Julian was not looking forward to seeing Helena before leaving for Westminster the next day. He might have sent her a note. It would have been far easier and much less painful on his part. But he could not be so callous. It wasn’t her fault that he’d met someone he couldn’t stop thinking about.
This time when he knocked on her door her butler didn’t appear surprised to see him. He was left to wait for her in the drawing room. The idea of sitting was not appealing, so he walked around the room to relieve his restlessness. A few minutes later Helena walked in, wearing her blood-red dressing gown.
‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘I did not realise you would be preparing for the evening.’
‘I was resting, and didn’t see the point of dressing when I heard you were here. This is a pleasant surprise. Would you care for a brandy?’
He would have liked the entire bottle, but that would just muddle his brain so he politely declined.
She trailed her fingers down his chest. ‘Do you wish to retire upstairs? I could see to your comfort.’
No matter what room they were in, Julian knew he would not be comfortable. ‘I believe I’d prefer to remain here.’
A questioning look flashed in her grey eyes as she gestured towards the settee.
Julian chose an armchair instead.
Prowling behind him, Helena skimmed her fingers along his shoulders before lowering herself into the slightly worn silk armchair closest to him.
‘What brings you here today?’ she asked, reclining back. ‘You left rather abruptly the other day.’ She tipped her chin towards the box on his lap. ‘Is that your way of apologising?’
He handed her the blue velvet box. ‘It is...for a number of things...’
A look of confusion crossed her face before she slid her hand up his thigh. ‘I hope you will stay longer today, so I may thank you properly.’
The boldness of her gesture forced him to shift in his chair. He nodded towards the package in her hand, relieved to know that she was easily distracted by expensive objects. ‘Open it.’
Her eyes sparkled with eager anticipation as she lifted the lid. Slowly she pulled out the long strand of pearls and arranged them between her breasts, which were suddenly exposed through her open dressing gown.
He wished he could tell her she was wasting her efforts on him. ‘They suit you,’ he said. It was as much of a compliment as he could muster.
‘They are beautiful,’ she said, more interested in the pearls than in Julian. ‘They will go well with the new gown I have ordered from Madame Devy. Perhaps we could attend Drury Lane or Vauxhall, and I will wear them for you.’ She finally looked up at him. ‘I know how you dislike attracting attention, but I think we will turn some heads.’
Julian’s jaw clenched as he studied his brown leather gloves. ‘Helena, there is something I need to ask you.’ He turned his attention to her expectant expression. ‘You are aware that I have a deep regard for you?’
She smiled up at him. ‘I am.’
‘Well... I was wondering if you are content with the state of our friendship?’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘When we began this liaison both of us knew it could not continue indefinitely the way it is.’
‘That is true,’ she said through a seductive smile. The scent of lavender filled the air as she leaned in closer.
‘And we both entered into this with a mutual understanding that eventually we would part ways.’
Her mouth fell open. ‘You are ending this?’
‘While I have enjoyed our time together, surely you knew that it would not last?’
‘I cannot believe you are doing this,’ she whispered. The sound of her heavy breathing mingled with the ticking of the clock. She jumped from her chair and poked him in the chest—hard. ‘Lord Hartwick is behind this.’
He pulled his brows together in puzzlement. ‘He has nothing to do with this.’
‘Then there is another woman.’ She eyed him up and down in disgust. ‘Have you offered for Morley’s chit? Your mother acts as if an announcement will be made any day.’
‘I have not offered for her. There is no other woman.’ She didn’t need to know the truth.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she demanded, clenching her fists at her sides.
‘I did not think you would be upset. You told me you had no intention of marrying again,’ he stated firmly.
‘And you believed me?’ she screamed. She stormed across the room with her head high, and then spun around. ‘And you give me pearls? We have been together all this time and you give me pearls!’
‘What is wrong with pearls? They are quite expensive.’
Her body visibly shook with rage. ‘You are the Duke of Lyonsdale! You should be giving me diamonds!’
His sympathy for her was quickly diminishing upon seeing her greedy nature. ‘I did not have to give you anything!’ he bellowed.
‘You selfish boor!’ She picked up a silver candlestick from the table closest to her and flung it at his head.
He ducked just in time.
‘I am worth diamonds—not pearls!’
Before his control slipped further he needed to leave. Striding across the room, he unlocked the door and didn’t look back.
When he stepped outside the soft breeze cooled his heated skin. His body hummed with anger at her selfishness. Sitting in his carriage would do him no good. He needed physical exertion. He would walk home—but first he needed to make one more stop.
Descending the staircase in the centre of Hatchards, Katrina scanned the room below her. This bookshop was one of her favourite places in London. The soft whispers and the occasional sound of the turning of pages were welcome after spending the entire morning on social calls with Mrs Forrester and Sarah.
As she continued to search for her maid Katrina let her gaze skim over the few patrons who were selecting books from the dark wooden bookshelves that lined the walls. An older woman in an elaborately decorated black hat was comparing books with a younger woman dressed demurely in lavender. Near them a dandy dressed in a navy jacket and puce trousers stood in a studied pose, reading the book he held through his quizzing glass.
Scanning the room further, Katrina felt her heart skip a beat. Standing near her maid, at a table piled with books, stood a broad-shouldered, dark-haired gentleman in a finely cut bottle-green coat, buckskin
