* * *
Julian almost stumbled on the wooden floor. He didn’t know how to respond. His title was impressive! There wasn’t an available woman in the room who didn’t want to be married to him. Except, it seemed, the woman in his arms.
Over the years there had been times when he’d wished he could find someone who would see him for the man he was and not his title. Now that he had his wish, he wasn’t certain he liked the result.
Annoyed with the turn in their conversation, he knew he needed to regain the upper hand. He leaned forward and took a deep breath. Miss Vandenberg shot him a frustrated glare.
It was much too easy to get a reaction from her, and Julian wasn’t ready to think about why that pleased him. Any reservations he’d had about asking her to waltz had gone the minute he held her in his arms and she began to speak. He wondered if she smelled like lemons everywhere...
‘Please stop,’ she whispered.
‘The dance? I think people would notice, don’t you?’
‘Sniffing me.’
‘Oh, that. If it truly bothers you I will find it within me to stop.’
‘I would appreciate the effort.’
There was a brief silence. ‘I do need to thank you, though.’
‘For rinsing my hair with lemon juice? I assure you it has nothing to do with you.’
‘No, not that. I want to thank you for sending my grandmother your father’s book. It was quite kind of you.’
‘It was no bother.’
‘All the same, you made an old woman very happy.’
‘Then, for her, I am pleased I arranged it.’
He thought he saw the faintest hint of a smile. ‘Tell me how you knew it was the Dowager Duchess of Lyonsdale I was referring to in our conversation. It might have been my maternal grandmother.’
‘Do you realise how commanding you are? Phrasing requests as questions is much more polite.’ She lifted her brows expectantly.
He, the Duke of Lyonsdale, had just been schooled in manners again by this American. It was absurd.
‘It’s a habit born of my title. In any event, I will heed your well-meaning lesson and try again. Would you please explain your exceptional deductive skills to me?’
This time a smile definitely tugged at her lips, and Julian found his question well worth the effort.
‘I enquired about you and discovered the Dowager lived in your home. I assumed she was the lady in question and had the book sent there.’
‘And how did you explain the request to your father?’
‘I’ve been handling my father’s correspondence while we have been abroad. I told him we had encountered each other at Hatchards, and that you told me your grandmother’s tale of woe.’
‘He did not question our introduction?’
She leaned closer to him. He could feel her breath on his ear, and he wanted to close his eyes to savour the sensation.
‘I have a secret, Your Grace. In America, formal introductions are not an absolute necessity. Americans frequently meet each other in similar fashion.’
Leaning back, she met his gaze with a good-humoured twinkle in her eyes. Her voice had been low and husky. The heat from her breath had travelled through every part of him.
He lowered his lips towards her ear, wanting to prolong this playful turn in their conversation. ‘What else do Americans do?’
The music of the waltz ended, and Julian was forced to let her go.
‘I suppose you will have to continue to wonder,’ she replied with an impish grin.
He held in a smile, wishing he could spend the remainder of the evening in her company.
Many a quizzing glass was raised as Katrina and the Duke walked through the parting attendants. Katrina could hear the whispers following them. Their sparring had been much too entertaining. She needed to remind herself that he was an arrogant man who had avoided her until their accidental encounter at Hatchards. Now, instead of leaving her when the dance was over, he was escorting her off the floor. Spending more time in his company would not be wise.
She began to slide her hand from his arm. ‘I see my father is waiting for me. Thank you.’
The Duke held her hand in place, keeping her at his side. ‘Would you be so kind as to introduce me?’
Would he act like an arrogant aristocrat towards her father? She slowed her steps before leading him to where her father was standing, not far from the dance floor. After introducing them, she waited for Lyonsdale’s next move.
He gave a polite nod of his head to her father. ‘I’d like to thank you for sending your book to my grandmother. Your kind gesture made her quite happy.’
‘It was my pleasure. I am always delighted to hear someone has enjoyed my efforts.’
‘I hear all of London is enjoying your efforts. I understand you are here in preparation for the Anglo-American Conference? I imagine your days are filled with information-gathering. Hopefully you will also have opportunities to explore more of London. I fear evenings such as this do not show us in our best light.’
The inconsistency in his behaviour was baffling, and it was difficult to form a clear picture of his character.
‘And what would you recommend to the worldly traveller?’ she asked.
He turned his head towards her. ‘Vauxhall Gardens and Drury Lane for entertainment, Tattersalls for quality horses, Hyde Park for beauty and fresh air, and Gunter’s for ice.’
He really did have lovely hair. It appeared thick and had some wave to it. And she realised she had memorised every detail of his chiselled features and square jaw.
Her father cleared his throat, drawing Lyonsdale’s attention away from her. ‘I believe you could easily write a guide to London and earn a few pounds, Your Grace.’
‘I fear spending most of my life here has given me a skewed perspective on what others would find entertaining. Perhaps I presume too much?’
‘I do not think you presume too much at all,’ her father continued. ‘Your very thorough list has intrigued me.’
Katrina tilted her head, taking in Lyonsdale’s comfortable yet elegant stance. ‘What would you recommend above all else? If you had only one day in Town, where would you go?’
There was a substantial pause, as if he was trying to recall what he found enjoyable. ‘I would go to the British Museum and see the Elgin Marbles.’
She tried to recall ever hearing the name. ‘I’m not familiar with them.’
‘They are a collection of artefacts from Ancient Greece. You should try to see them before you leave.’
She found it a surprising answer, coming from a man so consumed by his work. ‘And that is what you enjoy in London above all else?’
His lips rose into a hint of a smile. ‘At the moment they are my preferred attraction.’
Her father cleared his throat again. ‘I believe I was correct in my initial assessment, Your Grace. You could compose an admirable travel guide.’
Lyonsdale shifted his intense focus from her. ‘Thank you, sir. I will keep that in mind in the event that I find I am a bit light in the pockets. However, I doubt it would be as entertaining as I hear your book is.’ He smiled pleasantly. ‘Please excuse me. I