Miss Forrester grabbed Katrina by the hand and pulled her towards the door. ‘That’s very kind of you. Good evening, gentlemen.’
Katrina glanced back at Julian one last time with a regretful look before she was dragged out through the door. He didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to her, or to kiss her one last time for the night.
Hart closed the door and locked it. Why hadn’t Julian thought to lock the door earlier? Perhaps it was because he’d never needed to do so before. This was the first and only time he had ever stole away with a woman at a ball.
‘You and I need to have a talk,’ Hart said. ‘And I know just the place to have it.’
They walked two doors down to the Whitfields’ billiard room, and Hart racked up the balls without saying a word. Julian grabbed two cues from the rack on the wall, grateful for the short reprieve. Once the balls were set, they flipped Hart’s lucky coin to see who would go first. Julian won.
He leaned over the Whitfields’ billiard table and released his cue. He watched the balls scatter.
Shaking his head, he turned to Hart. ‘How in the world did you find us?’
‘As luck would have it I was supposed to be meeting someone there shortly. It appears you and I need to begin coordinating our appointments.’
Julian narrowed his gaze. ‘That won’t be necessary. What you witnessed was a mere coincidence.’
Hart walked around the billiard table, analysing the best angle for his shot. He looked as if he was trying to hold back a smirk. ‘I see. We can move forward with that story if you like. But I will say it is fortunate it appears you have gained another ally in Miss Forrester.’
Julian rested his hand on top of his cue and watched Hart line up his shot. ‘Why do you believe it is a good thing to have Miss Forrester as an ally?’
Aside from the fact that she wouldn’t gossip about what she’d found when she had walked into the room.
‘To gain the support of your lady’s friend is always a good thing. Just think of all the ways we could use her.’
Julian sent him a stern look.
‘I mean you. All the ways you could use her.’
‘I will not be using anyone. Nor will you. And Miss Vandenberg is not my lady. It was an accidental encounter, nothing more.’
‘If you say so,’ Hart said, taking his shot.
Hart never agreed so easily. This was not a good sign.
The late morning sun warmed Katrina’s garden as she sat on a wooden bench with her box of watercolours. Peering closely at a teacup filled with violets, she concentrated on trying to recreate this small reminder of home. As she swirled her sable-haired brush through the purple and blue paint Julian’s comment about the colour of her eyes when they’d sat together with his grandmother drifted into her thoughts. It made her smile.
Glancing down, she realised she’d muddled the colours together into an unusable mess. There had to be a way to shove him out of her mind. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath of the floral-scented air, and listened to the birds chirp around her. If she tried hard enough she could imagine she was sitting in her garden back home in Tarrytown, overlooking the sparkling Hudson River.
It was peaceful there.
It was quiet.
‘Have you managed to fall asleep like that?’
Katrina opened one eye and met Sarah’s quizzical gaze. And just like that her peaceful bubble burst.
‘What were you doing?’ Sarah asked, taking a seat on the bench across from her.
Katrina cleaned her paintbrush in a glass of water. ‘I was resting my eyes.’
‘It is lovely here in the shade,’ Sarah said as she untied the cinnamon silk ribbon of her straw bonnet and casually tossed it beside her. ‘And what a charming bunch of violets. I have little skill with a paintbrush, much to my mother’s displeasure.’
‘Skill or patience?’
‘Both, I suppose. How long will that take you to complete?’
Katrina shrugged and continued to add petals to the paper. ‘I find the process soothing.’
Or at least it had been until Sarah began rhythmically tapping her foot on the gravel.
‘Is there something you wanted, Sarah?’
‘I was hoping you would accompany me to Bond Street.’
‘We were shopping only yesterday.’
‘I’ve reconsidered those slippers. You remember? The ones with the fine needlework?’
‘I have no wish to move along with the crowds today. Could it possibly wait for another day?’
‘I suppose it could, but— What is that?’
Katrina looked up to find Wilkins, walking towards them on the garden path, carrying a large vase of purple and yellow flowers. As he drew closer, she realised they weren’t exactly flowers.
‘Pardon me, miss. These came for you, and I was wondering what you would like me to do with this unusual arrangement?’
‘Aren’t those weeds?’ Sarah asked, as she narrowed her eyes at the objects in question.
‘I believe so, Miss Forrester,’ he replied. ‘Thistle and ragwort, if I am not mistaken. Would you prefer I place the stems in the garden for you, miss?’
Although they were indeed weeds, the arrangement had been created with obvious care. Katrina thought the contrast of purple and yellow to be rather striking. But why would someone send them to her?
‘Did they arrive with a note, Wilkins?’
He handed her a folded piece of paper sealed with a blob of red wax.
True beauty resides in the most unexpected places.
When she read the message she knew they could only have come from one man—the only man who had ever told her she was ‘most unexpected’. She folded the paper and brought it to her lips to cover her smile. He was clever. She would give him that. And, as much as she tried, it was difficult to remain unaffected by Julian.
When she directed Wilkins to place them in her bedroom he stared at her as if she belonged in Bedlam. The moment he was far enough away, Sarah jumped up and sat next to her.
‘Who are they from? Did Mr Armstrong send them?’
‘No, he did not. They’re from an acquaintance.’
Sarah eyed her with open curiosity.
