garden. Was it possible that Cass had reconsidered her feelings toward the Duke of Claringdon?
Lucy wrinkled her nose. Why did that thought make her so uneasy? She shook her head. There was only one way to discover the truth. She must ask Cass. Ask her outright if she did indeed enjoy Claringdon’s attentions, and if Cass said yes—oh, she couldn’t possibly say yes, could she? At any rate, if she did say yes, then Lucy would step aside. Step entirely aside. And leave them to their courtship. It was that simple. She pulled off her robe and snuggled under her covers again. She’d fall fast asleep now that she had such a reasonable plan of action.
But one hour later she was still tossing about and plumping the pillows. If the plan was so simple, why couldn’t she sleep?
* * *
Derek tossed the quill against the ledger. Why he was up in the middle of the bloody night counting the same row of figures for the eighth time, he would never know. He’d been unable to sleep, and coming down to his study had seemed like a good idea an hour ago. Now, however, he realized he was wholly unable to accomplish anything. His mind raced with thoughts of his frustrating experience at the ball tonight. Specifically with Lady Frustrating herself, Lucy Upton.
What was wrong with that woman? She refused to give him a moment’s peace. She turned up like a shadow whenever he had the slightest opportunity to be alone with Lady Cassandra. She appeared to be doing it out of some misguided sense of friendship. Derek understood all about friendship, after all. Apparently, Lady Lucy believed she was being a bosom friend to Lady Cassandra, but if the bossy little baggage would only stop for one moment and actually think about what she was doing, she might realize that preventing her friend from being courted by a young, healthy, eligible duke—who wasn’t hard on the eyes if he did say so himself—was not perhaps in Lady Cassandra’s best interest. But Lady Lucy seemed so damn stubborn and sure of herself. He doubted she was interested in seeing things in any sort of a different light. It was maddening.
Derek had even considered approaching Lady Cassandra’s parents and informing them of Lady Lucy’s interference. Surely the earl and countess wouldn’t welcome Lucy’s plans to ensure their daughter did not marry a duke. But that didn’t sit well with him, either. He had the thought for the one hundredth time: If he couldn’t even handle one little spoiled Society miss, was he worth his title?
Perhaps it was true that Lady Cassandra was indeed in love with another man as they’d told him this evening, but that didn’t bother him. If the sop didn’t even have the wherewithal to court her, he stood little chance of winning her. No, it was Lady Lucy who posed the more dire threat. Derek stood, crossed to the sideboard, and poured himself two fingers of whiskey.
And to make it even more frustrating, Lady Lucy was too beautiful. The entire thing would be much easier to deal with if she had a plain face or a giant wart on her nose. Instead, when he verbally jousted with her, he was having thoughts that had nothing to do with wanting her to go away. Instead, they were more like thoughts about rolling around naked with her in his big bed. And that was altogether distracting. Not to mention inappropriate. Damn it.
He tossed back the whiskey. Tossed it back and allowed it to sink to his belly exactly as he’d done on countless freezing-cold nights sleeping outside a battlefield in a tent. He’d lived through war. One that had killed thousands of his countrymen. He’d led men through that war safely. No, it was not possible that he would be stopped by a stubborn little slip of a miss. Not possible at all. Regardless of the way she heated his blood.
If Derek knew anything it was military strategy. When waging war, you’ve got to know as much about your enemy as possible. He needed to discern what it was about him that Lady Lucy
Lucy wrinkled her nose. Why did that thought make her so uneasy? She shook her head. There was only one way to discover the truth. She must ask Cass. Ask her outright if she did indeed enjoy Claringdon’s attentions, and if Cass said yes—oh, she couldn’t possibly say yes, could she? At any rate, if she did say yes, then Lucy would step aside. Step entirely aside. And leave them to their courtship. It was that simple. She pulled off her robe and snuggled under her covers again. She’d fall fast asleep now that she had such a reasonable plan of action.
But one hour later she was still tossing about and plumping the pillows. If the plan was so simple, why couldn’t she sleep?
* * *
Derek tossed the quill against the ledger. Why he was up in the middle of the bloody night counting the same row of figures for the eighth time, he would never know. He’d been unable to sleep, and coming down to his study had seemed like a good idea an hour ago. Now, however, he realized he was wholly unable to accomplish anything. His mind raced with thoughts of his frustrating experience at the ball tonight. Specifically with Lady Frustrating herself, Lucy Upton.
What was wrong with that woman? She refused to give him a moment’s peace. She turned up like a shadow whenever he had the slightest opportunity to be alone with Lady Cassandra. She appeared to be doing it out of some misguided sense of friendship. Derek understood all about friendship, after all. Apparently, Lady Lucy believed she was being a bosom friend to Lady Cassandra, but if the bossy little baggage would only stop for one moment and actually think about what she was doing, she might realize that preventing her friend from being courted by a young, healthy, eligible duke—who wasn’t hard on the eyes if he did say so himself—was not perhaps in Lady Cassandra’s best interest. But Lady Lucy seemed so damn stubborn and sure of herself. He doubted she was interested in seeing things in any sort of a different light. It was maddening.
Derek had even considered approaching Lady Cassandra’s parents and informing them of Lady Lucy’s interference. Surely the earl and countess wouldn’t welcome Lucy’s plans to ensure their daughter did not marry a duke. But that didn’t sit well with him, either. He had the thought for the one hundredth time: If he couldn’t even handle one little spoiled Society miss, was he worth his title?
Perhaps it was true that Lady Cassandra was indeed in love with another man as they’d told him this evening, but that didn’t bother him. If the sop didn’t even have the wherewithal to court her, he stood little chance of winning her. No, it was Lady Lucy who posed the more dire threat. Derek stood, crossed to the sideboard, and poured himself two fingers of whiskey.
And to make it even more frustrating, Lady Lucy was too beautiful. The entire thing would be much easier to deal with if she had a plain face or a giant wart on her nose. Instead, when he verbally jousted with her, he was having thoughts that had nothing to do with wanting her to go away. Instead, they were more like thoughts about rolling around naked with her in his big bed. And that was altogether distracting. Not to mention inappropriate. Damn it.
He tossed back the whiskey. Tossed it back and allowed it to sink to his belly exactly as he’d done on countless freezing-cold nights sleeping outside a battlefield in a tent. He’d lived through war. One that had killed thousands of his countrymen. He’d led men through that war safely. No, it was not possible that he would be stopped by a stubborn little slip of a miss. Not possible at all. Regardless of the way she heated his blood.
If Derek knew anything it was military strategy. When waging war, you’ve got to know as much about your enemy as possible. He needed to discern what it was about him that Lady Lucy
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