the man’s hair. He had a square jaw, and his aquiline nose seemed to possess the same small bump in the middle that Julian knew his had. Now that she mentioned it, he could see the resemblance.
‘Why is he here? He is not fit to hang with the others.’
Julian took a slow sip of his coffee. ‘I think he is.’
The Fifth Duke had been on Julian’s mind since Katrina had asked about him. He wasn’t sure what the man had done, since there was no reference to him in the family history. Perhaps he had simply lived a good life in the country, taking care of his estates and the people who lived on them. A man could be a good duke without needing the world to tell him he was.
Winter was right. He was not a party of one man. Others shared his political and ethical beliefs. Together they were stronger than one man alone. If he could share his knowledge and write impassioned speeches, did it really matter who said the words to get the votes they needed? And it truly was in Britain’s best interest to improve its relationship with America. There were others who believed that as well. He recalled Hart telling him that Julian’s great achievement might be to aid in improving relations between the countries.
He wasn’t certain if he was simply convincing himself of this to justify marrying Katrina, or because it was true. What he did know, without a doubt, was that he would place his need to be with her above everything else. He was a duke of England, but life was fleeting—it was time he took what he wanted!
‘There is something you should know,’ he said to his mother, who was staring at him with trepidation.
‘Why do I believe I will not approve of what it is you have to say?’
‘I will be asking for Miss Vandenberg’s hand today. God willing, she will accept.’
His mother blanched. ‘You can’t mean that. She is an American. She has no understanding of what it means to be a duchess.’
‘You told me you would defer to me on who I choose to marry.’
His normally aloof mother shook with anger. ‘Yes, but that was when I was certain you would be choosing Lady Mary! You assured me that caricature was a political satire and nothing more.’
‘Miss Vandenberg is an intelligent, charming woman who is the daughter of a diplomat. She would make an excellent choice for my duchess.’
‘Have you gone mad? Your father would never have approved of her. He understood what was expected of your title. That was why he chose Emma for you. You are Lyonsdale. Miss Vandenberg’s family isn’t even English! Your ancestors fought alongside Kings and served in the courts of many of our monarchs. She comes from a family of shipyard owners, and her father writes novels. What honour is there in that?’
Julian placed his cup down on the nearby window ledge and tried to steady his anger. ‘She will bear my heir if I decide that is what I wish. I suggest, madam, that you remember I am the head of this family. I will no longer tolerate your interference with my life.’
‘You will lose the respect of influential men, and people will mock you behind your back,’ seethed his mother.
Not everyone would feel that way—although he knew there were men who would be angry with him for choosing to marry an American over their very suitable daughters. ‘I can manage the ton.’
She placed her hand on her stomach and seemed to labour for breath. ‘If you do this there will be no turning back.’
He didn’t want to turn back. Behind him were the choices he had made about Katrina that he wasn’t proud of. He prayed she would find it in her heart to forgive him.
* * *
Hours later, Julian stood on the steps of Katrina’s home, staring at the round brass knocker and wondering for the tenth time if he would be received. He was a duke from one of the most respected families in the realm. However, he wasn’t certain that would make much of a difference this morning to Katrina’s father. The man had forbidden him from calling on his daughter. Common decency dictated that he respect the man’s wishes. Perhaps he would blame this transgression on lack of sleep.
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
