He looked over at her. ‘What is your opinion on the matter, Miss Vandenberg? It is your question we are addressing.’
She rubbed her lips. ‘Hartwick in his shirtsleeves is having no effect on me. I suppose if we are to be scientific on the matter we need you to remove your coat as well.’
He smiled at her and her stomach flipped. ‘I am glad to hear he has no effect on you.’
‘Yes, yes...we know. I have no effect on the ladies,’ Hart said impatiently, with a wave of his hand. ‘Just take your damn coat off.’
‘Tut-tut, Hartwick. There is no need to resort to such language,’ Sarah said in amusement.
‘Very well,’ Julian said.
Reluctantly, he stood and removed his coat.
The air left her lungs as she watched his brown coat fall away, revealing a broad chest behind his yellow waistcoat and a pair of strong, curved shoulders. Maybe the English were correct. Maybe women should not see men in their shirtsleeves.
‘I am sorry,’ Sarah said. ‘It appears we still have no answer as to why men need to remain in their coat-tails.’
‘Wait, Miss Forrester,’ Hartwick said slowly. ‘Miss Vandenberg hasn’t given us her opinion.’
What could she say? Could you remove your waistcoat and shirt as well?
She scratched the back of her neck and bit her lip. ‘You look very nice without your coat.’
He looked triumphantly at his friend.
‘Just because she gave you a compliment it doesn’t mean you look better than I do. Miss Vandenberg is being polite and doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.’
‘This is not a comparison of who looks better, Hartwick,’ Sarah said. ‘We are trying to determine if seeing a man in his shirtsleeves causes us to act irrationally.’
‘Are you sure, Miss Forrester, that you have no desire to act the least bit irrationally?’ Hartwick asked, wiggling his brows.
‘No, Hartwick. I have no desire to do so at all.’
Katrina shifted her gaze to Julian’s yellow silk waistcoat and bit her thumb. She had a longing to slide her hands over his firm chest to his broad shoulders. Her gaze edged to those inviting lips of his...
‘I have already showed you the view of the river, have I not, Miss Forrester?’ Hartwick called out.
‘Yes, but I suppose one can never fully appreciate such a lovely view unless one sees it for a second time.’
Julian was staring at Katrina, making her feel incredibly warm.
‘We can hear you,’ he bit out.
Sarah laughed, and Hartwick cleared his throat. ‘Would you like us to leave the two of you alone?’ he asked.
‘That would be highly improper, Hartwick,’ Sarah said, ‘since His Grace is in his shirtsleeves.’
‘Sarah! Honestly...’ chided Katrina, narrowing her eyes at her friend.
Julian turned to Hartwick. ‘So when I finally do something improper this is how you react?’
Hartwick raised his hands in surrender. ‘We are only trying to be accommodating. So, I think we have determined the reason why it’s improper for men to be seen in their shirtsleeves by ladies.’
Katrina turned to Hartwick. ‘No, we have not. Sarah and I are completely composed.’
‘Well, I am anyway,’ muttered her traitorous friend.
‘What other rules can we test today?’ asked Hartwick eagerly. ‘Is there some article of clothing you are not supposed to remove in our presence? I am open to suggestions.’
‘You rake!’ replied Katrina, laughing. ‘Are you trying to get us to show you our ankles?’
‘Your hair,’ Julian said suddenly.
All three turned to him, and he shrugged.
‘A lady’s hair is usually pinned up.’
Hartwick sat up. ‘That’s the spirit. We are in our shirtsleeves and you owe us a boon. I think Julian has a fine idea. You ladies should take down your hair and Julian and I will see if we can resist you.’
Sarah eyed Hartwick. ‘Suppose you lose your senses and your over-amorous nature overcomes you?’
‘That’s what Julian is here for. He is forever proper.’
‘He is sitting here in his shirtsleeves,’ Katrina pointed out sceptically as she eyed him up and down.
‘Oh, please... He has so much restraint that even if his life depended on it he would never touch you. He is the epitome of the proper English aristocrat,’ Hartwick said, with sarcasm in his voice.
Julian turned to his friend. ‘You speak as if being responsible and acting honourably is a bad thing. Maybe you would find yourself in less trouble if you tried it.’
Katrina peered through the lowest hanging branches towards Sarah’s barouche. ‘What do you think the footmen will say if they see us like this?’
‘Do not fret. No one can see us,’ replied Hartwick as he chewed on a long piece of grass.
‘Why do I believe you have said that before?’ Katrina muttered.
‘Why, Miss Vandenberg, I am offended,’ Hartwick said, bringing his hand to his chest. ‘I think there is a bit of fire in you.’
She turned to Julian. ‘Was that a compliment?’
The enticing man with the broad shoulders shrugged. ‘It’s difficult to tell.’
‘Of course it was a compliment. A lady with a bit of fire in her is much more enjoyable than a milksop.’
‘You thought I was a milksop?’
‘No. As I said, you have a bit of fire in you. Miss Forrester, on the other hand, is infinitely boring.’
Sarah shook her head. ‘You are only saying that because I did not swoon when you removed your coat.’
‘No. For that, I think you may need spectacles. But we are getting away from the point. I believe Julian challenged you ladies to take down your hair?’
‘It was hardly a challenge. I was simply curious.’
‘I am trying to help facilitate your request,’ Hartwick replied impatiently. ‘Perhaps you could persuade the ladies. They seem to trust you more than me.’
‘I can’t imagine why,’ muttered Katrina.
Sarah cleared her throat, catching their attention. ‘I believe we are testing theories today. Katrina, please remove the pins from your hair.’ Sarah began to arrange her own hairpins on the skirt of her cinnamon-coloured gown. ‘We can easily re-pin each other shortly.’
Hartwick laughed out loud. ‘Well done, Miss Forrester.’ He made a show of studying her. ‘Now, what colour is that, exactly?’ His eyes dropped to his mud-splattered boots and he smiled. ‘Oh, I know. You hair is an earthy colour.’
‘It is chestnut, Hartwick,’ Sarah said, shaking out her hair. ‘A gleaming, glossy chestnut. Which you would realise if you weren’t so self-absorbed,’ she teased.
‘I am self-absorbed? How many times today have you admired your slippers?’
‘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.
A rustling sound from inside the nearby dining room caught her attention, and she walked to the doorway to see what it was. As she crossed the threshold she was startled by Julian’s presence inside the room. He was wearing a navy tailcoat, a white silk embroidered waistcoat, and buckskin breeches tucked into a pair of shiny top boots.
She blinked a few times, trying to make certain that he was real and not a figment of her wishful imagination. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘That is a fine way to greet your guest,’ he said with an impish grin.
She stepped closer to him and closed the door behind her. ‘You are skulking in my dining room. What did you expect me to say?’
He took her hands and pulled her even closer with little resistance. ‘I’m not skulking. I came to read with you and was told Madame de Lieven was here. I informed your butler that I would wait for you in here.’
‘You asked to wait in my dining room?’
‘It is the closest room to your front door. I did not feel it wise to proceed further into your home.’
‘You cannot stay. My father is working in his study. If he were to see you, how would we explain your presence?’
‘I have an ideal solution. Come for a drive with me. We can read in the carriage.’
He nuzzled her neck and her legs grew weak.
&n
bsp; She tilted her head, exposing more of her skin for his kisses. ‘Someone will see.’
‘We will be in a closed carriage with the drapes drawn.’ His soft kisses were turning into nips. ‘I promise no one will see us.’
‘They’ll see me entering it with you. That will never do. You should return another day.’
Turning him away was not what she wanted, but they had no choice. They were sure to get caught.
‘I have Hart’s unmarked carriage parked in the mews. I’ll leave now and have the driver stop in front of your house. No one will know I am inside.’
‘I don’t know—’
His warm hands cupped her face and he kissed her deeply. Would there ever be a time when his kisses did not affect her so? He pulled back and studied her closely, as if he were looking for a reaction. What that reaction was, she couldn’t imagine. A wisp of hair had come loose by her left temple, and she blew at the strand with a puff of air.
‘Come for a drive with me before I have to leave for Westminster.’ That devilish smile of his was not helping her resolve. ‘You know you want to.’
‘You are not as charming as you think,’ she replied through a reluctant smile.
‘Yes, I am.’ He laughed low and cradled her neck in his hands. ‘The longer we remain here, the greater chance there is for discovery. Now, go and retrieve the book and meet me in the carriage.’
There were times when anticipation and excitement could cloud one’s judgement. For Katrina, this was one of those times. ‘Very well. I will go with you.’
He held her gaze as he kissed the inside of her wrist. A tingle spread up her arm and down her side. If he continued in this fashion she would be tempted to suggest they lock the door and remain in the dining room all afternoon.
It appeared he had read her thoughts, and he straightened in an overly confident manner. ‘I will show myself out. And Katrina...’ he adjusted his cuffs ‘...do hurry.’
She stepped away from the door and his sleeve brushed against her arm as he walked past. Moments later she heard the door to her house open and close. Her heart raced. She tried to catch her breath. Low in her abdomen her muscles flipped as she imagined kissing him again...
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