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