An Unsuitable Duchess

by Laurie Benson

People from various classes and backgrounds were strolling around the British Museum as Katrina and Sarah made their way from one marble statue to the next.

  ‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about. I understand they are quite old, but most of them are broken,’ Sarah mused.

  Suddenly both women stopped at a marble sculpture of a nude man reclining.

  ‘On the other hand,’ Sarah continued, ‘I’m beginning to see what merit there is to these works.’

  They both tilted their heads slightly, taking in the statue’s details.

  ‘Do you think it is accurate?’ Katrina whispered. ‘Even the size?’

  Sarah gave a gentle tug on her arm. ‘If we have seen one naked man today, I am sure we will see others.’

  Heat began to creep up Katrina’s face and she lowered her head. Still, the prospect of actually seeing what was inside a man’s breeches was too great a temptation. She turned her head one last time before Sarah pulled her forward.

  ‘I noticed the beautiful bouquet in your drawing room earlier,’ Sarah said with a smile. ‘I presume the roses were from Monsieur DuBois? He is very handsome, and he was attentive to you last night at the musicale.’

  Katrina lifted her shoulder. ‘He is passable.’

  ‘Come, now, with his dark eyes and comely features, you must admit he is fine on the eyes.’

  Katrina shrugged again.

  Sarah looked surprised. ‘He is not to your liking?’

  ‘He is...in some respects. DuBois is pleasant company, and we have things in common...’

  ‘But?’

  Katrina wished she could explain it—especially to herself. Monsieur DuBois was a lovely man. She enjoyed his company. When they had first met in Paris, months ago, she’d fancied herself smitten with him. However, things had changed since she had arrived in London. Lyonsdale had tried to kiss her.

  ‘He doesn’t make my heart race.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware you thought requiring a physician was desirable,’ Sarah said, laughing.

  ‘I believe a man should make you feel something. When he kisses you it should feel like...’

  ‘When he kisses you it should make you feel as if you can’t quite catch your breath.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘So kissing him does not make you feel like that?’

  Katrina shook her head. ‘We shared one small kiss in Paris. My breathing never altered.’

  There was no reason that Sarah needed to know the kiss hadn’t exactly been a small one. At the time she had thought it a great passionate adventure to be held in his arms and kissed deeply. Now she was trying to recall why she had thought it was so wonderful. Perhaps because it had been her first kiss. Lyonsdale had merely bushed his lips against hers and she had felt as if she would melt into the floor. There was no telling what would have happened if she had allowed him to actually kiss her.

  ‘I think the next time you find yourself alone with DuBois you should kiss him again.’

  ‘Sarah!’ she chided, looking around.

  ‘No one can hear. My mother is in the next gallery,’ her friend replied dismissively. ‘Perhaps he was trying not to offend your delicate feminine sensibilities.’

  ‘Sarah, he is French.’ Katrina rolled her eyes. ‘And I am not going to kiss him again. Let’s concentrate on the exhibition.’

  ‘I think our discussion is infinitely more interesting,’ Sarah countered, trudging behind her to the next group of statues.

  * * *

  Julian wasn’t surprised that Hart had already moved on to the next gallery. When he finally caught up with him he found his friend lounging against the large doorway with his arms crossed, staring into the second room displaying the Elgin Marbles.

  ‘You know, you might not grumble every time I mention coming here if you actually took the time to look at the pieces,’ Julian commented, approaching his side.

  ‘I believe the attendees are much more stimulating subjects.’ Hart motioned with his head to the other side of the room. ‘I have been watching them for the last ten minutes. They really are quite entertaining.’

  Julian looked across the room and froze. This could not be happening. He had thought he might be making progress. He hadn’t thought of her once since early morning. Fate truly was playing tricks on him.

  Miss Vandenberg looked fetching in a small navy bonnet and a navy pelisse over a pale green dress, and she appeared to be enjoying the time she was spending with Miss Forrester.

  ‘I understand you waltzed together.’

  Julian was uneasy with the mischief in his friend’s eyes. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I read the papers, like everyone else—albeit later in the day. What do you say you introduce me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I promise to behave.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Windsucker.’

  ‘Dolt.’

  Hart tossed the lock of hair out of his eyes. ‘Well, I think you’re going to have to do something. It seems the lady knows you are here.’

  The moment their eyes met every part of Julian’s body reacted to the sight of her. When she gave him a small smile he managed to nod in return.

  ‘Capital! You’ve been acknowledged. Now, go and speak with her.’

  What could he possibly say to her when all he could think about was taking her to some remote area of the museum? Trying to kiss her had been highly improper. What if she was angry with him for his boldness?

  He was at war with himself. Part of him wanted to go over to her and remain with her for the rest of the day. The other part of him knew that spending any more time with her would make him miserable with unfulfilled longing.

  ‘Are you going to stare at her all afternoon?’ teased Hart.

  ‘The thought did occur to me.’

  * * *

  Katrina could actually hear the pounding of her own heart. She had spied Lyonsdale standing near the doorway and simply wanted to observe him. But he had caught her staring, and Katrina had been so embarrassed she had lowered her head so he wouldn’t witness her blush. Now, because they had made eye contact, he would feel obligated to say hello.

  With a confident stride he crossed the gallery with his companion and stopped a few feet in front of her. ‘I hope you ladies are both well,’ he said, inclining his head politely.

  She struggled with the urge to finish the kiss he had started. ‘Yes, thank you, and you?’ she said, twisting her finger around the braided handle of her reticule.

  ‘Quite well, thank you,’ he replied, and then introduced Katrina and Sarah to his friend, Lord Hartwick.

  ‘Have you both been enjoying the exhibition?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘He has,’ replied Lord Hartwick. ‘I must confess broken statues do not hold my interest—especially when most of them are of men.’

  Lyonsdale eyed his friend sharply, and a silent communication passed between them before Lyonsdale turned back to Katrina. ‘Has any particular piece caught your eye?’ he asked.

  Why was it that the only sculpture she could remember seeing was that of the nude man? Was Lyonsdale as muscular as the man carved out of marble? From the way the cut of his coat accentuated his frame, he appeared to be. There had to be another piece of art she could remember seeing...

  ‘The horse’s head,’ she blurted out, grateful she had thought of such an innocuous piece.

  ‘It is quite lifelike, is it not? I enjoy the friezes myself.’

  Their almost kiss had muddled her brain. Katrina was beginning to picture his head upon the statue that had so intrigued her earlier. That odd flutter was back, low in her abdomen, and the air was growing thin. If she didn’t distance herself from him immediately she was certain to make a cake of herself.

  ‘Well, it was nice to see you again. I believe we will leave you gentlemen to your leisure and continue on.’

  When Lyonsdale inclined his head and was about to turn away, his friend cleared his throat. Katrina caught the questioning look that crossed Lyonsdal
e’s face.

  Lord Hartwick tipped his head. ‘I believe, ladies, that you could not have a better guide than His Grace. Perhaps you would be interested in having him explain the Marbles to you?’

  Katrina eyed both men hesitantly. How could she possibly say no without insulting Lyonsdale? But if she spent any more time with him in a room full of barely clad statues she might tug him behind one and kiss him till he had trouble breathing as well.

  ‘It is very kind of you to offer, however, we would not want to keep you longer than necessary with our pace,’ she said, feeling Sarah’s eyes on her.

  ‘I assure you it would be of no inconvenience. Although I can understand you wanting to take your time with the exhibition,’ Lyonsdale said, glancing at his friend.

  ‘Well...thank you again for your offer,’ she said, linking her arm through Sarah’s. Hopefully the air was cooler in the adjoining gallery. ‘Perhaps we will see each other again.’

  * * *

  When Miss Vandenberg and her friend were a good distance away, Julian rounded on Hart. ‘What in the world possessed you to do that?’

  ‘Well, pardon me for trying to extend the encounter.’

  ‘Next time do not lend me your assistance.’

  ‘Next time I won’t. You are on your own, Romeo.’

  ‘Do not call me that.’

  Hart shook his head. ‘You must be aware that the two of you produce an interesting display when you’re together. It’s like nothing I’ve witnessed with you before.’

  ‘What display?’

  ‘When the two of you stare at one other, one might expect you each to drag the other behind some grand statue in this room.’ Hart glanced around. ‘Possibly that one over there.’

  Julian’s eyes narrowed. ‘She declined your offer to have me show her the Marbles. What in the world could possibly make you think she wants me?’

  She had also refused his kiss, however, he was not about to state that fact. Her eagerness to leave just now told him how insulted she must be by his improper advance. He had allowed his passion to overtake him. Guilt churned in his gut.

  ‘Oh, we are not playing the two young simpering misses, are we? If there is one thing I know, it’s the look of a woman who wants to be taken. Now, don’t expect me to give you an exact recounting of the number of times she glanced at you and the way her breathing increased when you drew close to her.’

  None of this could be true. ‘How do you know her breathing increased?’

  ‘Her lovely little breasts rose most rapidly.’

  Julian’s right hand curled into a fist. ‘What were you doing staring at her breasts?’ he said through his teeth.

  ‘Pardon me—have we met?’ Hart crooked his lip. ‘I’m curious. Have you called out her name yet when you’re with Helena? If you have, please tell me she noticed.’

  Julian tugged at the cuff of his sleeve. ‘You’ll be pleased to know I have ended my association with Helena.’

  A broad smile broke out on Hart’s face. ‘You have been keeping secrets from me. Not at all sporting of you. Did she turn some tables?’

  ‘She threw a candlestick at me, but I managed to save my head. She was offended that the pearls I gave her weren’t diamonds. Apparently a duke should give diamonds when he ends a liaison. Did you know that? I didn’t. Glad I never did give her any, though.’

  ‘So now you are free to pursue the lovely Miss V?’

  ‘She is an unmarried woman. I’ll not ruin her.’

  Hart eyed him closely. ‘Perhaps you should marry her, then.’

  ‘What? You are talking about marriage? You who repeatedly defile the sanctity of such a union all over Town?’

  ‘Well, I am not talking about me. You are too honourable to have her any other way, and you have a disturbing need to get leg-shackled again. Why not now? Why not to her? Once you get over this obsession with her you can find amusements elsewhere.’

  ‘She is an American.’

  ‘She is hardly running around in animal skins.’

  ‘So I should throw away centuries of the Lyonsdale bloodline to marry an untitled woman who isn’t even English? How do they even raise their children in America?’ Just the idea of it was making him sweat.

  ‘Do you believe that if you marry her you will create green dwarf children with pointed ears? She is pretty, appears intelligent, and she comports herself well. I am sure her children will follow suit. If anything, she is the one who would be making a sacrifice. After all, your children could resemble you.’

  ‘I am a duke. It’s not done.’

  Julian’s eyes drifted to the doorway and he clenched his jaw. He wanted her—more than anything. But it was his lot in life that he could not have her.

  ‘Very well. However, it makes no sense to me why you would want to remain this frustrated.’

  ‘I am not frustrated,’ Julian replied, more loudly than he had intended.

  Hart grinned in triumph.

  Spinning on his heels, Julian cursed his friend as he walked away.

  * * *

  Later that evening Julian sat at his desk and stared at the blurred writing on the paper in front of him. He should have been focusing on memorising the words he had written, since he would be delivering them to a chamber full of his peers in a few days’ time. Instead he was continuing to mull over Miss Vandenberg’s reaction to him at the museum. It had been apparent that she couldn’t wait to leave his side. She was an unmarried woman, and he had tried to kiss her. Of course she had been insulted by his actions. Hart’s assessment of their encounter had been all wrong.

  Julian was not in the habit of apologising for anything. This time he needed to make an exception.

  A low knock on his door broke the silence of the room. His mother stood in the doorway, dressed for her evening engagements. He motioned for her to enter and she took a seat across from him.

  ‘You are working late, I see,’ she said, adjusting her gloves.

  ‘I am memorising a speech.’

  ‘I hear you are expected to give an address this week. I hope the vote is in your favour.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She shifted a little in her chair and glanced down at her hands, folded in her lap. ‘You have brought nothing but honour to this family. I am very proud of the man you have become.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he replied, taken aback by her unusual praise.

  ‘I’m aware that you do not appreciate me pestering you to find a suitable bride, but I only do so because I’m interested in what is best for you.’

  ‘And you believe what is best for me is Lady Mary Morley?’ He sat back and crossed his legs, knowing it was time to begin showing an interest in the girl.

  ‘I do. She is from a prominent family, and she has been trained in how to comport herself as a duchess.’ His mother leaned forward in her seat. ‘Lady Mary is graceful, accomplished, and she appears robust. Since she is but seventeen, she should have many years ahead of her to bear you a number of children. She will be an asset to you—not a hindrance. Surely you must see she is an ideal choice?’

  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. Bu
t 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?