The Unexpected Duchess(47)

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.