Regency Surrender: Powerful Dukes. Laurie Benson
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over unexpectedly.
‘You are back early today,’ the Dowager continued.
‘No, I return home at exactly this time each Monday when the committee is in session.’
So this was one of the ways a duke occupied himself during the day. ‘Is this a Parliamentary committee?’ Katrina asked.
He accepted the tea and shifted his gaze to her. ‘It is.’
‘What does your committee meet about?’
‘We are investigating the effects of working conditions on child labourers.’
‘You are?’
He lifted his chin, as if he was anticipating derision. ‘I assure you it is a valid issue, and one that needs to be addressed.’
It wasn’t necessary to point that out to her. She was simply surprised that a man of his substantial wealth had any interest in the children of the poor.
‘I agree. It’s commendable that your committee has taken up the cause for those who are frequently neglected.’
‘We have just begun our interviews. Our aim is to ensure these children are neither exploited nor harmed.’ His gaze drifted to the flowers. ‘I see the violets are multiplying,’ he commented to his grandmother. ‘This is the first time you have seen fit to display them outside your rooms.’
The Dowager gave Katrina a warm smile. ‘These are from Miss Vandenberg. She was kind enough to bring them to me.’
He did nothing to hide his surprise. ‘You have brought my grandmother flowers?’
‘I have. I found them beautiful and wished to share them with her,’ she stated, annoyed with herself for feeling the need to explain her actions to him.
‘I would have assumed you would favour orchids or some other rare, exotic bloom.’
‘I am partial to simpler things. I do not need the world to confirm a pedigree for me to appreciate beauty.’
He studied her over his teacup, and she found the room was growing rather warm.
‘They match your eyes.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘The violets—they are the same colour as your eyes.’
It was impossible to pull her gaze from his—that was until the Dowager gave a discreet cough.
‘Miss Vandenberg, would you care to see our library?’ she asked. ‘With your fondness for books, I am certain you will find something of interest to borrow.’ She turned to Lyonsdale. ‘With your permission, of course.’
‘That is a fine idea. Please, by all means, Miss Vandenberg. My library is at your disposal.’ He sat back in his chair and took a sip of his tea.
Katrina now had an excuse to remove herself from his presence. Maybe it would relieve her of the restless feeling that hadn’t gone away since the moment she’d laid eyes on him.
‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘Capital,’ the Dowager replied with a broad smile. ‘I shall wait here while you escort her.’
‘Me?’ he spluttered, and appeared to be thinking up an excuse as to why he wasn’t available.
‘It is your library,’ his grandmother explained. ‘You know it far better than anyone else in this house. Besides, I’ve had a dull ache in my legs all day. I do not expect you will take long.’
If Katrina hadn’t been paying such close attention to him she might have missed his hesitation before he turned back to her.
‘Shall we, Miss Vandenberg?’
They entered the hallway in silence, walking side by side. After a few moments she turned to him. ‘You do not need to remain with me while I make my selection. I am certain I will be able to find my way back to the drawing room.’
‘Are you attempting to remove yourself from my company?’
‘Not at all. I simply assume you have pressing matters that require your attention.’
‘I find I can think of nothing at the moment that is more pressing than helping you obtain something for your enjoyment.’
This time when he spoke his voice was warm and friendly.
She had provided him with an excuse. If he chose not to take it, it was no longer her concern.
‘Your grandmother called on me recently,’ she said, as a way to explain her presence in his home.
‘I assumed she must have.’
‘She is a lovely woman.’
‘That’s debatable.’
‘Come, now—she is quite affable.’
He shook his head. ‘That is one word to describe her. I can think of others.’
‘You are very fortunate to have her.’
Their arms inadvertently brushed against one another, and he placed some distance between them. After a few more steps he moved his hands behind his back as they continued down the long hall.
‘If you had a grandmother like mine you might have a different opinion on the matter.’
‘I did not know either of my grandmothers. They passed away before I was born.’
He lowered his head and looked at her with regret. ‘Please forgive me. I should have thought before I spoke.’
He might not appreciate his grandmother, but she did. She gave him a reassuring smile. ‘No apology is necessary.’
They strolled through an ornately carved archway and entered a long wood-panelled extension of the hall. To their right, tall windows with blue damask silk draperies brought muted light into the room. The opposite wall was covered with life-size portraits of men in various poses and attire.
Katrina paused and looked over the portraits of the men who were staring down at them. She advanced further and their superior gazes followed her.
‘Who are they?’
He appeared to stand taller, if that was even possible. ‘May I introduce you to the Dukes of Lyonsdale?’
Her eyes widened as she spun around. ‘All of them?’
He let out a soft laugh at her obvious amazement. ‘We are missing one. However, every man in this room has held my title at one time. My ducal title is one of the oldest in England.’
In Katrina’s dining room at their country home in Tarrytown her mother’s portrait hung on the wall behind the chair where she had sat. Her father said it reminded him that she was still somehow with them. He also carried a miniature of her mother on his person. The only other portraits of her family were one of her father and one of his parents. Lyonsdale had many, many more.
Near the doorway they had walked through hung the portrait of a man with dark curly hair, wearing armour. His sword was raised in the air as he sat upon his steed. From his expression she gathered he would be happy to use that sword on her if she moved the wrong way. He was an intimidating sight.
Lyonsdale approached her. ‘That is Edward Carlisle, the First Duke of Lyonsdale. He was awarded the title by King Henry the Seventh for service to the crown in battle.’
‘Which battle?’
‘The Battle of Bosworth.’
Well, that explained nothing. She continued to study the designs on the man’s armour.
‘The Battle of Bosworth took place during the War of the Roses.’
He might just as well have been speaking Italian.
‘You have heard of the War of the Roses, haven’t