An Unsuitable Duchess

The next morning Julian could barely finish his paperwork. His attention kept drifting to the American. He’d been astonished at the sense of longing he’d felt when she had walked past him last night. While she hadn’t exactly given him the cut, her brief response to his apology for almost knocking into her for a second time had been anything but friendly. They hadn’t spoken since the night of the de Lievens’ ball. What could he possibly have done to warrant the daggers she had thrown at him with her eyes?

He was angry with this woman he didn’t even know for turning his life upside down. Thoughts of her popped into his mind at all hours of the day, and each time he saw her his body immediately snapped to attention. He hadn’t bedded Helena in weeks, and as of late his blood was only stirred by thoughts of the American. How could he get any work done?

He needed sex. His lack of release was playing havoc with his mind—that must be why he was so fixated on a woman he’d barely spoken to. He needed to see Helena.

Walking into the entrance hall of her townhouse, Julian handed her butler his hat and walking stick. The sound of footfalls on the wooden staircase caught his attention, and he watched Helena make her descent, her curves straining against a blood-red dressing gown. He should have felt like dragging her somewhere and bedding her for hours. He didn’t.

Perhaps it was because they were in a very public area of the house, with her butler not far away. Julian shifted his eyes to her drawing room door, giving her a wordless command. As they entered the sparsely furnished room Helena closed the door and locked it. She always had been good with discretion.

Before she could utter a word Julian pushed her up against the door and kissed her. He needed her to help him forget the American right now. But the kiss felt all wrong—awkward and unpleasant. He closed his eyes, willing his body to react. Her lavender scent filled his nose.

Why did it suddenly seem so overpowering and unappealing?

He pulled his head back and looked down at her inviting expression. She was one of the most beautiful women in England. Wasn’t she? He’d used to think so. His brow wrinkled as he studied her delicate features. The outline of her breasts was not even enticing him to undress her.

Helena slid her hand up his chest and combed her fingers through the hair by his temple. ‘We could retire to my bed.’

That would be the ideal place. However, he could barely kiss her, let alone bed her. He turned away from her eager expression and glanced towards the settee. ‘This room will suit our purposes.’ He placed distance between them and took a seat.

‘Would you care for some brandy?’ she asked.

His body was tied in knots of uncomfortable tension. If only he could relax... He nodded, and when she sat down he felt her right thigh push up against his left. He took a long draw from the glass. The warm liquid eased some of the tightness in his shoulders and he shifted his thigh so it was no longer pressing against her leg.

She sketched circles on his knee with her finger and avoided his eyes. ‘You are quieter than usual. Have I done something to displease you?’

‘No. I find I have much on my mind today.’ He forced himself to smile reassuringly. It was not her fault his body wasn’t co-operating. He took another drink.

‘What has brought you here? You’ve never called on me during the day.’

Unable to voice the real reason, he shrugged. ‘I needed to see you.’

That seemed to satisfy her, and she attempted to hold back a smile. ‘I see.’

She was giving him time to elaborate, but how could he? He had no idea why his body wasn’t responding to her. He kissed her again, more demandingly this time. In his mind he saw magnetic blue eyes and a warm smile—so he squeezed his eyelids tighter. He told himself that Helena could do amazing things with her mouth. It was no use. He wasn’t even remotely hard.

Julian released her and drained the contents of his glass. The burn washed away the taste of their kiss. This visit had been intended to cure him of the affliction brought on by the American. Instead it had made him want her more. He was out of ideas on what to do. He needed advice.

* * *

Helena watched Lyonsdale swallow the remaining contents of his glass. When he was finished, the glass landed on the table with an audible thud.

He stood rather abruptly. ‘Pardon me, but I have matters I need to attend to today.’

Without giving her a chance to reply, he walked out of the room.

Picking up his discarded glass, she ran her tongue over the rim where his lips had been. He never called on her during the day. Surely this was the sign she had been looking for. She had finally caught him. This time all her plotting and planning would land her the title she so richly deserved. He might even have left to make arrangements about asking for her hand.

How she wished she could be there when her brother heard she would be the next Duchess of Lyonsdale! Her new title would trump his title of earl. Finally she would be above him. He and that puritanical wife of his would regret the day they had said they wanted nothing more to do with her when she had become obligated to marry Wentworth. They could beg all they wanted—they would never dine in Lyonsdale House!

She poured herself a small splash of brandy. No longer would she have to sell items from her home to purchase this fine vintage. It was exhausting, hiding her financial situation. Soon that would all be a memory. Soon she would dine at Carlton House with the Prince Regent and his set while she wore the Carlisle diamonds.

* * *

Not far away, Katrina was preparing herself for an onslaught of advice as she was escorted down the hallway of Almack’s towards the assembly room where Madame de Lieven was waiting. When she’d received her note, requesting a meeting regarding a matter of the utmost importance, Katrina had been curious as to what the summons could possibly mean. Could she be about to enter into a lengthy discussion about the consequences of not following the strict rules of English etiquette? Or was Madame de Lieven about to inform Katrina in person that she was revoking the vouchers she had granted?

Katrina wished she had someone besides her maid, Meg, to accompany her. Madame de Lieven was known to be quite commanding. There would have been safety in numbers.

Stopping before a set of double doors, Katrina raised her chin and took a deep breath, reminding herself to remain polite no matter what the woman had to say.

Light poured into the cavernous room from the large windows, brightening the white walls and gold trim. In the very centre of the room sat Madame de Lieven, at a white linen-covered table set for tea. Closing the book she had been reading, she motioned Katrina forward.

‘I am pleased you accepted my invitation, Miss Vandenberg. I realise it is a bit early in the day for making calls, and the venue is unusual, but I do have my reasons.’ She turned her head to the doorkeeper. ‘Please see that Miss Vandenberg’s maid is taken care of downstairs, Mr Willis, while we settle things here.’

That didn’t sound very promising. As Katrina watched Meg trail Mr Willis out of the large ballroom she wished she could follow them. Shifting her gaze, she accepted the chair that was offered.

Madame de Lieven was a woman of strong self-importance, who moved with ease among the leading political figures of London. She had a way of influencing the people around her. Katrina was certain she wanted to keep her eye on ‘the Americans’, and that was why she’d offered to sponsor Katrina and the Forresters at Almack’s.

She handed Katrina a cup of tea with milk and sugar. ‘You intrigue me, Miss Vandenberg. I have noticed that you are a woman very much like me—a fish in a different pond.’

Katrina steadied herself under Madame de Lieven’s intense gaze. ‘Forgive me, I don’t understand.’

‘Since I am also a foreigner here, I am aware that it is not always easy to adjust to English customs. You have shown yourself to be a woman of intelligence and diplomacy. Two qualities I admire.’

‘I see no reason to hide the knowledge I possess, but I try not to appear too forward in my opinions.’

‘You should be aware that you have impressed me enough that I believe together you and I could accomplish great things here.’

Katrina’s brow furrowed. ‘I do not understand,’ she said again.

Madame de Lieven placed her cup on the table. ‘Let us be American and speak plainly.’

Katrina bristled at the insinuation. Anticipating what Madame de Lieven might say or do had kept Katrina amused since she had arrived in London. This time she sensed the next thing she said would cause her orderly life to be changed in ways that wouldn’t be pleasant.

‘I have noticed that you can be a bit too honest with your emotions at times. However, you possess a keen mind. Your presence is a refreshing change for me, and I have decided I will find you a husband here in London, so you can remain even after your father’s negotiations are settled. It is the reason I extended the vouchers for Almack’s to you. Our assemblies will prove helpful in finding you a husband.’

‘A husband?’ Katrina placed her cup down on the table and clasped her hands together on her lap. What had she ever done to give Madame de Lieven the impression she was looking for a husband? Whatever it was, Katrina knew she needed to stop doing it. ‘I do not want a husband.’

‘Of course you do. Every woman wants a husband. A husband provides a woman with...security.’

‘What I mean to say is I do not want a husband here...in England.’

Madame de Lieven appeared sceptical.

Katrina continued. ‘I will return to New York when my father’s work here is finished. I plan to marry an American.’

‘Nonsense,’ Madame de Lieven said, appearing appalled. ‘I can help you secure an excellent match. There are a number of rich, untitled Englishmen who would be pleased to marry an attractive woman with knowledge in the art of diplomacy, regardless of your background. You could live in wealth and splendour. Besides, you do not have many more good years left. You are almost on the shelf.’

Katrina was not about to tell her that all the luxury in the world couldn’t compensate for a wandering, haughty husband. ‘I appreciate your thoughtfulness,’ she managed to say evenly, ‘but we also have wealthy gentlemen back home. And, more to the point, money will not figure prominently in my choice of husband.’

Madame de Liven gave her a dubious look.

‘Of course it is desirable to live comfortably,’ Katrina amended. ‘But you should be aware that, while I appreciate your offer to assist me in finding a husband, I intend to follow my heart.’

‘You are referring to love?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are so very American. Love has no place in marriage. No one of consequence marries the person they love. They marry the person who is in a position to provide the best life possible.’

‘And by “the best life” you mean one with wealth and privilege?’

‘What else is there?’

‘Companionship, humour, trust—’

‘That is what your friends are for.’

Katrina rubbed her lips together, trying not to show her frustration. ‘Although I appreciate your interest in finding me a husband, it is not necessary.’

Madame de Lieven smiled regally, then let out a low sound that was almost a laugh. ‘I believe finding you well settled here will be highly entertaining. I expect I will see you at tomorrow night’s assembly. We can begin our search then.’

Katrina opened her mouth to protest again, but before she could get the words out Madame de Lieven motioned someone forward with her hand.

Mr Willis approached the table and bowed. ‘The musicians are ready,’ he informed her.

Clapping her hands together, Madame de Lieven motioned to the balcony and soft strains of music began to drift through the room. ‘I’ve asked you to meet me here today because Mr Willis believes he has found us a new orchestra and I am to determine if they will suit. I will be interested in your opinion of their abilities.’

Katrina was grateful for the change in subject. She had no desire to marry an Englishman, and she hoped she would be able to convince the persistent Madame de Lieven to let the matter rest.

* * *

Julian should have been reading the latest reports from his steward in Hertfordshire. Instead he had sought out Hart at Tattersalls. Luckily, his friend was predictable. Hart was inspecting the horses that were to be auctioned off tomorrow. He did little to hide the surprise in his greeting, but after a few minutes they fell into companionable silence while they watched three horses parade around the paddock.

‘That black thoroughbred looks very fine. Perhaps I will bid on him tomorrow.’ When Julian didn’t reply Hart watched him from the corner of his eye. ‘Although I am considering purchasing a mule instead. Do you think that would do?’

‘Yes...’ Julian murmured, while he considered once again his time at Helena’s. When had he stopped feeling the desire to bed her? They had agreed to a relationship based on satisfying each other’s physical needs. If he no longer desired her was there any reason to continue visiting her?

‘Splendid. I will send the bill to your house.’

‘Of course.’

Hart yanked him to a stop. ‘Julian, you have just agreed to buy me a mule. What the devil is wrong with you? All week your mind has been elsewhere.’

It took Julian a few blinks before Hart came into focus. Turning away from his friend’s inquisitive gaze, he looked out towards the horses. ‘Apologies, I’ve been wool-gathering.’

Hart placed his booted foot on the lower rung of the fence enclosing the horses and leaned his arms on the upper railing. ‘You don’t say? Will you tell me what has you so distracted?’

Julian stepped closer to his friend and crossed his arms over his chest. He hoped he would not come to regret this. ‘You know women...’

Hart grinned. ‘I like to believe I do.’

Taking a deep breath, Julian watched the horses as they ambled around the pen. If anyone overheard them it would stir up gossip. He moved closer to Hart and lowered his voice. ‘I went to see Helena this morning.’

‘A daytime visit—that’s a bit unusual,’ Hart said slowly.

‘I’m baffled. She’s a beautiful woman, but the entire time I was in her company my thoughts were elsewhere.’

‘On another woman?’

‘Yes.’

Hart rubbed away a small smile with his gloved hand. ‘Who?’

‘I don’t know her name,’ Julian said, in a low, forceful voice that did nothing to hide his frustration.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘She is new to London and we haven’t been introduced.’

‘So seek an introduction.’

‘It would only lead to more speculation on my affairs. It would not do for people to think I have an interest in her.’

‘Why not? It’s just an introduction—unless you’re planning on seducing her on the dance floor?’

That thought had crossed Julian’s mind—more times than he would care to admit even to himself. ‘It is not amusing. I have not been able to get her out of my head. I search for a glimpse of her whenever I am out. I think I hear her voice in crowded rooms. This is not normal.’

‘Maybe not for you, but at least it explains your odd behaviour.’

‘What do I do? How do I remove her from my thoughts?’

Hart shrugged his shoulders with careless ease. ‘Why would you want to? It’s evident that you want her, so end this association you have with Helena and pursue this woman.’

If only he could. ‘That is not an option,’ Julian replied, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

Hart faced him and crossed his arms. ‘What hold does Helena have on you?’

Julian let out a snort of disbelief. No woman directed his actions, and he would find a way to forget this American. He just needed to determine how to do that. ‘Helena has no hold over me.’

‘Prove it. End your association with her. If your interest lies elsewhere, follow it. You are making this more complicated than it needs to be.’

‘With this woman everything is complicated.’ Julian’s gaze drifted to the horses. ‘Besides, nothing could possibly come from an association between us. She’s an American.’

An indecipherable look flashed in Hart’s eyes. ‘So? Do you believe all Americans are cannibals, perform war dances, and run around with hatchets when they get angry? Make certain you do not call out another lady’s name while bedding her. She might scalp you.’

‘Very amusing.’

‘Don’t let her nationality prevent you from pursuing her. I imagine American women are quite uninhibited in bed.’

‘Well, I’m not going to find out.’ And it was driving him to distraction.

‘You need to stop being so bloody proper. I cannot see one benefit to not doing what I want, when I want. End what you have with Helena. It’s obvious your attention has shifted elsewhere.’

‘It is not that easy.’

‘Of course it is. You say, Helena, I am finished with you.’

‘Truly? Have you ever ended a relationship with a woman?’

‘That’s beside the point. We are discussing you. I know you too well. You, my friend, are boringly monogamous.’

‘Let it alone, Hart.’

‘Very well. Then continue to tup Helena while you imagine a certain miss who shall remain nameless.’

The statement left him unsettled and guilty. There was only one thing to do.

Chapter Six

Julian was not looking forward to seeing Helena before leaving for Westminster the next day. He might have sent her a note. It would have been far easier and much less painful on his part. But he could not be so callous. It wasn’t her fault that he’d met someone he couldn’t stop thinking about.

This time when he knocked on her door her butler didn’t appear surprised to see him. He was left to wait for her in the drawing room. The idea of sitting was not appealing, so he walked around the room to relieve his restlessness. A few minutes later Helena walked in, wearing her blood-red dressing gown.

‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I did not realise you would be preparing for the evening.’

‘I was resting, and didn’t see the point of dressing when I heard you were here. This is a pleasant surprise. Would you care for a brandy?’

He would have liked the entire bottle, but that would just muddle his brain so he politely declined.

She trailed her fingers down his chest. ‘Do you wish to retire upstairs? I could see to your comfort.’

No matter what room they were in, Julian knew he would not be comfortable. ‘I believe I’d prefer to remain here.’

A questioning look flashed in her grey eyes as she gestured towards the settee.

Julian chose an armchair instead.

Prowling behind him, Helena skimmed her fingers along his shoulders before lowering herself into the slightly worn silk armchair closest to him.

‘What brings you here today?’ she asked, reclining back. ‘You left rather abruptly the other day.’ She tipped her chin towards the box on his lap. ‘Is that your way of apologising?’

He handed her the blue velvet box. ‘It is...for a number of things...’

A look of confusion crossed her face before she slid her hand up his thigh. ‘I hope you will stay longer today, so I may thank you properly.’

The boldness of her gesture forced him to shift in his chair. He nodded towards the package in her hand, relieved to know that she was easily distracted by expensive objects. ‘Open it.’

Her eyes sparkled with eager anticipation as she lifted the lid. Slowly she pulled out the long strand of pearls and arranged them between her breasts, which were suddenly exposed through her open dressing gown.

He wished he could tell her she was wasting her efforts on him. ‘They suit you,’ he said. It was as much of a compliment as he could muster.

‘They are beautiful,’ she said, more interested in the pearls than in Julian. ‘They will go well with the new gown I have ordered from Madame Devy. Perhaps we could attend Drury Lane or Vauxhall, and I will wear them for you.’ She finally looked up at him. ‘I know how you dislike attracting attention, but I think we will turn some heads.’

Julian’s jaw clenched as he studied his brown leather gloves. ‘Helena, there is something I need to ask you.’ He turned his attention to her expectant expression. ‘You are aware that I have a deep regard for you?’

She smiled up at him. ‘I am.’

‘Well... I was wondering if you are content with the state of our friendship?’

‘What are you trying to say?’

‘When we began this liaison both of us knew it could not continue indefinitely the way it is.’

‘That is true,’ she said through a seductive smile. The scent of lavender filled the air as she leaned in closer.

‘And we both entered into this with a mutual understanding that eventually we would part ways.’

Her mouth fell open. ‘You are ending this?’

‘While I have enjoyed our time together, surely you knew that it would not last?’

‘I cannot believe you are doing this,’ she whispered. The sound of her heavy breathing mingled with the ticking of the clock. She jumped from her chair and poked him in the chest—hard. ‘Lord Hartwick is behind this.’

He pulled his brows together in puzzlement. ‘He has nothing to do with this.’

‘Then there is another woman.’ She eyed him up and down in disgust. ‘Have you offered for Morley’s chit? Your mother acts as if an announcement will be made any day.’

‘I have not offered for her. There is no other woman.’ She didn’t need to know the truth.

‘Why are you doing this?’ she demanded, clenching her fists at her sides.

‘I did not think you would be upset. You told me you had no intention of marrying again,’ he stated firmly.

‘And you believed me?’ she screamed. She stormed across the room with her head high, and then spun around. ‘And you give me pearls? We have been together all this time and you give me pearls!’

‘What is wrong with pearls? They are quite expensive.’

Her body visibly shook with rage. ‘You are the Duke of Lyonsdale! You should be giving me diamonds!’

His sympathy for her was quickly diminishing upon seeing her greedy nature. ‘I did not have to give you anything!’ he bellowed.

‘You selfish boor!’ She picked up a silver candlestick from the table closest to her and flung it at his head.

He ducked just in time.

‘I am worth diamonds—not pearls!’

Before his control slipped further he needed to leave. Striding across the room, he unlocked the door and didn’t look back.

When he stepped outside the soft breeze cooled his heated skin. His body hummed with anger at her selfishness. Sitting in his carriage would do him no good. He needed physical exertion. He would walk home—but first he needed to make one more stop.

Chapter Seven

Descending the staircase in the centre of Hatchards, Katrina scanned the room below her. This bookshop was one of her favourite places in London. The soft whispers and the occasional sound of the turning of pages were welcome after spending the entire morning on social calls with Mrs Forrester and Sarah.

As she continued to search for her maid Katrina let her gaze skim over the few patrons who were selecting books from the dark wooden bookshelves that lined the walls. An older woman in an elaborately decorated black hat was comparing books with a younger woman dressed demurely in lavender. Near them a dandy dressed in a navy jacket and puce trousers stood in a studied pose, reading the book he held through his quizzing glass.

Scanning the room further, Katrina felt her heart skip a beat. Standing near her maid, at a table piled with books, stood a broad-shouldered, dark-haired gentleman in a finely cut bottle-green coat, buckskin breeches and top boots. Was her time in London destined to be cursed with the presence of the rude Englishman from the Russian Ambassador’s ball?