure he would recover from.
“Oh, and are you to care for me then?” he sneered. “You are doing a marvelous job of it so far.”
Mr. Snowley released a sigh and rolled his eyes. “If you would take a moment to calm your temper, Romwich, we might be able to have a civilized conversation with each other.”
Andrew glared at the gentleman as anger bubbled up within him. He did not hate Mr. Snowley now as he had when they had first met and his interest in Dorothy was so blatant and forward. The two had been forced into each other’s company by the ladies, however, and over time Andrew’s animosity toward the gentleman had dimmed. That did not mean they were close, or even friends, however.
It did not mean Mr. Snowley possessed the right to speak to Andrew with disrespect.
“It is still Lord Romwich, Snowley,” he spat. “You would do well to remember your place.”
Snowley’s eyes narrowed. When he spoke, his tone was hard, but even.
“Just because my sister has slighted you does not give you grounds to take your frustrations out on me, My Lord. I am only offering to help you.”
“How in the world could you help me?” Andrew did not want to let go of his anger. It was the only thing keeping him from feeling the full weight of the pain Penelope had inflicted on him. Like a lifeline, he grabbed onto the anger within him and kept it trained firmly on the only target available to him.
Mr. Snowley slid his hands into his pockets and stepped closer. “I know Penelope better than most. She is a sweet lady with a good heart, but she has no experience with romance. Yes, she loves her novels, but those are not the same, are they? Those cannot convey the true joy and fear that love can foster within a person. She has never felt this way before, and she is overwhelmed. You must be patient with her.”
“I have been nothing but patient,” Andrew declared in a harsh tone. “I have done everything I can to ease her anxieties and make her feel comfortable with the idea of us…”
“We both know that is not entirely correct, do we not?” Mr. Snowley was smirking now, and Andrew wanted to wipe the look from his face with his knuckles. It seemed it was not only Penelope who had the power to evoke strong emotions within him, but her brother as well. Andrew had rarely been inclined toward violence with anyone before Mr. Snowley.
“What is your point?” Andrew snapped. “Make it quickly, and then leave me be before I do something I might later regret.”
Mr. Snowley did not appear at all worried by the clear threat. “My point is you have not made this courtship easy on my sister. She questions her every move with you and is completely out of her depth when it comes to handling a gentleman of your caliber. It is obvious she cares for you, and quite possibly does love you, but she does not know what to do with those feelings.”
His words were not unreasonable, Andrew supposed, though he hated to admit it.
“Then what do you suggest I do?” He could not believe he was sinking so low as to ask for this gentleman’s help, but he was truly desperate to keep Penelope. “Bury my own feelings and pray that one day she comes to return them?”
Mr. Snowley shook his head. “No, My Lord. That is not what I would suggest. In order to coax my sister’s true feelings for you to the surface, you must shower her with your own affection. She needs to be assured of your love before she can gain the courage to confess hers. Help her to see how devoted to her you are, so that she feels confident enough to make herself vulnerable.”
Damn him, he is right.
Andrew knew he had not always made things easy for Penelope in their relationship. He surprised her too often and pushed her past her level of comfort in many of their interactions. His humor could be troublesome for her, and he was not always adept at understanding her feelings.
The more he thought about it, the more sense it made why she had fled.
I am such a fool.
“What if it is already too late?” he murmured, meeting Mr. Snowley’s gaze as he gave voice to his greatest fear at present. “What if she wishes for things to come to an end for good this time?”
“Why do you not ask her that question yourself?” Mr. Snowley pointedly looked over Andrew’s shoulder and tilted his chin.
With a frown, Andrew turned and felt his heart speed up at the sight of Penelope standing in the doorway.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“My Lord, I am so sorry.” Penelope hurried across the room to stand before Andrew, her hands clasped to her chest.
He just stared down at her as if he could not believe she were real. After her revelation with Lady Dorothy, she had been eager to return and apologize to him, but she had worried whether he would accept it. She had not thought to worry if he would even speak to her again.
“My Lord?” she murmured, attempting to prompt him into a response.
He blinked, then shook his head slightly. “You…you came back.”
“Yes, I did. Lady Dorothy helped me realize how foolishly I acted by running from you. Especially after you went to so much trouble to prepare for me such a spectacular surprise.” Guilt ate at her as she thought about how cowardly she had been acting.
“Why did you run?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. Was he angry with her? She could not tell. His expression was a mixture of emotions she could not discern.
Swallowing, she dropped her gaze from his and wrung her hands as she answered, “I was overwhelmed, I think. Those…those words I almost said, I had not even realized they might…they might be true until now. It frightened me to say them without fully recognizing what my feelings are for myself first. I am so very sorry.”
He did not respond right away. Peeking up at him, she was surprised to find a small smile was playing about his lips.
“Is that it, then?” His tone was tender, and it warmed her from the inside out.
Penelope nodded. “Andrew, I do think I lo…”
He raised his hand and shook his head, cutting her words off. “No, do not say it. Not now. Not yet. Do not say those words until you have had time to determine that they are actually true.”
She gaped at him, shocked. Her whole body went rigid with tension.
Is he doubting my sincerity now?
As if he could read her thoughts, Andrew took one of her hands in his and brushed his thumb over her knuckles.
“I do not want you to feel pressured to say anything,” he explained. “I would love nothing more than to hear you express your true feelings for me, but not until you are absolutely certain of them yourself.”
She relaxed and felt suddenly giddy and shy beneath his golden gaze.
“Thank you, Andrew. That is very thoughtful of you.”
His grin turned teasing. “Just know that when you do say those words, there will be no taking them back. You will be mine forever, sweet Penelope.”
The promise should have startled her, but she felt a strange sense of glee at the thought of bonding herself to him permanently.
“Thank goodness that is cleared up,” Lady Dorothy’s exasperated groan suddenly cut through the room. “You two are my greatest source of exhaustion. I believe we have been away long enough. The Duke and Duchess are sure to have noticed our absence by now.”
Penelope shot a grin toward the lady, who stood near the door at Harry’s side.
Andrew released a deep sigh. “You are likely right, sister. We would hate to upset the Duke or Duchess in any way.” His tone was sarcastic, but his eyes twinkled playfully as he winked at Penelope. “Shall we return to the party, my dear?”
He offered her his arm, and she accepted it with a smile and a nod as Harry and Lady Dorothy stepped out of the room ahead of them
“Yes, My Lord. I suddenly find myself in better spirits and much more willingly to engage in the evening’s merriment.”
; Andrew suddenly dipped his head toward her and captured her lips with his. She jerked in shock, but his free hand came up to cup her face and hold her in place as his tongue dipped into her mouth to lightly trace over hers. Penelope gasped, then melted into him. This was so risky…Harry and Lady Dorothy could return in a moment and catch them.
Yet Penelope could not make herself care.
Too soon, Andrew pulled broke their kiss to lean down to her ear to whisper, “I long for those evenings when I will be able to have you all to myself, with no chaperones or overbearing parents to disturb us.”
Her already pink cheeks heated further at the feel of his breath against her ear and his seductive words.
“I long for those evenings as well,” she admitted breathlessly. “I pray they come sooner rather than later.”
He moved his head back to meet her gaze, and there was determination in his eyes.
“I can guarantee you they will be arriving very soon.”
* * *
If they had hoped to sneak back into the ballroom unnoticed, that hope was dashed almost immediately. As soon as Harry and Dorothy stepped back into the crowded space with Penelope and Lord Romwich right behind them, the Baron and his wife came storming toward them.
Harry bit back a groan at the fury burning his father’s gaze.
“Just where have you all been?” the Baron growled. “If you thought your absence had slipped past the Duke and Duchess, you are sorely mistaken.”
“My Lord, please…”
“It is my fault, My Lord,” Lord Romwich said, stepping forward to stand at Harry’s side. “I had a Christmas surprise I wished to give Miss Snowley and requested Mr. Snowley and Lady Dorothy be present to avoid any accusations of impropriety.”
Harry was surprised by the display of honesty from Lord Romwich. The man usually preferred to mask every one of his actions in secrecy and unnecessary deception. He was proving himself a better gentleman than Harry had initially thought, however. His gift to Penelope had been genuinely thoughtful, and Harry had liked seeing her face light up with such joy.
Lord Romwich may be worthy of her time after all.
Returning his attention to the scene unfolding before him, Harry found the Baron gaping up at the Marquess, his mouth hanging open like a fish.
“Ah, well…that was very responsible of you, My Lord. Though, I do not believe the Duke and Duchess are as appreciative of your timing as I am of your diligence in maintaining my daughter’s reputation.”
Dorothy released a heavy sigh. “Come, Lord Romwich, we should go make our apologies before their Graces grow too agitated.”
“Yes, we should,” the Marquess agreed with a nod.
Dorothy slid her eyes to meet his, and Harry hated that she had to leave his side, even for a moment. He wanted her with him always. He wanted to come home to her comforting embrace after trying days at the office. He wanted to wake up next to her and watch the morning sunlight play across her face.
Harry wanted Dorothy to be his.
He wanted her to be his wife.
Whenever he pictured them together, married, with children laughing about them, the image came easily. No lady fit him as perfectly as Dorothy.
She will bring life to my empty home.
He was going to propose. That was all there was to it.
“I will find you in a bit, Miss Snowley,” Lord Romwich said, turning fully to Penelope. “Please, save me a dance.”
“Of course, My Lord,” his sister gushed, her cheeks pink as her eyes twinkled with pleasure.
Smiling warmly at Penelope, Lord Romwich then turned his attention to his sister.
“Shall we, My Lady?” He offered her his arm to escort her to their parents.
She glanced back up at Harry before taking hold of her brother.
“I will be but a moment,” she assured him, looking as hesitant to leave his side as he was to let her.
Harry gave her a nod and a teasing grin. “I will count the seconds until your return, My Lady.”
Her smile stole his breath as she allowed Lord Romwich to whisk her away. Harry watched them go, feeling as though his heart went with her.
“Well, now that we have you two alone, I must say your behavior is startling,” the Baron snapped, though he was careful to keep his voice low so that no one around them could hear. “Sneaking off with the Marquess and Lady Dorothy during the Duke and Duchess’ ball is not only rude, but shameful. What if someone had caught you all?”
Harry sighed. “My Lord, that is why all four of us remained together, as Lord Romwich said. We made sure there could be no blight on the ladies’ reputations.”
His mother scowled. “It is not only their reputations we care for. What if their Graces now think you two poor influences on their children? They could forbid you from seeing either of them.”
“They would not do that, surely,” Penelope protested, though there was a note of fear in her voice. “Lord Romwich and Lady Dorothy have both made their feelings for us clear. They already approved of Harry when he presented himself to them.”
How quickly could that approval be snatched away?
The thought was a crushing weight on his shoulders. If he were forbidden to see Dorothy, he did not know what he would do. He would be lost.
“Do not be naïve, Penelope,” their mother hissed. “You both are in too precarious of situations with your chosen beloveds. It is by pure generosity that the Duke and Duchess ever allowed your courtships to begin in the first place. You would both do well to mind yourselves, else their generosity run out. At least until you are both married, I beg you, behave.”
His mother was right. So long as he and Dorothy were unwed, she could be taken from him. That thought only affirmed what Harry had concluded just minutes earlier.
He would propose to Dorothy. Secure her as his wife. Then no one could bar them from seeing each other or threaten them with separation. She would be his, every morning and night, and he would be hers. The more he thought of it, the more confident he felt in the rightness of his plan.
There is only one obstacle standing in my way.
Glancing toward Penelope, he dreaded the conversation he knew they must have. She would fight him on it, but if he wanted to keep Dorothy, he would have to confront his sister.
I refuse to begin my marriage with a lie.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I love him, I love him not, I love him, I love him not, I love him…
Penelope released a sigh as she flicked the page of her book back and forth. She had no flower petals to pluck as she repeated her chant again and again in her head, so she had settled for a novel, turning the pages each time she thought the next phrase.
It was not proving as effective a method as using flowers.
Giving up, she closed the book in her lap and turned to stare out the library’s window. It had been three days since the Duke and Duchess of Lockeder’s Christmas ball, and she could not stop replaying the events of the evening again and again in her mind. Thinking of their second kiss, stolen in a secret moment, always sent a shiver of pleasure running through her.
She longed to feel his lips against hers again, his large hands holding her tightly to his hard body. Sadly, she had not been able to meet Lord Romwich since the ball, as the demands of the holiday time kept them both busy, but the memory of his generous gift continued to make her smile, just as the thought of his scorching kiss made her burn.
She loved him. She grew more and more certain of it every day that passed, yet she was glad he had not let her say it to him that night. He had been right. She needed time to come to terms with her feelings before she could express them fully to him.
Now, she was eager to see him again so she could tell him, despite his shortcomings, and his sometimes small-mindedness. She could help him evolve in his beliefs and open his eyes to the way the world could be. Then, when she was sure he was ready, she would reveal the one thing she had been keeping from him.
The
secret only one other person in the whole world knew.
Penelope felt giddy at the prospect of confessing her love, but impatient at the same time. She likely would not see him until after Christmas, which meant waiting another three days…
The door to the library suddenly opened and Harry stepped inside.
“Oh!” She smiled, turning from the window to face him. “Brother! I had not expected you to stop by today. Did you not have some important business to take care of on Papa’s behalf?”
“I was able to complete the work earlier than expected,” he replied, shutting the door behind him and moving across the room to stand before her. “There is something far more pressing that must be dealt with at present, Penelope.”
Lustful Memoirs 0f A Bewitching Lady (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 17
