The Unexpected Duchess (16 page)

From across the room, she saw Cass and Jane avidly watching. When her eyes met theirs they fanned themselves rapidly to indicate that they approved wholeheartedly of the dashing Lord Berkeley. Lord Berkeley’s gaze soon followed Lucy’s. When he glanced toward her friends, Cass and Jane immediately looked up at the ceiling and around at the backs of their dresses, feigning interest in anything to keep from being caught staring.

Lord Berkeley returned his gaze to Lucy, who was trying her best to keep from laughing. A smile hovered on the viscount’s face. “Friends of yours?”

“Yes,” Lucy replied. “Though I’m a bit hesitant to claim them at the moment.”

Lord Berkeley smiled at that. “W … Would you care to dance, Lady Lucy?”

Ah, a man who knew to call her Lady Lucy instead of Miss Upton,
what
a pleasant change of pace. But had that been a bit of hesitation in his voice? Was she not what he had expected after all? Surely someone as good looking and dashing as Lord Berkeley would be more interested in someone more like … Cass. Oh, she mustn’t think such unhelpful thoughts. Instead she gave him a bright smile. “Why, yes, my lord, I would. Very much.”

Lord Berkeley, she soon discovered, was a lovely dancer. Not much of a conversationalist, however, at least not during their dance. Perhaps he preferred to concentrate on the steps. And he was doing a marvelous job. The man swept her around the floor with an ease and grace that surprised her in someone so tall. Yes, the duke was tall and he was a lovely dancer, too, but— No. She
refused
to think about the duke. Not tonight. She firmly pushed him from her mind.

After their dance Lord Berkeley led her back toward the refreshment table. “Tell me, Lady Lucy, how is it that we have not met before? I find it such a pity.”

Ooh, perhaps this was when she would discover what Garrett had meant when he had said Lord Berkeley was a bit … She’d been studying the man throughout their dance and had found absolutely nothing lacking about him. She gave him a wide smile. “I was just asking Garrett that same thing earlier, my lord. He mentioned that you rarely come to town.”

“It’s true. I’ve been to a few functions here and there over the years but I much prefer the country. Don’t you?”

Lucy thought about the question for a moment. The country meant her parents. No, she was not a devotee of the country. “I wouldn’t say that I prefer it, my lord. I certainly do like holiday towns like Bath. Tell me, what brought you here?”

“My own cousin is getting married here this week,” he said.

Married. The word caused Lucy to remember how she’d told her own friends not to begin planning her wedding quite yet, but she couldn’t help but think what sort of a life she would lead were she and Lord Berkeley to be a match.

“Ah, best wishes to your cousin, then. Are you enjoying Bath?”

“Yes. Quite,” he replied, giving her a dazzling smile.

Lucy smiled back. The viscount was tall and handsome and quite a good dancer. But she mustn’t seem too eager. Besides, the more time she spent in his company, the greater chance she might say something outlandishly rude. She
must
watch her tongue. “Thank you for a lovely dance, Lord Berkeley.”

“You’re quite welcome, my lady.”

Lucy opened her mouth to continue their conversation, but another guest came up to pay his respects to Lord Berkeley. The viscount was forced to excuse himself. Lucy sighed and said good night.

Twenty minutes later, she and her friends were sitting in a small cluster of chairs along the sidelines of the dancing drinking ratafia and laughing. “I swear I don’t know how in the world I’ve gone this long without Garrett introducing me to some of his handsome, dashing friends,” Lucy said.

“Or more specifically Lord Berkeley,” Jane added. “The man seems perfect to me.”

“Why, if Lord Berkeley had been around the year of your come-out things might have been quite different for you, Lucy,” Cass added.

Lucy had to smile at that. “You mean I might not be an on-the-shelf rapidly devolving into a spinster?” But even as she had the thought she wondered if it was really true. Would she have appreciated Lord Berkeley’s good looks and good manners five years ago? She couldn’t be certain. But tonight. Tonight she’d enjoyed them indeed. Lord Berkeley was exactly the sort of man she should be interested in. Impeccable manners and impeccable breeding. Quite different from a certain someone who knew little about the ways of the
ton
and Society even if he did happen to be a duke. Yes. Lord Berkeley was a perfect match. Though she couldn’t help but glance over at Derek from time to time to see if he’d noticed her new companion.

Blast it. Why did she even care? Interestingly enough, Derek had kept his distance from Cass tonight. Was it because of the Julian connection? Had that caused him to rethink his pursuit despite his comments to the contrary the other night? Or was it because Lucy was otherwise occupied and not paying a whit of attention to Cass and him this evening? Now,
that
was an interesting question. Was the duke only interested in Cass when Lucy was hovering around like a mama hen ready to pounce and peck him the first chance she got?

No. No. No. It didn’t matter. The duke was not who she should be thinking about. Lord Berkeley was. She refused to look back in Derek’s direction.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“Dance with me?” The request sent a hot wave down Lucy’s spine. The warm breath of the requestor made gooseflesh rise on her neck.

She turned her head but she already knew who it was. Derek. He was standing there in his black formal evening attire, one hand in his pocket, his other stretched in offer to her. And blast it all, he looked positively smashing.

Lucy wanted to say no. She wanted to refuse him. She glanced about. Lord Berkeley had gone off in search of more refreshments, and Derek had obviously used this opportunity to come looking for her.

She opened her mouth to deny him, but somehow the words wouldn’t come out. And of course “No, thank you” was out of the question.

She turned to face him, arched a brow, and without saying a word, laid her hand on his outstretched one.

He led her to the dance floor, took her in his arms, and spun her around. “Berkeley, eh?”

She concentrated on keeping her face completely blank. “What do you mean by that?”

His face remained blank, too. She couldn’t read a single thought. “Nothing.”

“Then why did you ask?” she countered.

Derek spun her again. “I merely hadn’t noticed you paying so much attention to him before tonight.”

She inclined her head a bit. “That’s because I just met him tonight.”

“I see.”

“And what about you? I’ve never seen you pay so little attention to Cass,” Lucy countered.

“Been watching me, have you?”

Lucy gave him a narrow-eyed glare.

“I could say the same about you,” he continued. “You haven’t been paying much attention to Lady Cassandra, either.”

“I’ve decided that you and Cass—” She cleared her throat. “That’s not my battle to fight any longer. It never was actually.” Was that a look of disappointment that crossed his face?

“I see. Giving up so easily?”

He was outrageously trying to bait her. She would not rise to it. “There’s nothing to give up. Cass asked me to help her be blunt with you. I was. You refused to listen. That’s all there is. Cass won’t marry you. I know she won’t. But I intend to leave it to her to handle from now on.”

Derek didn’t say a word. He merely watched her. Lord Berkeley had returned to where Lucy had been sitting and he stood, holding two glasses of champagne. He watched Lucy and Derek dance, an inscrutable expression on his face.

Derek nodded toward him. “Berkeley looks none too pleased that you’re out here with me.”

Lucy glanced over. “He asked if he might fetch me a refreshment. I should get back.”

Derek arched a brow. “He has the monopoly on your time tonight, does he?”

“Not at all,” she shot back. “I simply enjoy his company.”

“Unlike mine?” His voice was a husky whisper that did something funny to her insides.

“I didn’t say that, you did.” Why was he making her flustered all of a sudden?

Derek narrowed his darkened eyes on her. “I don’t understand you.”

She nearly laughed out loud at that. “That makes two of us, Your Grace. I’ve never understood you. Though I suppose now that I know you and Julian are such close friends, everything you’ve done makes better sense to me.”

“But you still don’t believe Cassandra and I should marry?”

Lucy shook her head. She wanted to pull herself out of his arms and run far, far away. She didn’t know why. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

Derek glanced back in Lord Berkeley’s direction. “I’d better get you back. I’d hate to be called out by the likes of the viscount.”

He was mocking the man. Given Derek’s talent on the battlefield, he would make short work of a duel with Lord Berkeley. The viscount was obviously more of an intellectual type.

She felt the sudden need to defend the viscount. “You might take a lesson from Lord Berkeley in manners and comportment,” she replied, hoping her barb struck home.

If it did, Derek didn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing it. Instead, he led her back over to where Lord Berkeley stood and handed her off. “Good evening, my lady,” he said, kissing the back of her hand. Lucy’s skin burned where his lips touched her.

Lord Berkeley acknowledged Derek and handed Lucy her champagne flute. She thanked him prettily. Derek drifted off in the crowd and Lucy couldn’t help but watch him leave.

“A friend of yours?” Lord Berkeley asked.

“I wouldn’t call him a friend,” Lucy replied, taking a sip of her champagne. “More like someone I trade barbs with.”

“I heard that you and he had a word challenge at a ball in London.”

Lucy nearly choked on her drink. She wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. “Um, yes. He … fancies himself a wit.”

“And you, my lady, you’re quite adept with words as well, are you not?”

Lucy took another sip for good measure. She smiled at him. “I do my best, my lord.”

Thankfully she was spared from more questions about Derek when Lord Berkeley asked her to dance again. Another trip around the floor with little conversation, but he was a lovely dancer just the same. And it was nice to have a break from having to spar with someone. For a bit.

*   *   *

Derek knocked back his third brandy of the evening. He clunked the snifter down on the tray of a passing footman and resisted the urge to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth. He’d done that during his army days often enough, but in the ballrooms of Bath, that was not quite the social standard.

He eyed Lucy Upton across the floor. She was dancing with Berkeley, smiling, and seemingly having a wonderful time. What was it about her interaction with the viscount that was driving Derek mad? Normally at these things, he made an attempt to court Cassandra, Lucy came and fought with him about it, and all was right with the world. He nearly groaned. How wrong was that? Tonight, Lucy seemed as if she didn’t have a care and Lady Cassandra was unoccupied most of the evening, yet Derek could not seem to bring himself to go to her and ask her to dance. Not tonight. Why? Was it because he’d learned that Cassandra was in love with Julian?

Derek wanted to believe that was the case, but he knew it wasn’t true. He hadn’t cared in the least the last two nights when he considered Cassandra’s feelings for Julian. He didn’t love Cassandra himself, so he didn’t begrudge her her feelings for Swift. Damn it. Why couldn’t he put one foot in front of the next and go ask Cassandra to dance? That was the next step in this courtship. To get her alone with him, away from the prying eyes and Lady Lucy’s sharp tongue. And tonight was the perfect opportunity for that. Lucy was—he glanced over to see her dancing with Berkeley still—completely preoccupied. Why did that thought make his chest burn? Make him want to connect his fist to Berkeley’s fine, aristocratic face?

Damn it. Berkeley was the sort of man whom Lady Lucy and Lady Cassandra belonged with. He came from an impeccable family with an impeccable name and a long lineage of service to the Crown. He knew all about proper titles, and proper manners, and proper everything. He was just the sort of man Derek would never, could never, be. But those men were everywhere he looked. They always would be. Why did he care so much that Berkeley in particular was spending time with Lucy?

Derek growled under his breath and called to a footman to bring him another brandy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Lucy awoke to the startling sound of something hitting her window. A clatter, then silence, followed by another clatter.

“What in the world?” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, tossed back the covers, and pulled on her robe just as another clatter hit the glass. She hurried over to the wall, pushed up the window, and leaned out.

Derek stood in the backyard holding a candle. She could barely make out his face in the soft glow. “What are you doing?” she called in a half shout, half whisper.

He staggered a bit. “Throwing pebbles at your window, what do you think?” he called out jovially, perhaps a bit too loudly.

She eyed him warily. “Well, for one thing, you’ve got the wrong window. Cass’s chamber is in the front of the house.”

“I know.”

“Shh.” Lucy waved her hand at him. “Do you want to wake the entire house?”

“No. No. No,” he sort of sang back.

Lucy leaned farther out of the window so he might better hear her. “I won’t even ask how you know where my window is, let alone Cass’s. I don’t want to know.”

“I am extremely crafty, my lady,” he announced, taking off an imaginary hat—just where was his hat?—and bowing once more.

Had he stumbled again?

Lucy narrowed her eyes on him. “Good heavens, you are foxed!”

“No!” he called back with a look she could only call disgruntled on his face.

“Yes, you are.” She couldn’t help the little smile that popped to her lips. “You are. You’re drunk as a wheelbarrow.”