crickets chirped in the garden behind the house. She could think of one thing and only one: Derek Hunt, Duke of Claringdon. In all of her years she’d never met anyone so … so … provocative.
She pressed a hand to her throat. That look he’d given her when she leaned down over the balcony. She felt exposed, as if she’d just been seen without her clothing. The duke’s bold gaze was that assessing. It was challenging, probing, and a bit too perceptive for her comfort. It was as if he could read her thoughts and knew she was up to something. Which of course she was. Hmm. Perhaps the duke was a more formidable opponent than she’d allowed.
Who was this man, the Duke of Claringdon? He seemed astute. She’d give him that. And he seemed to know when she was mocking him, something most men of her acquaintance never quite picked up on. Oh, they knew when she sliced them to bits with her tongue. That was certain. But most of them didn’t know, didn’t really know, that her disdain was more about their inability to match wits with her.
The duke, however, had known. It was as if he’d seen right through her. Knew what she was about. She wasn’t used to the gentlemen she encountered being as clever as she was, frankly. She breathed deeply. Why did he spark her temper so easily? She was angry at him, true, but she was also angry at herself. Where had her intellect fled when that man had accused her of inserting herself into Cass’s affairs?
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she’d countered lamely. That hadn’t been like her at all. Where was her infamous wit? Her biting words? They failed her when she needed them most.
Lucy had opened her mouth to issue a scathing retort. But nothing had happened. She’d never been so incensed in her life. Usually when she delivered withering words to men of the ton , they slunk off and kept their distance forevermore. Derek Hunt, however, seemed to enjoy it and return for another dose. Absolutely infuriating.
That man was completely, irrevocably convinced that he was right. He was too sure of himself by half, and it didn’t help his arrogance that he just so happened to be maddeningly handsome. Why was he so intent on courting Cass when she clearly had no interest in him? Cass was beautiful and sweet and clever and lovely, of course. Very well. No wonder he was intent on courting Cass. She was demure and quiet and an excellent choice for a bride. The whole thing might just be perfect, actually, if Cass were interested in the duke. But Cass had been hopelessly in love with Julian since she was a girl.
No one knew that better than Lucy. She’d spent countless hours hearing about how handsome and strong and noble Julian was. Cass adored a man she might never have. It was sad, to be sure, but it was true. And even if Lucy didn’t bring it up often to keep from hurting poor Garrett’s feelings, it was plain to anyone who’d heard Cass speak about Julian that she still held out some sort of hope that fate would intervene and make him hers. And Lucy intended to facilitate such an event. Only at present it seemed as if she was in a standoff with the Duke of Stubborn. Cass would just have to speak up and tell him there was no hope of changing her mind, no matter how long he waited. That was all there was to it.
Unless …
Lucy swallowed hard. What if Cass actually had changed her mind? The man was handsome and heroic and a duke, wasn’t he? And even if the idea of Cass loving that arrogant, assuming blowhard— No. No. That was not helpful. It did no good to call him names. Especially when he wasn’t present to hear them.
Lucy paced back over to her bed and sat with her foot curled beneath her. She and Cass hadn’t actually spoken about it since that first night, had they? Perhaps Cass had changed her mind. She wasn’t coming out and telling him to leave her alone outright, was she? And tonight she’d even told Lucy she didn’t need her help in the
She pressed a hand to her throat. That look he’d given her when she leaned down over the balcony. She felt exposed, as if she’d just been seen without her clothing. The duke’s bold gaze was that assessing. It was challenging, probing, and a bit too perceptive for her comfort. It was as if he could read her thoughts and knew she was up to something. Which of course she was. Hmm. Perhaps the duke was a more formidable opponent than she’d allowed.
Who was this man, the Duke of Claringdon? He seemed astute. She’d give him that. And he seemed to know when she was mocking him, something most men of her acquaintance never quite picked up on. Oh, they knew when she sliced them to bits with her tongue. That was certain. But most of them didn’t know, didn’t really know, that her disdain was more about their inability to match wits with her.
The duke, however, had known. It was as if he’d seen right through her. Knew what she was about. She wasn’t used to the gentlemen she encountered being as clever as she was, frankly. She breathed deeply. Why did he spark her temper so easily? She was angry at him, true, but she was also angry at herself. Where had her intellect fled when that man had accused her of inserting herself into Cass’s affairs?
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she’d countered lamely. That hadn’t been like her at all. Where was her infamous wit? Her biting words? They failed her when she needed them most.
Lucy had opened her mouth to issue a scathing retort. But nothing had happened. She’d never been so incensed in her life. Usually when she delivered withering words to men of the ton , they slunk off and kept their distance forevermore. Derek Hunt, however, seemed to enjoy it and return for another dose. Absolutely infuriating.
That man was completely, irrevocably convinced that he was right. He was too sure of himself by half, and it didn’t help his arrogance that he just so happened to be maddeningly handsome. Why was he so intent on courting Cass when she clearly had no interest in him? Cass was beautiful and sweet and clever and lovely, of course. Very well. No wonder he was intent on courting Cass. She was demure and quiet and an excellent choice for a bride. The whole thing might just be perfect, actually, if Cass were interested in the duke. But Cass had been hopelessly in love with Julian since she was a girl.
No one knew that better than Lucy. She’d spent countless hours hearing about how handsome and strong and noble Julian was. Cass adored a man she might never have. It was sad, to be sure, but it was true. And even if Lucy didn’t bring it up often to keep from hurting poor Garrett’s feelings, it was plain to anyone who’d heard Cass speak about Julian that she still held out some sort of hope that fate would intervene and make him hers. And Lucy intended to facilitate such an event. Only at present it seemed as if she was in a standoff with the Duke of Stubborn. Cass would just have to speak up and tell him there was no hope of changing her mind, no matter how long he waited. That was all there was to it.
Unless …
Lucy swallowed hard. What if Cass actually had changed her mind? The man was handsome and heroic and a duke, wasn’t he? And even if the idea of Cass loving that arrogant, assuming blowhard— No. No. That was not helpful. It did no good to call him names. Especially when he wasn’t present to hear them.
Lucy paced back over to her bed and sat with her foot curled beneath her. She and Cass hadn’t actually spoken about it since that first night, had they? Perhaps Cass had changed her mind. She wasn’t coming out and telling him to leave her alone outright, was she? And tonight she’d even told Lucy she didn’t need her help in the
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