An Unsuitable Duchess (15 page)

On paper, she was—but she wasn’t someone who could stir his soul and make him ache when he had to leave her. She wasn’t Miss Vandenberg.

He looked at his mother’s hopeful expression and knew she believed she was guiding his actions for the benefit of the Lyonsdale name. And they both knew the family’s reputation meant everything. He recalled what Miss Vandenberg had said in the library about the bond between her own parents. Was it possible he could eventually have that with Morley’s daughter?

‘Were you eager to marry my father?’

His mother’s eyes widened momentarily before she caught herself. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘When you were told you would be marrying, were you eager to do so?’

Julian didn’t miss the uncomfortable expression that crossed her face. ‘I do not recall. I am certain the thought of becoming a duchess in one of the most prominent families in England was pleasing. But I honestly do not recall being eager for anything in my life. I find such strong emotion rather base and vulgar.’

‘Were you happy being married to him?’

She shifted again on the chair. ‘I do not understand why you are interested in such things. People in our position do not concern themelves with happiness. We strive for contentment, and I was content being married to your father.’

Julian rubbed his chest, relieving some of the tightness that was gripping his ribcage. He glanced at the portrait of his father, visible beyond his mother’s right shoulder. Had he ever heard his father laugh? Was that what being married to the wrong woman did?

He shook his head as he buried those questions in his subconscious. ‘Was there something else you wanted to see me about?’

She took a breath and appeared relieved at the change in subject. ‘Actually, there was. I heard from Lady Jersey that Finchley is reconsidering his vote. I thought that might be of interest to you.’

‘I appreciate you taking the time to inform me. I shall speak with him tomorrow.’

‘I understand he has been known to dine at White’s.’

Julian wished that he could tell if she was interested in his affairs because she truly wanted to help him, or because she wanted another accomplishment of his to place in the family annals. It would have been nice to believe she did it out of a fondness for him.

‘Thank you, Mother.’

She turned away. ‘I am glad I could be of assistance.’ When she’d reached the doorway, she turned back to him. ‘I trust you to make the right decision. I will say no more about Lady Mary and defer to you.’

He watched her turn into the hallway before he sat back in his chair. Staring once again at the portrait of his father, he studied the pair of solemn green eyes that looked back at him. Since he was young, Julian had looked upon the life his father had led as a blueprint of the way a duke conducted himself. Once he’d died Julian had clung to the actions that had defined his father. There was no guidebook that came with becoming a duke. One went by example.

Had his father ever regretted marrying his mother? Had he been he content living with a woman who showed no affection and would rather jump into a pond than have an intimate conversation? Would he ever have admitted it to his son?

This was the life he was destined to lead. His mother had said that people in their position didn’t concern themselves with happiness. Looking upon his father’s solemn portrait, he was certain the man would have agreed. It was time that Julian stopped holding out hope for what could never be.

But then his thoughts turned to a pair of fine blue eyes. Simply thinking about Miss Vandenberg made him smile. She amused him, exasperated him, and excited him. She deserved an apology for his actions. He only hoped that this time when he saw her, he would be able to control his desire.

Chapter Thirteen

T
he next afternoon rain fell in sheets and thunder shook Katrina’s house while she wrote letters home to her family and friends. Her concentration was broken when Wilkins presented her with the unexpected sight of Lyonsdale’s card. A fluttering feeling settled low in her abdomen as she rose from her writing table and brushed out the wrinkles of her blue and yellow muslin gown. She needed to compose herself before he entered the drawing room.

‘Good day, Your Grace,’ she said, dropping into a curtsy. ‘My father is not at home, but at the Chancery. I can relay a message to him if you wish.’

The sight of him in her home was making her babble.

‘Actually, Miss Vandenberg, I came to call on you.’

Certainly she had misheard what he’d said. She glanced at Meg, who wasn’t doing anything to hide her surprise at seeing the Duke of Lyonsdale in the cosy drawing room. When Katrina finally caught her maid’s eye she gestured for her to return to her seat and continue mending.

Awkwardly Lyonsdale cleared his throat. He appeared to be waiting for something—her manners and proper etiquette, probably. He had her so flustered she couldn’t even recall proper protocol.

Walking to the settee and the chairs by the fireplace, she gracefully lowered herself into one of the chairs. ‘Would you care to sit?’

‘Thank you, I would.’ A faint smile softened his features as he sat across from her, looking very masculine on the delicate settee.

When he accepted her offer of tea, she nodded her request to Wilkins. Her butler eyed Lyonsdale, before giving her a crisp nod and leaving the room without closing the door.

She turned her attention back to her guest. ‘I’m surprised you have ventured out on such a dreary day. I must confess I’ve not heard many carriages go by all morning.’

He shifted restlessly on the settee. ‘I had some important matters to attend to. While the roads are a bit treacherous, they are passable.’

The unlit fireplace seemed to hold his interest. When he looked back at her, the tension was palpable.

‘I needed to see you to offer you my apology.’ The words came out stilted, as if he hadn’t said them often. He should have apologised for ignoring her weeks ago.

‘Why are you offering me your apology?’

He leaned closer and they both stole a glance at Meg. Thankfully her maid appeared occupied with her mending. He licked his lips and Katrina almost slid off her chair, remembering the brief feel of those lips brushing against hers.

‘I need to apologise for what occurred in my library,’ he whispered.

There were many things this man could apologise for, and he was choosing to apologise for their almost kiss?

She was mortified that she had believed him to be as attracted to her as she was to him. It would be horrid to hear him admit he hadn’t intended to kiss her. Dear God, maybe
she
was the one who had moved her lips up to his!

‘Let us not speak of it again,’ she whispered back.

His brow wrinkled. ‘I fear I have offended you, and that was not my intention.’

‘You have not.’

‘Are you certain?’

This was torture. Did he have to go on? ‘I assure you there is no need to speak of it.’

He lowered his chin and licked his lips again. ‘Miss Vandenberg, I feel a need to be frank.’

‘Please do not.’ Could not the floor open up and swallow her, just this once?

He kept his voice low. ‘I did not wish to insult you, but you stir something inside me.’ A pained look crossed his face.

The breath she was holding was released with a whoosh, and she held her stomach to steady the butterflies inside.

‘You wanted to kiss me?’

‘I thought that was very apparent.’

‘But you just apologised.’

‘Because I insulted your honour with my action.’ He rubbed the back of his neck and eyed her sideways. ‘You pulled away from me in my library. Did you want me to kiss you?’

How could she answer that and not sound wanton?

‘Did you?’ he prodded.

She was struggling to find a response when Wilkins arrived with the tea tray. He placed the tray on the table between them and quietly left the room, once again leaving the door open.

‘Oh, look! The tea is here,’ she said.

‘So it is.’ He shifted in his seat and then straightened. ‘How fortuitous,’ he said dryly.

It was taking quite a bit of effort to hide her relief. ‘Tea?’

‘Yes.’

‘Milk and sugar?’

‘Neither, thank you.’

Katrina glanced at him in surprise.

‘I don’t enjoy my tea sweet,’ he offered.

‘Apparently,’ she replied, handing him his cup.

He looked over at Meg and then back at her, and then placed his cup and saucer on the table. He kept his voice low. ‘Aside from offering my apologies to you, I also have another reason for calling on you today.’

‘Which is...?’

‘While I was out this morning I saw this and thought you might enjoy it.’ He held out a wrapped package she hadn’t noticed he had been holding when he entered.

‘You know I cannot accept it,’ she said, pouring a splash of milk into her own cup.

‘Please—think of it as a way for me to extend my thanks for the book you sent to my grandmother.’

‘Or a peace offering?’

Amusement sparkled in his eyes. ‘If you like.’

She hesitantly placed her cup on the table and took the package. As she unwrapped it her eyes widened. ‘
Frankenstein
. I want to read this.’

‘I thought you might. You were looking at it the day we met at Hatchards.’

Her hands fell to her lap, still holding the book. ‘You remember that?’

He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. ‘I also remember your maid’s love of gothic tales, so you might want to consider hiding it from her.’

Thunder boomed in the distance.

‘That is probably a wise suggestion.’

‘I thought so.’

‘Have you read it?’

He shook his head and leaned back. ‘No. However, I purchased a copy for myself as well and thought to begin it tonight.’

This time thunder shook the room, and Katrina glanced at the closest window. Rain poured down the panes, obstructing the view of the street. ‘It does appear to be an ideal day to read such a tale. It would be a shame not to take advantage of this atmosphere. Would you like to begin reading it now?’

‘You mean together?’

‘Certainly. Unless I am keeping you from a pressing engagement?’

‘I’m intrigued by your suggestion. How do you propose we begin?’

‘I suppose each of us could read silently, if you find that acceptable?’ It might prove difficult to concentrate on the words if she had to listen to his deep voice read them.

He nodded, and then his eyes widened as she lifted her delicate chair and placed it next to the settee.

‘I do not believe I have ever witnessed a lady moving furniture before. You
do
have other servants, do you not?’

‘Of course. But I am fully capable of moving this chair, and it would have delayed our enjoyment if we’d had to wait for them.’ She settled herself into the chair and smiled over at him.

‘You do realise you could sit here on the settee with me? There is room for both of us,’ he said.

Thunder boomed again. ‘No, I do not believe that would be a wise idea.’ He smelled heavenly—like clean soap and leather.

‘You are next to me now.’

But this way there was no risk of her caressing his arm or making a cake of herself in any other way. ‘I am already settled quite nicely here. Please—won’t you open to the first page so we may begin?’

Lyonsdale arched his brow, appearing every inch the aristocrat he was. ‘So I
shall be the one to hold the book?’

‘You are the man. I thought it was your chivalrous obligation to hold the book while I read.’

‘But I am a duke, so I thought you would be holding the book for
me
,’ he said with amusement in his eyes.

‘Yes, but I am an American. We believe that every man is created equal.’

His gaze raked her body. ‘But you are not a man.’

‘You’ve noticed.’

‘It has not escaped my notice.’

Katrina found the room suddenly quite warm, and she smiled at him through her lashes.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Very well. I will be your chivalrous bookstand.’

She handed him the first book of the three-volume edition. ‘I will be very grateful.’

‘Will you show me how grateful?’

‘What did you have in mind? I could make you more tea?’

‘Not exactly what I was thinking.’

‘I shall have biscuits sent up.’

By the time Wilkins arrived with a plate of biscuits Katrina was leaning over the armrest of the settee, her chin almost resting on Lyonsdale’s shoulder. The Duke was actually reclining back on the sofa in a most inelegant pose, with his legs crossed. Their heads were almost touching and they were reading from the same book, completely unaware of the butler’s presence.

The two engrossed readers remained that way for over an hour. When they finally stopped reading for the day Lyonsdale closed the book and stared straight ahead, chewing his lower lip. It was proving impossible for Katrina to take her eyes off that soft skin.

‘I must confess I have never read anything quite like that in my life,’ he commented, still appearing very relaxed in his reclined pose.

He twisted his head towards her and she rushed her gaze up to meet his. There was a twinkle in his green eyes, and she was positive he had caught her pining for his lips.

‘Have you?’ he asked.

‘Hmm...’ she managed to utter thoughtfully, not having any notion of what he’d said.

Lyonsdale grinned. ‘I asked if you’d ever read anything like this. I certainly haven’t.’

‘No, I’ve haven’t either. Thank you for purchasing it for me.’

The rain still pelted against the windowpanes and the room echoed with the soft ticking of the mantel clock. He leaned his head closer to her.

Oh, dear, he was going to kiss her!

Katrina’s breath caught in her throat and she spun her head towards Meg.

Her wonderfully discreet maid still appeared engrossed in her needlework.

‘Meg, perhaps you would like to get some tea for yourself,’ she called out.

Raising her head from her mending, Meg shifted her gaze between her mistress and the Duke. She had been Katrina’s maid since Katrina was fifteen and Meg twenty-six. They had been together almost ten years, and Katrina knew her well enough to see that Meg wasn’t certain if she should leave Katrina alone with Lyonsdale.