LITMIR.BIZ

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looked past Sarah and immediately wished she hadn’t. Madame de Lieven was strolling with Mr Armstrong, and from the way she was examining the ladies around her, it was apparent she was searching for someone in particular. The woman was much too persistent. Katrina feared that in a moment of weakness she might agree to allow Madame de Lieven to chaperon her on an outing with that windsucker.

      She needed to reach the maze—and she needed to do it quickly.

      She grabbed the handle of Sarah’s parasol and tilted it, obscuring their faces from the guests on the lawn.

      * * *

      As Julian walked down the gravel pathway on the back lawn of Hipswitch House with Hart, he tugged at the brim of his John Bull hat to shield his eyes from the sun. They walked in silence, each consumed with their own thoughts, and Julian stared at the garden’s maze in the distance.

      He had not attended any social engagements since the day he had been humiliated by Cruikshank’s caricature. He had tried to convince himself it was because he needed to spend time learning the issues surrounding Britain’s North American territories. But he knew the real reason he had not ventured out was because it would have been agonising to see Katrina again.

      Days had gone by since his agreement with her father—days when Julian had worried over whether he had made the right decision. They might have been married by now. Instead he had sat alone in his study, reading every word of Katrina’s father’s book and searching the text for anything that might have been a reference to her. He had even tried reading the remainder of Frankenstein, but it was too painful a reminder that now he was all alone. Never again would her lemon scent drift towards him as she leaned on his shoulder while they read together.

      The nights were worse. He would toss and turn, and dream about losing her all over again. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in days. If this continued he was certain to drift off in the middle of his next speech. That was why he had decided to come here today. Seeing her from a distance might somehow put his decision to rest.

      ‘Do you have a destination in mind?’ Hart asked, breaking into his thoughts. ‘Or are we to continue to pace this path all day?’

      ‘There is no need for you to remain in my company.’

      Hart tipped his hat to some passing gentlemen they often saw at Tattersalls. ‘Winter and Andrew suggested I join them for archery. However, Lady Morley has been enquiring about you for weeks. Fortunately for you, my reputation is not nearly as impeccable as yours. She will never approach you with Lady Mary while I’m near.’

      The thought of conversing with Lady Morley made his head pound. ‘Perhaps it’s time I become accustomed to her company.’ He ripped a leaf off the hedgerow of privets that ran along the pathway to his right.

      ‘And perhaps I have a desire to have leeches suck my body dry.’

      ‘I think it’s time I offered for her.’

      The silence between them was deafening.

      ‘That is what you truly want?’

      Julian continued to stare straight ahead of him. ‘It’s time.’ The maze in the distance was getting closer.

      From the corner of his eye, he saw Hart shake his head.

      ‘That is not what I asked.’

      ‘I need an heir.’

      ‘And Lady Mary Morley is to be your choice to give you one?’

      ‘She is the perfect choice to become Duchess of Lyonsdale.’ A lump settled in Julian’s throat, as if blocking the words.

      Silence.

      ‘The perfect choice for who? For your mother? For the Lyonsdale Dukes lying in your family’s crypt? She certainly is not the perfect choice for you.’

      Julian stopped and rounded on Hart. ‘She is the perfect choice to bear the next Duke. She is the perfect choice to bear my son.’ The words tasted false even as he spat them out.

      ‘And what if you only have daughters? Will it still feel as if you made the perfect choice in choosing Lady Mary?’

      He needed to speak of something else—anything else. He had regained his political clout. His opinions had weight once again. That was what mattered in life. That was the life his father had led.

      ‘Morley approached me last night at White’s. He wanted my views on the fate of the Hudson Bay Company when the Anglo-American Conference convenes. I’m assuming he holds substantial interest in the company and is concerned his investment may suffer.’

      ‘So now you have become a respected voice on the facts behind the upcoming negotiations between Britain and America? Interesting how you were able to achieve that.’

      Julian refused to look at Hart, and instead ripped off another leaf from the hedgerow. ‘I find I’m becoming more and more interested in the matters that need to be settled between our two countries. It is in our best interests to try to achieve amiable relations with them. We need the trade, and that last war with them cost us unnecessarily.’

      ‘Perhaps you have found your purpose. Each of the Lyonsdale Dukes is known for something glorious. Improved Anglo-American relations might be your achievement. A bitter irony, it seems.’

      Julian glanced over at his friend and caught the mocking glint in his eyes. This time Julian grabbed an entire stem from the hedge and pulled all the leaves off. They fluttered to the ground, unwanted. With each step the sound of crunching gravel was loud over the silence that stretched between them. He closed his eyes and reminded himself that he would forget her.

      Hart adjusted his lazy lock of hair. ‘She is here. I spotted her earlier today up at the house.’

      Julian’s dying heart stirred. ‘I told you I have no wish to ever discuss her again.’

      ‘I have not mentioned anyone by name.’

      Julian glared at Hart, and he was wise enough not to make any further comment.

      Hart’s attention followed the new group of leaves that Julian was yanking from the hedgerow. ‘Hipswitch’s gardeners might take umbrage at your pruning techniques.’

      Damn the gardeners!

      Julian clasped his hands behind his back. Hart would never understand that Julian couldn’t even say her name without causing a stabbing pain in his chest. He knew that eventually she would be a distant memory. There would even come a day when he’d wake up and not recall her face. His stomach churned at the notion.

      ‘Well, this should improve that pained expression of yours,’ Hart said. ‘It’s the woman you’ve been so eager to see.’

      Julian closed his eyes. He prayed he would remain composed when he looked at the lovely woman he could not have. Taking a deep breath, he followed Hart’s gaze—and froze when he spotted Lady Morley, walking towards them across the lawn with a determined stride.

      The maze was not too far ahead. Hopefully he would reach it before Lady Morley caught up to them.

      * * *

      Helena settled onto a bench facing the entrance to the Hipswitch maze and opened her grey silk parasol, sharing the shade with the Duchess of Skeffington. The day had been fruitless so far. The only other eligible duke who wasn’t decrepit was a recluse who never came to London. She had no chance of securing him, and the thought of sharing her marriage bed with a wrinkly old man, even if he was a duke, made her stomach turn.

      Today she was focusing her quest on finding a marquess. It was possible Lord Boreham had enough funds to be the answer to her prayers. She was rapidly running out of money. She needed to work quickly, but she had yet to see him.

      Her friend adjusted her gloves with a satisfied smile on her face. ‘I believe Lord Andrew missed his target today because he was distracted by my presence.’

      The only reason Lord Andrew had

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