The Unexpected Duchess (Playful Brides #1)(2)

“Please, Your Grace, come no closer. I wouldn’t want anyone happening upon us to consider our meeting here an impropriety,” Lucy offered, in a voice low enough she was certain the duke couldn’t hear.

Cass repeated the words.

The duke laughed. “You do not find it an impropriety, Lady Cassandra, to be alone with me in the garden?”

Lucy frowned. Well, if he was going to quibble over details. “I only ask for a moment of your time, to make my wishes clear.”

Cass said the words quickly.

“Very well. Go ahead,” said the duke.

Lucy took a deep breath. “While I am certain there are many young ladies who would be flattered by your attention, Your Grace, I must admit I am not one.”

Lucy could almost feel Cass cringe as she repeated the words. She frantically tugged on her gloves as she spoke.

Lucy moved her head to catch the duke’s reaction. She swallowed. Oh, she shouldn’t have looked. Just as she’d discovered earlier in the ballroom, the man was handsome. Too handsome.

“I see, Lady Cassandra. And may I ask exactly why you feel this way?”

Lucy pulled up her shoulders. Uh-oh. He was demanding a reason. What? He couldn’t conceive of a lady who would not welcome his advances? A moment ago she’d felt a bit sorry for the duke, but her protective instinct for Cass overpowered her thoughts. Now she wanted to cut him to the quick with her words. Which just happened to be her specialty.

“You may have yet to discover a woman who was not enamored of you, my lord. But I assure you, they do exist,” Lucy whispered to Cass, narrowing her eyes on the tall man.

Another small squeak escaped from Cass’s mouth. She turned her head sharply to the side. “Lucy, I cannot say that.” The words rushed out in a tiny whisper.

Lucy nearly fell through the bush. This entire charade was dependent on Cass maintaining their fa?ade. Just repeat the words, she mentally begged her friend, repeating her sentence in a rush.

Cass’s eyes darted to the side and Lucy held her breath, waiting for her friend to say the withering sentence.

“I cannot say, my lord,” Cass replied instead. “It’s just that I…”

Lucy groaned. Cass wasn’t going to say it. Ooh, if only Lucy could say it herself. A silly vision flashed before her eyes. One of her snatching Cass off her feet, pulling her behind the hedgerow, and rushing out to stand in her stead. Yes, silly. And unlikely to work. A pity. Very well. Lucy would be forced to tone down her words if she was going to help Cass. And she could tone down her words … if she … thought about it for a moment. She took a deep breath.

“Very well. Let me be clear. I am singularly uninterested in becoming the future Duchess of Claringdon,” Lucy provided. “Especially when the duke is so obviously arrogant and overbearing.”

Cass gasped. “Lucy!”

The duke’s eyes narrowed on the hedgerow then. Lucy instinctively drew back her head just before he marched forward, reached around the bush, and pulled her sharply into the clearing. She came flying out, twigs lodged in her dismantled coiffure and several leaves trailing into her décolletage. A twig had scratched her cheek. She rubbed it, glaring at him.

The duke eyed her with an arrogant inclination of his head. “I thought you had an echo, Lady Cassandra. Now I see your serpent’s tongue has a name. Good evening, Miss Upton.”





CHAPTER TWO


Derek Hunt narrowed his eyes on the young woman he’d plucked from the bushes. He could see enough of her in the light from the candles scattered about the gardens. She had bouncy black hair and bright blue eyes—wait, one of her eyes was blue, the other was hazel—and a decidedly unhappy look on her upturned face. Her chest was heaving with what was no doubt indignation, and if looks could cause bodily harm he’d be a heap in the mulch right now.

Lady Lucy Upton.

He’d noticed her earlier in the ballroom. All the men had noticed her. She was stunning. Even with leaves stuck in her hair and a twig hanging from one dark curl. He’d heard a rumor about something unusual in her appearance but he’d not been able to discern it before. Must be the eyes. Regardless of their odd colors, she was a beauty.

He’d questioned Lord Chambers about her.

“Firmly on the shelf,” Chambers had replied. “No suitors.”

“Why’s that?” Derek had asked nonchalantly. “She’s certainly pretty enough.”

Apparently, the lady had a rapier for a tongue. She jabbed with nouns, riposted with verbs. And she delivered adjectives with a particular flourish. By all accounts, she was a master. One who could rip an overzealous beau to shreds in mere seconds. According to Lord Chambers, it didn’t take long for the eligible bachelors of the ton, those who were not otherwise occupied with war, to disentangle themselves from any association with Lady Lucy.

Derek eyed the dark-haired beauty closely. He had recently turned thirty. He had just returned from the war. He’d spent years being shot at and had nearly died half a dozen times on battlefields across the Continent. Now he was looking for peace.

Lady Cassandra had been recommended to him. She was considered quiet and demure. “The perfect choice for a wife,” Swift had said. The perfect choice for a man seeking a peaceful life. An obedient wife.

Lady Lucy Upton was the exact opposite.