скачать книгу бесплатно
‘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 (#ulink_4e3d02d7-1da2-5417-a247-d0eeb90fd02a)
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 (#ulink_f66b8aff-66a6-54b5-a0c5-392ab6aa571d)
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?
Katrina hesitated on the staircase, wondering if she should turn around and go back upstairs before he spotted her. Suddenly he lifted his head, as if sensing her gaze, and their eyes met. She could not turn back now. Taking a breath, she gripped the wooden banister and proceeded to slowly walk down the stairs towards Meg.
Katrina picked up the first volume of Frankenstein and thumbed through the pages. ‘Have you found anything of interest?’ she asked Meg.
Her maid smiled and showed Katrina the book in her hand.
‘I do not believe Clarissa is an appropriate choice for you,’ Katrina said.
‘I’ve heard it’s scandalous, and I’m hoping they have it at the lending library. The heroine is told to marry an unappealing gentleman and then is tricked into running away by a rake. I bet there is a dungeon in the story. I love a story that takes place in a dungeon.’ Meg sighed and then glanced inquisitively at the book in Katrina’s hand.
Taking into account her maid’s vivid imagination, Katrina quickly placed Frankenstein back on the table. ‘I’m well aware of the plot. You do know you can borrow any of my books?’
‘Do they have dungeons, kidnappings, evil earls or ghosts?’
‘No.’
‘Then why do you think I would want to read them?’ Meg asked, wrinkling her brow.
There was a deep laugh from across the table. Keeping her head averted under the rim of her bonnet, Katrina blocked her view of the gentleman across the table. Searching for a more appropriate novel, Katrina spotted a copy of her father’s book. As she reached for it her hand brushed against a strong hand encased in a brown leather glove. Startled, she looked up.
‘We meet again,’ the annoying Englishman said.
No, we don’t, because you are too rude to seek an introduction!
Katrina took a breath to compose herself before she spoke. ‘So it would seem.’
‘Forgive me. I believe that is the book I have been searching for.’
‘This book?’ Katrina asked, holding it up to show him the title on the spine.
‘Yes, that is it.’ He reached for another copy and began to turn the pages. There was a hesitation before he looked up at her. ‘I’ve heard it’s a very good book. You would not happen to know anything about it, would you?’
‘I can highly recommend it. The book presents the observations of a traveller and contains much happy humour.’
Katrina glanced around the shop to see if anyone was watching them. Meg had moved to a nearby bookcase, engrossed in Clarissa. What was the point of having your maid accompany you around the town if she walked away when the man you wanted to avoid began speaking with you?
He walked around the table and stood next to her, smelling of leather and fresh air. ‘The account is humorous?’
‘Yes, Lord Byron has said he knows it by heart, and Scott has said it is positively beautiful. I understand the book is selling rather quickly. You might wish to purchase one before they are all sold.’ She looked closely at him, challenging him to actually buy it.
‘You appear intimately acquainted with the book,’ he commented, his eyes narrowing.
‘I suppose I am. My father is the author.’
‘You are Mr Vandenberg’s daughter?’ he asked in a rush of breath.
‘Yes, my lord, I am.’ She crossed her arms over her chest. If he said one disparaging thing about the fact that her father was a writer she was leaving immediately. He would deserve the cut.
He tipped his head to her. ‘Then I shall be certain to take your recommendation. My grandmother speaks highly of it as well.’
‘Your grandmother?’
‘Yes. My grandmother seems to have misplaced her copy. I came here today to purchase a new one for her.’
He was intending to purchase her father’s book because his grandmother had lost her copy? That seemed rather...sweet.
Katrina caught herself before she smiled. He wasn’t sweet. He was rude! Still, she couldn’t help asking him if he was a doting grandson.
‘I suppose I am.’
He smiled at her and he appeared even more attractive.
‘She seemed truly distressed to discover it missing.’
He stepped a bit closer and inhaled. Was that some odd English custom?
Katrina eyed him and placed her father’s book down. ‘Did you just sniff me?’ she whispered.
A small smile raised one corner of his lips. ‘Now, why would I do that?’
‘Why, indeed?’ Katrina replied, narrowing her eyes at him.
She edged a little further down the table. The heat from his body somehow made its way over to her. This man had ignored her for days. Why couldn’t her body do the same to him? She could practically feel his every breath. That slightly unsettling feeling was back.
‘If you will excuse me?’ she said, turning to leave.
He blocked her way with his body. ‘You do not need to leave yet, do you?’
‘I cannot stay. You must realise our speaking without an introduction is highly improper.’ It was easier not to look at him, and she picked unseen strings from her pale blue and white spencer.
He glanced around and edged closer to her. ‘That didn’t bother you before.’
‘A momentary lapse in judgement.’
‘No one here knows we have not been formally introduced,’ he said quietly.
‘We know we have not,’ she chided. ‘And you have done it again! You sniffed me.’ She stepped away from him, feeling more than a little unsettled. ‘I can assure you Americans do bathe.’
His lips twitched. ‘Why do you smell like lemons, Miss Vandenberg?’
Katrina’s brows drew together in confusion. ‘That is irrelevant—and I refuse to carry on this conversation when I do not even know your name.’
‘We could remedy that easily. I could simply tell you what it is.’
‘Do you always flout the English rules of conduct?’
He appeared to ponder her question for a moment. Then he shook his head. ‘Actually, I never do. However, I see no harm in it this time. But if you insist we will do this in the proper manner. I shall need to borrow your maid.’
