was too late now. The man had made it a point to let her know he had seen them.
There was almost a look of recognition when he read her card. ‘This way, miss,’ he said, allowing her to step foot inside the hallowed hall of Lyonsdale’s grand home. ‘I will inform Her Grace that you are here.’
Katrina’s footsteps echoed down the hall as she was shown into an ornately decorated drawing room. Gold cherubs flew along the gilded mouldings that ran along the high ceiling, and life-size portraits of past generations stared down at her from their lofty positions on the crimson silk walls. The room smelled of almond oil, no doubt from the freshly polished doors and furniture.
Not certain where to sit, Katrina decided on a bergère chair in the grouping of seats closest to the door. She stared at the portrait of an austere gentleman across from her, who wore a ruffled collar. From his perch on the wall, he didn’t seem to like her flowers either.
She was beginning to believe the butler had forgotten about her when she was greeted by the warm smile of the Dowager.
‘Miss Vandenberg, this is an unexpected surprise.’ The Dowager took a seat opposite Katrina and her gaze dropped to the flowers. ‘What do you have there?’
Katrina handed her the posy that had reminded her of home. ‘These were growing in our garden. They were so lovely I thought I’d share them with you.’
The Dowager’s eyes grew misty. ‘My son would pick violets for me when he was a small child. They bring to mind such cherished memories. Thank you.’
At least she hadn’t committed another faux pas. ‘You are most welcome. I’m glad they give you pleasure.’
Their conversation was interrupted when the butler entered the room, carrying a tea tray.
‘I have grown accustomed to enjoying a cup of tea around this time,’ the Dowager said. She handed the flowers to her butler. ‘Reynolds, do see to these and bring them back here.’
The Dowager poured tea into two of three Sèvres porcelain cups, remembering that Katrina liked it with milk and only one lump of sugar.
Reynolds returned with the flowers in a small gilded vase, and the Dowager signalled to him to place it on the table closest to her.
‘Have you had the opportunity to see more of London since we last spoke?’ she asked, stirring her four lumps of sugar into her tea.
‘I went with the Forresters to see the new exhibition at the Royal Academy yesterday. The paintings were lovely. I especially enjoyed one of fairies by a Mr Henry Howard.’
‘Are you fond of art?’
‘Yes, very much so.’
‘Then I must introduce you to the Duchess of Winterbourne. Olivia is a lovely woman, and I believe the two of you might share some interests.’
There was something unidentifiable about the Dowager that continued to remind Katrina of her great-aunt. Both women had the ability to fill her with a sense of comfort.
She was about to respond when the sound of heavy footfalls drifted in from the entrance hall. Both she and the Dowager turned towards the doorway and found Lyonsdale standing on the threshold. He was dressed in a bottle-green tail coat, brown waistcoat, and buckskin breeches. And he appeared to be just as startled as Katrina to find themselves staring at one another.
‘Do come in, my boy,’ the Dowager said with a bright smile. ‘I believe you’re acquainted with Miss Vandenberg?’
There was a slight hesitation in his stride, and he narrowed his gaze at his grandmother. ‘Of course. Good day, Miss Vandenberg,’ he said, executing a perfect bow.
The sound of his voice left her with flutters low in her abdomen. ‘Good day, Your Grace.’
The Dowager motioned to the chair next to Katrina. ‘Would you care to join us? A nice cup of tea might be just the thing after your long committee meeting.’
Katrina found it difficult to determine if she wanted him to stay or if it would be better for him to leave them.
‘I would not wish to interrupt your discussion.’
Horrid, fickle man!
‘Nonsense. Miss Vandenberg and I were just beginning our visit. There is nothing to interrupt.’
He inclined his head and took the seat next to Katrina. Her heart turned over unexpectedly.
‘You are back early today,’ the Dowager continued.
‘No, I return home at exactly this time each Monday when the committee is in session.’
So this was one of the ways a duke occupied himself during the day. ‘Is this a Parliamentary committee?’ Katrina asked.
He accepted the tea and shifted his gaze to her. ‘It is.’
‘What does your committee meet about?’
‘We are investigating the effects of working conditions on child labourers.’
‘You are?’
He lifted his chin, as if he was anticipating derision. ‘I assure you it is a valid issue, and one that needs to be addressed.’
It wasn’t necessary to point that out to her. She was simply surprised that a man of his substantial wealth had any interest in the children of the poor.
‘I agree. It’s commendable that your committee has taken up the cause for those who are frequently neglected.’
‘We have just begun our interviews. Our aim is to ensure these children are neither exploited nor harmed.’ His gaze drifted to the flowers. ‘I see the violets are multiplying,’ he commented to his grandmother. ‘This is the first time you have seen fit to display them outside your rooms.’
The Dowager gave Katrina a warm smile. ‘These are from Miss Vandenberg. She was kind enough to bring them to me.’
He did nothing to hide his surprise. ‘You have brought my grandmother flowers?’
‘I have. I found them beautiful and wished to share them with her,’ she stated, annoyed with herself for feeling the need to explain her actions to him.
‘I would have assumed you would favour orchids or some other rare, exotic bloom.’
‘I am partial to simpler things. I do not need the world to confirm a pedigree for me to appreciate beauty.’
He studied her over his teacup, and she found the room was growing rather warm.
‘They match your eyes.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The violets—they are the same colour as your eyes.’
It was impossible to pull her gaze from his—that was until the Dowager gave a discreet cough.
‘Miss Vandenberg, would you care to see
