‘Would you like me to ask what it is?’
‘I would.’ She tugged his arm and Julian brought his head down so she could whisper in his ear. ‘Do you recall that caricature printed of you and Katrina together in your carriage? You are now in possession of the printing plate.’
Julian jerked his head back and stared at her. ‘How did you acquire it?’
‘When I had someone I trust inform Cruikshank about your carriage ride, I specified that I wanted the plate in return for the information.’
He could not have heard correctly. ‘You gave Cruikshank the information that fuelled that caricature? Why? Why would you do that?’
It was a struggle to keep his voice down.
‘He was not aware I was the one providing him with the information. I am careful about such things.’
‘You never answered me. Why did you do that? Katrina could have been ruined,’ Julian said through his teeth.
‘Nonsense. I needed to force your hand. You did not see that you loved her, but I did. I expected you to do the honourable thing. Instead you took a different approach, you frustrating boy.’
Julian closed his eyes and began to count to ten. Hopefully by eight he would no longer have the desire to pack his grandmother’s bags and send her off to his mother’s house—right now.
‘How did you come by this information?’
‘I live in this house with you. I notice things. While I wasn’t certain you would actually go on a carriage ride with her, I suspected you were spending time with her. You were much too cheery. I was correct in my assumption, was I not? Hartwick would not confirm or deny anything to me. However, that boy does not hide his amusement well.’
Julian was back to counting. He took a deep breath. ‘So you have been in possession of that plate all this time?’
‘I have—and now it is yours. You may thank me by producing a number of great-grandchildren for me.’
‘You might want to consider remaining far away from me until Katrina and I return from Devonshire.’
She laughed and looked past his shoulder. ‘Very well. However, remember I don’t have many more good years left. A house filled with children would have me dying with a smile on my lips.’ She tapped her fan on his shoulder and walked away.
He scrubbed his hand across his brow and shook his head. How he wished he could leave for Devonshire now. Once more he eyed his wife. How many days of bedding her would it take until she was with child? His child.
Katrina was deep in conversation with Winter’s wife, and her tempting lips were raised in a warm smile. His gaze skimmed down her long neck to the swell of her breasts, searching for that beauty mark he knew was barely visible over the silver edging of her gown. Would her skin taste salty when he slid his tongue along that edging? Would her nipples grow hard?
This. Was. Torture.
As if sensing his gaze, Katrina raised her head and caught his eye. Slowly she sank her teeth into her plump lower lip. His control snapped. There were advantages to being a duke. Leaving his own wedding breakfast early with his beautiful duchess was one of them.
When he finally reached his wife’s side, he took her hand, and brought it to his lips. It was all he could do without raising too many eyebrows and embarrassing her. ‘You ladies seem to be enjoying yourselves.’
The Duchess of Winterbourne smiled congenially. ‘We were discussing a new portrait painter I’ve recently become acquainted with. I believe you would find his work most pleasing, Lyonsdale.’
Julian looked back at Katrina. ‘Of course—we will need a portrait of you for the gallery.’
The women shared an indecipherable look and Julian’s eyes narrowed as he caught the exchange.
‘I will leave the choice of artist up to you, although I assumed you would use Lawrence,’ he said.
‘Mr Lawrence is going abroad with a commission from the Prince Regent,’ Katrina said. ‘Olivia has been kind enough to offer me other suggestions. Although I do not know if this one particular painter’s work is suitable for the gallery.’
The Duchess of Winterbourne tried to hide her smile, but was unsuccessful. ‘Please excuse me, I believe I am needed across the room.’
Once she was far enough away, Katrina leaned towards Julian. ‘Perhaps you should stop looking at me as if you plan on having me for dinner,’ she said into her champagne glass.
‘But I do plan on having you—as soon as I can manage it,’ he said, brushing his lips against her ear. ‘Now that you are finally my wife, we can be alone for longer than a few brief moments at a time. And, Katrina, I plan on being alone with you for a very long time.’
There was a catch in her breath. ‘Are you trying to frighten me?’
She tried to nudge him away, but Julian tugged her back. ‘I don’t believe you frighten easily.’
‘Then what are you trying to do?’
‘I am attempting to make you want me as much as I want you at this very moment.’
She took another sip of her champagne as she glanced at the people around them. ‘I don’t believe any effort on your part is necessary.’
Julian could see the rise and fall of her breasts. Knowing what they looked like under her gown had Julian imagining all the different things he wanted to do with them.
He cleared his throat, trying to summon his voice. ‘One of the advantages of being a duke is that I can escort my wife upstairs right now and no one will question me.’
His voice sounded low and hoarse, even to his own ears. Moving his head away from Katrina’s, he drained the rest of his glass and tried to regain some of his composure.
‘What are some of the other advantages?’
Katrina’s voice had acquired a husky quality. The minx knew exactly what she was doing.
Bending his head back down towards her ear, he let out a low, warm breath. ‘Another is that I can taste every inch of my beautiful duchess’s body for hours.’
To his satisfaction, Katrina wobbled ever so slightly against him.
‘Have you been thinking up ways to scandalise me?’
‘No...not exactly...possibly...’
Chuckling against her ear, he heard her harrumph.
‘Then you’re going to have to do better than that.’
Ah, a challenge! What would she do if he told her what he had wanted to do from the moment he’d first seen her?
‘At this moment all I can think about is sinking into you and filling you. Do you understand my meaning?’
This time there was a more distinct wobble. It was probably visible from across the room. Before he even had time to gloat about what his words had done to his bride she had placed her glass down on the tray of a passing footman and tugged on Julian’s arm, propelling them to the doorway.
As they passed her father’s questioning gaze she gave the worst performance of a woman with a headache. In less than two minutes she was dragging him up the stairs towards their suite of rooms.
When they reached the landing Katrina let go of his arm and slid her gaze boldly down his body. ‘Now, what was it that you were saying about all the things a duke can do?’
He imagined taking her right there, on the floor at the top of the stairs—or, better yet, bent over the banister. She must have realised his sense of urgency, because her sweet lips parted and she began to step backwards.