door before she continued. ‘They are from Lyonsdale.’
Katrina looked away. ‘What would cause you to believe so?’
‘Because you only smile like that when he is near. What did the card say?’
‘It is of little importance.’
‘Why will you not tell me?’ Sarah said, fisting her hands on her lap.
Katrina turned back to her friend. ‘There is nothing to tell.’
‘After finding the two of you together, I wish you would admit you fancy him.’
She could not allow herself to think such thoughts. If she thought too much about how she felt about him heartache would be her only reward. ‘What good would it do? We have no future together.’
‘The Duke’s questionable taste in botanicals paints a different picture. Has he called on you?’
Katrina rubbed the tightness in her chest. She hated lying to Sarah, but she and Julian had promised not to tell anyone about their secret agreement. ‘Of course not. The man is a duke and I am American. I possess no title and have no impressive heritage. And, I have heard rumours that he is carrying on a liaison with Lady Wentworth.’ Now Sarah would stop pestering her about him.
‘You are prettier.’
Katrina sent her an incredulous look. It was an admirable attempt on her friend’s part, but Katrina knew how beautiful Lady Wentworth was.
‘Well, you are more amiable, and probably much more intelligent.’
That made Katrina laugh, and she was grateful to have found such a good friend.
‘Why do you believe he sent those...weeds?’ Sarah continued.
Katrina shrugged and returned her focus to the violets. His cheeky gesture had made her smile.
‘You cannot convince me you are indifferent to him, and he is obviously quite taken with you. Let me help you with this.’
‘Oh, no,’ Katrina said, pointing her paintbrush at Sarah. ‘Do not do a thing. Do you understand, Sarah?’
‘But I can help you. As you are aware, my presence will add an air of discretion to your encounters, and it will also protect you in the event that you discover his taste in most things is consistent with his taste in botanicals. Please let me help you.’
‘I said no. Do not misinterpret a fond regard for romance.’
‘But he kissed you!’
‘What?’ Katrina glanced around in panic, her heart racing.
‘At the Whitfield ball. You cannot tell me he did not kiss you. When I entered that room you looked like a woman about to swoon.’
She needed to stop the pounding of her heart. ‘I do not swoon. I never swoon. And, more importantly, we did not kiss. There was no kiss.’
‘Well, there should have been! You need to be around him more.’
‘Sarah!’
‘I am simply stating my opinion.’
The Forresters’ barouche rolled through Richmond under a canopy of trees as a soft breeze blew. The coachman guided the team of four to a raised mound where trees and shrubs dotted a grassy lawn that sloped off in all directions. Sarah chose a shady area under an old cascading willow tree as the perfect spot for a picnic.
If Katrina had to spend a day without being near Julian, at least she was in a pretty place.
After setting a large wicker hamper on the white cotton blanket, Sarah’s footman returned to the barouche.
‘This really was a fine idea, and at this early hour I’d be surprised if we encounter anyone else for hours.’ Katrina began unpacking the food from the hamper. ‘I can’t recall the last time I was on a picnic. Whatever made you think of this?’
Sarah gave a careless shrug. ‘It came to me the other day when I was in Hyde Park. I was told this is an ideal place to pass the time. Spending the day away from London is a nice reprieve from all the calls we must make and the dull visitors we must receive.’
‘Whatever would I do without you?’
Sarah’s lips turned up in a mischievous grin. ‘Trust me when I say you would be lost without me.’
* * *
Not far away, two riders were racing through a clearing at top speed. The coat-tails of the rider in front flapped in the wind behind him. A satisfied smile rested on his lips. The second rider clutched his horse tightly with his muscular thighs. His slightly long black hair whipped into his eyes as he angled his body lower, attempting to outrun his opponent. His face was set in an expression of pure determination, and he was oblivious to the scenery around him.
Julian kept his eyes fixed on the grove of trees that marked the finish line. ‘You’ll never outrun me!’ he yelled over the pounding of hoofbeats.
‘This race isn’t over yet!’ Hart yelled back as he pulled his horse directly to the left of Julian’s.
Julian’s horse was ahead by a neck when they reached the trees. As he pulled in the reins he spun his horse around and laughed. ‘And that, my friend, is how you win a race.’
‘You don’t say? I would not have noticed you had won if you had been remiss in mentioning it.’
‘That is why I knew it was my duty to do so.’
Julian had forgotten how much he enjoyed flying through the fields at top speed. He was glad Hart had suggested this outing. He could have called on Katrina today, but he had been shaken by the intensity of his need for her when they’d been alone at the Whitfields’ ball. His carelessness at not locking the door had almost cost her her reputation. Fortunately Hart valued discretion. The next time he was alone with her, if they were not careful, they might not be so lucky.
‘You realise I held back?’ Hart said, breathing hard. He tossed his head to move the lock of hair that fell over his eye. The lock slid down again.
‘Yes, you have the appearance of a man who took his time,’ Julian replied, smirking.
‘I do, don’t I? In any event, it was a fine race. Let’s find a spot in the shade to rest the horses. I do believe I have a flask somewhere on me.’ Hart searched their surroundings and smiled. ‘Maybe we could beg refreshment from those fair ladies sitting in the shade,’ he said, gesturing with his head.
There was a large willow tree with a thick covering of branches swaying slightly in the breeze. It wasn’t until a strong gust of wind blew the branches aside that he spied the women sitting under it. How was it possible that Katrina was sitting not far from him on the park-like grounds of Hart’s estate? She was wearing a straw bonnet, a white and blue striped gown, and a blue spencer—and she was
