“Why’s that?” Derek had asked nonchalantly. “She’s certainly pretty enough.”
Apparently, the lady had a rapier for a tongue. She jabbed with nouns, riposted with verbs. And she delivered adjectives with a particular flourish. By all accounts, she was a master. One who could rip an overzealous beau to shreds in mere seconds. According to Lord Chambers, it didn’t take long for the eligible bachelors of the ton, those who were not otherwise occupied with war, to disentangle themselves from any association with Lady Lucy.
Derek eyed the dark-haired beauty closely. He had recently turned thirty. He had just returned from the war. He’d spent years being shot at and had nearly died half a dozen times on battlefields across the Continent. Now he was looking for peace.
Lady Cassandra had been recommended to him. She was considered quiet and demure. “The perfect choice for a wife,” Swift had said. The perfect choice for a man seeking a peaceful life. An obedient wife.
Lady Lucy Upton was the exact opposite.
“Your Grace,” Lady Cassandra began, obviously fumbling to explain the highly unusual situation. “We were just…”
Derek crossed his arms over his chest and watched the two young women. Obviously Lady Cassandra was mortified. Her lovely face was bright pink, and she looked as if she wanted to flee from this entire debacle. Lady Lucy, on the other hand, looked as if she was merely getting started.
“I think I know what you were doing,” he replied, staring down his nose at the two of them. “If I don’t mistake my guess, Miss Upton here was behind the bushes, offering you guidance in the form of things to say to me.” His eyes were riveted on Lady Lucy, who clearly wanted to slap him. “Am I right, Miss Upton? Do words escape Lady Cassandra?”
The beautiful termagant opened her mouth to speak. She was shaking with antagonism toward him. Oh, he couldn’t wait to hear this.
“Why don’t you choose someone to provoke who is worthy of your skill?” Lady Lucy shot back at him.
He arched a brow. “Like you?”
Her eyes blazed fire at him. “Exactly like me. I may not match you in height, weight, or arrogance, but I assure you that I am not intimidated by you. And while we’re chastising each other, Your Grace, you might be reminded that I am the daughter of an earl and am Lady Lucy, not Miss Upton.”
Derek had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at the reprimand. He’d known perfectly well he was speaking to a lady. But there was nothing the peers of the realm hated more than anyone misquoting their precious titles. He himself had been born the first of three sons of a soldier. A complete nobody who rose to his rank purely on his own military merit. Yes, he was a duke now—rewarded by the Crown for his exceptional decision-making skill in battle, or so they’d told him—and everyone was eager to make his acquaintance. It sickened him. And he refused to play. Though interestingly enough, Lady Cassandra and Lady Lucy didn’t seem to care a bit about his illustrious title at the moment, did they?
Derek watched Lucy Upton. He had spent the last few years barking orders. He was a man used to having those orders carried out immediately, and here was a slip of a young woman who not only refused to snap to attention but also seemed to enjoy antagonizing him. He had to reluctantly admit, it fascinated him.
The solider in him admired her penchant for forthrightness. He also reluctantly admired her for standing up for her friend and being loyal. But Lady Lucy was not about to dissuade him from his goal.
“My apologies, my lady,” he said with a mocking bow.
He didn’t miss her haughty look of disapproval.
“We’re ever so sorry for deceiving you, Your Grace,” Lady Cassandra said, her voice still quavering. She shuffled her slippers through the gravel, looking as if she’d just confessed to the greatest sin imaginable.
“No, we’re not!” Lady Lucy nearly shouted, her arms crossed, her fingertips tapping near her elbows.
Lady Cassandra’s angelic blue eyes went wide. “Lucy!”
Derek held up a hand. “No. No. Lady Cassandra. Please allow Lady Lucy to speak. I’m quite looking forward to her explanation.”
Lady Lucy propped her fists on her hips and took two steps forward. She moved a hand up to her hair and plucked out the errant twig. “We do not owe you an explanation, Your Grace. But the truth is that Lady Cassandra is not interested in your suit. It’s that simple.”
“Is it?” he asked, solidly planting a smirk on his face.
“Yes.”
“And is that your opinion, Lady Lucy, or Lady Cassandra’s opinion?”
He could tell she was grinding her teeth. “Ask her,” Lady Lucy replied.