The Unexpected Duchess (26 page)

Derek swore under his breath.

“He asked Cass to promise him that she would marry you,” Lucy finished, nearly gasping for breath now.

Derek swore again. “What did Lady Cassandra say?”

“She’s confused. She doesn’t know what to do.”

“Understandable,” Derek answered. He paced away from Lucy. Running a hand through his hair, he cursed again. “This is all my damn fault.”

“Derek, I…” Her voice trailed off. Oh, how was she ever going to say this to him?

He swung around, took two steps toward her, grabbed her shoulders, and spun her to face him. “What is it, Lucy? What’s wrong?”

She lifted her chin and stared him in the eye. “I told Cass she must marry you.”

*   *   *

After Lucy left, Derek nearly plowed his fist through the bloody wall. At the moment he wished he had a Frenchman to beat into a senseless pulp. Run through with a bayonet. Shoot through the eyes from fifty paces away.

This was torture, that’s what it was. He was tortured by his promise to Swift. He’d squeezed his dying friend’s shoulder on the battlefield and promised, sworn, that he would come back and marry Cassandra, if she’d have him. And it seemed she would … now. He’d been contemplating going back on his word if Julian lived. But now. Now it was clear. Swift would not be returning. What sort of a man would Derek be if he broke that promise after all? Especially now that Swift had written to Cassandra and told her that Derek had promised to marry her? Would he truly let his friend go to his grave not knowing that the girl who had secretly loved him for years wasn’t well taken care of? Derek couldn’t live with himself if he did that.

But then there was Lucy. Lucy who drove him mad. Lucy who he couldn’t keep his hands off. Lucy who stoked in him the kind of passion he’d never found in the arms of another woman. Lucy was his equal, his match. That’s why he was so inexorably drawn to her. Lady Cassandra would be a willing and obedient wife. She would give him peace and understanding. But Lucy would keep him on his toes for eternity, make him crazy and make him mad with lust, too. And now that he’d touched her, felt her silken softness, he couldn’t forget. Couldn’t turn back. What would he do? Pretend forever that nothing had ever happened between them? Be in the company of his wife’s closest friend for the rest of his life and act as if he didn’t want her with every bit of himself? Was that even possible? If he married Cassandra he would never be unfaithful to her. He had too much honor for that. And he knew Lucy would never betray her friend, either, but now, now while everything was gray and undecided, it was pure torture.

He’d received another short letter from Collin this week, only informing him that nothing had changed in regards to Swifdon and Rafe. Collin and Adam were on their way back to London. That was all.

And all Derek could do was write a lot of impotent letters from Bath to the War Office, to his mother, and to Lucy pretending to be blasted Berkeley. He bloody well had to stop writing those damn letters for Berkeley. It had been amusing at first. A harmless game. Or so Derek had thought, until he’d realized the harm being done was to himself. Sitting there each day, writing to Lucy, expressing his feelings. At some point, early on, he’d realized that he was writing to her as himself, not Berkeley. He didn’t give a damn about Berkeley. In those letters, he’d told Lucy everything he’d ever wanted to say to her. And he’d meant every last word.

They’d worked too, damn it. Berkeley had come sauntering over yesterday to inform him that the letters had earned him a kiss. Derek had wanted to toss him out of his study, but instead he sat there and listened to the torturous account of how Lucy had told the viscount how much she cherished his letters and then proceeded to kiss him. And wasn’t Berkeley the scoundrel for telling him? Though in his defense no doubt Berkeley no longer knew where to draw the boundaries with a man who was secretly writing love letters to the woman he was pretending to court.

Derek slammed his fist onto the top of the desk with such force the papers and quills and inkpot bounced. God damn it. What in the bloody hell was he going to do? How would he ever get himself out of this unholy mess?

Undecided. Indecisive. His father’s taunting voice echoed in his skull. There was absolutely nothing worse in the world of men than to be indecisive. His father had taught him that from a young age. He’d taught him that well. And Derek had learned the lesson. At a price. He’d grown into a man who was never indecisive. On the battlefield, leading men, in anything in his life. But now, blindly staring at the wall, thinking about Lucy and Cassandra and his promise to his closest friend, he’d never been more indecisive in his life.

And he detested himself for it.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

There she was. Finally! Jane sat lounging on a stone bench in the garden behind Garrett’s house reading a book, of course, and unconsciously twisting a brown curl around her finger.

“Do you have a moment, or perhaps an hour, to talk?” Lucy asked, scooting onto the bench beside her.

Jane looked up and promptly snapped shut her book. “Of course, Luce. I’m sorry we haven’t had the opportunity before now. What’s wrong?” She pushed up her spectacles.

“It’s me, and Cass, and Derek.” Lucy dropped her face into her hands. “Oh, Jane. I’ve gone and made a mess of everything.”

Jane pushed her book aside on the bench and put her arm around Lucy. “Don’t worry. We’ll sort it out. Tell me what’s happened.”

“As you know, at first I detested the Duke of Claringdon,” she cleared her throat, “Derek…”

Jane arched a brow. “Yes, and I noticed you’re calling him Derek now.”

“Oh, that’s not the half of it. Let me finish.”

“By all means.”

“At first I detested him, then he kissed me. Then I detested him more, then he kissed me again, ahem, among other things. And now, since Cass has been ill, we’ve been spending time together and I … I … I think I may have feelings for him.”

Jane, being Jane, didn’t look particularly shocked. “Let’s be clear: When you say, ‘Ahem, other things,’ do you mean the types of things that might necessitate an immediate wedding?”

Lucy looked up into the tree branches hovering above them wishing she could somehow turn into a bird and fly far away. “Not exactly. But let’s just say it’s nothing I’d want to explain in detail to my mother, either.”

Jane nodded sympathetically. “Few things are, dear. Few things are.”

“Oh, Janie, what am I going to do?” Lucy let her face drop into her hands again.

Jane tapped her fingertips along the edge of the bench. “I must tell you the truth, Luce. It is a pickle. An astonishing pickle, to be sure. But it’s not insurmountable. You know, Lucy, Cass isn’t particularly interested in the duke, in fact, she’s been acting as if—”

Lucy winced. “Oh, wait. There’s more.”

Jane’s eyebrows shot up. “More?”

“Yes.” Lucy nodded. “Cass has decided to give Derek a chance, and today she received a letter from Julian saying good-bye and telling her to marry him.”

“Marry Julian?”

“No, marry Derek.”

“What?”

“Exactly!” Lucy blew out a long breath. “Julian asked Cass to promise him that she would marry Derek.”

“Ooooh,” Jane said. “And what about Lord Berkeley? You haven’t even mentioned him.”

“Oh, I kissed him, too.”

“What?”

“That’s right.”

“How was it?”

“It was … nice,” Lucy answered glumly. “Oh, Janie. Tell me there’s some way out of this. Tell me there’s something I can do to make this right.”

Jane stood up and paced in front of the bench. “First of all, what’s the duke doing kissing you if he’s supposed to be courting Cass?”

Lucy nodded. “Yes, there is that to consider. The first time it was quite unexpected and we both agreed never to speak of it again. The second time was a…” Oh, she
knew
she was flushed bright red. “A bit more deliberate and bit more involved and I—”

Jane covered her ears with both hands. “Please spare me the details.”

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to tell you
that
. It’s just that it’s been since Cass has taken ill and he hasn’t seen her since. I think he’s as confused about what to do as I am.”

Jane pulled her hands away from her ears. “It does sound like a mess. Have you told Garrett?”

“I can’t tell Garrett. I kissed the man! And I … did other things.”

Jane nodded. “I understand. He’s your cousin.” She resumed her pacing. “What is it that you
want
to do?”

Lucy blinked. “I don’t understand.”

Jane laughed. “It’s a simple question, Lucy. What do you want?”

“What does that matter? Cass and Derek are meant to be married.”

Jane stopped pacing and faced her, her hands on her hips. “That doesn’t answer my question,” she replied in a singsong voice.

Lucy twisted her hands together. “I can’t even think about being with Derek. It feels like a betrayal of Cass. I’m the worst friend in the world for what I’ve already done.”

“No, you’re not. You’re merely human, and this entire situation has been complicated to say the least. Cass isn’t certain she cares for the duke. You cannot be blamed for being confused as well. Though I must say it complicates things even more that he kissed you. More than once. And, ahem, did other things.”

Lucy slapped her palm onto her forehead. “Oh, Jane, what am I to do?”

“You’re quite certain you think nothing about Lord Berkeley other than he’s … nice?”

Lucy sighed and nodded. “Yes. He wrote me these wondrous letters but when we’re together, we have nothing to talk about. It’s quite awkward. I think I intimidate him.”

“And the kissing?”

Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. “All I could think about was Derek when I was kissing Christian.”

“Oh, that’s telling.” Jane leaned down and squeezed Lucy’s shoulder. “Let me share some advice that someone quite wise once shared with me.”

Lucy glanced up and gave her a hopeful look. “Yes?”

Jane plopped back down onto the bench next to her and grasped her hand. “You can never go wrong if you’re honest and follow your heart.”

Lucy wrinkled her nose. “Wollstonecraft?”

Jane gave her an exasperated look. “No, silly,
you
.”

“Me?” Lucy blinked.

“Yes. You’re always saying that to Cass about Julian. You’ve said it for years.”

“I have?”

“You don’t remember?”

Lucy shook her head. “Oh, why is it so much easier to offer others counsel than to heed it myself?”

Jane laughed at that. “Now, there’s a good question.”

Lucy took a deep breath. “Very well. I think I know what I must do.”

“What?” Jane asked, leaning forward on the bench toward Lucy.

“I’ll tell you as soon as I have it all settled.” Lucy stood, scooped up Jane’s book, and handed it back to her.

Jane plunked her free hand on her hip. “Not fair. I give you this wonderful advice and you won’t tell me what you’re planning to do?”

“I thought it was my advice,” Lucy said with a laugh.

“That’s hardly the point.” Jane pushed her nose in the air and opened her book again.

“Thank you, Jane, for everything.”

“You’re quite welcome. Now run off and do whatever it is you’re going to do, so that you may inform me of what it is that much sooner.” She smiled at her friend.

Lucy raced out of the garden, into the house, and up to her bedchamber. She hurried over to her writing desk, pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment, and quickly scribbled a note. She sanded it, sealed it, and rang for a footman to deliver it to Derek’s address.

She could only hope he would heed its contents.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Lucy glanced both ways to ensure she wouldn’t be seen before she ducked under the white trellis and entered the secluded garden near the Upper Crescent. The intimate space smelled like roses and freshly cut grass. She pressed her hand against her middle and let out her pent-up breath. She was alone. Derek had not yet arrived. Perhaps he would not come. Her letter had begged him to meet her here at two o’clock. It was a bit past the hour already. Perhaps he hadn’t been home to receive her missive. Would that be a good thing or a bad one?

She paced back and forth across the grass, biting the tip of one finger and replaying the whole of the last few days in her mind. She had to make things right. Had to. Janie had told her to follow her heart, but as soon as she’d heard her own advice she’d realized the truth. Some things were more important than following your heart. In fact, many things were. Things like friendships and honor and doing the right thing. This certainly was. Ensuring that her friend made the right match. That was the right thing to do. She was certain of it. Blast her stupid heart for being foolish and complicating things. But she was about to rectify that.

“Good afternoon,” a deep male voice intoned.

Lucy swung around.

Derek stood in the shade near the clethra bush, wearing a light gray coat, black trousers, and black boots with a starkly white cravat. He looked like a dream as usual.

She swallowed. “Thank you for coming.”

“How could I resist such an assignation? ‘Meet me in the secluded garden’?” The hint of a smile touched his lips. He moved toward her.

She tentatively returned his smile. “I … I wanted us to have privacy.”

He nodded, his face taking on a serious hardness. “I’m glad you wrote, Lucy. There’s something I want to say to you.”

She released her breath slowly. “I think I should tell you what I came to say first.”

“No, let me.”

She pressed her lips together, unable to keep from smiling at that. It was always like this between the two of them. Both so stubborn. “Very well.”

Derek clasped his hands behind his back and squared his shoulders. “I intend to write to Julian, today, and tell him I cannot marry Cassandra.”

A little gasp escaped Lucy’s lips. She raced over to him and splayed her hands wide. “Derek, think what you’re saying. You can’t do that.”

“I can and I will.” He scrubbed a hand across his face.