Her eyes twinkled in merriment. “Come in.” She waved him forward.
As soon as Christian stepped through the door, the woman stopped. “I always forget before I let people in. I’m supposed to ask who you are.”
“The Duke of Randford at your service.” Christian executed a perfect bow.
“You’re the charmer.” The woman laughed and closed the door.
“The what?” Christian chuckled.
“The one who brought all those beautiful roses.” The woman sighed in contentment. “Such glorious color throughout the house. I’m Mrs. Venetia Hopkins, Constance Lysander’s aunt.” She glanced at the entry clock. Her eyes widened, then she leaned close and lowered her voice. “It’s almost two o’clock. Time for our whisky hour,” she said sweetly. “Actually, Willa nips the whisky, and I sip sherry. Care to join us?”
“I’m afraid not,” Christian answered politely. “I’ve never been to a whisky hour before, but it sounds appealing.”
“You should make time. A tipple is good for your constitution.” The woman looked him up and down. “Based upon your size, you must tipple every day.”
Christian laughed aloud. Who was this woman? He immediately liked her.
Willa rounded the corner, shaking her head. “Venetia, it’s a little early to start imbibing sherry.” She leaned close to the older woman and whispered, “Remember what we agreed. When someone’s at the door, you can’t invite them to join you if you’re not acquainted.” She chuckled.
Venetia snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right. Is two o’clock a little early for a tipple?”
“Yes,” Willa answered.
Venetia turned her smiling face back to Christian. “Sometimes I say things out of turn.”
“We all do, madame,” Christian said.
“Now that’s settled”—Venetia winked—“would three o’clock work for you?”
“You are incorrigible,” Willa scolded with a laugh before she turned to Christian. “Good afternoon, Duke.”
“Miss Ferguson,” he greeted with a slight bow. “I’m here to see Katherine.”
“Her office is on the second floor on the left just past the sitting room.” Willa linked her arm with Venetia’s and escorted the older woman away.
Christian climbed the stairs to the second floor, where the sitting room’s door was ajar. Christian stopped for a quick gander. This was Katherine’s domain, and a delightful place it had turned out to be. It was a bright, airy room with colorful chairs and sofas upholstered in red and pink brocades and silk. But what caught his eye were the pillows and bolsters. He couldn’t count them all. There had to be at least fifty in various colors decorating the room.
He turned on his heel with a smile. The colors resembled the crisp, deep colors of the gardens at his ancestral seat. He wanted to take her there when everything was in the first bloom of spring. He could imagine her face at the sight of the gardens overflowing with ruby, scarlet, and crimson roses.
In his entire life, it was the first time he’d ever wanted to take a woman to Roseport. It was a special place where he’d spent the happiest times of his childhood. His mother had made certain of that. They’d spent hours in the fields and in the conservatory tending to the roses.
It was the only place he’d ever considered home, and he wanted to share that part of himself with her.
He continued down the hall, then stopped in front of her office door. Through an opening, he could see the bright light of a candle and Katherine bent over her desk, writing. Her cheeks resembled ripe peaches, as if she blushed from the candlelight kissing her face. When she finished, she carefully lifted the quill from the paper and placed it back in its stand.
That was his cue to enter. He gently knocked on the open door.
Katherine lifted her gaze and, immediately, her eyes widened. For a sweet eternity, neither moved nor said a word. Christian drank in the sight of her. A man could easily surrender his soul by staring into the deep pools of golden green that shimmered in the light. If that man were lucky, he’d drown in such a vision. What good was a soul anyway when he could find the promise of heaven in her gaze?
Such was the power of Katherine Greer.
Today, she was no longer Lady Meriwether. She deserved better than his profligate brother.
But the question that still gnawed at Christian’s conscience was whether he deserved her. There was only one way to find out.
“Hello, Katherine. May I come in?”
* * *
Katherine’s smile froze when she saw who stood in the doorway. She’d thought it was Willa. Instead, it was Christian who stood before her, looking more