The white-haired Duke of Skeffington toddled up to him. His bloodshot eyes studied Julian over his wire-framed glasses. He was the oldest duke in the chamber, and liked to remind everyone of the deferential treatment he should be given because of it.
He rapped his cane on the floor, narrowly missing Julian’s foot. ‘Well, boy? Explain yourself.’
They were frequently on opposing sides in this room. His eagerness to hear what Julian had to say was unusual, but it could perhaps be attributed to the man’s recent bouts of narcolepsy.
‘I will explain myself when it’s my turn to address the chamber,’ Julian said, ready to push past him.
‘I don’t give a fig about your speech. I am speaking of you and the American.’
Julian’s blood ran cold and every muscle in his body locked. He could not possibly have heard the man correctly. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You have ancestors who were killed by their hands in their war for independence, and now you engage in behaviour such as this? It’s disgraceful,’ he spat out. ‘Your father would have been appalled by your actions.’
He tapped the handle of his cane into Julian’s chest before he walked away, unconcerned with a reply.
Julian broke out into a cold sweat. How did Skeffington know about Katrina? He had been so careful. His thoughts turned to their drive through Town. They had been in an unmarked carriage with the curtains drawn. Surely no one had seen them?
More eyes were upon him, and heat crept up his neck. The Duke of Winterbourne came to stand beside him, carrying himself with his usual commanding air. It was a relief to see a friendly face.
‘That was quite an entrance you made,’ said Winter, casually adjusting his cuff under his robe. ‘I imagine Skeffington was gracious enough to offer his opinion on the matter?’
‘He was his usual charming self,’ Julian managed to say through his bewilderment.
‘You surely must have realised that when word got out it would be remarked upon. Both Ardsley and Brendel lost their youngest in our last skirmish with the Americans. Lockwood’s two brothers died in America’s war for independence. And those are just the men around us. Many men in this room lost family members there, and they place the blame on the colonials. But I do not need to remind you of that.’
He motioned for them to make their way through the crowd and take their seats.
‘I do not understand why I am garnering such a reaction now, after dancing with the woman weeks ago,’ Julian said.
A look of amused confusion crossed Winter’s face. ‘You do not know what this is about?’
‘Know what?’
‘There was a caricature published about you today, my friend. A rather suggestive one about you and an American. The question is, how accurate is it?’
Their secret was out. He needed to see this print. Unfortunately, the session was about to begin.
Bloody hell! How could he answer for something when he wasn’t quite certain what he was being accused of?
As the room began to settle down Lord Allyn approached them and nodded a greeting. Julian was expecting his friend to wish him luck today—instead Allyn had a request.
‘I’m aware you’re scheduled to present your speech today, Lyonsdale. However, with recent events being what they are, I think it best if you refrain from giving it.’
Confused, Julian tried to grasp what Allyn was saying. He had worked on his speech for weeks. He had been asked to deliver it because he was an influential peer, and his speeches were known to sway voters. Now, because of one print, he had become a liability.
‘Perhaps Allyn is right,’ Winter said in a low voice as he leaned forward.
‘Et tu?’
‘Listen to him.’ Winter pointed towards Allyn. ‘This is not an attack on you.’
‘Of course it is,’ Julian said with quiet emphasis.
‘No. It’s about certain men who won’t listen to you because they will be focusing on the possible scandal surrounding you—a man renowned for your moral character—and an unmarried American.’
Scandal.
Bile rose up in his throat. His family had been untouched by scandal for generations. Would he be the one to let their good name fall? He thought of the Fifth Duke—the one who wasn’t fit to have his portrait hung in the gallery. Was that to be his fate?
Clenching his jaw so tightly it might have shattered, Julian shifted his gaze to the row of peers next to him. His pride was crushed. The last thing he needed to see was pity in his friends’ eyes.
‘Fine. You drafted this speech with me—you give it.’ His composure started slipping as he thrust his notes at Winter.
An indecipherable expression passed between his friends, and Allyn gave a brief tip of his head before returning to his seat.
Winter leaned sideways and lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘I suggest you find a way to calm yourself before you draw even more attention your way. You are passionate about your work here. You always have been. But you are not the only one of us who can reach these men and change their minds. You are not a party of one man.’
Julian knew that to be true. But he also knew that the career and reputation he had built for himself was the most important thing in his life. It was the legacy he would leave to future generations. How could he have risked all of it for a few stolen hours with a woman? The problem was, it wasn’t just any woman—it was Katrina. And, although he was chiding himself for being so incredibly foolish, he knew he would recall every minute of those hours they spent together for the rest of his days.
Oh, God, what had he done? He had promised Katrina he wouldn’t do anything to risk her reputation. If only he had been honourable enough to make that so.
His stomach pitched. There was no telling if her reputation was beyond repair until he saw the print.
* * *
Katrina rolled off her wet pillow and stared up at what she knew were blue flowers stitched onto the cream silk that hung from the top of her tester bed. But the image was blurred from the teardrops clinging to her lashes and she rubbed her palms over her eyes. That was better. Now, if she could only concentrate on the details of the flowers and not on the image that had been haunting her for the past four hours...
It was no use. Once more she could see the scandalous caricature of her and Julian—a caricature that announced to all of England that she was a lightskirt. How could she show her face in London Society again?
Agreeing to go for a ride with Julian was probably the most foolish thing she had ever done. Now their time together was surely over, and scandal would follow her.
Her heart ached and she wasn’t sure it would ever be the same. She was such a fool! How could she have thought her feelings would not become engaged? It had happened so gradually there had not been one particular instance. Had there been,
