CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
When the door to her bedchamber flew open the next afternoon, Lucy blinked in surprise. She’d been sitting at her desk, writing her obligatory weekly letter to her mother. She assured her mother that she was in good health—not that her mother cared—well chaperoned—not that her mother cared—and still entirely without the prospect of a husband—not that her mother cared, much. But still, Lucy wrote. Hoping one day her mother might show some interest.
At the loud crack of the door against the wall, Lucy dropped the quill and snapped up her head.
“There you are!” Cass stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips looking like a beautiful, angry, blond virago.
Lucy half rose from her writing desk. “Why … What? Cass, what are you doing here?”
Cass’s breath came in deep pants, and she pressed her hands against her belly. “As usual, the butler tried to tell me that you were indisposed but I raced up here. He tried to chase me, poor fellow. I find I’m actually quite fast. I had no idea.” She proudly lifted her chin in the air.
As if on cue, the butler arrived just then in the doorway. He was panting as well, and he looked to Lucy with a guilty countenance. “My lady, I do apologize, but…”
“It’s all right, Milhaven,” Lucy said. “It seems Lady Cassandra has found me.”
Cass aimed a triumphant smile at the butler. Milhaven bowed to them both and took his leave.
“That’ll teach him to try to outrun me again.” Cass trotted over, pulled off her gloves, and took a seat next to the window. “I must say, I believe Shakespierre would have caught me, however.”
Lucy couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t try to outrun Shakespierre. Not on a dare. But I cannot help but think your association with me has taught you bad manners, Cass. Outrunning the butler? That’s more like something I would do.”
Cass slapped her gloves onto the writing desk and braced her elbows atop it, still working her breathing back to rights. “Enough about running from the butler. Now do you deny hiding from me the last three sennights?”
Wincing, Lucy twirled the quill around the parchment and forced herself to look at her friend. “No. I’ve been awful. Can you forgive me? I have no excuse.”
Cass smiled. “Thank you for that. I do forgive you. Though you left me no choice but to hunt you down like a fox because I have some news for you.”
Lucy furrowed her brow. “News?”
“Yes.” There was no hint in the tone of Cass’s voice.
Lucy’s heart jumped to her throat. Her fingers rhythmically clenched and unclenched the quill. “You and Derek are betrothed.” The words didn’t hurt as much leaving her lips as she’d expected them to. She was numb. She raised her gaze to meet Cass’s face.
Cass shook her head. “What? No.”
Lucy widened her eyes. “You’re not?”
“No.”
“If that’s not your news, then what—?” She pressed both hands to her cheeks. “Oh, God. Cass, it’s not. Is it Julian? I’ll never forgive myself if he died while I was being such an awful friend. It’s just that—”
“No. No. Julian’s not dead.”
Lucy closed her eyes and breathed a deep sigh of relief. “Oh, I’m so glad. Have you heard from him? How is he?”
“My news is about Derek and Julian actually.” A small smile rested on Cass’s lips. And if she had a smile on her face when mentioning Julian …
Lucy grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “What is it, Cass? Tell me.”
Cass couldn’t control her laughter. “He’s coming home, Lucy! Julian is coming home!”
Lucy raised herself halfway from the writing desk then fell to her knees in front of Cass, clasping both her hands. “Oh, Cass, that’s wonderful news. He’s recovered?”
Tears of joy shone in Cass’s eyes. “Yes. He began to take a turn for the better a fortnight ago and he’s healing nicely according to his doctors in Brussels.”
Tears sprang to Lucy’s eyes, too. “I cannot imagine how happy you must be. This is wonderful news.”
“It is, isn’t it? I’m so happy, Lucy. I cannot wait to see him.”
A shadow crossed over Lucy’s mind. “But what about Penelope? Does he still intend to marry Penelope?”
Cass nodded. “Nothing has changed. But that’s what I wanted to say about Derek.”
Lucy’s spine went straight. She let go of her friend’s hands. She couldn’t stand to hear anything about Derek. She pulled herself back into her chair. “I don’t think—”