Regency Surrender: Powerful Dukes. Laurie Benson
hurt anyone,’ the Dowager explained, with the faintest hint of a smile.
Katrina grinned and inclined her head. ‘My Great-Aunt Augusta would certainly have agreed.’
‘Then your great-aunt had exceptional taste,’ she said with a sparkle in her eye. She accepted the Wedgwood cup from Katrina. ‘I understand you are acquainted with my grandson?’
Knowing this was the true intention behind the unexpected visit, Katrina focused her attention on pouring herself tea. ‘I am.’
‘I assume you have seen the papers today?’
Katrina placed her cup on the table in case the Dowager’s words left her with shaking hands. ‘Yes, I have.’
‘What are your feelings on the speculation, Miss Vandenberg?’
‘His Grace showed a polite courtesy in asking me to dance. There is nothing more to it. The papers seek to sensationalise the mundane to sell copies. In truth, my only concern is how my actions reflect on my father and his work here.’
The Dowager’s features softened and she took a sip of her tea. ‘You’ll have to acquire a thick skin to live among us. The papers have something to say about everyone. Do not let what they print concern you.’
‘Thank you, but I believe my actions will not warrant comment in the future. I am not an outrageous creature to garner their attention.’ And for that Katrina was grateful.
Her comment seemed to appease the Dowager, and the remainder of her visit was spent discussing their shared love of reading and Katrina’s tour of the Waterloo Battlefield.
By the time the Dowager left, Katrina knew her to be not only elegant in manner, but kind-hearted as well. She had extended an invitation to Katrina to call on her at Lyonsdale House, and even informed her that on Monday afternoons at two she was always at home to receive calls. She had also informed Katrina there was no need to bring a chaperon.
It would be rude not to return the call, and if Katrina was honest with herself she was curious to see Lyonsdale’s home...
Katrina stood at the front door of Lyonsdale House and studied the wavy grain of the polished wood. While this door was similar in size to the door of her own London home, this building was much larger. All she needed to do was lift the brass knocker. And yet she couldn’t manage to raise her hand above her waist.
The Dowager had invited Katrina to call on her. She’d even specified a time that would be most convenient for her. And, while it wasn’t exactly a normal calling hour, it did show she had been sincere in her invitation. Didn’t it?
If Katrina didn’t knock soon, the posy of violets in her hand would be reduced to a wilted mess. She glanced down and wondered if she should have brought them. Her Great-Aunt Augusta had always enjoyed it when Katrina had brought her flowers from the garden. It had seemed to brighten her spirits. But this woman was a dowager duchess. Maybe it simply wasn’t done. She was about to toss the bouquet into a row of nearby boxwoods when the door suddenly opened.
Standing before her was a slim, grey-haired man that Katrina assumed was Lyonsdale’s butler. He eyed her with a speculative gaze, before his focus dropped to the flowers in her hand. ‘May I help you, miss?’
Katrina straightened her shoulders and gave him a polite smile. ‘Yes, thank you. I was wondering if the Dowager Duchess of Lyonsdale is receiving.’
His gaze dropped once again to the flowers. ‘Do you have a card?’
There was little question that she should have tossed the flowers. It was too late now. The man had made it a point to let her know he had seen them.
There was almost a look of recognition when he read her card. ‘This way, miss,’ he said, allowing her to step foot inside the hallowed hall of Lyonsdale’s grand home. ‘I will inform Her Grace that you are here.’
Katrina’s footsteps echoed down the hall as she was shown into an ornately decorated drawing room. Gold cherubs flew along the gilded mouldings that ran along the high ceiling, and life-size portraits of past generations stared down at her from their lofty positions on the crimson silk walls. The room smelled of almond oil, no doubt from the freshly polished doors and furniture.
Not certain where to sit, Katrina decided on a bergère chair in the grouping of seats closest to the door. She stared at the portrait of an austere gentleman across from her, who wore a ruffled collar. From his perch on the wall, he didn’t seem to like her flowers either.
She was beginning to believe the butler had forgotten about her when she was greeted by the warm smile of the Dowager.
‘Miss Vandenberg, this is an unexpected surprise.’ The Dowager took a seat opposite Katrina and her gaze dropped to the flowers. ‘What do you have there?’
Katrina handed her the posy that had reminded her of home. ‘These were growing in our garden. They were so lovely I thought I’d share them with you.’
The Dowager’s eyes grew misty. ‘My son would pick violets for me when he was a small child. They bring to mind such cherished memories. Thank you.’
At least she hadn’t committed another faux pas. ‘You are most welcome. I’m glad they give you pleasure.’
Their conversation was interrupted when the butler entered the room, carrying a tea tray.
‘I have grown accustomed to enjoying a cup of tea around this time,’ the Dowager said. She handed the flowers to her butler. ‘Reynolds, do see to these and bring them back here.’
The Dowager poured tea into two of three Sèvres porcelain cups, remembering that Katrina liked it with milk and only one lump of sugar.
Reynolds returned with the flowers in a small gilded vase, and the Dowager signalled to him to place it on the table closest to her.
‘Have you had the opportunity to see more of London since we last spoke?’ she asked, stirring her four lumps of sugar into her tea.
‘I went with the Forresters to see the new exhibition at the Royal Academy yesterday. The paintings were lovely. I especially enjoyed one of fairies by a Mr Henry Howard.’
‘Are you fond of art?’
‘Yes, very much so.’
‘Then I must introduce you to the Duchess of Winterbourne. Olivia is a lovely woman, and I believe the two of you might share some interests.’
There was something unidentifiable about the Dowager that continued to remind Katrina of her great-aunt. Both women had the ability to fill her with a sense of comfort.
She was about to respond when the sound of heavy footfalls drifted in from the entrance hall. Both she and the Dowager turned towards the doorway and found Lyonsdale standing on the threshold. He was dressed in a bottle-green tail coat, brown waistcoat, and buckskin breeches. And he appeared to be just as startled as Katrina to find themselves staring at one another.
‘Do come in, my boy,’ the Dowager said with a bright smile. ‘I believe you’re acquainted with Miss Vandenberg?’
There was a slight hesitation in his stride, and he narrowed his gaze at his grandmother. ‘Of course. Good day, Miss Vandenberg,’ he said, executing a perfect bow.
The sound of his voice left her with flutters low in her abdomen. ‘Good day, Your Grace.’
The Dowager motioned to the chair next to Katrina. ‘Would you care to join us? A nice cup of tea might be just the thing after your long committee meeting.’
Katrina found it difficult to determine if she wanted him to stay or if it would be better for him to leave them.
‘I would not wish to interrupt your discussion.’
Horrid, fickle man!
‘Nonsense.