Читать книгу The Complete Regency Surrender Collection - Энни Берроуз, Louise Allen - Страница 84

Chapter Twenty-Five

‘You need to move it more to the left.’

The footmen rehanging the massive painting shifted it according to Julian’s direction. He leaned against the wall opposite where they were hanging the portrait of the Fifth Duke and sipped his coffee. He had been having breakfast in his bedchamber when Reynolds had arrived to inform him the portrait had been located. Eager to see his mysterious ancestor, Julian had left his untouched plate and met him in the gallery.

This painting stood out from the others. It showed a man standing tall in a country setting, with a hooded falcon perched on his gloved hand. He looked out at the viewer with the expression of a man who enjoyed life. Julian almost smiled at the notion that Katrina probably wouldn’t have minded having him at her dinner table.

One of the hardest things he had ever done was leaving her in Hart’s carriage last night to go and find Miss Forrester. If he could have had his way, he would have spirited her off to his home and tucked her into his bed, where he would have been able to hold her in his arms for days. But it had not escaped his notice that she had not wanted his comfort. His heart ached unbearably.

During his ride home from the ball, Helena’s words played over in his head.

‘You are free to choose the life you want. You have everything.’

He didn’t have everything. He didn’t have Katrina. And she was more important to him than anything else. One day he would close his eyes for the last time, and deep down he knew he would still be thinking about her. Was that the life he wanted? A life of sadness and regret?

It was time for him to live his own life and not an imitation of his father’s. His mother was wrong. He deserved more than contentment. He deserved to be happy. It was time he wrote his own story of what made a man an honourable duke.

‘Reynolds told me I would find you here,’ his mother said, marching into the gallery and eyeing the footmen with a perplexed expression.

He dismissed the servants as she approached his side, dressed for an outing.

‘You’re venturing out early today, I see,’ he remarked.

‘The renovations are complete. I want to inspect my home before I have my things moved back tomorrow,’ she said, adjusting her gloves. ‘I assume you have heard the news about your old friend?’

Julian closed his eyes and let out a resigned breath. ‘What has Hart done now?’

Her forehead creased before she caught herself and relaxed her features. ‘Not him. Lady Wentworth.’ The crease in her forehead was back. ‘Did you not read the papers this morning?’

He shook his head. It was the first day in ages he had not. He had been too busy resurrecting the Fifth Duke. His stomach bottomed out. He had planned to speak with someone about pushing for her debts to be called in today.

‘She was found in her home late last night. She poisoned herself. The papers are saying she could barely pay her bills. The servants confirmed it.’

His blood ran cold. So this was how things would end between them. ‘Was there a note?’

His mother shook her head. ‘The papers didn’t mention one.’

Part of him knew he should feel some sympathy for her, but after having a gun pointed at his head and knowing what she had planned to do with Katrina, he felt nothing but relief.

Next to him, his mother turned and studied the portrait of the Fifth Duke, now hanging where it belonged. ‘Where did that come from?’

He welcomed the change in subject. ‘The attic.’

‘Is that the Fifth Duke?’

‘It is.’

She turned to Julian and eyed him up and down. ‘There is a striking resemblance between the two of you.’

Was there? The shape and colour of the eyes were similar, as was the shade and wave of the man’s hair. He had a square jaw, and his aquiline nose seemed to possess the same small bump in the middle that Julian knew his had. Now that she mentioned it, he could see the resemblance.

‘Why is he here? He is not fit to hang with the others.’

Julian took a slow sip of his coffee. ‘I think he is.’

The Fifth Duke had been on Julian’s mind since Katrina had asked about him. He wasn’t sure what the man had done, since there was no reference to him in the family history. Perhaps he had simply lived a good life in the country, taking care of his estates and the people who lived on them. A man could be a good duke without needing the world to tell him he was.

Winter was right. He was not a party of one man. Others shared his political and ethical beliefs. Together they were stronger than one man alone. If he could share his knowledge and write impassioned speeches, did it really matter who said the words to get the votes they needed? And it truly was in Britain’s best interest to improve its relationship with America. There were others who believed that as well. He recalled Hart telling him that Julian’s great achievement might be to aid in improving relations between the countries.

He wasn’t certain if he was simply convincing himself of this to justify marrying Katrina, or because it was true. What he did know, without a doubt, was that he would place his need to be with her above everything else. He was a duke of England, but life was fleeting—it was time he took what he wanted!

‘There is something you should know,’ he said to his mother, who was staring at him with trepidation.

‘Why do I believe I will not approve of what it is you have to say?’

‘I will be asking for Miss Vandenberg’s hand today. God willing, she will accept.’

His mother blanched. ‘You can’t mean that. She is an American. She has no understanding of what it means to be a duchess.’

‘You told me you would defer to me on who I choose to marry.’

His normally aloof mother shook with anger. ‘Yes, but that was when I was certain you would be choosing Lady Mary! You assured me that caricature was a political satire and nothing more.’

‘Miss Vandenberg is an intelligent, charming woman who is the daughter of a diplomat. She would make an excellent choice for my duchess.’

‘Have you gone mad? Your father would never have approved of her. He understood what was expected of your title. That was why he chose Emma for you. You are Lyonsdale. Miss Vandenberg’s family isn’t even English! Your ancestors fought alongside Kings and served in the courts of many of our monarchs. She comes from a family of shipyard owners, and her father writes novels. What honour is there in that?’

Julian placed his cup down on the nearby window ledge and tried to steady his anger. ‘She will bear my heir if I decide that is what I wish. I suggest, madam, that you remember I am the head of this family. I will no longer tolerate your interference with my life.’

‘You will lose the respect of influential men, and people will mock you behind your back,’ seethed his mother.

Not everyone would feel that way—although he knew there were men who would be angry with him for choosing to marry an American over their very suitable daughters. ‘I can manage the ton.’

She placed her hand on her stomach and seemed to labour for breath. ‘If you do this there will be no turning back.’

He didn’t want to turn back. Behind him were the choices he had made about Katrina that he wasn’t proud of. He prayed she would find it in her heart to forgive him.

* * *

Hours later, Julian stood on the steps of Katrina’s home, staring at the round brass knocker and wondering for the tenth time if he would be received. He was a duke from one of the most respected families in the realm. However, he wasn’t certain that would make much of a difference this morning to Katrina’s father. The man had forbidden him from calling on his daughter. Common decency dictated that he respect the man’s wishes. Perhaps he would blame this transgression on lack of sleep.

Before he could lift his hand to knock, the door opened smoothly and he was met with the sight of her butler. The man was English, and therefore well versed in the respect a duke should be given. However, this man also knew of the times when Julian had called on Katrina in secret, and there was something in his eyes that told Julian he would bar him entrance into the home if he could.

‘Good day, Your Grace. May I help you?’

‘I am here to see Miss Vandenberg. Is she at home?’

There was a hesitation before the door was opened further and Julian was ushered inside. This time when Wilkins went to present his card to Katrina, he left Julian waiting in the entrance hall. It was a silent statement that Julian did not miss. He was not welcome here.

The sound of footfalls caught his attention, and he wasn’t entirely surprised when Mr Vandenberg walked into the hall. The man did not extend his hand in greeting. ‘Good morning, Your Grace. Would you care to join me in my study?’

The coolness of his tone could have chilled a steaming cup of tea.

What exactly did Katrina’s father know about last night?

Julian followed him into the study and took the seat by the desk that was offered.

Mr Vandenberg walked around his desk and sat down. ‘What can I do for you today?’ His voice was professional and not the least bit friendly.

Julian pushed his shoulders back and raised his chin. ‘Actually, sir, I am here to see your daughter.’

‘I thought we had agreed you would not have any contact with her. Yet here you are.’ Julian opened his mouth to reply but the man held up his hand to stop him. ‘Let’s not speak in pretence. I am well aware of what occurred last night, and I have read the papers this morning.’ He arched a knowing brow. ‘While I am in your debt for bringing her home safely to me, it does not change the fact that the two of you have no reason to see one another. Twice you have almost damaged her reputation. That is reason enough. Rumour has it you are a man of high moral standards. If that is true, why are you here? What do you want?’

All last night Julian had tossed and turned, worrying about how she was faring, both physically and emotionally. He had wanted to hold her in his arms until she fell asleep and assure her all would be well. But he hadn’t been able to—and it had burned in his gut. He needed to apologise and he needed to do it now.

‘I am sorry for all the pain I have caused her. It was not done intentionally, I assure you. I have the highest regard for your daughter.’

‘And yet you do not regard her highly enough.’

The last time Julian had walked out of this house he had been devastated by the loss he’d felt. Now he knew what his grandmother had meant about finding that spark in life. Katrina was his. She had helped him realise he did not need to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and that he was entitled to have some happiness.

‘You do not understand the depth of my feelings for her.’

‘I understand that, given a choice, you chose to end your association with her instead of offering for her hand.’

‘To save her reputation.’

‘To save your own.’

‘And my heart has suffered for it every day since! I am here to speak with your daughter because of just how highly I regard her. If you would be so kind as to inform her I am here, I would be grateful.’

Her father’s forehead wrinkled. ‘With wealth and privilege comes sacrifice. However, certain things should never be sacrificed.’

‘And if I agreed with you, how would you feel?’

‘I suppose we will know after you speak with my daughter. Katrina is out on the terrace.’ He stood and rang for a servant. ‘I would ask you to make your visit brief. We wouldn’t want the neighbours to talk,’ he said with a pointed look.

Julian pressed his lips firmly together to hold in his sigh of relief. Every nerve in his body hummed as he accompanied the Vandenbergs’ butler onto the terrace while the man delivered Katrina a cup of tea. She sat with her back to them on a long wooden bench with her watercolours in her hand. She appeared intent on an oak tree that was growing just on the other side of the balustrade.

‘Thank you for the tea, Wilkins,’ she called out, keeping her gaze on her subject.

Julian took the Wedgwood cup from Wilkins and silently dismissed the man. He placed the tea beside Katrina. She continued to look at the tree as she reached for the cup. He cleared his throat and she looked at him.

The tea in her hand sloshed from the cup into the saucer. ‘How long have you been standing there?’

‘Not very long.’ He nodded towards the paper on her small easel. ‘I wasn’t aware that you paint.’

‘I find it calms me.’

She calmed him. He felt worlds better, simply being in her presence.

‘May I?’ he asked, gesturing to the space on the bench beside her.

She hesitated, but shifted closer to the end, making room for him. Once he was seated she returned her attention to the tree.

‘The weather is fine today,’ he said.

* * *

Katrina kept her eyes on the tree while she continued to outline the branches with her brush. It was easier to focus on the tree than to look at Julian. ‘I doubt you’re calling to discuss the state of the clouds.’

From the corner of her eye she saw him rest his elbows on his knees and look down at his clasped hands. ‘This is true. It could be raining. I would hardly notice.’

It had been raining in her heart for over a week, thanks to him. She placed the brush into her glass of water and faced him. If they finished their conversation quickly, it might not hurt as much when he left.

‘Is there something you’ve come to tell me?’

His attention dropped to the bandages around her wrists, which were peeking out from the long sleeves of her pale blue muslin dress, and his brow wrinkled. ‘Last night you assured me you were well.’

The sound of his tender concern tugged at her. ‘I tried to pull my hands out of the ropes. These are simply abrasions. By tomorrow the bandages will not be necessary.’

‘Did you suffer other injuries? Tell me truthfully.’ He looked into her eyes.

‘No, just my hands.’ She lowered her voice even more. ‘Did you read the papers this morning?’

Relief had washed over her when she had read about Lady Wentworth. She knew it was uncharitable to feel that way, but she couldn’t help it.

‘I have. It is now truly over.’

Silence stretched between them and then he let out an audible breath. ‘There is something I need to tell you.’

Her palms began to sweat at the seriousness of his tone. Had word of her kidnapping begun to spread?

‘I’m listening.’

‘It is difficult for me to know where to begin.’ He appeared to choose his words carefully. ‘I am sorry for everything that happened last night. Had I known Lady Wentworth was capable of doing such a thing, I would have somehow stopped her before you were ever put in danger.’

‘There is nothing you could have done to stop her unless you had remained in her company every hour of every day.’

‘Still, I accept full responsibility.’

She shook her head slowly. ‘It is not necessary. I do not blame you for it.’

He smelled of leather and...Julian. Did every man have a unique scent? He certainly did. She hoped she would soon forget it.

‘If that is all, Your Grace, you may leave. Rest assured I do not blame you for what has occurred.’

She reached over to pick up her paintbrush and her eyes widened when he took her hand. Warmth spread up her arm.

‘There is something else you should know.’ His voice faded in the hushed stillness of the terrace.

‘Go on.’

He swallowed hard, and his green eyes searched hers. ‘I’ve come to realise something of late. It should have occurred to me earlier, however, I have had no experience with it until now.’

The intensity in his gaze held her, making it impossible to look away.

‘I love you with every fibre of my being. I have from the first moment I saw you.’

A lump settled in Katrina’s throat. His words were just pretty sentiment. He didn’t mean them.

She was ready to pull her hand from his when he knelt before her.

The world stopped.

‘Katrina, I never want to live another day without you and I pray that in your heart you love me, even just a little. All I want to do is cherish you and call you my wife—if you will have me.’

She blinked. ‘Did you just ask me to marry you?’

‘I did.’

She shifted uncomfortably under his piercing gaze. ‘I know you are a man of honour, and that you think offering for my hand is the proper thing to do because of what occurred last night, but there is no need. I’ll return to America and you can live the life you are destined to lead, uncomplicated by our association.’

Katrina was amazed she said all that without her voice cracking.

‘Did you not hear what I said? I do not want to marry you out of a sense of obligation. I want to marry you because I love you.’

His lovely green eyes looked at her earnestly.

‘I will not marry a man who will cast me aside after we are wed.’

‘Do you truly believe I will?’

‘You suffered derision because of a carriage ride and cut ties with me. Do you believe marrying me will be easier?’

‘I had everything I thought I wanted after we parted. I regained the respect of most men in Westminster. My counsel was sought on affairs of state. I was asked to give speeches again. But none of that mattered. What mattered was what you thought of me. Other people’s opinions and esteem do not define me. My actions define me. I am finished with living the life Society tells me I should.’

Butterflies danced in her chest. ‘You truly love me?’

His kissed her hand slowly. ‘With all my heart.’

‘Always?’

‘Always. Do you love me? Even just a little?’

The lump in her throat was back. ‘I do love you, Julian, with all of my being.’

He released a deep breath and closed his eyes. ‘Do you love me enough to marry me?’

‘I do,’ she said in a rush.

He leaned over and kissed her—deeply and passionately. When he finally pulled his head away they both were breathing hard.