The Unexpected Duchess(64)

Lucy took a deep breath. After a bit of a rocky start in the drawing room, it was surprisingly not awkward between them today. It was almost as if nothing untoward had happened. Almost. For when she closed her eyes, she pictured Derek on top of her, making her feel things she’d never felt before. She closed her eyes and shook her head. No reason in the world to remember all that. She must act as if that had never happened.

In the end, she’d decided to go with him. A picnic was quite safe and public. There was little chance of them repeating their licentious behavior on a grassy knoll in the middle of town. What harm was there in filling in for Cass today?

“Thank you for agreeing to accompany me.” Derek took a sip of wine. He’d leaned back, bracing himself on one wrist. He looked so charming and boyish. She longed to reach out and brush away the bit of dark hair that had fallen across his forehead.

She smiled at his words. He was being nice and accommodating. Most out of character. Why? “Thank you for asking. And I believe that’s the most pleasant thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He laughed. “That makes two of us. I think that’s the most pleasant thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Lucy busied herself arranging the plates of bread, fruit, and cheese on the blanket in front of them.

Derek cleared his throat. “I couldn’t help but notice you were reading a letter earlier, when you came into the drawing room.”

A wide smile spread across Lucy’s face. “Yes. Yes. I was.”

“And the letter pleased you?”

She glanced up at him, wrinkling her nose. What did he care? In fact the letter had been from Lord Berkeley and had been the nicest, sweetest, kindest, funniest, most clever letter she’d ever received. Not too overly solicitous, not too sentimental, not too sweet. It had been exactly what she’d known Lord Berkeley was capable of. He’d told her how much he enjoyed spending time with her and mentioned a variety of topics, all of which kept her thoroughly entertained. Obviously Lord Berkeley was a man of letters, not words. He was the sort who had a penchant for writing. Of course he was. He was an intellectual. Something Derek knew nothing about. “Yes, it did please me.”

“Who was it from?”

She smiled at him sweetly. “None of your business.”

Derek took another slow sip of wine. “Let me guess. Berkeley?”

She widened her eyes. “How did you—? Oh very well, it was from Lord Berkeley.” If Derek was going to be jealous over Christian—ooh, the thought of his given name sent a little thrill through her—then he may as well know the man was quite interested in her. Quite.

“Why can’t I picture Berkeley sitting down to write a letter?” Derek said, setting his wine glass aside and leaning forward to pop a grape into his mouth.

Lucy put her hands on her hips. “That just shows how much you know. His letter was beautifully written.”

“Beautifully?” he asked, a sardonic expression on his handsome face.

Lucy longed to wipe it off. “Yes, beautifully. He’s obviously extremely well educated, not to mention humorous, wise, and witty.”

“Witty?” Derek’s eyebrows shot up. “Wise and witty?”

She nodded. “Yes. Extremely witty.”

“I may have to read this letter.” He popped another grape into his mouth.

“You most certainly may not.” She cut two pieces off the end of the loaf of bread, placing one slice onto a plate for herself and the other on Derek’s plate.

His grin was unrepentant. “Careful, Lucy, you don’t want your sharp tongue to scare this one off.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes on him. “I’ve been doing an excellent job of keeping my tongue in check around Lord Berkeley, Your Grace. It’s you I have trouble being cordial to.”

“Don’t I know it?”

Did he just wink at her?

“I can’t help it,” Lucy replied. “Some of the things I say … I’ve always been blunt. It’s been a curse since birth. Well, since childhood at least.”

His intense green eyes narrowed on her. “Why since childhood? What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head and reached for a cluster of dark purple grapes.

“I’d like to know,” he answered softly.

Something about the tender way he said it made Lucy want to answer him. She pushed a grape into her mouth and chewed and swallowed thoughtfully. “I … my brother died when we were children.”

A small spark of surprise flashed through his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he replied, still looking at her intently. “Is that who you were speaking of, who you’d lost, that day we went riding in Hyde Park?”