The Unexpected Duchess (25 page)

She nodded and swallowed again.

Derek leaned his shoulder against another tree and took a long, deep breath. “When I was six years old, my father taught me how to swim. After I got the right of it, he brought out two of my favorite things.”

Lucy eyed him carefully. “What things?”

“One was my favorite toy. A tin soldier. I’d had it as long as I could remember. I took it everywhere with me.”

Lucy put her hand to her throat. A chill suddenly came over her. “What was the other thing?”

“My eight-week-old puppy.”

Lucy gasped. “What did he do?”

Derek shook his head. Looking down at his boots, he scuffed the tip of one of them in the dirt. “Before I knew what he intended, he tossed both of them in the creek several yards apart.”

Lucy grasped her throat. “No.”

“He threw them in opposite directions at the same time. Choose,” he shouted. “Decide! Now!”

“What did you do?” Lucy bit the back of her knuckles.

“I did the only thing I could. I picked the puppy. I dove in the creek and saved him from drowning.”

Lucy’s throat clogged with tears. “And your toy soldier?”

“It sank. I never saw it again. Though I used to dive in that spot looking for it. I never found it.”

Lucy clenched her fist. “What an awful man.”

Derek shrugged. “Perhaps, but he taught me the value of being decisive. There were other drills, other tests, but none as memorable as that one. I’ve never hesitated a moment since, despite my father’s unorthodox method.”

Lucy swallowed. That was why Derek was so bent on having Cass. He’d already decided. It all made sense.

She stepped toward him. They were close, barely a hairbreath apart. “The Duke of Decisive,” she said quietly.

He nodded. “Yes. That’s exactly right.”

Lucy looked up at him and blinked. He was so handsome, so handsome and strong. Her heart wrenched at the thought of a little boy who had to choose between his favorite toy and his pet.

Derek reached down and tugged on one of the black curls that had managed to wrangle itself free from her bonnet. “Do you know how pretty you are?”

She inhaled sharply but couldn’t take her eyes off his face. “I’m not pretty. Cass is pretty.”

“You are. So pretty.” He ran the back of his hand lightly over her cheekbone.

Lucy shuddered.

“And your eyes are so…”

“Strange?” she finished for him.

“I was going to say unusual. Mysterious.”

She smiled lightly. “I suppose those are nicer words for it. Someone once told my mother I was a witch.”

“That’s preposterous.” Derek’s jaw clenched. “They said that in front of you?”

“No, but Mother told me.”

He cursed under his breath. “Why would she do that?”

“It was always clear that Mother and Father blamed me for … not being a boy.”

Derek didn’t say a word. He just rubbed his knuckle along her cheek again and traced the outline of her ear with his rough thumb. “I’m glad you’re not a boy.”

Lucy drew in a deep breath.

He leaned down, toward her. She held her breath. He was going to kiss her. She wanted him to. She wanted him to badly. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes.

“Damn it, Lucy. I’m supposed to be decisive in everything.”

She opened her eyes and stared at him, blinking.

“That’s why it’s so difficult for me to know how much I want you.”

Lucy glanced down at the soft green grass. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. She’d been mistaken. He wasn’t going to kiss her.

She turned away. That was for the best.

CHAPTER FORTY

Christian sat on the settee across from Lucy, his back ramrod-straight. He sipped his tea and didn’t say a word. Had not said a word, in fact, the entire time they’d been visiting. It was terribly disappointing. After all of his lovely letters and the ones she’d written back, Lucy had been certain things would be different between them now. How could they not? After all the witticisms they’d exchanged, the stories, the opinions, the jests.

She eyed him carefully, expecting that at any moment he would open up and become the clever man she knew from the letters. It was just a matter of time, wasn’t it? Perhaps he needed more tea. Unlike Derek, Christian drank tea. In large quantities.

He certainly was handsome. That much she’d give him. A more beautiful type of handsome than Derek. Derek was all rugged and muscled where Christian looked more like an archangel carved into stone. Oh, why was she comparing him to Derek? Why was she even
thinking
about Derek?

Derek. Derek hadn’t kissed her yesterday. It was for the best. And if she just kept repeating that to herself, perhaps she’d eventually believe it. Cass was sure to be better any day now. She and Derek would finally begin their courtship. Lucy should be concentrating on her own courtship … with Christian. She glanced at Christian. He was still merely smiling at her from behind his empty teacup.

That was it. If he wasn’t going to begin the conversation, she would. She cleared her throat. “I found it so interesting, what you said about the state of the East India Company in your last letter. I’ve often had the same thought myself, but of course, with you being privy to the House of Lords, you must know much more about it than I.”

A fleeting look of terror flickered in his eyes before he resumed the study of his teacup. “Y … yes,” was all he said.

Lucy furrowed her brow. He certainly wasn’t making this easy for her. “What do you think the lord chancellor’s next decision will be? In regard to the company?” She blinked at him inquiringly.

Christian shakily set his cup on the side table next to him and pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat. He wiped his forehead and let out a deep breath. “I … I don’t know.”

Lucy frowned. She took another sip of tea. He certainly seemed nervous. Oh, perhaps he wasn’t in the mood to talk about Parliament and the East India Company. It could be rather boring, couldn’t it? That suited her just fine. She actually had another goal today.

She wanted Christian to kiss her.

Frankly, she’d only ever kissed Derek Hunt before. Well, aside from a few overly handsy young men who’d barely been able to locate her lips, let alone use their tongue to any advantage, when she’d first made her debut. No. Derek was the only one who’d ever truly kissed her, and she couldn’t allow that to remain the case. If she and Christian were to have a proper courtship, she might as well get the kissing bit out of the way and erase the duke from her memory altogether. The sooner the better.

She set her tea aside, stood, and moved over to the settee where she boldly plopped down right next to Christian. They were not touching but were barely a pace away from each other. If Cass came in she’d probably scream. If Jane came in she’d probably clap.

“What would you like to discuss, my lord?” She turned her head to face him and leaned in a bit. For convenience’s sake.

Christian rubbed his hands down the legs of his breeches and blew out a deep breath. He would not look at her. Why not? “I … I d … don’t kn … know.”

There was that phrase again. Not particularly varied in his responses, was he? If she didn’t know better, she’d think he might have trouble speaking. He’d certainly stumbled over the words.

She inched a bit closer. He twisted his handkerchief and wiped at his profusely sweating brow. “Is … is … is it h … hot in h … here?”

It was, but so what? She was about to kiss him. Did she need to tell him as much?

“W … would y … you l … like to go f … for a w … walk?” He pressed the handkerchief against his upper lip this time.

Lucy looked up at the ceiling and bit her lip. Very well. Apparently she
was
going to have to tell him as much. She leaned even closer toward him and whispered, “I was hoping you would kiss me.”

A look of supreme relief crossed Christian’s face and he let out a big sigh. “Oh, I th … thought y … you w … wanted to talk.”

Lucy barely had a moment to contemplate that odd statement before he pulled her into his arms. His mouth came crushing down on hers. Just like Derek, the kiss was bold. Just like Derek, he used his tongue. And just like Derek, he did, indeed, know what he was doing. Christian did all the right things actually, every single one. And that’s why Lucy was so completely baffled when, moments later, when he released her, she realized that she felt absolutely … nothing. She might as well have been kissing a statue.

Blast it. This was not good. It was not good at all.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Lucy rubbed her clammy palms down her skirts and practiced her speech in her head for the tenth time. It was now or never. “Cass, there’s something I must tell you.”

Cass lay snuggled in her bed, her nose pink, her handkerchief clutched in her hand. She looked up at her friend and nodded solemnly. “And there’s something I must tell you, Lucy.”

Lucy shook her head. “Please let me go first.” She’d been planning this all morning. She had to tell Cass what had happened between her and Derek. It was time. The unholy guilt nagged at her, rode her, tortured her. She must tell Cass the truth. Then Cass would understand why she could no longer be her stand-in while she was ill. Lucy mustn’t see Derek again. It was for the best. For all of them. Cass would understand, wouldn’t she? Or would Cass be angry? She couldn’t imagine Cass, pure, sweet, friendly Cass, yelling at her. The image just would not render itself in Lucy’s mind. But she supposed there was a first time for everything and regardless of the consequences, Lucy had to tell her friend the truth. Today. Now.

Cass nodded. “All right, Lucy. You go first.”

Lucy swallowed the lump in her throat and paced in front of Cass’s bed. “It’s about Derek.”

“What I wanted to say is about Derek, too,” Cass answered, sneezing daintily into the handkerchief.

Lucy stopped pacing and furrowed her brow. “What about him?”

Cass leaned back against her pillows. “Well, not Derek specifically, but what Julian said about him.”

Lucy searched Cass’s face. Her entire speech had flown from her mind. Julian said something about Derek? How was that possible? “What do you mean?”

“Oh, Lucy,” Cass said, a sad smile on her face. “I received a letter from Julian this morning. Probably his last.” She pulled the tearstained sheets of paper from underneath her coverlet and clutched them to her chest.

Lucy’s eyes went wide. She gestured to the letter. “When did you get that?”

“This morning. He’s still alive Lucy. He’s alive.” A shadow fell over her face. “At least for now.”

Lucy leaned forward to look at the letter. “What did he say?”

Cass’s voice was so soft Lucy could barely hear it. “He said good-bye to me.”

Lucy bit the back of her hand, tears welling in her eyes and running down her cheeks. “No, Cass.”

Cass swallowed hard. Lucy could tell she was fighting a losing battle to keep from sobbing. “But that wasn’t all,” she added.

Lucy grasped her friend’s hand. “What else?”

“He told me,” she swallowed, “he told me to marry Derek.”

Lucy’s heart clenched. She squeezed her eyes closed. “He … he did?”

Cass nodded. “Yes. He says Derek will be good to me and he’s a fine man. He said I could do no better.

“He asked me to promise him that I’ll marry Derek.”

Lucy pressed her hand to her belly to still the roiling there. She was going to vomit. She was certain of it. She took a deep breath. “What about the letter you wrote to him? Did Julian mention it?”

Cass glanced down and scraped at the coverlet with her fingernail. “No.”

Lucy furrowed her brow. “I don’t understand. He just ignored it?”

The tears started down Cass’s cheeks then. “Does it matter? He’s dying and he says he’s asked Derek to take care of me. Oh, Lucy, I’m so confused. I don’t know what to do.”

Lucy couldn’t breathe. She braced her hands against her knees and concentrated on moving air in and out of her lungs. “Julian is right. Derek will take excellent care of you. You must marry him.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

This time Lucy didn’t take a footman with her. It was wrong and she could ruin her reputation if she was found out but she didn’t care. She pulled on her bonnet and her gloves, but it was too warm for a pelisse. She nearly raced through the streets to Derek’s house. When she got there she stood waiting, holding her breath, all the interminable minutes it took for the butler to open the door. Haughty she called him secretly in her head. His actual name was Hughes.

Haughty Hughes escorted her into the blue drawing room and informed her that His Grace would join her momentarily. He’d already raised a brow when he’d realized she was alone but Lucy was beyond caring.

She paced the room, replaying over and over again in her mind exactly what she would say when Derek entered the room.

She did not have long to wait.

The door opened and Derek strolled in, looking as handsome as ever. He made her knees weak.

The moment he saw her, he frowned. “Lucy? What’s wrong?” Could he tell? Could he guess by the way she trembled a bit and her shoulders shook? She had to get this over with quickly.

She turned, standing with her back to him, tears filling her eyes. Tears she didn’t want him to see. “I’ve come to…”

She heard him step closer.

She squared her shoulders, forcing the words from her lips. “Cass received a letter from Julian this morning.”

“Julian? He’s still alive.” Derek expelled his breath. His voice was heavy with relief. “Any word on his condition?”

Lucy took another deep breath. The deep breaths were helping—or so she told herself. “I don’t think he’s improved. But that’s not what the letter was about.”

Derek stood to her right. She saw him from the corner of her eye. She smelled his wonderfully familiar scent, a mixture of soap and spice.

“What did it say?” he asked.

She swallowed and braced her hand against the mantelpiece in front of her. “Julian said good-bye to Cass in the letter. He said good-bye and he told Cass to marry you. He said you’d take care of her.”