Read the book: «An Unsuitable Duchess»

Contents

Cover

Secret Lives of the Ton

Author Note

Title Page

About the Author

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Mayfair, London, 1818.

Katrina Vandenberg had come to the conclusion that the ballrooms of London were rather dangerous places.

As she stood under a glittering chandelier in the Russian Ambassador’s ornate drawing room she rotated her sore foot beneath her gown. It didn’t help. Anticipating its tenderness, she held her breath and gingerly lowered her slipper to the red and gold rug.

‘Why does Lord Boreham continue to ask me to dance?’ she groaned as her foot began to throb. ‘Each time we do he stumbles through the steps and blames it on me being American and not knowing the movements. This time he stepped on my foot so many times I stopped counting.’

‘Perhaps he is enamoured with you,’ replied Sarah Forrester, the daughter of the American Minister to the Court of St. James.

‘Perhaps he’s waiting for me to issue a war cry in the middle of the dance floor and wishes to have an excellent view.’

The friends laughed and a number of the finely dressed gentlemen and ladies looked their way. One of them was their hostess, the Russian Ambassador’s wife, Madame de Lieven.

‘I suppose you could wear boots under your gown to protect your feet from clumsy partners,’ Sarah whispered, hiding her amusement behind her fan. ‘Although it would not be very fashionable.’

‘I do not believe even that would help. But perhaps I could pretend the orchestra is too loud and I cannot hear them speak. Then maybe I could avoid listening to them boast about how important they are or prattle on about some ancient relative’s great accomplishment.’ Katrina nodded towards a group of gentlemen. ‘One day I wager one of them will show me his teeth in an attempt to impress me. London would be lovely if it weren’t for the men.’

When they laughed again Madame de Lieven narrowed her eyes and gave them a chastising shake of her head.

Katrina took a deep breath and shifted her gaze. ‘I do believe our hostess is attempting to inform us that ladies in London do not laugh out loud during entertainments such as this.’

How she wished there was somewhere she could go to avoid the constant scrutiny. And that smell! Had someone forgot to bathe?

She rubbed her forehead and a drop of wax hit the embroidered forget-me-nots on her white silk glove.

Evenings like this were always so tedious.

* * *

This evening could not become any more tedious.

Julian Carlisle, the Duke of Lyonsdale, didn’t know how Lady Morley and her daughter Lady Mary had cornered him. And that bloody chandelier! He was certain his valet would have an apoplexy when he saw how much wax was falling onto his new black tailcoat.

Tonight’s crush was so great it had become difficult to raise his glass of the Russian Ambassador’s fine champagne to his lips. If he tried he might inadvertently brush his hand over the front of Lady Mary’s dress. It would be interesting to see her mother’s reaction to that. Most likely Julian would find himself embroiled in the scandal of the evening, with a wife he did not want.

He would stay thirsty.

‘And so I told her,’ continued Lady Morley, ‘that if Madame Devy moved back to Paris we simply would not know what to do. She is the best in London. She makes all of Mary’s dresses. Not that she needs any help to show as well as she does. Has the bearing of a duchess, I always hear.’

Thirty-three. Thirty-four. The peacock feather in Lady Morley’s turban bobbed with every nod of her head. Julian continued counting. The unique sound of soft feminine laughter floated from behind him and he wished he were part of that conversation instead of this one. He made a conscious effort not to sigh.

Before he could school his features into his usual bored expression he wrinkled his nose. What was that smell? It reminded him of his gardeners in the heat of summer. A man’s sweat should not be mixed with an abundance of flowers and sold in a bottle.

Julian managed to down the remainder of his champagne in one gulp. The bubbles tickling his throat were a welcome distraction. ‘I understand cards are being played across the hall. Is that where your husband is this evening?’ he asked, with no real interest.

Lady Morley blinked at his sudden interruption. ‘Oh—oh, yes, I believe it is.’

‘I’ll be off, then.’

Both ladies curtsied to Julian, and he began to attempt a shallow bow. He bumped into something soft. As he turned to excuse himself high, soft breasts met his hard male chest.

A startled woman with pleasant features and a pair of deep blue eyes looked up at him. Then her gaze travelled slowly down to his waistcoat and back up to his face. When her white teeth tugged at her lower lip, he had a strong urge to lick and soothe that lip. Mentally shaking himself, he tried to gain control of this unexpected yearning.

Her eyes widened, and a faint blush swept across her cheeks. ‘Please forgive me, my lord,’ she murmured.

Nine years had passed since anyone had addressed him simply as ‘my lord’. Everyone knew he was the Duke of Lyonsdale and should be addressed as ‘Your Grace’—even if he didn’t care to know them. ‘I assure you no apology is necessary. I believe the fault is mine.’

She bobbed a shallow curtsey and turned away from him. As he watched her make her way through the crowd something inside him shifted. Suddenly he was striding across the room, not even aware of the parting of finely dressed people before him.

* * *

Stepping onto the terrace, Katrina closed her eyes and filled her lungs with fresh night air. For a brief time, at least, she would not have to be conscious of her every action.

The amber glow of candlelight, shining through the tall windows and doors of the large brick house, streaked this outdoor haven. In the far corner was an unoccupied area that called to her. It would be an ideal place to escape inquisitive stares and pointed whispers.

The stone of the marble balustrade felt cool against her gloved hands and was a welcome contrast to the warm crush inside. Peering out into the dimly lit garden, she gradually began to relax, enjoying her first bit of solitude all evening. It was wonderful to finally be alone.

‘We are fortunate the evening air is so pleasant and there’s no rain,’ rumbled a deep voice to her right.

Resisting the urge to push the intruder over the railing, Katrina held back a sigh. ‘Yes, we are quite fortunate,’ she said, in what she was certain was a bored tone. She kept her eyes fixed on the landscape below, hoping it would discourage further conversation.

‘The quality of the Ambassador’s garden is well noted. Have you walked through it yet?’

‘No, I have not. Fortunately for us there are lanterns placed along the pathways so we can enjoy the beauty from up here.’ He would soon learn she was not a woman who dallied in the shrubbery. Perhaps he would move on.

When Katrina glanced over at him, she was surprised to discover the handsome gentleman she had clumsily bumped into a few minutes before. He was standing tall, facing the garden, in formal black evening clothes, with the moonlight shining on the waves of his neatly trimmed dark hair. She studied his profile with its chiselled features and square jaw. He must have noticed, because he turned his head towards her and their eyes met.

It happened again. The ground seemed to shift, and this time their bodies hadn’t even touched. Deciding it was best to focus on the flowering shrubs and manicured lawn, she diverted her attention away from the man at her side.

* * *

Julian closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. Was he actually reduced to discussing the weather and gardening with this woman? When had he become this dull? And he was certain she had just dismissed him. No one ever dismissed him.

For the first time in his life Julian felt the need to capture a woman’s attention. ‘Are you new to town?’

In whose world was this captivating conversation?

‘I suppose. I have only been in London for a few weeks.’

‘Your accent escapes me.’

She crossed her arms under that pair of lovely small breasts and turned towards him. ‘I’m American.’ When he remained silent, she tilted her head and studied him. ‘Pardon me, but have we been introduced?’

He shook his head, amused at her candour. ‘Not that I recall—and I am fairly certain you are not someone I would forget.’

‘Then speaking with you would not be proper.’ She glanced at the French doors, as if she expected to see someone. ‘Did you follow me out here?’

Julian never followed women, and he never acted improperly. He had needed to get away from Lady Morley, and that smell had been unbearable. There had been no reason to consider it further.

‘We must have had the notion to step outside at the same time.’

‘And you just happened to find yourself standing next to me?’

He shifted under her sceptical expression. ‘It appeared to be a pleasant spot.’

She narrowed her eyes momentarily before she turned her attention back towards the garden and began to drum her fingers on the stone.

Below them, a figure walked in and out of the shadows, along one of the garden’s gravel paths, as the flames inside the lanterns flickered. Julian traced the figure’s movements. ‘You wouldn’t happen to be hiding from someone, now, would you?’

She looked at him with a curious glint in her eyes. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘When a woman as striking as you is alone at a ball teeming with men, one must conclude that her solitude is by choice. Are you attempting to avoid a foolish suitor?’

Her lips twitched. ‘What makes you believe I have foolish suitors?’

‘Ah, I said suitor. Apparently there is more than one.’

‘Perhaps I was simply seeking a breath of fresh air.’

‘Then I would say any man who wasn’t wise enough to accompany you out here to take the evening air was foolish.’

The silk of her ice-blue gown shimmered in the moonlight as she turned her body to face him. ‘And why is that?’

He had the strongest urge to step closer. She smelled like lemons. ‘Because in this secluded spot he has left you free to be charmed by another man.’

‘Are you attempting to charm me?’

‘Do you find me charming?’

‘Not in the least,’ she replied, even though her expression said the opposite.

‘Then I suppose your suitor is safe in his position of favour.’

A soft laugh escaped her lips before she quickly pursed them together.

‘Or perhaps not,’ he amended, revelling in the odd satisfaction that she found him amusing.

‘My purpose in coming out here was simply to enjoy a bit of solitude.’

‘And I have intruded on your privacy—not well done of me at all. Perhaps we might enjoy the solitude together?’

‘Then it would not be considered solitude.’

‘Semantics,’ he replied with a slight shrug. ‘So, why are you seeking solitude?’

She looked down at her slippers and appeared to give her answer great consideration. ‘I grew weary of people telling me how important they are.’

He wondered if he was like that. He didn’t think he was. Nevertheless, it was probably best not to let her know how important he really was. ‘A bold admission.’

‘An honest one. And what brings you out here? If you were planning on having a clandestine meeting, I fear you are keeping some lady waiting,’ she said with a teasing smile.

‘I’m not. Perhaps I too grew weary of spending time with people I have no interest in.’

‘Than we are of a like mind.’

‘It appears we are.’

Her lips rose into a full smile and for the first time in his life Julian forgot to breathe. ‘You are lovely,’ he admitted, before he could stop himself.

‘Thank you, but I have been told I am much too expressive.’

‘Not to me.’

‘You’re trying to charm me again.’

‘Am I? I thought I was simply being honest. I appreciate a true smile. I find the false ones maddening.’

What in the world had got into him? Perhaps her candid speech was infectious. Her unguarded manner and their frank discussion should not appeal to him, yet he found her entertaining.

She shifted her stance, and her skirt rustled as if she was shaking out her foot. ‘Well, it appears that you, my lord, are not a typical member of the ton.’

If she only knew.

It was as if he was being pulled to her by some magnetic force. His heartbeat quickened as he stepped even closer. Her lips looked so soft. As his gaze travelled down to the small swell of her breasts his fingers instinctively curled. He needed a distraction.

Turning back towards the balustrade, he focused his attention on the stars. He had never attempted to count them before. For a moment longer he could feel her watching him. Then she turned and tipped her face up to the inky night sky.

* * *

Katrina wondered at the sudden change in her companion’s demeanour. There must be some unspoken rule of English Society she had unwittingly broken. During their brief encounter he had managed to make her forget she was a stranger, navigating uncharted waters. But his silence spoke volumes. She would have to peruse The Mirror of Graces again tonight before she fell asleep, to find some clue as to her faux pas.

Their engaging conversation had improved her mood, and she was determined to hold on to that feeling for as long as she could. ‘It appears as if every star in the heavens is out,’ she mused, testing the waters for his response.

‘Do you enjoy stargazing?’

She glanced at him and smiled at his friendly, inquisitive expression. ‘I have been known to occasionally look upon the stars, if that is what you mean.’

‘But can you identify the constellations? Do you know their names?’

She shook her head.

He leaned closer and his sleeve brushed her arm. ‘See that grouping of stars over those trees? That’s the constellation Cassiopeia.’

It took her a moment to attend to what he’d said, with his body so close to her. ‘That’s the name of an ancient Ethiopian Queen.’

He nodded. ‘And that is her constellation. What do you know of her?’

‘Only that her excessive pride in her daughter Andromeda angered Poseidon so much that he commanded the Queen to sacrifice Andromeda to him.’

‘Very good. In fact Andromeda is over there.’

She took note of the stars he pointed to.

‘It is said Poseidon was enraged because Cassiopeia’s sacrifice was not completed,’ he continued. ‘As punishment, he placed the Queen on her throne in the night sky. Do you remember what happened to Andromeda?’

Katrina could feel him watching her and she shifted her gaze back to him. ‘She was rescued by Perseus, whom she married.’

‘She was. Now, Perseus is over there.’ He leaned across her and pointed to another grouping of stars. He smelled wonderful—like champagne and mint.

Their faces were mere inches apart. His lips looked so firm and smooth. For a moment their breaths mingled. Suddenly he jerked his head back, and unwelcome cool night air blew across her face.

She needed to shift her attention away from his lips and recall what they were discussing. ‘Is that truly Perseus, or are you attempting to appeal to my sense of the romantic?’

‘That truly is the constellation Perseus. It is said that Athena placed Andromeda next to Perseus in the night sky when Andromeda died.’

‘Oh, that is romantic.’

He wrinkled his brow as he stared at the stars. ‘I suppose some might consider it that way.’

‘But you do not?’

‘I never gave it much thought until now,’ he replied with a slight shrug.

Their eyes met, and it was as if every part of Katrina’s body was straining to get even closer to him. She needed to get away before she did something embarrassing, such as caress the arm that was now pressing against her own.

Taking a deep breath, she clasped her hands together. They were safer that way. ‘Well, I should return. My party will wonder where I have disappeared to and hopefully the air inside will have cleared.’ She smiled at him and moved away from the balustrade. ‘Thank you for showing me the stars. I can truly say I was not bored in the least.’

He bowed, and when he raised his head she caught the laughter in his eyes. ‘I am glad. I was not bored either. I hope you will find some pleasure in what is left of your evening.’

She curtsied in return and walked to the doors leading back to the drawing room. As she reached the threshold she couldn’t help glancing at him over her shoulder. When their eyes met she lowered her head, and attempted to hide her satisfied smile.

* * *

From the moment she’d left his side it had been impossible for Julian to look away from her. If he had looked away he might have missed that one last glance she’d given him before she entered the house. It didn’t matter that she had caught him staring like an untried boy. That last look had told him everything. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

Pulling his shoulders back and crossing his arms, he tried unsuccessfully to suppress a grin. The novelty of knowing that this woman desired him without knowing his prominent position in Society was exhilarating. Her lemon scent lingered in the air, and Julian took in a deep breath while leaning his lower back on the balustrade.

This night was turning out to be far from tedious after all.

‘Now, that’s quite odd. It almost appears as if you are smiling. But I know that can’t be, because while I’m returning from a pleasurable time spent in the garden you, my friend, are all alone.’

Lord Phineas Attwood, the Earl of Hartwick, sauntered up the terrace steps. He was dressed all in black except for his crisp white shirt. The knot of his cravat appeared askew, and a lock of black hair was draped over his right eye. He ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to comb the lock back into place. It was no use.

Stopping next to Julian, he also crossed his arms over his chest and followed Julian’s gaze to the French doors. ‘Does she have a name?’

‘Who?’

‘Whoever she is that has caught your interest.’

Julian closed his eyes and with an exasperated sigh turned his attention from the doors to his friend. ‘What makes you think it’s a woman?’

Hart raised both brows. ‘Come, now, I always tell you what has put a smile on my face. We can compare notes. I’ll tell you about my lady, and you tell me about your lady.’

‘There is nothing to tell.’

‘Very well—I’ll start. Margaret has the most amazing mouth. She can—’

‘You were in the garden with Lady Shepford?’ Julian closed his eyes. ‘You are mad. Not two hours ago you took over two hundred pounds from Shepford at cards, and now you take his wife.’

‘Exciting, isn’t it?’ Hart replied, adjusting his cuff. ‘I can’t help if she finds me irresistible, and he is positively unlucky tonight. It was impossible not to win his money.’

‘One day some husband is going to challenge you, and I have no desire to be your second.’

‘I am aware that you believe widows are preferable, but I’m not you. Married ladies are infinitely preferable to unmarried ones. At least they aren’t fishing for a title. Honestly, you worry for nothing. My coach is always at the ready, and I’m very competent with pistols and swords.’ He pushed himself off the balustrade. ‘I’m bored—let’s go to White’s. Stop scowling. You look like my old tutor.’

Julian shook his head. There was no reason to stay. He would have enjoyed spending more time with the American woman. Had she been a member of the ton he would have re-entered the Ambassador’s townhouse and immediately sought an introduction. Unfortunately, with the responsibility of his title, a relationship with an American was not possible.

When he married again it would be to an Englishwoman of prominent lineage—just as his ancestors before him and just as he had done before. Respectable English noblemen did not marry American women.

Why was he even thinking of marriage? Hart was right. It was time to leave.