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are concerned I cannot help myself. I have become quite fond of lemons, by the way.’

      ‘They can be sour and leave a bitter taste in your mouth.’

      His gaze dropped to her lips. ‘Yes, that is true. But they can also be refreshing, as well as tart.’

      ‘Perhaps you would do better to seek out something bland, like lavender or orange blossom. I’ve noticed a great many women in London favour those scents. I am certain if you try you can find an alternative place for your nose,’ she suggested with false sweetness.

      His lips twitched. ‘Oh, I can think of a few places my nose would care to be.’

      The insufferable man! She was not as naïve as he might think.

      ‘I am not speaking with you.’ She raised her chin, annoyed that he had taken the upper hand in their discussion.

      ‘So you said. You dance very well, by the way.’

      ‘Do you always ignore other people’s wishes?’

      ‘Usually. They never seem to mind.’ He gave a small shrug as he guided her gracefully into a turn. ‘In any event, I was not ignoring your wishes. You stated quite clearly that you were not speaking with me. I, on the other hand, have never said I am not speaking with you. In fact I believe you are the one ignoring your own wishes. You are continuing to speak with me.’

      She shifted her attention to the dancers behind him and let out an exasperated breath.

      He leaned down slightly. ‘That still might constitute speaking. It is a confirmation of your annoyance with me.’

      Sliding her gaze back to him, she wondered how many more minutes she would have to be in his company. He sent her an amused look. Could she kick him during the dance without anyone seeing?

      ‘Now, Miss Vandenberg, you do not want the entire assembly to know that you are cross with me. It might reflect poorly on you. I suggest you pretend to enjoy being in my arms.’

      That was the problem. Being in his arms was distracting, and it was making her feel all...fluttery. She forced herself to appear bored.

      He appeared smug.

      Blast it all!

      ‘Do you think every unmarried woman in this room wants you?’

      ‘Well, since I am one of only two eligible dukes in England who are able to eat with their own teeth, yes, I believe that to be true.’

      ‘I suppose that would matter were I English, but, you see, to me your title has little appeal. In fact, to me, your title is inconsequential.’

      ‘How so?’ he asked, tilting his head to the side.

      ‘The other ladies in this room are shopping for a title and prestige, but I am not. I intend to return to America when my father is finished with his business here and I have no intention to marry you or any other Englishman. So, you see, your title holds no interest for me.’

      * * *

      Julian almost stumbled on the wooden floor. He didn’t know how to respond. His title was impressive! There wasn’t an available woman in the room who didn’t want to be married to him. Except, it seemed, the woman in his arms.

      Over the years there had been times when he’d wished he could find someone who would see him for the man he was and not his title. Now that he had his wish, he wasn’t certain he liked the result.

      Annoyed with the turn in their conversation, he knew he needed to regain the upper hand. He leaned forward and took a deep breath. Miss Vandenberg shot him a frustrated glare.

      It was much too easy to get a reaction from her, and Julian wasn’t ready to think about why that pleased him. Any reservations he’d had about asking her to waltz had gone the minute he held her in his arms and she began to speak. He wondered if she smelled like lemons everywhere...

      ‘Please stop,’ she whispered.

      ‘The dance? I think people would notice, don’t you?’

      ‘Sniffing me.’

      ‘Oh, that. If it truly bothers you I will find it within me to stop.’

      ‘I would appreciate the effort.’

      There was a brief silence. ‘I do need to thank you, though.’

      ‘For rinsing my hair with lemon juice? I assure you it has nothing to do with you.’

      ‘No, not that. I want to thank you for sending my grandmother your father’s book. It was quite kind of you.’

      ‘It was no bother.’

      ‘All the same, you made an old woman very happy.’

      ‘Then, for her, I am pleased I arranged it.’

      He thought he saw the faintest hint of a smile. ‘Tell me how you knew it was the Dowager Duchess of Lyonsdale I was referring to in our conversation. It might have been my maternal grandmother.’

      ‘Do you realise how commanding you are? Phrasing requests as questions is much more polite.’ She lifted her brows expectantly.

      He, the Duke of Lyonsdale, had just been schooled in manners again by this American. It was absurd.

      ‘It’s a habit born of my title. In any event, I will heed your well-meaning lesson and try again. Would you please explain your exceptional deductive skills to me?’

      This time a smile definitely tugged at her lips, and Julian found his question well worth the effort.

      ‘I enquired about you and discovered the Dowager lived in your home. I assumed she was the lady in question and had the book sent there.’

      ‘And how did you explain the request to your father?’

      ‘I’ve been handling my father’s correspondence while we have been abroad. I told him we had encountered each other at Hatchards, and that you told me your grandmother’s tale of woe.’

      ‘He did not question our introduction?’

      She leaned closer to him. He could feel her breath on his ear, and he wanted to close his eyes to savour the sensation.

      ‘I have a secret, Your Grace. In America, formal introductions are not an absolute necessity. Americans frequently meet each other in similar fashion.’

      Leaning back, she met his gaze with a good-humoured twinkle in her eyes. Her voice had been low and husky. The heat from her breath had travelled through every part of him.

      He lowered his lips towards her ear, wanting to prolong this playful turn in their conversation. ‘What else do Americans do?’

      The music of the waltz ended, and Julian was forced to let her go.

      ‘I suppose you will have to continue to wonder,’ she replied with an impish grin.

      He held in a smile, wishing he could spend the remainder of the evening in her company.

       Chapter Nine

      Many a quizzing glass was raised as Katrina and the Duke walked through the parting attendants. Katrina could hear the whispers following them. Their sparring had been much too entertaining. She needed to remind herself that he was an arrogant man who had avoided her until their accidental encounter at Hatchards. Now, instead of leaving her when the dance was over, he was escorting her off the floor. Spending more time in his company would not be wise.

      She began to slide her hand from his arm. ‘I see my father is waiting for me. Thank you.’

      The Duke held her hand in place, keeping her at his side. ‘Would you be so kind as to introduce me?’

      Would he act like an arrogant aristocrat towards her father? She slowed her steps

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