Marguerite Kaye - Regency Surrender - Scandal And Deception

‘What has that to do with anything? I like my new slippers.’

‘Apparently so. Julian, have you seen anyone look at their feet...?’

* * *

The moment Katrina removed one pin from her hair Julian was transfixed. He watched as little by little ringlets of golden silk cascaded past her neck, down her back, and over the slope of her breasts.

Many nights he had pictured her in his bed with her hair down, and he had wondered how long it was. Would it cover her breasts if she rode him? Would it bounce against the small of her back as he took her from behind? Now he knew that the ends of her hair curled against the lower curves of her breasts. His mouth began to water as he imagined the feel of her hair against his cheek as he slid his tongue along those breasts...

Before he was aware of what he was doing, he slid his fingers into the soft strands. Everything around them fell away, and the only thing that mattered was the woman next to him. He kissed her softly and she placed her hand on his chest. He deepened the kiss, certain she must feel his heart and soul pounding against her hand.

‘I thought you said he was always proper?’ Miss Forrester’s voice broke the silence.

‘He was until he met your friend,’ Hart replied.

‘Maybe it’s your influence.’

‘I’ve tried for years to get him to follow his desires. This is none of my doing.’

‘I don’t believe they should be doing that, even with us in attendance.’

‘It is just a kiss.’

‘That is not just a kiss, Hartwick.’

‘No. I suppose you are correct, Miss Forrester. That definitely is not just a kiss.’

It was the last thing he wanted to do, but Julian managed to pull his head back. Katrina buried her face in his shoulder and he rubbed his cheek against her soft hair.

‘We can hear you.’ His voice sounded strained, even to his own ears.

‘We know,’ Hart said, taking a sip of wine.

It had taken all his restraint to leave his hand on Katrina’s jaw and not move it to any other part of her body. He was finally able to position one of his legs to hide the strain in his breeches. How could he have kissed her in front of Hart and Miss Forrester? How could the simple act of her taking down her hair have made him so excited? When could he get her alone to continue what they’d started?

‘Don’t you think it would be a good idea to show Miss Forrester the view?’ he suggested to Hart.

His friend smirked at him. ‘I have already done so.’

‘Perhaps she hasn’t seen all that this hill has to offer.’

‘I believe I have seen quite a bit of what this hill has to offer,’ Miss Forrester said dryly, raising her glass to her lips.

‘Do the two of you have something important to tell us?’ Hart said, as he crossed his legs in front of him and rocked his boots from side to side. ‘You have kissed each other in front of Miss Forrester and me. Should I be requesting pistols at dawn to defend Miss Vandenberg’s honour?’

Julian was about to chastise Hart, but Katrina spoke up first. ‘Don’t be nonsensical, Hartwick. You of all people should understand. It was simply a kiss.’

What did she mean, it was simply a kiss? Had it not been her lips he was kissing? Had she not felt that...that...thing?

‘So there is no impending announcement you wish to share with us?’ Hart asked.

‘Heavens, no,’ exclaimed Katrina with a light laugh.

Julian studied the woman whose lips were still wet from his kiss. She had moved away, putting distance between them. Did she have to sound so relieved that she would never need to marry him?

To hell with being cautious—he needed to see her alone again.

Chapter Eighteen

Walking among the rose bushes planted along the back wall of her garden, Katrina glanced up at the late morning sky. Earlier in the day, dark clouds had hung low. Now the sun’s rays were peeking through, and the air was heavy with the scent of fragrant blooms.

Reaching out with her cutting shears towards a red velvet bud, Katrina winced as she pricked herself on a thorn. How could something so beautiful be so dangerous?

Drawing her hand back, she sucked on her finger. That was the third time she’d pricked herself today. A wise person would know when to stop. There was no sense in risking further injury.

As she stepped onto the gravel path that led to the house a dragonfly flew past, reminding her of the one that had landed on Julian’s sleeve during their picnic. All too soon he would be a distant memory. He would marry a woman born to be a duchess—someone who had the family name and connections she did not. And she would return to America, hopefully to find a man who made her feel all the things Julian did. She had to believe that was possible, otherwise when their secret arrangement came to an end it would devastate her.

Wilkins met Katrina as she reached the steps of the terrace. He extended a polite bow. ‘You have a caller, miss.’

When she read Madame de Lieven’s name on the card she resisted the urge to hide back among the roses. But, after directing Wilkins to show her guest into the drawing room, Katrina removed her apron and went to make herself presentable.

When she entered the drawing room a short while later she found Madame de Lieven seated on the settee by the unlit fireplace, examining the blue Sèvres porcelain urn on the small table next to her. She looked up as Katrina took a seat across from her. They exchanged the usual pleasantries, and it wasn’t until the ladies were in the middle of tea that Madame de Lieven broached the expected subject of Mr Armstrong.

‘I understand he has sent you flowers?’ she said, eyeing a very elaborate floral display of white lilies and pink roses.

‘Yes, he has.’

‘Why have I not heard that you have been seen together?’

Katrina gave a noncommittal shrug, not sure how to respond to end the questioning.

Madame de Lieven took a long sip of tea and then placed the cup down slowly onto the saucer in her lap. ‘He is a man of means, with impressive connections. He will make you a fine husband. When will you see him again?’

‘I couldn’t say.’

‘I will arrange something.’

Was this what it would be like to have Lady Morley for a mother?

Katrina placed her own cup and saucer down on the table. ‘That is very kind of you, but as I have already mentioned I have no wish to find a husband here in England.’

‘Nonsense. I think you are not as averse to the idea as you might like me to believe.’ She stood and adjusted her gloves. ‘It was a pleasure to see you again, Miss Vandenberg.’

‘Thank you for your kind visit.’ The words were brittle on her tongue, but they came out smoothly.

She walked her guest down to the front door, but before she was free of Madame de Lieven for the day the woman turned with one final question.

‘Will you be attending the Hipswitch garden party?’

Having an inkling of what was to come, Katrina took a resigned breath. ‘I am. My father will likely be in meetings. I plan to attend with Mrs Forrester and her daughter.’

Madame de Lieven tied her bonnet. ‘I’m certain Mr Armstrong will be pleased to hear it.’

Katrina watched her walk down the steps and into her awaiting carriage. It wasn’t until the carriage had begun to roll down the street that Katrina closed the door and banged her head gently against the wood. Why hadn’t Madame de Lieven focused her attention on Sarah? She would be remaining in London much longer than Katrina, and therefore her potential ties to what was happening in the United States were greater. Unless the woman believed she had more time to forge a friendship of sorts with Sarah and would be hunting her down next.

Hopefully, arranging the flowers she had managed to collect would pull her thoughts from speculating on how bad the Hipswitch garden party was sure to be.