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Julian dropped down into a chair. Dear God, Katrina will hate me when she sees this! Her reputation was in tatters, and it was all because he had been selfish enough to risk her good name for a few extended hours with her before he committed his life to an unhappy marriage. What kind of man did that make him?
He was a man of honour, and he would fix this.
He turned to Hart. ‘I need to borrow your coach.’
* * *
Julian sat across from Mr Vandenberg in the man’s study and wondered if Katrina’s father had poisoned the brandy he had just poured for him. The man was not pleased. That was plain to see from his stern expression and detached demeanour.
‘I wondered if you would call here,’ he said in a controlled tone. ‘The hour is rather late.’
In all his life he had never been uncomfortable sitting across from a man. He was now. ‘I was in session today. However, I felt it best to discuss matters before word travels further than it already has.’
Mr Vandenberg sat back in his wingback chair. The amber liquid in his glass held his attention. ‘I see. Am I to assume you are here to discuss a certain caricature?’
‘I am.’ He had never asked for anyone’s hand before. He probably should have thought about what to say before he’d entered Katrina’s home.
‘I have been assured it is not an accurate depiction of events. Is that true?’
His heart dropped at the realisation that Katrina had been forced to explain her actions to her father. What exactly would she have told him? ‘No, sir, it is not. I—’
Mr Vandenberg held up his hand. ‘There is no need to continue, Your Grace. I imagine you are here to offer an honourable solution to this unfortunate matter. However, I assure you that won’t be necessary. You have no wish to marry my daughter, and she has no wish to marry you. There is a way to address this without forcing you both into a trip to the altar.’
He should have felt relief at the words. Instead, hearing that Katrina didn’t want to marry him was like a hard fist into his gut. ‘I don’t understand.’
Mr Vandenberg folded his hands on his desk and pierced Julian with his gaze. ‘If you voice an interest in the upcoming negotiations between our two countries people will assume that the print is a satirical depiction of your interest in the United States and not a bit of gossip about a scandalous ride with my daughter.’
The suggestion ruffled Julian’s principles. He sat up taller and pulled his shoulders back. ‘That almost sounds like blackmail.’
‘Not at all. I am not asking you to voice your support of my country—just to meet with me at the Chancery so we can discuss the issues. You are known to be a fair and honest man. You can make up your own mind if you think we are being unreasonable with the boundaries we are suggesting. Regardless of what you decide, you can express your opinions on the matter openly and present that print as a political satire attacking your involvement with us.’
It was not an unreasonable request. The logic behind it was sound. He hadn’t admitted to anyone today that he had actually taken a drive with Katrina. They could each move forward with their own lives and there would be no scandal associated with their names. He could have his reputation back.
‘There is one more thing, Your Grace.’
Julian cleared his vision and focused on the man across from him.
‘Whatever fascination you have with my daughter, it needs to end now—for both your sakes.’
All Julian could do was nod his agreement. Blackness was swallowing him up as he realised that he would never again know what she was thinking, or receive one of her smiles, or make her laugh.
Their time together was over.
* * *
Katrina waited until the front door had closed before she stood up from where she had been perched on the top step of the staircase.
Her father did not even have to look up. ‘He has agreed to my proposition. It is done.’
Those three little words sliced into her.
He wasn’t going to marry her.
Tonight her father gave him an easy way to avoid scandal—and he had taken it.
‘It is for the best, my dear.’
If it truly was, why did her heart feel as if it had been ripped into tiny pieces that would never be put back together? How could this be for the best when the man she loved had just walked away without even saying goodbye?
Chapter Twenty-One
‘Men are dogs.’
Surveying a plate of sweet delicacies, while seated at a table on the terrace of Hipswitch House, Katrina wished she could openly agree with Sarah’s declaration. Unfortunately she knew that if she did, it would instigate a discussion that would open the wound she was trying desperately to heal.
She had foolishly fallen in love with a man who was more concerned with what the world thought of him than he was with her. If Julian believed she was lacking, then he deserved a life devoid of the love she could give him. She only wished she could feel that way without wanting to dissolve into a puddle of tears each time she thought of him.
Sarah leaned closer from her seat beside Katrina. ‘I said men are dogs.’
‘I heard you.’ Katrina finished her last bite of moist almond cake and eyed a small bowl of trifle.
‘Am I to receive no reply?’
The trifle looked lovely. The creamy custard and vibrant red strawberries were calling out to her. One could not take a beautifully made creation such as this and not eat it. It would be an insult to her hosts.
‘What would you have me say?’ Katrina said, scooping up a large spoonful.
Sarah sipped her champagne and silently watched Katrina savour every last bit of trifle in the bowl. ‘Surely you do not intend to eat those Shrewsbury cakes as well?’
Katrina’s hand froze midway to the plate containing three biscuits. She did not miss the censure in Sarah’s tone. ‘I might have thought about it.’ She shifted her hand to pick up her glass of champagne instead.
‘I am aware that you would be content to sit here and assist Lady Hipswitch in trying all the delicacies she has provided, however, it is a garden party.’ She gave the rolling lawns and hedgerows a marked glance. ‘I believe it is customary to actually venture into the garden.’
It was safer on the terrace. This was where the desserts were. Katrina liked it here. Julian might be out there somewhere.
‘Why would you want to risk the pristine condition of your slippers on grass and soil when you can sit on this lovely stone terrace and admire the view from up here?’
Sarah took another sip of champagne and sighed. ‘Because for once I have found myself in a lovely garden during the day, and I am sitting up here when I could be exploring the rose garden or the maze. Haven’t you always wanted to attempt to find your way out of a maze?’
Katrina took a Shrewsbury cake. ‘I would rather eat biscuits.’
When she went to take another, Sarah grabbed her hand. ‘This will not end well if you do not move from that chair. It is a wonder you are not complaining of stomach pains.’
She hadn’t eaten that many desserts. Had she...?
Katrina licked her lips and wiped her mouth with a pristine white napkin that now held traces of custard. ‘Oh, very well. However, should you ruin those slippers you have talked of endlessly it will not be my doing.’
Sarah stood and opened her white parasol, shading her eyes from the afternoon light. ‘I will risk these stunning silk creations just so you do not become permanently affixed to that chair.’
Before Sarah turned back, Katrina grabbed the last Shrewsbury cake and took a big bite.
‘I can hear you chewing,’ Sarah commented from over her shoulder as she made her way to the terrace steps.
They passed a number of guests who nodded polite greetings while they walked down the stone staircase and scanned the gardens before them.
‘Where shall we go first?’ Sarah asked.
Katrina’s new bonnet shielded her eyes from the sunlight as she looked to her right. An archery competition was taking place in the shade of a large tree, between six stylishly dressed gentlemen in tailcoats, breeches and boots. Ladies and gentlemen stood about in small groups, offering their encouragement. Her heart ached.
Afraid of seeing Julian, she looked to the left and allowed her gaze to roam around the rose garden, which was enclosed with a low boxwood border. It was there that she had spoken to Madame de Lieven earlier in the day. It seemed to be where she was still holding court. Speaking with the woman once today had been enough.
The safest destination was probably ahead of them, where an enormous thick privet hedgerow divided the vast lawn in half and directed the eye to the garden’s maze off in the distance.
Katrina waved towards the hedgerow. ‘There are paths on either side. Which one should we take?’
Sarah chose the one on the right, and they started down the gravel path as a soft breeze blew against Katrina’s cheeks. She kept her attention on the maze instead of on the carefree people strolling around the lawn, afraid she would see Julian or Mr Armstrong.
‘You cannot avoid Lyonsdale for ever,’ Sarah said, adjusting her parasol.
Katrina ripped a leaf from the hedgerow and tossed it aside. ‘I am not avoiding him.’
‘You’ve hidden yourself away in your room for three days.’
‘I was absorbed in some good books.’ She plucked another leaf.
‘Katrina, soon you will return to New York and meet a man who will become so captivated with you that you will consume his thoughts. He will not be afraid to do whatever is necessary to be with you. You will fall in love, and you will forget all about Lyonsdale.’
Just the sound of his name was like a foot crushing the pieces of Katrina’s shattered heart.
‘And you know this for a fact?’ Katrina certainly did not.
Sarah gave her a reassuring smile. ‘I do. You will find love, Katrina. Of that I have no doubt.’
She had found love, only her love wasn’t returned.
She could not discuss this with Sarah. Not here. Not now. Possibly not ever. How she wished they had never left the safety of the terrace.
They walked side by side in silence as the gravel crunched under their feet. The maze was still a distance away. If she got lost inside it, could she remain in there for ever? Spending the rest of her life trying to find her way out might keep her from thinking about Julian and recalling every moment they’d spent together.
She needed to keep her thoughts from drifting to him. ‘Madame de Lieven has been so kind as to inform me that Mr Armstrong is in attendance today.’ She plucked another leaf. ‘She even saw fit to say that he had accepted today’s invitation with the express desire to see me.’
Sarah scanned the grassy lawn to their right. ‘It would be easier to avoid him if we knew what colour he was wearing.’
‘Men like him should wear garish shades to match their personalities.’
‘If only it were proper to run away if we see him approaching.’
Katrina plucked yet another leaf and tore this one is two. ‘Whoever drafted these English rules of conduct must certainly have been a man.’
‘A very boring man,’ Sarah amended, adjusting her parasol.
Katrina looked past Sarah and immediately wished she hadn’t. Madame de Lieven was strolling with Mr Armstrong, and from the way she was examining the ladies around her, it was apparent she was searching for someone in particular. The woman was much too persistent. Katrina feared that in a moment of weakness she might agree to allow Madame de Lieven to chaperon her on an outing with that windsucker.
She needed to reach the maze—and she needed to do it quickly.
She grabbed the handle of Sarah’s parasol and tilted it, obscuring their faces from the guests on the lawn.
* * *
As Julian walked down the gravel pathway on the back lawn of Hipswitch House with Hart, he tugged at the brim of his John Bull hat to shield his eyes from the sun. They walked in silence, each consumed with their own thoughts, and Julian stared at the garden’s maze in the distance.
He had not attended any social engagements since the day he had been humiliated by Cruikshank’s caricature. He had tried to convince himself it was because he needed to spend time learning the issues surrounding Britain’s North American territories. But he knew the real reason he had not ventured out was because it would have been agonising to see Katrina again.
Days had gone by since his agreement with her father—days when Julian had worried over whether he had made the right decision. They might have been married by now. Instead he had sat alone in his study, reading every word of Katrina’s father’s book and searching the text for anything that might have been a reference to her. He had even tried reading the remainder of Frankenstein, but it was too painful a reminder that now he was all alone. Never again would her lemon scent drift towards him as she leaned on his shoulder while they read together.
The nights were worse. He would toss and turn, and dream about losing her all over again. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in days. If this continued he was certain to drift off in the middle of his next speech. That was why he had decided to come here today. Seeing her from a distance might somehow put his decision to rest.
‘Do you have a destination in mind?’ Hart asked, breaking into his thoughts. ‘Or are we to continue to pace this path all day?’
‘There is no need for you to remain in my company.’
Hart tipped his hat to some passing gentlemen they often saw at Tattersalls. ‘Winter and Andrew suggested I join them for archery. However, Lady Morley has been enquiring about you for weeks. Fortunately for you, my reputation is not nearly as impeccable as yours. She will never approach you with Lady Mary while I’m near.’
The thought of conversing with Lady Morley made his head pound. ‘Perhaps it’s time I become accustomed to her company.’ He ripped a leaf off the hedgerow of privets that ran along the pathway to his right.
‘And perhaps I have a desire to have leeches suck my body dry.’
‘I think it’s time I offered for her.’
The silence between them was deafening.
‘That is what you truly want?’
Julian continued to stare straight ahead of him. ‘It’s time.’ The maze in the distance was getting closer.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Hart shake his head.
‘That is not what I asked.’
‘I need an heir.’
‘And Lady Mary Morley is to be your choice to give you one?’
‘She is the perfect choice to become Duchess of Lyonsdale.’ A lump settled in Julian’s throat, as if blocking the words.
Silence.
‘The perfect choice for who? For your mother? For the Lyonsdale Dukes lying in your family’s crypt? She certainly is not the perfect choice for you.’
Julian stopped and rounded on Hart. ‘She is the perfect choice to bear the next Duke. She is the perfect choice to bear my son.’ The words tasted false even as he spat them out.
‘And what if you only have daughters? Will it still feel as if you made the perfect choice in choosing Lady Mary?’
He needed to speak of something else—anything else. He had regained his political clout. His opinions had weight once again. That was what mattered in life. That was the life his father had led.
‘Morley approached me last night at White’s. He wanted my views on the fate of the Hudson Bay Company when the Anglo-American Conference convenes. I’m assuming he holds substantial interest in the company and is concerned his investment may suffer.’
‘So now you have become a respected voice on the facts behind the upcoming negotiations between Britain and America? Interesting how you were able to achieve that.’
Julian refused to look at Hart, and instead ripped off another leaf from the hedgerow. ‘I find I’m becoming more and more interested in the matters that need to be settled between our two countries. It is in our best interests to try to achieve amiable relations with them. We need the trade, and that last war with them cost us unnecessarily.’
‘Perhaps you have found your purpose. Each of the Lyonsdale Dukes is known for something glorious. Improved Anglo-American relations might be your achievement. A bitter irony, it seems.’
Julian glanced over at his friend and caught the mocking glint in his eyes. This time Julian grabbed an entire stem from the hedge and pulled all the leaves off. They fluttered to the ground, unwanted. With each step the sound of crunching gravel was loud over the silence that stretched between them. He closed his eyes and reminded himself that he would forget her.
Hart adjusted his lazy lock of hair. ‘She is here. I spotted her earlier today up at the house.’
Julian’s dying heart stirred. ‘I told you I have no wish to ever discuss her again.’
‘I have not mentioned anyone by name.’
Julian glared at Hart, and he was wise enough not to make any further comment.
Hart’s attention followed the new group of leaves that Julian was yanking from the hedgerow. ‘Hipswitch’s gardeners might take umbrage at your pruning techniques.’
Damn the gardeners!
Julian clasped his hands behind his back. Hart would never understand that Julian couldn’t even say her name without causing a stabbing pain in his chest. He knew that eventually she would be a distant memory. There would even come a day when he’d wake up and not recall her face. His stomach churned at the notion.
‘Well, this should improve that pained expression of yours,’ Hart said. ‘It’s the woman you’ve been so eager to see.’
Julian closed his eyes. He prayed he would remain composed when he looked at the lovely woman he could not have. Taking a deep breath, he followed Hart’s gaze—and froze when he spotted Lady Morley, walking towards them across the lawn with a determined stride.
The maze was not too far ahead. Hopefully he would reach it before Lady Morley caught up to them.
* * *
Helena settled onto a bench facing the entrance to the Hipswitch maze and opened her grey silk parasol, sharing the shade with the Duchess of Skeffington. The day had been fruitless so far. The only other eligible duke who wasn’t decrepit was a recluse who never came to London. She had no chance of securing him, and the thought of sharing her marriage bed with a wrinkly old man, even if he was a duke, made her stomach turn.
Today she was focusing her quest on finding a marquess. It was possible Lord Boreham had enough funds to be the answer to her prayers. She was rapidly running out of money. She needed to work quickly, but she had yet to see him.
Her friend adjusted her gloves with a satisfied smile on her face. ‘I believe Lord Andrew missed his target today because he was distracted by my presence.’
The only reason Lord Andrew had missed the target was because he’d sneezed at an unfortunate moment. When would Lizzy learn that this brother of the Duke of Winterbourne had no interest in her? The poor, deluded woman.
‘I asked Olivia if she thought her brother-in-law would be attending the Finchleys’ masquerade,’ continued Lizzy, ‘but she informed me she isn’t privy to Lord Andrew’s schedule and walked off rather abruptly. That was rather rude, was it not?’
‘Olivia and Winterbourne barely speak to one another. What would make you believe she would know what his brother does? Lord Andrew has made no advance towards you in ten years. Do you truly believe the man is attracted to you in any way? He barely acknowledges you.’
Lizzy huffed and turned away. ‘Have you chosen a costume for the Finchleys’ masquerade?’
This was Lizzy’s latest way of reminding Helena that she was the one married to a duke. She knew Helena had no association with the Finchleys.
She could go to the devil!
‘No, I’m afraid I’ve not been invited.’
Lizzy’s eyes grew wide with false innocence and she blinked. ‘Oh, forgive me. I was certain you would have been. The Marchioness is usually so generous with her invitations. The Americans are even invited. I wouldn’t have broached the subject if I’d thought an invitation had not been extended to you. That would have been most unkind of me.’
‘And you are all that is good and kind,’ Helena replied in an overly sweet manner.
‘My, you are in a foul mood today. If you’d had a desire to attend all the most sought-after pleasures of the Season perhaps you should have married a man who had a better standing than the one you did.’
‘It wasn’t as if I had a choice.’
‘Well, you should have selected a more discreet place for your romp with Wentworth, then.’
‘How was I to know that that area of his father’s estate had a riding path not far away? I thought he would have had more sense.’
‘I really did believe when we came out together you were going to be the one who made the best match. You were the most sought-after girl that Season. Well, there is no going back. You should try to improve your station now, at least.’
As if she hadn’t been trying for the last five years!
She had done everything possible to marry a marquess or a duke. And all her efforts had exploded in her face.
Lord Blackwood had even had the nerve to laugh at her when she’d reminded him that he’d promised to wed her if she helped him remove Lady Caroline Shaw from his son’s life. She’d never understood why he had wanted to separate her from Lord Hartwick, but if Helena had gained the title of marchioness and the wealth she deserved she really wouldn’t have cared. And now Lyonsdale had left her. She was running out of available wealthy men with prominent titles.
Miss Vandenberg strolled past them, deep in conversation with her friend. As they entered the maze Helena wondered for the hundredth time what it was about her that Lyonsdale found attractive.
‘I assume there is no opportunity to reconcile with Lyonsdale now that he is pursuing the American?’
Helena snapped her head towards Lizzy. ‘What are you talking about? That caricature was merely a political satire. Everyone has heard how involved he has become in the details of the relations between our two countries. There is nothing between them.’
‘That is not what Blackwood said when I spoke with him at Carlton House last night.’
If Lizzy mentioned dining at Carlton House one more time, Helena would be shoving her down a flight of stairs the next time the opportunity presented itself.
‘And what did he say?’
Lizzy’s mouth curved into a satisfied smile. ‘He said he found it vastly entertaining that after spending time in your bed Lyonsdale preferred an American. He said that if there was any truth to the notion that Lyonsdale would make her his duchess, then every member of the ton would finally say what he has always known to be true...that, as pretty as you are, you do not have the character of a real lady.’
Helena’s grip strangled her parasol handle. Lord Blackwood should die a slow and painful death!
She would not be made into a mockery by Lyonsdale’s perverse interest in Vandenberg’s daughter. She would rather die than be the subject of the derision of the ton. Who would want her then? As it was, she was much older than the girls most men sought for a bride. And Wentworth had left her with no children. To any titled gentleman needing an heir that made her a questionable choice.
She’d thought she had seduced Lyonsdale sufficiently that he would be willing to take the risk. She had been wrong.
Lyonsdale couldn’t possibly choose an American over her. It would mean disaster for her marriage prospects. She knew Boreham valued his opinion more than any man should. If he thought Lyonsdale preferred an American over her, he never would consider her a suitable choice for his marchioness. She was running out of money. If she didn’t marry soon, she didn’t know what she would do. She couldn’t appeal to her brother for help. The insolent nob would rather see her live in the streets than offer her assistance.