Sarah asked.
‘He has,’ replied Lord Hartwick. ‘I must confess broken statues do not hold my interest—especially when most of them are of men.’
Lyonsdale eyed his friend sharply, and a silent communication passed between them before Lyonsdale turned back to Katrina. ‘Has any particular piece caught your eye?’ he asked.
Why was it that the only sculpture she could remember seeing was that of the nude man? Was Lyonsdale as muscular as the man carved out of marble? From the way the cut of his coat accentuated his frame, he appeared to be. There had to be another piece of art she could remember seeing...
‘The horse’s head,’ she blurted out, grateful she had thought of such an innocuous piece.
‘It is quite lifelike, is it not? I enjoy the friezes myself.’
Their almost kiss had muddled her brain. Katrina was beginning to picture his head upon the statue that had so intrigued her earlier. That odd flutter was back, low in her abdomen, and the air was growing thin. If she didn’t distance herself from him immediately she was certain to make a cake of herself.
‘Well, it was nice to see you again. I believe we will leave you gentlemen to your leisure and continue on.’
When Lyonsdale inclined his head and was about to turn away, his friend cleared his throat. Katrina caught the questioning look that crossed Lyonsdale’s face.
Lord Hartwick tipped his head. ‘I believe, ladies, that you could not have a better guide than His Grace. Perhaps you would be interested in having him explain the Marbles to you?’
Katrina eyed both men hesitantly. How could she possibly say no without insulting Lyonsdale? But if she spent any more time with him in a room full of barely clad statues she might tug him behind one and kiss him till he had trouble breathing as well.
‘It is very kind of you to offer, however, we would not want to keep you longer than necessary with our pace,’ she said, feeling Sarah’s eyes on her.
‘I assure you it would be of no inconvenience. Although I can understand you wanting to take your time with the exhibition,’ Lyonsdale said, glancing at his friend.
‘Well...thank you again for your offer,’ she said, linking her arm through Sarah’s. Hopefully the air was cooler in the adjoining gallery. ‘Perhaps we will see each other again.’
* * *
When Miss Vandenberg and her friend were a good distance away, Julian rounded on Hart. ‘What in the world possessed you to do that?’
‘Well, pardon me for trying to extend the encounter.’
‘Next time do not lend me your assistance.’
‘Next time I won’t. You are on your own, Romeo.’
‘Do not call me that.’
Hart shook his head. ‘You must be aware that the two of you produce an interesting display when you’re together. It’s like nothing I’ve witnessed with you before.’
‘What display?’
‘When the two of you stare at one other, one might expect you each to drag the other behind some grand statue in this room.’ Hart glanced around. ‘Possibly that one over there.’
Julian’s eyes narrowed. ‘She declined your offer to have me show her the Marbles. What in the world could possibly make you think she wants me?’
She had also refused his kiss, however, he was not about to state that fact. Her eagerness to leave just now told him how insulted she must be by his improper advance. He had allowed his passion to overtake him. Guilt churned in his gut.
‘Oh, we are not playing the two young simpering misses, are we? If there is one thing I know, it’s the look of a woman who wants to be taken. Now, don’t expect me to give you an exact recounting of the number of times she glanced at you and the way her breathing increased when you drew close to her.’
None of this could be true. ‘How do you know her breathing increased?’
‘Her lovely little breasts rose most rapidly.’
Julian’s right hand curled into a fist. ‘What were you doing staring at her breasts?’ he said through his teeth.
‘Pardon me—have we met?’ Hart crooked his lip. ‘I’m curious. Have you called out her name yet when you’re with Helena? If you have, please tell me she noticed.’
Julian tugged at the cuff of his sleeve. ‘You’ll be pleased to know I have ended my association with Helena.’
A broad smile broke out on Hart’s face. ‘You have been keeping secrets from me. Not at all sporting of you. Did she turn some tables?’
‘She threw a candlestick at me, but I managed to save my head. She was offended that the pearls I gave her weren’t diamonds. Apparently a duke should give diamonds when he ends a liaison. Did you know that? I didn’t. Glad I never did give her any, though.’
‘So now you are free to pursue the lovely Miss V?’
‘She is an unmarried woman. I’ll not ruin her.’
Hart eyed him closely. ‘Perhaps you should marry her, then.’
‘What? You are talking about marriage? You who repeatedly defile the sanctity of such a union all over Town?’
‘Well, I am not talking about me. You are too honourable to have her any other way, and you have a disturbing need to get leg-shackled again. Why not now? Why not to her? Once you get over this obsession with her you can find amusements elsewhere.’
‘She is an American.’
‘She is hardly running around in animal skins.’
‘So I should throw away centuries of the Lyonsdale bloodline to marry an untitled woman who isn’t even English? How do they even raise their children in America?’ Just the idea of it was making him sweat.
‘Do you believe that if you marry her you will create green dwarf children with pointed ears? She is pretty, appears intelligent, and she comports herself well. I am sure her children will follow suit. If anything, she is the one who would be making a sacrifice. After all, your children could resemble you.’
‘I am a duke. It’s not done.’
Julian’s eyes drifted to the doorway and he clenched his jaw. He wanted her—more than anything. But it was his lot in life that he could not have her.
‘Very well. However, it makes no sense to me why you would want to remain this frustrated.’
‘I am not frustrated,’ Julian replied, more loudly than he had intended.
Hart grinned in triumph.
Spinning on his heels, Julian cursed his friend as he walked away.
* * *
Later that evening Julian sat at his desk and stared at the blurred writing on the paper in front of him. He should have been focusing on memorising the words he had written, since he would be delivering them to a chamber full of his peers in a few days’ time. Instead he was continuing to mull over Miss Vandenberg’s reaction to him at the museum. It had been apparent that she couldn’t wait to leave his side. She was an unmarried woman, and he had tried to kiss her. Of course she had been insulted by his actions. Hart’s assessment of their encounter had been all wrong.
Julian was not in the habit of apologising for anything. This time he needed to make an exception.
A low knock on his door broke the silence of the room. His mother stood in the doorway, dressed for her evening engagements. He motioned for her to enter and she took a seat across from him.
‘You are working late, I see,’ she said, adjusting her gloves.
‘I am memorising a speech.’