Lucy took a deep breath. “I hope you’re not angry with me, but I told him you were heartbroken over Captain Julian Swift.”
Cass looked wistfully out the dark window. “I’m not angry with you, Lucy. He may as well know. What does it matter if he knows his name?”
“Cass, the duke knows Julian. He’s said they’re close friends. He said Julian recommended he come back to England and court you.”
Cass’s face went pale. “He said that?”
Lucy nodded. “Yes. And he also said he doesn’t intend to stop courting you, Cass.”
Cass traced the pattern of the coverlet with a long tapered fingernail. “I’ve been thinking a lot about everything tonight.” She closed her eyes. “I cannot argue that the duke doesn’t have a point.”
Lucy searched her face. “What do you mean?”
Cass’s breath was long and drawn out. “The fact is that Julian will probably not make it home. And even if he does, he’s still engaged to Pen.” She looked up and met her friend’s eyes. “I’ve decided I’m being foolish, Lucy.”
Lucy couldn’t breathe. The air had been sucked from the room. “Cass? What are you saying? Do you have feelings for Derek?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lucy couldn’t concentrate on the banter of her friends at Lady Hoppington’s Venetian breakfast. Normally Jane and Garrett’s wordplay amused her, but tonight it just drowned into noise that she couldn’t sort out in her head. She pressed her fingertips to her temples. All she could think about was her discussion with Cass last night.
Cass had answered the question, finally. She’d said that she didn’t know how she felt and needed to think about everything. Understandable, given the riot of emotions she must have endured during the last sennight. But even though her friend’s answer hadn’t been the one Lucy had been dreading, she still felt uneasy about the situation. Should she tell Cass that she’d kissed her potential betrothed? Would that sway Cass’s opinion? And if so, was that fair to Cass? Through his title alone, Derek was an extremely good catch, and if Cass did indeed have feelings for him or thought she could, it would be entirely selfish of Lucy to tell her that they’d kissed. Twice. Especially when she and Derek had both agreed that the kiss had meant nothing and wouldn’t be repeated. At least they’d agreed to that the time they’d both been sober. The other time didn’t count. Did it? And so what if the man had climbed through her bedchamber window last night? He’d been drunk and needed someone to treat his injured hand. She’d helped him. And very well, she’d kissed him once more, and perhaps that was not her best decision. Though the kissing had been extraordinary. She had to admit.
A headache throbbed in her skull. Oh, she was the worst friend in the entire world. The very worst. The situation was absolutely awful. Untenable, really. And now there was Lord Berkeley. He was the first decent potential suitor she’d had in years. She’d be a fool not to continue their acquaintance. She should spend her time with Lord Berkeley, get to know him better, see if they suited. Shouldn’t she?
She needed to talk to Jane. Jane was always sensible. Always right. Always knew the answer. Yes. Jane. Where was Jane?
Lucy swung around, intending to find her friend, drag her into a corner somewhere, and confess all her sins. But the moment she turned, she ran straight into … Derek.
Gulp.
“Lucy?” He placed a hand at her elbow to steady her. “Are you all right?”
She couldn’t look at him. She kept her eyes trained on her slippers. “Yes. I’m fine.”
“You look as if you’ve just seen a ghost.” His voice was smooth.
She cleared her throat, still watching her slippers. “No, truly I’m fine.”
“Are you certain you’re all right?” She dared a glance up. His gaze was focused on her in that disconcerting way of his. The way that made her feel like he could see through her.
“Yes. Why?”
His brow was furrowed, and he was watching her with a funny look in his eye. “I don’t know. You seem … different.”
Lucy squared her shoulders. She needed to compose herself and quickly. He obviously didn’t remember their kiss last night. For the better. Obviously. But if Derek could tell she was acting differently, no doubt Cass, who’d known her since childhood, would be able to tell Lucy was a mess within five minutes. She was merely discombobulated. The headache was getting to her. That was all. She would be quite all right.
“Lucy,” Derek continued. “I wanted to say something to you.”