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Walking towards a wall hung with mirrors, Katrina peered at her reflection. She had a rosy glow, which sadly was the result of heat and not from the joy of dancing with her various partners. They hadn’t exactly been horrible partners. They just weren’t Julian. If she had been dancing with him her glow might have been from an amusing conversation—or from the way her body seemed to catch fire whenever he was near.
She missed him. She assumed he was keeping his distance so as not to cause speculation. It was an honourable action, but she didn’t have to like it. How she wished he would ask her to dance. Then she could listen to that amusing deep voice that warmed her like a cup of chocolate.
Katrina was so absorbed in her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice a woman in a Pomona-green silk gown walk up beside her. She was stunning, with perfect delicate features and a thick head of dark hair. The woman studied her own reflection and adjusted the curls near her temples before shifting her grey eyes to Katrina.
‘Aren’t you that American woman?’
Would there be one ball, one fête she would attend where she wouldn’t have to face at least one ignorant comment about Americans?
Katrina held back a sigh, anticipating one of those conversations. ‘There are a few Americans in London. Which one do you believe me to be?’
‘The author’s daughter,’ the woman replied, raising her chin.
‘By author, do you mean Peter Vandenberg? If so, I am indeed his daughter.’
The woman eyed Katrina critically, from her slippers to her hair. Did she not realise Katrina could see her?
‘And who might you be?’ Katrina asked.
‘Oh, I am Lady Wentworth. I am a very dear friend of the Duke of Lyonsdale. I understand you danced with him recently at Almack’s?’
That statement had not been uttered by chance. Katrina’s muscles tightened like a bowstring. ‘His Grace and I did share a dance.’
‘He is a handsome man, is he not?’
‘I suppose.’
If one liked men who had wavy dark hair, moss-green eyes, chiselled features, and cut a fine form.
Lady Wentworth let out a soft, disgustingly lovely laugh. ‘Surely you agree? It’s a pity you’re American, and therefore could never become his duchess. I can assure you whoever he does marry will be quite fortunate.’
Her lips rose in a sly smile. She leaned close to Katrina’s ear, and her hot breath scorched her neck.
‘He knows how to do delicious things to make a woman quiver with need.’
She stepped back, looked Katrina directly in the eye, and cocked an arrogant brow. Katrina’s stomach rolled and pitched. She would not give this horrid woman the satisfaction of knowing how her words had filled Katrina with a sense of betrayal. Could this be why Julian had not called on her?
After weeks of pretending that English aristocrats didn’t bore her to sleep, Katrina had become quite adept at hiding her emotions. She smiled sweetly back at the witch beside her. ‘One would imagine that since he is neither married nor publicly displaying a mistress he has yet to find a woman who makes him feel the same in return.’
There—that felt better.
Katrina forced her lips into the brightest smile. ‘Do enjoy your evening, Lady Wentworth.’
As if she didn’t have a care in the world, Katrina turned and breezed out of the room. Unfortunately the reality was that her world had just become a colder place. She would only be in London for a few months. It shouldn’t matter to her that this woman was sharing Julian’s bed—but it did.
She needed time away from the ballroom and the sight of Lady Wentworth.
Earlier in the evening she had a pleasant conversation with the Duchess of Winterbourne, who had mentioned there were some lovely landscapes hung along this long, deserted hallway. Now was the perfect time to view them.
The sound of confident footfalls had Katrina praying that the pompous Mr Armstrong had not found her. Turning her head, she was startled when Julian took her arm and tugged her through one of the open doorways into an oak-panelled room.
The sight of three large stuffed birds glaring at her in the moonlight from the round table beside them made her jump, and it took her a moment before she shifted her attention to the man standing a few feet in front of her. Lady Wentworth’s comment echoed in her mind, and it occurred to her that all Julian had to do was look at her to make her insides quiver. She had to remind herself he was not the man for her.
‘Are you trying to ruin me?’ she demanded, placing her hands on her hips. ‘What possessed you to drag me in here?’
He stepped closer, creating a cushion of heat between them. No man deserved to look that good in unremarkable formal black evening clothes.
‘Of course I’m not trying to ruin you. My committee meetings have been consuming my days. I wanted you to know I have not forgotten about our promise.’
Once more she heard Lady Wentworth’s voice.
‘Please do not feel obligated to continue to read with me. You’re a very busy man, and I’m certain you’d prefer to read the remainder of the book at your leisure.’
He lowered his gaze towards his shiny black dress shoes. ‘On the contrary, I would rather read it with you.’ As he looked back up at her through his thick lashes a look of confusion crossed his face. ‘Do you no longer wish to read with me?’
He was not courting her. She had no claim on him. How could she tell him how she felt without sounding jealous? Which she absolutely wasn’t.
‘Do you really think this is an appropriate place to have a conversation? We should not even be in here together.’
‘I had no choice—you would not so much as look at me.’
‘I was trying to avoid speculation about us.’
Julian narrowed his eyes and tipped his head back. ‘We have spoken before in public. I do not think it would shock people if we were to do so again.’
‘And how would you have informed me that you want us to continue reading together with people around us?’
The faint, distant strains of the quartet drifted into the room through the closed door as he flashed her a devilishly handsome smile. ‘That is why this is an ideal location for our discussion.’ Sliding his hand around her waist to the small of her back, he pulled her to him. ‘I cannot stop thinking about you and our kiss.’
Neither could she, and that was a problem. Before she fell asleep she thought about it, over and over. Even at odd moments in the day she would think about the feel of his lips and the taste of his tongue. She had wanted that kiss to go on for ever.
She placed her hands on his solid chest, intending to push him away. Her arms wouldn’t move. How she longed to press her body further into his.
A look of what might have been tenderness softened his features. ‘You are most unexpected.’
It would be so easy to lose herself in him, but according to Lady Wentworth he was one of many English aristocrats with philandering ways. She would not be one of his conquests.
He lowered his head to hers and his soft breath caressed her lips. This time she pushed against his chest, and he immediately let her go.
‘I will not kiss a man who shares his affection with another.’ It was said in such a rush she wasn’t certain she had been coherent.
He jerked his head back and crossed his arms, his biceps bulging under the sleeves of his coat. ‘Are you referring to me?’
She put her hands on her hips. ‘Yes—you were the one who looked as if you intended to kiss me.’
‘I did want to kiss you... I do want to kiss you. However, I’m not sharing my affection with anyone.’
Now it was Katrina’s turn to narrow her eyes. ‘Not even with your paramour?’
He let out a bark of laughter. ‘My what?’
‘Your paramour...or mistress. Or do you call her something else?’ Katrina huffed. ‘I would appreciate it if you would not find so much amusement in what I’m saying.’
‘Forgive me,’ Julian said, quietening down and trying unsuccessfully to stop smiling. ‘I can truly say I have never met any woman quite like you.’
‘Simply answer the question, please.’
‘What was the question? Oh, yes—well, I don’t call her anything because there is no one else.’
‘But I thought... That is to say, aren’t you...?’ Katrina chewed her lip, feeling foolish. She knew she hadn’t mistaken Lady Wentworth’s insinuation. But who was she to believe? A horrid woman she didn’t know or Julian— Julian who felt deeply about honour and duty?
‘Do you really think we should be discussing this?’ he asked, lowering his head and prompting Katrina with his eyes. ‘You know gently bred ladies should not even be aware of such things?’
‘Well, I am. I lived in Paris and I have witnessed open displays of indiscretion.’
She had even stumbled upon Comte Janvier and Madame Broussard in a garden once. The Comte’s trousers had been down around his knees and Madame Broussard’s skirt had been lifted so high Katrina knew exactly what occurred between men and women. However, it wasn’t necessary for Julian to know the extent of her knowledge gained from that tableau.
‘Are you are telling me there is no one you are sharing your affections with?’
‘I have had women in my life in the past with whom I have shared my affections, but no longer. Now I find the only woman I want to share my affections with is you.’
Katrina’s heart hammered against her ribs and the room grew unbearably warm. ‘Only me?’ she let out with a breath.
Slowly and seductively his lips rose into a smile. ‘Only you.’
* * *
Staring into her eyes, Julian felt overwhelmed by his feelings for her. He lowered his gaze and found his attention riveted to her smooth skin and that enticing birthmark on the upper swell of her left breast. He hardened at the thought of trailing his tongue from that birthmark down to the nipple he knew was hidden under the white organza of the bodice of her gown. He wanted to suck on that nipple until he heard her groan—or moan.
Bloody hell, what would she sound like?
‘I wish I knew what you were thinking,’ she said, biting her lip.
‘There are times when you make it very difficult to be a gentleman.’ He pulled her close and crushed his lips to hers. Her mouth was warm and sweet. Best of all, she was kissing him back with as much passion as he felt coursing through his own veins. He could kiss her all night... Until she moved her lower body against his and his trousers tightened even more. Then the image of sliding himself inside her would not leave his brain.
‘Say my name,’ he said, trailing kisses along her jaw and having the oddest desire to hear his name on her lips.
‘Julian...’ It came out more like a moan as he softly bit her neck.
As much as he knew he shouldn’t, he slid his hand up her waist over the soft fabric of her gown until he cupped her left breast. The weight of it fitted perfectly into his palm, as if she were made just for him. He gave it a gentle squeeze and felt her breath catch in his mouth. Her nipple hardened into a tight bud in his palm. With his eyes closed he broke the kiss, to trail soft nips down the long column of her neck. As he reached her collarbone he pulled on the neckline of her gown and kissed his way along the small swell of her breast, paying special attention to that beguiling birthmark.
Her fingers were digging into his shoulders, and it felt so good. When he swirled his tongue around her sweet, hard nipple she let out a throaty groan that nearly had him laying her down on the table that was next to them. He sucked on it and she softened in his arms. Every subtle response from her body increased his desire to drive deep inside her. The air was quickly leaving the room. It was torture that she was an unmarried woman he couldn’t have. This was an urgency of passion such as none he had ever felt before. He needed to know she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Even if he knew he could not take her.
He began to edge her skirt up and cursed his gloves, which would prevent him from feeling how wet she was. He let go of her gown and kissed her once more. Her eager response matched his. The pressure of her body moved against him, causing friction. He needed to stop before he disgraced himself.
It took a tremendous amount of discipline to pull his head away from her soft breast and step back. When he did, they were both panting hard.
She was a vision, with her lips still wet from his kiss and her left breast exposed. Much to his disappointment she adjusted her bodice and returned to looking like a very proper lady faster than he would have preferred. His body, however, was not showing any signs of softening. He closed his eyes and silently counted off the British monarchs in chronological order.
‘Is anything the matter?’ she asked. ‘You appear to be in pain.’
He laughed at her innocent comment and cracked open one eye. ‘I thought you’d lived in Paris.’
Her brows drew together in confusion, and then her expression cleared in some form of understanding. ‘Is that why you stopped?’
‘I stopped because had I not, I would have had to find some explanation for the state of my trousers for the remainder of the evening.’
He wasn’t certain she understood. She opened her mouth to say something but suddenly the door opened—and Miss Forrester walked into the room.
His heart stopped in panic and he felt as if he had run a very long race.
It appeared she hadn’t spotted him as she addressed Katrina. ‘I cannot believe you are hiding...’
Her eyes darted to Julian and her lips parted. It was remarkable how quickly she composed herself and focused all her attention on Katrina, completely ignoring him.
‘Considering how easy it was for me to gain entrance to this room, it might be wise for me to remain to lend you an air of respectability, should anyone else see fit to come in here,’ she offered.
Katrina did not appear to be alarmed by Miss Forrester’s presence. Hopefully this meant Miss Forrester could be trusted not to reveal their encounter. As much as he liked Katrina, he still had no desire to be forced into marriage. His heartbeat began to slow down.
Katrina’s attention remained on Miss Forrester. ‘Why were you searching this hallway?’
‘Because my mother was concerned that you were taking an inordinately long time in the retiring room and I offered to fetch you. Lucky for both of you I did. I remembered how interested you were in those paintings the Duchess of Winterbourne mentioned, and thought you might be hiding from the remainder of your dancing partners.’
Katrina rubbed her forehead. ‘How many dances have I missed?’
‘Just one.’
Miss Forrester’s presence had alleviated the pull on Julian’s trousers and it was now safe for him to return to the ball. He would leave it to Katrina to find an explanation for her friend. But before he was able to excuse himself, the door opened again. This time Hart stepped inside.
If this kept up she was sure to be ruined!
Even in the moonlit room there was no mistaking the amused glint Julian saw in his friend’s eye as he glanced from Miss Forrester to Miss Vandenberg and finally to Julian. Hart casually leaned his back against the door and crossed his arms. His smirk was not appreciated.
‘I say...this is interesting.’
Miss Forrester stepped forward, as if to block Hart’s view of Katrina. ‘Miss Vandenberg and I entered the room just a few minutes ago. We were unaware that His Grace was already in here.’
Hart bit his lip and nodded sagely. ‘I see—and what exactly drew you two ladies to this remote location?’
‘Taxidermy.’
‘Pardon?’
Miss Forrester raised her chin and crossed her arms. Apparently she was standing her ground. ‘I said taxidermy.’
Hart rubbed the smile off his lips. ‘I see. And what specimens drew you to this room, exactly?’
She waved her hand carelessly behind her. ‘Birds.’
‘So you have an interest in ornithology?’
‘Ye-e-e-s,’ she replied, drawing out the word.
‘And what particular species were you interested in seeing?’
‘Well, whatever species His Lordship has, of course.’
‘Of course.’ Hart tossed back the lock of hair that fell near his eyes.
He was having too much fun at Julian’s expense. Hopefully he could convince Hart not to tell their friends about this.
Miss Forrester took a step forward, crossed her arms, and tipped her head to the side. ‘And you, my lord. What brings you to this far corner of the ball? There is nothing of interest here.’
‘On the contrary—I have an interest in birds as well,’ he said through a smirk.
She looked as if she was about to reply.
Hart held up his hand. ‘I assume you are finished with your studies in this darkened room, so we will say it’s been a pleasure and allow you ladies to return to this evening’s entertainments.’
Miss Forrester grabbed Katrina by the hand and pulled her towards the door. ‘That’s very kind of you. Good evening, gentlemen.’
Katrina glanced back at Julian one last time with a regretful look before she was dragged out through the door. He didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to her, or to kiss her one last time for the night.
Hart closed the door and locked it. Why hadn’t Julian thought to lock the door earlier? Perhaps it was because he’d never needed to do so before. This was the first and only time he had ever stole away with a woman at a ball.
‘You and I need to have a talk,’ Hart said. ‘And I know just the place to have it.’
They walked two doors down to the Whitfields’ billiard room, and Hart racked up the balls without saying a word. Julian grabbed two cues from the rack on the wall, grateful for the short reprieve. Once the balls were set, they flipped Hart’s lucky coin to see who would go first. Julian won.
He leaned over the Whitfields’ billiard table and released his cue. He watched the balls scatter.
Shaking his head, he turned to Hart. ‘How in the world did you find us?’
‘As luck would have it I was supposed to be meeting someone there shortly. It appears you and I need to begin coordinating our appointments.’
Julian narrowed his gaze. ‘That won’t be necessary. What you witnessed was a mere coincidence.’
Hart walked around the billiard table, analysing the best angle for his shot. He looked as if he was trying to hold back a smirk. ‘I see. We can move forward with that story if you like. But I will say it is fortunate it appears you have gained another ally in Miss Forrester.’
Julian rested his hand on top of his cue and watched Hart line up his shot. ‘Why do you believe it is a good thing to have Miss Forrester as an ally?’
Aside from the fact that she wouldn’t gossip about what she’d found when she had walked into the room.
‘To gain the support of your lady’s friend is always a good thing. Just think of all the ways we could use her.’
Julian sent him a stern look.
‘I mean you. All the ways you could use her.’
‘I will not be using anyone. Nor will you. And Miss Vandenberg is not my lady. It was an accidental encounter, nothing more.’
‘If you say so,’ Hart said, taking his shot.
Hart never agreed so easily. This was not a good sign.
Chapter Sixteen
The late morning sun warmed Katrina’s garden as she sat on a wooden bench with her box of watercolours. Peering closely at a teacup filled with violets, she concentrated on trying to recreate this small reminder of home. As she swirled her sable-haired brush through the purple and blue paint Julian’s comment about the colour of her eyes when they’d sat together with his grandmother drifted into her thoughts. It made her smile.
Glancing down, she realised she’d muddled the colours together into an unusable mess. There had to be a way to shove him out of her mind. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath of the floral-scented air, and listened to the birds chirp around her. If she tried hard enough she could imagine she was sitting in her garden back home in Tarrytown, overlooking the sparkling Hudson River.
It was peaceful there.
It was quiet.
‘Have you managed to fall asleep like that?’
Katrina opened one eye and met Sarah’s quizzical gaze. And just like that her peaceful bubble burst.
‘What were you doing?’ Sarah asked, taking a seat on the bench across from her.
Katrina cleaned her paintbrush in a glass of water. ‘I was resting my eyes.’
‘It is lovely here in the shade,’ Sarah said as she untied the cinnamon silk ribbon of her straw bonnet and casually tossed it beside her. ‘And what a charming bunch of violets. I have little skill with a paintbrush, much to my mother’s displeasure.’
‘Skill or patience?’
‘Both, I suppose. How long will that take you to complete?’
Katrina shrugged and continued to add petals to the paper. ‘I find the process soothing.’
Or at least it had been until Sarah began rhythmically tapping her foot on the gravel.
‘Is there something you wanted, Sarah?’
‘I was hoping you would accompany me to Bond Street.’
‘We were shopping only yesterday.’
‘I’ve reconsidered those slippers. You remember? The ones with the fine needlework?’
‘I have no wish to move along with the crowds today. Could it possibly wait for another day?’
‘I suppose it could, but— What is that?’
Katrina looked up to find Wilkins, walking towards them on the garden path, carrying a large vase of purple and yellow flowers. As he drew closer, she realised they weren’t exactly flowers.
‘Pardon me, miss. These came for you, and I was wondering what you would like me to do with this unusual arrangement?’
‘Aren’t those weeds?’ Sarah asked, as she narrowed her eyes at the objects in question.
‘I believe so, Miss Forrester,’ he replied. ‘Thistle and ragwort, if I am not mistaken. Would you prefer I place the stems in the garden for you, miss?’
Although they were indeed weeds, the arrangement had been created with obvious care. Katrina thought the contrast of purple and yellow to be rather striking. But why would someone send them to her?
‘Did they arrive with a note, Wilkins?’
He handed her a folded piece of paper sealed with a blob of red wax.
True beauty resides in the most unexpected places.
When she read the message she knew they could only have come from one man—the only man who had ever told her she was ‘most unexpected’. She folded the paper and brought it to her lips to cover her smile. He was clever. She would give him that. And, as much as she tried, it was difficult to remain unaffected by Julian.
When she directed Wilkins to place them in her bedroom he stared at her as if she belonged in Bedlam. The moment he was far enough away, Sarah jumped up and sat next to her.
‘Who are they from? Did Mr Armstrong send them?’
‘No, he did not. They’re from an acquaintance.’
Sarah eyed her with open curiosity. ‘If someone sent me weeds I do not believe I would be smiling. Unless—’ Her eyes widened with realisation and she snapped her lips shut. She waited until Wilkins had disappeared through the terrace door before she continued. ‘They are from Lyonsdale.’
Katrina looked away. ‘What would cause you to believe so?’
‘Because you only smile like that when he is near. What did the card say?’
‘It is of little importance.’
‘Why will you not tell me?’ Sarah said, fisting her hands on her lap.
Katrina turned back to her friend. ‘There is nothing to tell.’
‘After finding the two of you together, I wish you would admit you fancy him.’
She could not allow herself to think such thoughts. If she thought too much about how she felt about him heartache would be her only reward. ‘What good would it do? We have no future together.’
‘The Duke’s questionable taste in botanicals paints a different picture. Has he called on you?’
Katrina rubbed the tightness in her chest. She hated lying to Sarah, but she and Julian had promised not to tell anyone about their secret agreement. ‘Of course not. The man is a duke and I am American. I possess no title and have no impressive heritage. And, I have heard rumours that he is carrying on a liaison with Lady Wentworth.’ Now Sarah would stop pestering her about him.