LITMIR.BIZ

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why do you think I would want to read them?’ Meg asked, wrinkling her brow.

      There was a deep laugh from across the table. Keeping her head averted under the rim of her bonnet, Katrina blocked her view of the gentleman across the table. Searching for a more appropriate novel, Katrina spotted a copy of her father’s book. As she reached for it her hand brushed against a strong hand encased in a brown leather glove. Startled, she looked up.

      ‘We meet again,’ the annoying Englishman said.

      No, we don’t, because you are too rude to seek an introduction!

      Katrina took a breath to compose herself before she spoke. ‘So it would seem.’

      ‘Forgive me. I believe that is the book I have been searching for.’

      ‘This book?’ Katrina asked, holding it up to show him the title on the spine.

      ‘Yes, that is it.’ He reached for another copy and began to turn the pages. There was a hesitation before he looked up at her. ‘I’ve heard it’s a very good book. You would not happen to know anything about it, would you?’

      ‘I can highly recommend it. The book presents the observations of a traveller and contains much happy humour.’

      Katrina glanced around the shop to see if anyone was watching them. Meg had moved to a nearby bookcase, engrossed in Clarissa. What was the point of having your maid accompany you around the town if she walked away when the man you wanted to avoid began speaking with you?

      He walked around the table and stood next to her, smelling of leather and fresh air. ‘The account is humorous?’

      ‘Yes, Lord Byron has said he knows it by heart, and Scott has said it is positively beautiful. I understand the book is selling rather quickly. You might wish to purchase one before they are all sold.’ She looked closely at him, challenging him to actually buy it.

      ‘You appear intimately acquainted with the book,’ he commented, his eyes narrowing.

      ‘I suppose I am. My father is the author.’

      ‘You are Mr Vandenberg’s daughter?’ he asked in a rush of breath.

      ‘Yes, my lord, I am.’ She crossed her arms over her chest. If he said one disparaging thing about the fact that her father was a writer she was leaving immediately. He would deserve the cut.

      He tipped his head to her. ‘Then I shall be certain to take your recommendation. My grandmother speaks highly of it as well.’

      ‘Your grandmother?’

      ‘Yes. My grandmother seems to have misplaced her copy. I came here today to purchase a new one for her.’

      He was intending to purchase her father’s book because his grandmother had lost her copy? That seemed rather...sweet.

      Katrina caught herself before she smiled. He wasn’t sweet. He was rude! Still, she couldn’t help asking him if he was a doting grandson.

      ‘I suppose I am.’

      He smiled at her and he appeared even more attractive.

      ‘She seemed truly distressed to discover it missing.’

      He stepped a bit closer and inhaled. Was that some odd English custom?

      Katrina eyed him and placed her father’s book down. ‘Did you just sniff me?’ she whispered.

      A small smile raised one corner of his lips. ‘Now, why would I do that?’

      ‘Why, indeed?’ Katrina replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

      She edged a little further down the table. The heat from his body somehow made its way over to her. This man had ignored her for days. Why couldn’t her body do the same to him? She could practically feel his every breath. That slightly unsettling feeling was back.

      ‘If you will excuse me?’ she said, turning to leave.

      He blocked her way with his body. ‘You do not need to leave yet, do you?’

      ‘I cannot stay. You must realise our speaking without an introduction is highly improper.’ It was easier not to look at him, and she picked unseen strings from her pale blue and white spencer.

      He glanced around and edged closer to her. ‘That didn’t bother you before.’

      ‘A momentary lapse in judgement.’

      ‘No one here knows we have not been formally introduced,’ he said quietly.

      ‘We know we have not,’ she chided. ‘And you have done it again! You sniffed me.’ She stepped away from him, feeling more than a little unsettled. ‘I can assure you Americans do bathe.’

      His lips twitched. ‘Why do you smell like lemons, Miss Vandenberg?’

      Katrina’s brows drew together in confusion. ‘That is irrelevant—and I refuse to carry on this conversation when I do not even know your name.’

      ‘We could remedy that easily. I could simply tell you what it is.’

      ‘Do you always flout the English rules of conduct?’

      He appeared to ponder her question for a moment. Then he shook his head. ‘Actually, I never do. However, I see no harm in it this time. But if you insist we will do this in the proper manner. I shall need to borrow your maid.’

      ‘You’d like to borrow my maid?’

      ‘I would.’

      He walked to Meg, who was watching the interaction between her mistress and this perplexing Englishman. They bent their heads together, and a short while later both walked towards Katrina.

      ‘Miss Vandenberg,’ Meg said, trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile, ‘may I present His Grace the Duke of Lyonsdale? Your Grace, this is my mistress—Miss Katrina Vandenberg.’ She curtsied and watched them both closely.

      The scoundrel! Katrina’s eyes widened. ‘You’re a duke?’

      A slow smile made his lips turn up invitingly. ‘I am.’

      ‘You are the Duke of Lyonsdale?’

      ‘Yes, I believe we have established that.’

      Meg, as if sensing her mistress’s temper, smartly moved back to her place by the bookcase.

      ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Katrina demanded.

      ‘My name? I was going to, but you seemed to need a proper introduction so I had your maid do it.’

      ‘That’s not what I meant,’ Katrina said as she shook her head. ‘You led me to believe you were simply a lord.’

      ‘How did I do that?’

      ‘You did not correct me when I addressed you. You must have found my ignorance vastly entertaining,’ she replied waspishly.

      It had been bad enough when she’d thought he might be a titled gentleman, such as a baron, but he was a duke! In England, his station in life was so far above hers he probably would never have spoken to her again if it had not been for this accidental encounter.

      She would not show him that it hurt.

      ‘Miss Vandenberg—’

      ‘I’ll not be played for a fool. I’m sure you have enjoyed telling your friends how ignorant Americans can be. Well, let me tell you—’

      ‘Miss Vandenberg,’ he interrupted more forcefully. ‘I didn’t correct you because we had not been introduced. I had no opportunity to tell you my name or indicate my station.’

      ‘You could have corrected the way I had addressed you.’

      ‘And sound like a pompous fool? I think not.’

      He certainly would have sounded like a pompous

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