Regency Romance: A Duchess in Disguise (Historical 19th Century Victorian Romance) (Duke Fantasy Billionaire Romance) (111 page)

Jemima left the room and let out
a huge sigh of
relief. The atmosphere was stifling. She couldn't bear the stiffness and lack of freedom she seemed to have as a woman. She would spend another couple of days in Regency times and go back to sanity.

*****

Jemima sat in the carriage as it bounced around on its way to the Earl of
Dunforth's
house. Rose had dressed her again, this time in a gown made of silk and satin. It was low at the front and showed off more of her back that Jemima had thought possible from what she'd read
about
Regency fashion. She hated the shoes. In fact, the weren't shoes they were more like pumps. When she
walked,
she could feel the stones under her feet.

''Oh, we're here,'' Lucy's mother exclaimed. They'd arrived at a large country house that seemed to be lit by thousands of candles. ''Come on Lucy, let's go. Have you go your dance card?'' she said as the carriage drew to a halt.

''Yes, mother, I have it here.'' Jemima held the card up. At that moment, she realized with horror that she wouldn't be able to dance.
She
didn't know any of the dances. All she knew was how to bop to Taylor Swift or One Direction. She'd always bunked off dancing lessons at school preferring the company of boys in the local cafe.

Jemima caught her breath when they entered the ballroom. It was so Jane Austen. She looked around and saw so many handsome men. She felt a sudden rush of lust come over her.
This was
what she'd read about and dreamed about for years.

''Lucy, Lucy, look I've got four names in my dance card.'' It was a young woman Jemima didn't know.

Then another young
woman
appeared. ''Lucy, hello. I've got three names on mine.''

''She's got four,' Jemima said pointing at the first girl.

''Charlotte always gets her dance card filled first,'' the second one said.

''I'm not surprised, look at her hooters. Men have a one track mind,'' Jemima said.

''Hooters?'' Charlotte asked.

''Your tits. They're huge.
No wonder you get so many men.''

''What is she talking about, Jane?'' Charlotte asked the other woman.

''I have no idea,'' Jane replied. ''Are feeling well, Lucy?''

''Quite well, thank you. Why don't you two go and dance?'' Jemima wanted to be alone to soak in the atmosphere.

''We can't until it's time,'' Charlotte said.

Jemima
tutted
and hung her head. ''Alright, I'm going to mingle.''

''Mingle?'' Jane asked.

Jemima refrained from explaining and left the other two to talk among themselves. As she walked around, saying excuse me and sorry when she bumped into people, Jemima began to get a feel for the time. It was her firm conclusion that women
were totally excluded
. Only there to reproduce. She decided to try a little experiment. She wanted to see how far she could push it, this thing they called etiquette.

''Hi, I'm Lucy what's you name?'' she asked a
tall,
handsome man.

''Er.......er......''

''Forgotten your name?'' she asked.

''No, I'm just a little shocked at your behavior.''

''Why?''

He puffed his cheeks out and wondered who she was, and where she'd
been taught
. ''It's not polite for a lady to address a man and certainly never without an introduction.''

''Hold on,'' she said. She turned to a man a few feet away. ''Excuse me. Would you please introduce me to this man?''

''But I don't know him.''

''Does it matter?'' Both men looked at her as if she'd escaped from the local lunatic asylum.

''Madam, perhaps you've had a little too much to drink,'' the first man said. She looked at him. He had long sideburns and a Roman nose each side of which were the most beautiful greens eyes. She wanted him.

''Will you escort me to the door?'' she asked.

Being a gentleman he had no choice. He gave her his arm and walked her to the large double door at the entrance to the ballroom.

''Come outside with me,'' she said. He looked around. She could see he
was sorely tempted
. ''Don't worry, nobody's looking.''

''I'm not sure,'' he said

She took his hand and pulled him through the door. There was a large oak tree several feet away and behind that some bushes. She pulled him behind the tree and pushed him against it. He looked at her
cleavage,
and she smiled up at him.

''I want you, sir. I am a young woman who takes what she wants. You are a very handsome man. I want you to take me into the bushes and do bad things to me.''

The man gave a shriek and ran back into the ballroom. Jemima leaned against the tree and wished she had a glass of wine and a cigarette. What the hell were these
men like
? Now she knew for
sure;
she wanted to go back to her modern life again. She'd seen all she wanted
to,
and it had spoiled her impression that Regency times were romantic.

*****

Jemima lay in bed and thought how she could get back to her former life. She tried to think of the process she'd gone through and what had happened. As far as
she
could remember, she'd been wearing a Regency dress and holding a mirror in such a way she could see herself and Lucy at the same time. She'd noticed nothing at
all;
she'd just been transported back in time. She concluded the way back was to hold a mirror in such a way both of their images appeared in it at the same time. Horrified, she realized that she needed something that hadn't yet
been made
. Namely the portrait. It was going to be a much longer road home than she'd first thought.

''Do you know who you insulted last evening?'' John asked when Jemima entered the breakfast room.

''I have no idea,'' she said idly.

''Don't talk to me in that lazy tone. Last evening, you made some
lurid
remarks to the Duke of Blandford. He's the Prime Minister's son. Without my intervention, you would have brought ruin
on
us all.''

''What did you say to him,
father
?''

''I told him you were mentally ill due to a fever. It's not far from the truth. You would never have behaved like this a few months ago. What has changed?''

''I'm not the person I was, that's all I can say.''

''It's time we had you married off. You need a good husband to keep you on the straight and narrow.''

Jemima took the opportunity that had so fortunately presented itself. ''I
agree,
father. Perhaps you would allow me to have my portrait painted. It could
be shown
to any prospective suitors.''

''That's a good idea. I will have it commissioned straight away.
Really, Lucy,
I'll be glad to get you off my hands.''

And I'll be more than
glad
to see the last of you, you pompous ass, she thought. She wondered how long it would be before she was back in the normal world.

The next day, her father announced that the artist was to come and visit that very afternoon. Jemima was excited. Perhaps it wouldn't take so long after all.

When he arrived, Jemima could not believe how handsome he was. Never before had she seen such a
beautiful
man, not in any movie or TV show or magazine. He was
gorgeous,
and his presence rendered her speechless.

''Painting a beautiful woman is more than just putting brush to
canvass
,'' he said throwing his hands in the air. They were sitting together in the drawing-room, the room where the original portrait had
been painted
. Jemima nodded, hanging on his every word. ''As an artist I need to spend a little time with you, get to know you and understand the way your mind works. That will
be reflected
in the portrait.''

Jemima
was attracted
to every facet of him. The way he looked, tall with dark skin and long black hair parted in the middle. The way he talked, expressively, passionately, and the way he held himself, upright and proud.

If this was the man Lucy had fallen in love with, Jemima wasn't surprised, at all. Any woman would fall in love with him. Indeed, he probably had a string of conquests under his belt and a string of
women
constantly chasing him. But one thing bothered her. If she was to let go and fall in love with him, history wasn't on her side. If history was to repeat itself, then falling in love with him would yield the same result for her as it had for Lucy. Her father had banned her from
seeing the
artist,
and she'd remained unmarried for the rest of her life. Jemima didn't want to experience the same fate. She wouldn't encourage
him;
she'd keep cool, let him finish the portrait and leave.

''Lucy, you are a
very beautiful
woman. The most beautiful I have ever painted. That makes me
nervous,
I must admit.''

To hear him calling her beautiful was heavenly. ''You are very kind, sir. You don't have to be nervous. Why would you be?''

''Do you know how hard it is to capture such beauty on canvas? If you were
ugly,
it would be much easier to make you more beautiful. But it's almost impossible to express your level of
beauty
in paint.''

Jemima wanted to pull him to her and kiss him. She wanted to do what modern people did, push him onto the floor and ride him senseless. She had to remind herself once again to be reserved and not encourage him.

''How long do you think you'll need to do the portrait?'' she asked.

''A few days.''

''Will I have to sit still throughout?''

He threw his hands in the air again. ''It's not possible to sit still for so long. All you have to do is sit in the same position. There is room for movement.''

''Very well. When do you want to start?''

''Tomorrow, in the morning, if that is agreeable.''

''Yes,
perfectly
,'' she replied. ''Now if you'll excuse me I have some things I need to do.''

''But I thought we could spend a little time together, now.''

''I'm sorry. My time is very precious. We will meet tomorrow morning.'' Jemima got up and left the room. When she got
to her bedroom,
she noticed how much he'd turned her on.
She
felt
hot,
and her womanhood was overflowing at the thought of him. 

That night she was unable to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she imagined him making love to her. She thought about masturbating but decided she
actually
liked the feelings she was having and didn't want to anything to reduce their intensity. She liked longing for him. She
liked
the ache between her legs and the thought that she might give in to her feelings but also might not.

The next day, she asked Rose to dress her in the red dress. When she
was finished
, Jemima could see by the look Rose gave her, that she looked good. The mirror confirmed it. And so did Lucien's eyes when she walked into the drawing room.

''You are a wonder,'' he exclaimed. ''Please sit here, in this chair.'' Jemima knew the
chair
, it was the same one she'd seen a hundred times in the portrait. ''Now turn your head just a little.'' He put one hand on top of her head and the other on her chin. She caught his scent and the same feelings she'd had the previous evening began all over again.

Jemima didn't say anything to him all morning. She sat up straight and looked in the general direction he'd asked her to. She heard him sigh the odd time and the scratches of his pencil on the canvas.

He'd already decided what he wanted to do. He wanted to make it last as long as possible. He'd had similar trouble during the night. Images of her
simply
wouldn't leave him alone, but he had masturbated. He'd closed his eyes and imagined her naked body under him, then kneeling in front of him, then riding him. When he
came,
he'd grunted her name.

''Tell me, Miss Lucy, what do you like to do in life?'' he asked after lunch. He didn't like her
silence;
it had gone on for far too long. He wanted to talk to her, to know her better.

''Reading,'' she replied bluntly.

''What do you read?''

''I like to
read
about romance.''