forgotten what we were discussing,’ she said, sitting up.
‘We were discussing fidelity. And I think for all your notions about people prejudging you because you are American you are no better.’
‘How so?’ she asked indignantly.
‘You’ve tarred and feathered the entire male population of the ton, accusing us all of infidelity. You believe my title leaves me incapable of devoting myself to one woman. I am informing you that you are wrong in your assessment of me.’
She crossed her arms over those enticing breasts.
‘Do not look chastised.’ He sat back and rested his head on the cushion behind them. Their conversation today had been far too grim. ‘Have I told you how much I have come to appreciate the smell of lemons?’ he commented casually.
Even in the muted light of the carriage he could see her faint smile. ‘You might have mentioned it a time or two.’
The smile fell from his lips. ‘I fear one day I will miss that smell.’
Silence stretched between them, and his heart sank in his chest.
Katrina was in excellent spirits when Sarah and Mrs Forrester asked her to join them on their shopping excursion along Bond Street two days later. The sun was out and the temperature pleasant, making it an ideal day to meander through the shops. Turning a corner, they noticed a small crowd gathered around the large mullioned window of one particular building. Ever the curious one, Sarah tugged Katrina along to see what was so interesting.
‘Oh, it’s a print shop,’ Sarah said, eyeing the cartoons in each pane of the large window.
‘Perhaps we will see someone we know,’ Katrina mused as she studied a caricature of the Prince Regent attempting to squeeze his rather large body into a very small corset.
Next to her, an amused Sarah methodically studied each print one by one, letting out a giggle at a few in particular. Suddenly she gave a quick gasp and pulled Katrina out through the crowd. Dragging Katrina to the milliner next door, Sarah pulled Katrina to a stop next to where Mrs Forrester was waiting for them.
‘We have a problem,’ she announced rather breathlessly.
Mrs Forrester turned a questioning eye to her daughter. ‘The two of you have been away from me for only a few moments. What could possibly have happened in such a brief time?’
Katrina caught the look of pity in Sarah’s eyes.
Taking Katrina’s gloved hand in her own, Sarah leaned closer. ‘There is a caricature of you and Lyonsdale in a carriage,’ she whispered.
Ice crept up Katrina’s spine. Their secret was out. It felt as if all the people around them were whispering about her, even though their eyes were still on the prints in the window.
At Mrs Forrester’s suggestion they made their way directly to Katrina’s home with a stack of the scandalous prints. They had tried to acquire the printing plate, but had been told someone else had purchased it a few hours earlier.
It wasn’t until they had entered Katrina’s drawing room that she was finally able to study the image.
The illustration showed a carriage with the Lyonsdale crest emblazoned on the door and an American flag flying above, driving through London. Visible through the window was the head of a blonde woman wearing an Indian headdress. Her head was back and her eyes were closed. On top of her was a brown-haired man in his shirtsleeves with his hand on her bare leg, pushing up her skirt. The caption below read Minding the Savages.
For the first time in her life Katrina truly thought she might cast up her accounts in front of other people. She dropped down on the settee and let her head fall into her hands. ‘How can I show my face in Town after this?’
Crouching down beside her, Mrs Forrester stroked Katrina’s back. ‘Do not worry, my dear. Anyone who has encountered you thus far has seen you comport yourself as a lady. I am certain this will be forgotten when some new bit of gossip has the tongues wagging.’
The woman was trying to reassure her, but Katrina did not miss the concern in her voice.
‘Katrina, I do have to ask—did you go for a carriage ride with a titled Englishman?’
She looked into the gentle eyes of the woman who had kindly offered to chaperon her. How could she say she had been secretly seeing Lyonsdale? The woman would never look at her the same way again.
Needing to put distance between them, Katrina jumped up and headed towards the window. It was time to confess everything.
‘Mother, it was all my fault,’ Sarah blurted out. She looked regretfully at Katrina. ‘Please forgive me. I never thought this would happen.’
What was Sarah saying?
Mrs Forrester stared at her daughter with trepidation. ‘What did you do?’
‘Do you recall when Katrina and I went on that picnic? Well, two gentlemen we are acquainted with happened upon us, and I asked them if they would care for refreshment. They sat with us for a time and then went on their way. It was all very innocent, but our footman or coachman must have told a tale.’
Mrs Forrester rubbed her eyes, as if she could wipe the image of the caricature from her mind. Katrina had already tried that. It didn’t work.
The woman took both of Sarah’s hands and looked her in the eye. ‘Who were the gentlemen?’
‘The Duke of Lyonsdale and the Earl of Hartwick.’
Mrs Forrester’s loud groan filled the room. ‘Sarah, you didn’t?’
Sarah’s hands fisted at her sides as she tried to defend her action. ‘The hour was very early. I was certain no one would see.’
But this image clearly showed an exaggerated version of what had occurred as Katrina drove through Mayfair with Julian. This was not a depiction of the picnic.
She began to tremble, and drops of cold sweat dusted her skin. ‘What will I tell my father?’
Mrs Forrester quickly took her by the arm and gently lowered her to the settee. ‘Have no fear. I will talk with him first. There might be a way we can avoid a scandal. I doubt the Duke of Lyonsdale has any desire to enter into one.’
Julian’s reputation meant everything to him. If his family name suffered because of the implications of the caricature he would hate her for ever.
Her stomach dipped and flipped. Running to the potted palm in the corner of the room, Katrina reached it just in time.
* * *
Later that afternoon, in the Palace of Westminster, Julian was taken aback when he entered the Chamber of the House of Lords and a hush fell over the stately room. Appraising faces turned his way, and for the first time in his life he was confronted with critical stares from many of his peers. He had been up late
