Regency Surrender: Scandal And Deception. Marguerite Kaye

Regency Surrender: Scandal And Deception - Marguerite Kaye


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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.

      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


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