Regency Surrender: Scandal And Deception

Chapter Nineteen

Katrina was in excellent spirits when Sarah and Mrs Forrester asked her to join them on their shopping excursion along Bond Street two days later. The sun was out and the temperature pleasant, making it an ideal day to meander through the shops. Turning a corner, they noticed a small crowd gathered around the large mullioned window of one particular building. Ever the curious one, Sarah tugged Katrina along to see what was so interesting.

‘Oh, it’s a print shop,’ Sarah said, eyeing the cartoons in each pane of the large window.

‘Perhaps we will see someone we know,’ Katrina mused as she studied a caricature of the Prince Regent attempting to squeeze his rather large body into a very small corset.

Next to her, an amused Sarah methodically studied each print one by one, letting out a giggle at a few in particular. Suddenly she gave a quick gasp and pulled Katrina out through the crowd. Dragging Katrina to the milliner next door, Sarah pulled Katrina to a stop next to where Mrs Forrester was waiting for them.

‘We have a problem,’ she announced rather breathlessly.

Mrs Forrester turned a questioning eye to her daughter. ‘The two of you have been away from me for only a few moments. What could possibly have happened in such a brief time?’

Katrina caught the look of pity in Sarah’s eyes.

Taking Katrina’s gloved hand in her own, Sarah leaned closer. ‘There is a caricature of you and Lyonsdale in a carriage,’ she whispered.

Ice crept up Katrina’s spine. Their secret was out. It felt as if all the people around them were whispering about her, even though their eyes were still on the prints in the window.

At Mrs Forrester’s suggestion they made their way directly to Katrina’s home with a stack of the scandalous prints. They had tried to acquire the printing plate, but had been told someone else had purchased it a few hours earlier.

It wasn’t until they had entered Katrina’s drawing room that she was finally able to study the image.

The illustration showed a carriage with the Lyonsdale crest emblazoned on the door and an American flag flying above, driving through London. Visible through the window was the head of a blonde woman wearing an Indian headdress. Her head was back and her eyes were closed. On top of her was a brown-haired man in his shirtsleeves with his hand on her bare leg, pushing up her skirt. The caption below read Minding the Savages.

For the first time in her life Katrina truly thought she might cast up her accounts in front of other people. She dropped down on the settee and let her head fall into her hands. ‘How can I show my face in Town after this?’

Crouching down beside her, Mrs Forrester stroked Katrina’s back. ‘Do not worry, my dear. Anyone who has encountered you thus far has seen you comport yourself as a lady. I am certain this will be forgotten when some new bit of gossip has the tongues wagging.’

The woman was trying to reassure her, but Katrina did not miss the concern in her voice.

‘Katrina, I do have to ask—did you go for a carriage ride with a titled Englishman?’

She looked into the gentle eyes of the woman who had kindly offered to chaperon her. How could she say she had been secretly seeing Lyonsdale? The woman would never look at her the same way again.

Needing to put distance between them, Katrina jumped up and headed towards the window. It was time to confess everything.

‘Mother, it was all my fault,’ Sarah blurted out. She looked regretfully at Katrina. ‘Please forgive me. I never thought this would happen.’

What was Sarah saying?

Mrs Forrester stared at her daughter with trepidation. ‘What did you do?’

‘Do you recall when Katrina and I went on that picnic? Well, two gentlemen we are acquainted with happened upon us, and I asked them if they would care for refreshment. They sat with us for a time and then went on their way. It was all very innocent, but our footman or coachman must have told a tale.’

Mrs Forrester rubbed her eyes, as if she could wipe the image of the caricature from her mind. Katrina had already tried that. It didn’t work.

The woman took both of Sarah’s hands and looked her in the eye. ‘Who were the gentlemen?’

‘The Duke of Lyonsdale and the Earl of Hartwick.’

Mrs Forrester’s loud groan filled the room. ‘Sarah, you didn’t?’

Sarah’s hands fisted at her sides as she tried to defend her action. ‘The hour was very early. I was certain no one would see.’

But this image clearly showed an exaggerated version of what had occurred as Katrina drove through Mayfair with Julian. This was not a depiction of the picnic.

She began to tremble, and drops of cold sweat dusted her skin. ‘What will I tell my father?’

Mrs Forrester quickly took her by the arm and gently lowered her to the settee. ‘Have no fear. I will talk with him first. There might be a way we can avoid a scandal. I doubt the Duke of Lyonsdale has any desire to enter into one.’

Julian’s reputation meant everything to him. If his family name suffered because of the implications of the caricature he would hate her for ever.

Her stomach dipped and flipped. Running to the potted palm in the corner of the room, Katrina reached it just in time.

* * *

Later that afternoon, in the Palace of Westminster, Julian was taken aback when he entered the Chamber of the House of Lords and a hush fell over the stately room. Appraising faces turned his way, and for the first time in his life he was confronted with critical stares from many of his peers. He had been up late last night and home all morning, finalising the speech he was about to give. What could he have possibly done to warrant such a reaction?

The white-haired Duke of Skeffington toddled up to him. His bloodshot eyes studied Julian over his wire-framed glasses. He was the oldest duke in the chamber, and liked to remind everyone of the deferential treatment he should be given because of it.

He rapped his cane on the floor, narrowly missing Julian’s foot. ‘Well, boy? Explain yourself.’

They were frequently on opposing sides in this room. His eagerness to hear what Julian had to say was unusual, but it could perhaps be attributed to the man’s recent bouts of narcolepsy.

‘I will explain myself when it’s my turn to address the chamber,’ Julian said, ready to push past him.

‘I don’t give a fig about your speech. I am speaking of you and the American.’

Julian’s blood ran cold and every muscle in his body locked. He could not possibly have heard the man correctly. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You have ancestors who were killed by their hands in their war for independence, and now you engage in behaviour such as this? It’s disgraceful,’ he spat out. ‘Your father would have been appalled by your actions.’

He tapped the handle of his cane into Julian’s chest before he walked away, unconcerned with a reply.

Julian broke out into a cold sweat. How did Skeffington know about Katrina? He had been so careful. His thoughts turned to their drive through Town. They had been in an unmarked carriage with the curtains drawn. Surely no one had seen them?

More eyes were upon him, and heat crept up his neck. The Duke of Winterbourne came to stand beside him, carrying himself with his usual commanding air. It was a relief to see a friendly face.

‘That was quite an entrance you made,’ said Winter, casually adjusting his cuff under his robe. ‘I imagine Skeffington was gracious enough to offer his opinion on the matter?’

‘He was his usual charming self,’ Julian managed to say through his bewilderment.

‘You surely must have realised that when word got out it would be remarked upon. Both Ardsley and Brendel lost their youngest in our last skirmish with the Americans. Lockwood’s two brothers died in America’s war for independence. And those are just the men around us. Many men in this room lost family members there, and they place the blame on the colonials. But I do not need to remind you of that.’

He motioned for them to make their way through the crowd and take their seats.

‘I do not understand why I am garnering such a reaction now, after dancing with the woman weeks ago,’ Julian said.

A look of amused confusion crossed Winter’s face. ‘You do not know what this is about?’

‘Know what?’

‘There was a caricature published about you today, my friend. A rather suggestive one about you and an American. The question is, how accurate is it?’

Their secret was out. He needed to see this print. Unfortunately, the session was about to begin.

Bloody hell! How could he answer for something when he wasn’t quite certain what he was being accused of?

As the room began to settle down Lord Allyn approached them and nodded a greeting. Julian was expecting his friend to wish him luck today—instead Allyn had a request.

‘I’m aware you’re scheduled to present your speech today, Lyonsdale. However, with recent events being what they are, I think it best if you refrain from giving it.’

Confused, Julian tried to grasp what Allyn was saying. He had worked on his speech for weeks. He had been asked to deliver it because he was an influential peer, and his speeches were known to sway voters. Now, because of one print, he had become a liability.

‘Perhaps Allyn is right,’ Winter said in a low voice as he leaned forward.

‘Et tu?’

‘Listen to him.’ Winter pointed towards Allyn. ‘This is not an attack on you.’

‘Of course it is,’ Julian said with quiet emphasis.

‘No. It’s about certain men who won’t listen to you because they will be focusing on the possible scandal surrounding you—a man renowned for your moral character—and an unmarried American.’

Scandal.

Bile rose up in his throat. His family had been untouched by scandal for generations. Would he be the one to let their good name fall? He thought of the Fifth Duke—the one who wasn’t fit to have his portrait hung in the gallery. Was that to be his fate?

Clenching his jaw so tightly it might have shattered, Julian shifted his gaze to the row of peers next to him. His pride was crushed. The last thing he needed to see was pity in his friends’ eyes.

‘Fine. You drafted this speech with me—you give it.’ His composure started slipping as he thrust his notes at Winter.

An indecipherable expression passed between his friends, and Allyn gave a brief tip of his head before returning to his seat.

Winter leaned sideways and lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘I suggest you find a way to calm yourself before you draw even more attention your way. You are passionate about your work here. You always have been. But you are not the only one of us who can reach these men and change their minds. You are not a party of one man.’

Julian knew that to be true. But he also knew that the career and reputation he had built for himself was the most important thing in his life. It was the legacy he would leave to future generations. How could he have risked all of it for a few stolen hours with a woman? The problem was, it wasn’t just any woman—it was Katrina. And, although he was chiding himself for being so incredibly foolish, he knew he would recall every minute of those hours they spent together for the rest of his days.

Oh, God, what had he done? He had promised Katrina he wouldn’t do anything to risk her reputation. If only he had been honourable enough to make that so.

His stomach pitched. There was no telling if her reputation was beyond repair until he saw the print.

* * *

Katrina rolled off her wet pillow and stared up at what she knew were blue flowers stitched onto the cream silk that hung from the top of her tester bed. But the image was blurred from the teardrops clinging to her lashes and she rubbed her palms over her eyes. That was better. Now, if she could only concentrate on the details of the flowers and not on the image that had been haunting her for the past four hours...

It was no use. Once more she could see the scandalous caricature of her and Julian—a caricature that announced to all of England that she was a lightskirt. How could she show her face in London Society again?

Agreeing to go for a ride with Julian was probably the most foolish thing she had ever done. Now their time together was surely over, and scandal would follow her.

Her heart ached and she wasn’t sure it would ever be the same. She was such a fool! How could she have thought her feelings would not become engaged? It had happened so gradually there had not been one particular instance. Had there been, she might have had a chance to resist him.

She smothered her face with her pillow and let out a scream. The problem was she cared too much. She cared that right at that very moment he was probably telling himself he was better off without her. He would never want this kind of attention cast his way.

She thought she heard a knock, but she wasn’t certain since she was still squashing the pillow over her head. Tossing it aside, she sat up and looked at her door. There was another knock, and Katrina groaned at the intrusion. It was probably Meg, trying to get her to have some tea. What she really needed was something a bit more fortifying. This would be an excellent time to try the brandy her father kept in his study. Perhaps if she drank enough of it she would forget this day had ever happened.

The knocking grew louder. She slid off the bed and trudged to her door. Opening it slightly, she jumped when a foot encased in gold silk damask pushed its way inside.

‘If you close this door on my new slipper I shall be vexed.’

Katrina closed her eyes and took a deep breath, preparing herself for Sarah. Opening the door wider, she invited her friend inside and locked the door behind them.

Sarah tugged off her white kid gloves and tossed them carelessly onto the rumpled bed. Spinning around, she ran her gaze over Katrina.

Brushing the wetness away from her face, Katrina avoided Sarah’s piercing stare. The last thing she wanted was to see pity in her friend’s eyes.

‘You look as if a bear has sat on your head.’

‘Forgive me. Had I known you were planning on calling I would have been sure to have Meg arrange an elaborate coiffure.’

Sarah made her way over to the window and sat at Katrina’s dressing table. Picking up a brush, she appeared to study the monogram engraved into the silver. ‘If anyone enquires if I have been here this evening, please inform them that you have not seen me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I was told quite firmly not to disturb you.’

‘By whom?’

Sarah tapped the brush in her palm. ‘My mother. Luckily your very proper English butler has taken a shine to me, otherwise I don’t know when I would have seen you next.’

Katrina trudged back to her bed and sat on the edge across from Sarah. ‘I am not very good company right now.’

‘So I can see. I knew you’d take this to heart. But it might not be as horrid as you think.’

‘Of course it is. That caricature has announced to all of London that I am a woman of loose morals who let herself be compromised in a carriage!’

‘Katrina, those caricatures are meant to be satires. They aren’t meant to be viewed in a literal sense.’

‘I am aware of that, but the implication is there. It’s very humiliating.’ She flopped onto her back and covered her eyes. ‘And I have tried very hard to act in accordance with all the ton’s ridiculous rules.’

The bed dipped as Sarah sat next to her. ‘Anyone who has met you will know that the drawing is a gross exaggeration of your character.’

‘I disagree—many will believe all American women conduct themselves as such.’

‘Some people already had those notions before we even stepped ashore. In time, as more and more American women arrive in England, people here will have a better understanding of our true character.’

Katrina raised herself up on her elbows and her eyes met Sarah’s soft amber gaze. ‘Why is it that I am the one who has garnered all this attention? Madame de Lieven doesn’t pester you. The papers do not write about the gentlemen you dance with, and you have never been the subject of a scandalous caricature.’

‘You are more attractive than I am.’

‘You are simply saying that to try to improve my disposition.’

Sarah’s lip twitched. ‘Yes, that is true. Everyone knows I’m the pretty one.’

Katrina managed to smile before her thoughts turned back to Julian. ‘Lyonsdale cannot be pleased by this. He prides himself on being above reproach.’

‘Has he called on you today?’

Katrina shook her head, not wanting to consider the significance of his absence.

‘Katrina, that man is taken with you. I doubt a bit of satire will give him cause to announce that he will marry Lady Mary Morley.’

‘Lady Mary?’

‘Yes. She is the only other woman I’ve seen him dance with, and I hear she has the approval of his mother.’

Oh, God! Katrina flopped down again. All this time she had been worried about his association with Lady Wentworth. What she should have been worried about was how she would feel when Julian announced that he would marry the very proper, very respectable Lady Mary Morley.

She started sobbing, convinced she wouldn’t stop till morning.

Chapter Twenty

As Julian sat in his elegant coach he leaned his head back and took a deep breath. The rocking motion was contributing to the queasiness that had been plaguing him. He closed his eyes, grateful to be away from the prying eyes of Westminster.

Winter had given the speech he’d been supposed to give. Knowing that if he had delivered the same address some of those men would actually have cast their votes in opposition was humiliating. The words ‘foolish’ and ‘disgraceful’ were still knocking about in his head.

His stomach pitched again.

Two months ago he hadn’t even known Katrina existed. He’d been respected, focused and content. As much as he hated to admit it, his mother had been correct. A man in his position was made for contentment—not some intangible emotion that made him feel as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff not certain if he was ready to jump off.

Katrina had turned his life upside down.

He wanted his orderly life back.

The only way he knew how to get that was to cut his ties with her and pursue Lady Mary Morley. Lady Mary was the ideal woman for a respectable duke.

His chest tightened. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take a deep breath. But if Katrina’s reputation was in question he would have no choice but to do the honourable thing. He was an honourable gentleman before all else.

Dammit, he needed to see this print!

His carriage slowed to a stop and he stormed into his home, prepared to contact his secretary and obtain a copy of the print. He stopped when he was informed that Hart was waiting for him in his study. Dealing with Hart was not what he needed at the moment.

‘Finally!’ Hart said from where he sat reclining at Julian’s desk, with his ankles crossed, a brandy in his hand. ‘I have been waiting here for hours.’

‘I am in no mood. Finish your drink and go.’ He knocked Hart’s boots off his desk.

‘That’s a fine thank you for all my efforts today. Are you aware that there is a caricature of you and the lovely Miss V?’

‘I am. However, I’m warning you. Do not toy with me. I will not be responsible for my actions.’

‘Then you’ve seen it?’

Julian strode across the room and poured himself two fingers of brandy. ‘No, I intend to acquire one tomorrow.’

‘Luckily for you I’ve brought one with me to give to you.’

The pounding of Julian’s heart echoed in his ears as his gaze was drawn to the paper resting on his desk. He took a long gulp of brandy and moved slowly to get a closer look. When he spotted his crest on the carriage door he saw red. Burning with rage, he let his eyes scan the print illustrated by Cruikshank. He crumpled the paper and threw it across the room.

‘I will destroy him!’

‘I must confess I never thought I’d see the day your likeness appeared in a print shop window.’

Julian was so enraged he barely heard his friend’s words. ‘Tell me you have the plate!’

Shaking his head, Hart narrowed his eyes. ‘Odd, but when I enquired I was told the plate had already been sold. Perhaps Vandenberg bought it.’