Pleasuring Lady Pennington (A Super Steamy Regency Romance Book 6)

by Georgette Brown

  PLEASURING LADY PENNINGTON

  Georgette Brown

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  PLEASURING LADY PENNINGTON

  First edition. February 27, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Georgette Brown.

  Written by Georgette Brown.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  FREE BOOK

  Reader Advisory

  PLEASURING LADY PENNINGTON

  Other Titles by Georgette Brown

  FREE BOOK

  You won’t believe what this rakish nobleman proposes for a wager!

  Get your FREE copy of An Indecent Wager

  HERE

  Reader Advisory

  ~~~~~~

  This story is extremely steamy.

  Read only if you like your heat levels HOT, HOT, HOT!

  PLEASURING LADY PENNINGTON

  "HE IS ARRIVED. BUT HE LOOKS CROSS. Handsome as ever. But cross. Are you certain you wish to entrap the man?" inquired Judith, her confidante and close friend. She’d seen her through many challenging times, and now she helped Georgeanna procure her heart’s—well, her body’s—desires.

  Her pulse had quickened the instant Judith had entered the salon to warn her of the arrival of Mr. Cedman Ashley. "Would you not do all in your power to entice him into your bed?"

  In her mind, Georgeanna saw him, his tall form, sculpted figure, dark hair and eyes that swam with unnerving depth. Ashley had recently returned from the West Indies, where he had spent the last two years looking after his late father's estates, and, though darker in complexion upon his return to England, had appeared as dapper as ever. But Georgeanna had always wanted him, desired him the instant she had witnessed his handsome form and heard of his skills in the boudoir.

  Judith smiled. "He is a mighty fine cut of steak, to be sure. But do you not play a dangerous game, my dear?"

  Georgeanna drew in a deep breath. She did not know if her plans would work, but she could think of no other means of persuading the man into her bed. They had friends in common, and though she had had several occasions to place herself in his path, he had been polite but uninterested. She had heard that he courted an heiress for he was in want of funds, his father having lost the family fortune on grand and speculative investments, including the purchase of several sugar plantations just before sugar duties were doubled to fund the war against Napoleon. A few years later, West Indian sugar sold in England at less than the cost of production.

  “If I recall the talk of him,” Judith continued, “he can be quite forceful, almost domineering, in the bedroom.”

  A warmth spread through Georgeanna. Judith had such a face—trustworthy yet knowing—as to be told all the most salacious gossip.

  “Are you trying to titillate me further?” Georgeanna asked.

  “I should think his presence will do that well enough.”

  She quirked a smile. “True.”

  Save for her late husband, Sir Thomas, she had always been more aroused by men with dark tresses. She imagined herself writhing beneath the body of Mr. Ashley, entwining her fingers in his locks, though he kept them shorter than he used to.

  “You are his senior.”

  “You mean to imply that he will not find me attractive?” Georgeanna asked with raised brows, though she took no offense. She was no young debutante and had recently celebrated her thirtieth birthday, but she had kept herself in good health. Despite having given birth to two sons, who were presently at the country estate with their grandparents, her figure was still slender in the limbs. Her belly was only slightly more plump and her breasts less pert; still, she was considered a lovely woman. And Mr. Ashley was merely two years her junior.

  “Some men are threatened by older women.”

  “I do not think Mr. Ashley easily threatened by anything.”

  Judith eyed her. “And what of you?”

  Georgeanna took in another deep breath, though it did not calm her as much as she would have hoped, and she spoke with more confidence than she truly felt. “I do not fear Mr. Ashley.”

  “Then bonne chance, my lady.” With that, Judith took her leave.

  Georgeanna smiled, but before she entered the drawing room where he awaited her, she had to pause to gather her courage, and take several breaths to contain the trembling inside. She had taken great pains to present herself well, but now she doubted her efforts. Did the headband she wore over her golden curls betray her attempts to appear young? Was the burgundy hue of her gown not youthful enough? Should she have worn stays that pressed her breasts higher and further apart?

  She wanted to appear confident, and all this worrying was needless. In truth, what was there to fear? He could refuse her outlandish proposition. Her situation would be no different than it was at present. But what if he accepted?

  Perhaps that was what she feared.

  ANTICIPATING A SHORT duration to his visit, Cedman had kept his hat, gloves and walking stick with him. He stood beside the hearth and watched the clock above the mantle chime the time. Within the hour, he would have to depart to for Drury Lane. The Broadmoors had invited him to the theatre, and they occupied a box beside one reserved by Miss Adams. The lovely young woman, the daughter of a wealthy nabob, had been, of late, quite receptive of his attentions, smiling at him often, fluttering her lashes, leaving her hand at her side so that his might brush against it when he took a seat beside her. She was not the most clever in conversation—her charms lay mostly in her fine countenance, her skills at the pianoforte, and, of course, her dowry—but Cedman considered himself fortunate to have the slightest chance of winning her hand when she had a great many suitors.

  Her dowry would clear a considerable portion of the debt left by his father. Tonight, at the theatre, he would make his desires to court her known in no uncertain terms.

  But first, he had to deal with the unexpected matter of Lady Pennington. She had purchased Merrybourne, where his mother and sister resided, and given them notice that she intended to convert the property into townhomes. His mother, having lived most of her life at Merrybourne, had been distraught. He had requested a meeting with Lady Pennington. To his surprise, she had agreed to meet him at her residence in Berkeley Square.

  “Good evening, Mr. Ashley.”

  He turned toward the doors to behold the woman. Though a widow, she styled her hair in the loose coiffure favored by younger women. At the same time, she had chosen a dark gown. His gaze briefly fell to her lovely décolletage before returning to her heart-shaped physiognomy and bright hazel eyes. The interest of a pretty woman could not help but capture his attention, and he had sensed hers in their previous encounters, but he had kept his distance from her so as not to be diverted from Miss Adams.

  He bowed. “Good evening, Lady Pennington.”

  She had a peculiar upward tilt to her chin. Was that to better view him because he stood more than a head taller than her or because she wished to look down her nose at him?

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me regarding my family’s property,” he said.

  She sauntered with slow deliberation into the room, allowing him time to admire the grace of her movements. “By your ‘family’s property,’ you mean to speak of Merrybourne?”

  He drew in a long breath through the nostrils before correcting himself, “Yes Merrybourne, which is now more appropriately your property.”

  “And it would have been the bank’s property before long, as I understand your father had
offered it as collateral for one of his loans.”

  A muscle tightened along his jaw, but he kept his tone cordial. He needed her to remain agreeable so she might consider his business proposal. “I wondered if you would consider a rent worthy of delaying your designs for Merrybourne?”

  In contemplation, she brushed the tassels of a throw that covered the back of a sofa. “I think the better question to be: what you can afford?”

  He stiffened. He could not tell from the tone of her voice if she meant to be impertinent. She seemed to know the state of his finances.

  “My mother has known no other home since marrying my father,” he divulged. “I would endeavor to do all that I can to make good on the rents so that she may spend the rest of her life there.”

  Lady Pennington seemed to falter, and she knit her brows in uncertainty, but she straightened and replied, “I would that I could consider your mother’s situation, but I purchased the property for the purpose of seeing a specific return on my investment.”

  “I would offer a rent that would, in time, return your purchase price and more.”

  “Forgive me if I doubt your ability to make the payments.”

  He inhaled sharply. Though the price of sugar had risen, the income from the sugar plantations in Barbados would not be enough for him to make an offer she could not refuse.

  “I do not fault you for your skepticism, my lady, but I have several business dealings that are likely to prove profitable. I will, hopefully, be in a situation soon enough to guarantee the rents on Merrybourne.”

  She arched a brow. “Do these business dealings involve the hand of Miss Adams?”

  She was being impertinent. He had a mind to turn her over his lap and give her a sound spanking.

  Determined to remain calm, he merely replied, “My lady?”

  She had the decency to look a little abashed at her previous remark.

  “I appeal to your compassion, Lady Pennington,” he said. “I can make an initial payment of fifty pounds, and whatever is owed will only earn interest for you.”

  “And what if these business dealings of yours do not bring about the desired success? What then?”

  “Perhaps we can agree to a period, such as a sixmonth, after which, if I am unable to produce the payments you seek, you may have Merrybourne to do as you wish. Surely you can sustain a delay of six months?”

  She turned her face away from him, her eyes lowered. “I have a better proposition, Mr. Ashley, one that will not be so difficult for you to fulfill.”

  He raised his brows. “Indeed? I am all attention, my lady.”

  Taking a deep breath, she faced him. “I will consider staying my plans to develop Merrybourne into a square of townhouses if you can grant me a night with you.”

  He could only blink as the blood drained from him. Was the woman mad?

  “Your pardon?” he managed to say.

  She strolled around the sofa so that only the length of the rug in the center of the room separated them. When she spoke, her voice had a low and husky quality. “I have admired you for some time, Mr. Ashley. My friends assure me you have previously been open to such dalliances.”

  “I have become more discreet over the years and have no intention to leave off now,” he said. He had too much at stake. If Miss Adams’ father caught wind of any indiscretion on his part, he would stand no chance of winning her hand. The man was known for his almost Puritanical morals. Cedman could not take the risk, even for one so desirable as Lady Pennington.

  “Indeed?” she asked.

  “Indeed. While your request is beyond flattering, I cannot oblige you.”

  “I assure you I have nothing to be gained from gossip and value discretion myself."

  He tightened his grip on his walking stick. “Again, you flatter me, Lady Pennington, but I pray you consider a monetary offering for Merrybourne.”

  “A monetary offering you can ill afford? I like my proposition better.”

  In disbelief and the slightest twinge of awe, he stared at her. This woman wished him to take her to bed?

  “How much do you know of me?” he questioned.

  She grew bold and advanced closer to him. With her enticing form and charming smile, she made for a lovely conquest, but he was not in search of a skirt to lay.

  “Enough,” she answered.

  His gaze fell to her rosy lips, and he felt a throb in the area of his groin. Collecting himself, he narrowed his eyes.

  “And what does enough entail?”

  “You are a man of fine tastes, forthright, vigorous, a man of skills, a man who knows how to command a woman to bring her the most pleasure in the bedroom.”

  His color rose. “You wish to be pleasured, my lady?”

  His groin tightened uncomfortably. He could not deny she was attractive, and any man of half a wit would not hesitate at such an opportunity.

  She now stood within arm’s reach. Her eyes radiated more than the light in the room. “By you, yes.”

  “Perhaps you have been ill-informed.”

  “Do you deny that you are as I described?”

  He turned from her, to ease the discomfort gazing upon her caused. He needed to regain his senses.

  “Such an assessment would have to rest on the beholder.”

  “I wish to be that beholder.”

  “I think you would be disappointed.”

  “And I think not.”

  “Nevertheless, I must decline your proposition.”

  He intended that should be the end of the matter, but her ladyship thought otherwise.

  GEORGEANNA PURSED HER lips at his resistance. She had had no intention of throwing his family out of Merrybourne because she had thought he would capitulate to her proposition. She had not anticipated such a stubborn refusal.

  “You must? Why?”

  “Have we not been over this already? Surely a woman such as yourself could have many a man to please you?”

  “Not one with the same appeal. And the pleasure need not be all mine. It could be yours as well. Indeed, I would make it a priority.”

  He looked once more at the time. “My lady, perhaps we can discuss this another time. I have an engagement this evening.”

  “With Miss Adams?” she could not resist.

  He took a step toward her, and the smoldering look in his eyes made her heart leap into her throat.

  “For one who claims she would be pleasing for me, you are unnecessarily impertinent.”

  Though her legs trembled beneath her skirts, she managed to lift her chin and meet his gaze. “Perhaps you can discipline me, Mr. Ashley.”

  His nostrils flared. He stood close enough to manhandle her, and she wished he would reach out, grab her, kiss her, or pull her down onto the sofa. Her lashes fluttered. “I give you complete leave to do as you wish to me. My body awaits your pleasure.”

  She quivered with heat inside at the prospect.

  “I must go,” he said brusquely and stepped past her.

  She whirled around to see him put on his hat as he headed toward the doors. Suspecting that her prospects would diminish to nothing if he made it out of the room, she hastily added, “My offer is good for the present only.”

  Her heart quickened, hoping that he would not call her on her bluff.

  Turning around, he took several angry steps back toward her.

  “I am not a patient woman,” she explained.

  “Are you also unreasonable?”

  “Now who is being impertinent?”

  He pressed his lips into a grim line, and for the first time, she sensed he could have a temper. But she had chosen to go down this path and would see it through.

  “And unreasonable?” she added with a toss of her head. “Consider: your sex would deem you a fool for declining the chance to have your way with a willing woman.”

  The flames in his eyes were not merely a reflection of the fire in the hearth.

  “You know not what you desire, Lady Pennington,” he said. “I am
certain there are others that can satisfy what you think you seek in me.”

  “But I am fixed upon you, Mr. Ashley.”

  “I would you could bestow your attentions upon another, one more worthy.”

  “You wound me.”

  “My lady?”

  “You do not esteem me enough to be flattered by my desire for you.”

  “My being flattered has no bearing on the matter.”

  “True,” she agreed. “The matter is simple: I am a woman accustomed to getting what I want, and I want you, Mr. Ashley.”

  His chest fell and rose as he considered his situation. He must know that he held few, if any, cards.

  “I am flattered, Lady Pennington, and were it not for certain circumstances, I would certainly consider you a woman worth pursuing–”

  “I require none of your sweet talk, Mr. Ashley. I think I have made it plain what I want.”

  “You may think differently tomorrow.”

  “Perhaps, but we are not yet arrived at tomorrow, and as I have said, my proposition expires if you leave.”

  For a moment they only stared at one another, as if waiting for the other to relent. It was too late for her to retreat now, and with every passing moment, she was further convinced of what she desired. This man had been the subject of many of her wildest fantasies, and he stood within her reach.

  He placed his walking stick on a nearby table and sauntered toward her. Her every nerve came to life and her breath faltered.

  “You wish for my pleasure,” he said, drawing up before her, “and you wish, I’m sure, to satisfy your own. I would take you, Lady Pennington, and make you await my pleasure, which may begin with the discipline you mentioned.”

  “As you please,” she said in a whisper, her gaze locked in his.

  “You still wish to proceed.” He didn’t ask, merely stated while his gaze brushed her décolletage.

  Heat roiled in her belly. “Of course.”