The Unexpected Duchess(32)

“Lady Lucy,” he said. “May I have a word?”

Lucy instinctively took a step back. Somehow being that close to him made her feel a bit off-balance. Even after having spent time in his immediate company the last couple of days, she was still struck by his stunning good looks and the maddeningly intoxicating scent of him, like spice and soap.

“Just a word, Your Grace. I’m wanted as a fourth.” She nodded toward the card table.

The duke glanced over his shoulder to acknowledge Lady Crandall. That lady gave him a positively leering stare. He turned back to face Lucy, his eyebrow arched in a skeptical semblance as if to say, Yes, I’m quite certain you’re dying to play whist with Lady Crandall.

Lucy pursed her lips. “Your Grace?” The last time she’d seen him she’d escaped from his presence like a frightened, angry child. She would not allow him to rile her like that again. She must act as if she were completely unaffected by him.

His eyebrow settled back into place. “Where is Lady Cassandra this evening?”

Lucy gave him a tight smile. “Not here.”

His face became a stone mask. “I can see that.”

Another tight smile. “Then perhaps you didn’t need to ask the question after all.”

He set his jaw. “You don’t care to tell me why Lady Cassandra didn’t accompany you this evening?”

Lucy plucked up her skirts again and moved around him. “Not particularly, Your Grace.”

She glided over to her chair, sat down, and scooped up the hand of cards she’d been dealt. Lucy plastered a smile on her face, despite her inward cringe at her own behavior. She hadn’t even wished him good evening. Even for her that was unbelievably rude.

Why did that man bring out the very worst in her? She could have easily told him that Cass was having a bad night. That Cass had discovered that her good friend—the man she loved—was dying. But something about the duke’s smug demand that Lucy tell him made her intent on keeping it to herself. He was just too … too … arrogant. Sure of himself. Handsome. She glanced over at him. He was already in conversation with Lord Mountebank again and didn’t appear to give another thought to Cass. Why did he have to act as if he cared? Cass was just another notch in his belt, another win on the battlefield for him. He’d admitted it himself. He saw winning Cass as a challenge, a competition. And Lucy would not let her friend be treated so cavalierly.

“Count me in, Lady Crandall.” Lucy eyed the cards in her hand and grinned over their tops. “I look forward to soundly beating you ladies.”

* * *

Exactly one hour later, Derek waited in the corridor outside the salon where the ladies were playing cards. He’d done his duty and made the rounds chatting with his host and the other gentlemen. He’d even searched for Jane Lowndes. But he’d been unable to find that lady. It had been his last resort to ask Lucy where Lady Cassandra was, but there’d been no help for it. He didn’t enjoy Society dinner parties. Especially when all anyone wanted to ask him about was how horrific Waterloo had been. They wanted all the gory details, all the juicy bits, but had they an inkling in hell what they were asking about, they wouldn’t even mention it. They’d put it as far from their minds as possible. Yes. Men who had truly seen war had no desire to remember. He’d come here tonight for one reason and one reason only, to see Lady Cassandra. Further their acquaintance. Get closer to fulfilling his promise to Swift. And she wasn’t even here. It was frustrating to think he’d wasted his time. But he couldn’t very well stalk out the door. He had to keep up the semblance of giving a damn. Even more frustrating was that little hellcat Lady Lucy.

She was driving him mad. He’d met generals in battle who gave him more to go on than this young lady. Damn it. He’d faced down the enemy, he’d taken battlefields, he’d hoisted the union   Jack over bloody fields and tossed dirt over the bodies of his friends. But he could not, for the life of him, crack the armor of this one spitfire. He clenched his jaw. What was he to do with her?

The door to the salon opened and Lucy came strolling out. Ah, just as expected. He’d known she wouldn’t be able to sit and play cards all evening. She’d pretended to be interested, but he could see in her eyes, the way her knee bounced up and down impatiently the entire time she’d been playing, that the game held little interest for her. No doubt she’d been biding time the same way he had and would go in search of her friends Jane and Garrett as soon as possible to take her leave.

And that was why Derek had been waiting in the corridor for her. Waiting for his chance.