But most important, he’d promised Swift. As he’d watched his friend grit his teeth and writhe in pain on the packed earth outside Waterloo, Derek had promised he would find Lady Cassandra and marry her.
And Derek Hunt, whether lieutenant general or duke, never went back on a promise to a friend.
* * *
Lady Lucy Upton stood on the sidelines of the ballroom tapping her slipper in time to the music. It wasn’t as much of a lark as being at the theater—few things were—but she did love music and she adored dancing. She sighed. She hadn’t been asked to dance in an age, but that didn’t keep her from enjoying the tune.
“Why do you think he’s staring at me that way?” Cass glanced skittishly in the direction of the newly minted Duke of Claringdon.
Lucy stopped tapping her foot and followed her friend’s gaze. “I’m not certain, exactly. But he does seem to be pinning you with his eyes. Not exactly a gentleman, the duke.”
Cass dared another glance. “I must admit he is handsome. But he doesn’t have Julian’s blond hair.” She sighed.
Lucy glanced over at the duke. He was standing by the Grecian column in the middle of the crowded ballroom. She narrowed her eyes. Very well. Cass was right. The Duke of Claringdon was handsome. More than handsome, actually. Spectacularly handsome. He was also huge. Soaring and muscled, he looked like the god of war come down from Olympus. He was well over six feet tall, had midnight-black hair and jade-green eyes, wide shoulders that tapered to a flat abdomen, and muscles from top to toe. A war hero to boot. A lieutenant general known for his decisiveness. He’d won a variety of battles over the last few years and had been sent to meet Wellington in Brussels just before Waterloo. The Duke of Decisive, they called him now.
He was also arrogant and commanding, they said. Which, Lucy was certain, was quite an asset on the field of war, but his way, at the moment, involved making her friend nervous.
And for that, Lucy would not stand. Lucy, bold, blunt, completely without a demure bone in her body, had only two friends in this world—well, three if you counted Garrett—and Cass was one of them. Elegant, modest Cass who was too friendly and kind to rebuff anyone. Yes, Cass had always been quietly loyal to Lucy, and Lucy was nothing if not loyal back. If Cass wanted to avoid the attentions of the Duke of Claringdon, well, Lucy would assist her in any way she was able.
“How do you suppose he managed to have such a golden glow to his skin?” Cass asked, stealing another surreptitious glance at the duke.
Lucy wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “I heard he was on holiday in Italy just before he was called back to battle. Apparently his last mistress was Italian.” She stole another glance herself.
Yes, the duke was powerful and more handsome than he had a right to be. And the whole war-hero bit didn’t diminish his appeal, but he came from a completely unknown family—and most important, Lucy wasn’t about to allow him to bully Cass. And something told her that the duke had set his sights on her friend.
Lucy didn’t exactly blame him. Who wouldn’t love Cass? Why, she’d had more offers than you could count. And she’d refused them all. Yes. Cass had managed to remain unattached for the last five seasons, waiting for her precious Julian to return from the war. Which would have been a splendid idea. The only problem was that Julian was all but betrothed to Cass’s cousin Penelope. As soon as Julian returned from the Continent, he and Penelope planned to formally announce their engagement and marry.
“Lady Chambers introduced me to him earlier,” Cass said, referring to their hostess. “She told Mama the duke had specifically asked to meet me.”
Lucy raised both brows. “What did he say to you when you were introduced?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Cass replied. “It was just the way he looked at me. As if he was examining me. I didn’t like it. I told Mama so.”
Lucy snorted and then clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the unladylike noise. “And what did your mama say?”
“She said I should be flattered.” Cass bit her lip.
Lucy rolled her eyes and tapped her foot in time to the music again. “Of course she did. He’s a duke. An incomparable catch as far as your mother is concerned, no matter who his family is. His just glancing in your direction has probably got her planning your wedding trousseau.”
“He frightens me,” Cass whispered. “He’s just so big and he looks as if he could kill a man with his bare hands.”
Lucy patted Cass’s shoulder. “I know, dear.” She glanced back at the duke. She didn’t want to make things worse by suggesting to Cass that he probably had killed men, a great many of them, with his bare hands. Lucy had no doubts. But he didn’t scare her. Not one bit.