his eyes.
She held out her hand to offer some comfort. He threaded his fingers through hers and then stared at their intertwined hands as if he had never seen his hand placed with another.
‘Were you very close?’
A sad smile crossed his lips. ‘We were born only ten months apart and were inseparable.’
‘You are very fortunate to have had him in your life, even for a short while. I always wanted a brother or a sister to share in my amusements. And I have a sneaking suspicion the two of you might have enjoyed a bit of mischief together.’
His eyes crinkled at the corners as a full smile brightened his previously melancholy demeanour and he let go of her hand. ‘We might have found ourselves in trouble a time or two. I recall one autumn we decided to hide in piles of leaves and startle the gardeners as they worked on tidying up the gardens around our estate. I don’t believe they found it as amusing as we did.’
‘Did you receive a scolding or did news of your antics never reach your parents?’
‘My parents were unaware. However, my grandmother informed us that if the gardeners refused to clean up the leaves Edward and I would be forced to do it ourselves.’ He rubbed his hands on his thighs, as if he was eager to recount another amusing tale. ‘There was also one summer when a vast number of frogs were mysteriously finding their way into my mother’s bedchamber.’ He let out an uncharacteristically loud bark of laughter. ‘To this day I can still recall the sound of her screeches each time she discovered one.’
How was it possible that this reputable duke was more mischievous as a child than she had ever been? The very thought of his very dour mother jumping around her bedchamber made Katrina laugh.
* * *
It surprised Julian that there wasn’t any hollowness in his chest as he discussed Edward. In fact, in an odd way, he felt closer to his brother now than he had in a long time.
A dragonfly landed on his sleeve and fluttered its wings for a few moments before it flew away.
His brow furrowed. ‘Are you eager to head back to America?’
‘It’s not easy to be away so long from what is comfortable and familiar.’
‘I suppose it isn’t,’ he agreed, out of politeness. All his life everything around Julian had been familiar—everything except the way he felt being with this woman. Being around Katrina made him feel somehow different, somehow more alive.
‘I say, Miss Forrester, may I open that bottle of wine for you?’ Hart asked as he and Miss Forrester joined them on the blanket.
Julian dragged his gaze away from Katrina. ‘Did you enjoy the scenery?’
‘Miss Forrester and I took note of every building we were able to see from here—twice.’ Hart poured some wine and handed the glass to Katrina’s friend. ‘I say, Miss Vandenberg, is that pigeon pie?’
‘It is, my lord. Would you care for some?’
‘Yes, please,’ Hart said, sending her one of his charming smiles. ‘And you do not have to “my lord” me, Miss Vandenberg. Hartwick will suffice.’
Julian was uncertain if he liked them being on familiar terms. But it was not as if he thought Hart would seduce her. He knew his friend would never betray him. And it most certainly was not that he thought Katrina might prefer gregarious Hart to him.
After the four of them had finished eating most of the delicious food that had been packed into the basket, Hart took off his coat and reclined on the blanket, placing his hands behind his head. ‘That was the finest picnic fare I have ever eaten.’
Had his friend forgotten entirely how to act around proper unmarried women?
‘Hart, ladies are present. Put your coat back on,’ chided Julian.
Hart tilted his head back. ‘I am comfortable this way. We are on a picnic, far from prying eyes. Ladies, are you offended by my shirtsleeves? Honestly, it isn’t as if I were attempting a seduction.’
In exasperation, Julian threw a strawberry at Hart’s head.
‘Hey, what was...? Oh, I love strawberries.’ He bit into it.
‘You will apologise for that last remark.’
‘About strawberries? But I really do like them.’
‘Not that comment, dolt!’
Miss Forrester snorted.
Hart jerked his head around. ‘Did that sound come out of such a delicate lady?’
‘Apologise,’ scolded Julian, losing his patience.
‘Fine!’ Hart spun around and stood. ‘Ladies, I am terribly sorry I have offended you with my shirtsleeves and my glib tongue. It is not often that I find myself in such estimable company, and I will try my best to refrain from offending you in the future. However, I feel I must state that chances are great that I will offend in some way.’ He bowed down low with great flourish.
The women exchanged a glance and laughed. ‘You are forgiven, Hartwick,’ said Miss Forrester with a wave of her hand. ‘Keep your coat off if you wish. I assure you Katrina and I will not be offended. It is not such an unusual sight back home.’
Hart turned to Julian. ‘America sounds like a place I would enjoy immensely.’ He reclined back on the blanket and crossed his hands behind his head.
It was difficult for Julian not to kick him.
Katrina bit into a strawberry and studied Hart’s relaxed pose. ‘Why do you suppose it isn’t proper for a lady to see a man in his shirtsleeves?’
Hart flipped onto his stomach and rested his chin in his hand. ‘I was wondering that very thing myself.’
Miss Forrester, who was sitting next to him, raised her wine glass. ‘It isn’t as if we would swoon at the sight of a man’s arms. At least I would not.’
‘You need to take a closer look at my arms,’ Hart stated.
‘I see your arms now, Hartwick, and I find myself amazingly upright,’ she replied.
Katrina turned to Julian. ‘Do you suppose someone thinks a woman might lose control of her actions if she sees a man’s broad shoulders and muscular arms?’
‘Not all arms are muscular,’ commented Miss Forrester.
Julian shrugged, tying not to think of spending time with Katrina in a state of undress. His blood pounded through his veins. ‘We could test your theory.’
Bloody hell! When had he lost the ability to think before he spoke?
Hart choked on his Madeira. ‘Capital idea, Julian. Why don’t you take your coat off as well?’
Miss Forrester smiled brightly. ‘Yes, do, Lyonsdale. Apparently Hartwick, while finely made, simply is not causing Katrina and I to question our moral fibre.’
Hart
