The Unexpected Duchess (Playful Brides #1)(8)

So she’d shared Lord Widmere’s words with Garrett, and they’d made a jest of them. A jest that nettled her still a bit, but she absolutely adored her cousin, even if her father detested him. Perhaps because her father detested him. Father couldn’t stand Garrett for the simple reason that Garrett would inherit his title and estates one day and he was not Father’s very own son. Ah, what a loving family.

Lucy returned Garrett’s smile and fell into a deep curtsy. “At your service,” she said with a smile.

Garrett was sitting next to Cass—he was always sitting next to Cass—his longish dark hair brushing his collar, his hazel eyes, the same color as one of Lucy’s, flashing in merriment.

“We didn’t wake you, did we?” Garrett asked.

“Absolutely not.” Lucy swept up her violet skirts with one hand and made her way over to the settee to sit between Cass and Garrett. She flourished the piece of parchment in her hand. “I was up with the sun this morning writing a list of things for Cass to say to the Duke of Claringdon when he calls on her.”

Jane sat on a chair across from them steadfastly reading a book.

“How is Cassandra supposed to read off a list with the duke standing there?” Garret asked.

“I suppose you have a better idea, Upton.” Jane calmly pushed up her spectacles and turned the page.

Garrett opened his mouth to issue a no-doubt-scathing retort. Garrett and Jane had disliked each other upon sight. They’d met at a play they’d all attended five years ago, and the two had fallen into a continual war of words. Lucy had long ago learned it was best if she cut their wordplay off at the start.

“As a matter of fact—” Garrett began.

“She’ll just have to memorize them, that’s all,” Lucy interrupted.

Cass pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Memorize them? Oh, no. I’m afraid I cannot.” She took the parchment from Lucy’s grasp and eyed the first few lines. “Lucy, I’ll never be able to remember all this—and even if I did, I’d be too shy to say it.”

Garrett gave Lucy an I-told-you-so stare. “There, you see. You cannot go putting words in Cassandra’s mouth.”

Lucy plucked the paper back. “What’s wrong with this?” She cleared her throat, reading the first paragraph. “‘While I’m certain there are scores of ninnies who would fall all over themselves at the slightest crook of your ducal finger, I do not happen to be one of them. I believe I’ve made myself exceedingly clear on the point and must wonder what they taught you in your military schools because it appears understanding the King’s English isn’t among your varied talents, whatever those may be.’”

Garrett gave Lucy a long-suffering stare. “Honestly? Must I tell you what’s wrong with that?”

“I quite like it,” Jane added, not taking her eyes from the page she was reading. “Perhaps a bit too long for my taste but clear enough.”

Garrett narrowed his eyes at Jane. “Of course you like it. If provided a quill you’d most likely write something far worse.”

Jane snorted. “Something far worse? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you like it because I don’t. I swear if I claimed the world was round you’d say it was flat merely to be contrary,” Garrett replied.

“You give yourself far too much credit, Upton. It makes me question—”

Garrett opened his mouth to speak. This time Cass stopped him.

“Oh, Lucy, you must know I couldn’t possibly say that to the duke,” Cass said, her cheeks bright pink.

“Why not?” Lucy asked.

“For one thing, it’s terribly rude,” Cass replied.

“Not to mention I doubt the duke would believe that Cassandra came up with that on her own, even if she could memorize all of it,” Garrett added.

“And I know I’ll never be able to memorize all of that.” Cass gestured to the paper.

“I don’t see why not,” Lucy replied. “Just think of it like one of our beloved plays. Pretend you’re an actress.”

Cass’s eyes went wide. “An actress! Why, Mama would lock me in my bedchamber for a week if she knew what we’re up to.”

Lucy tossed a frustrated hand in the air. “Who cares what your mama—?”

“Read another, Lucy,” Jane requested. “Perhaps a shorter one, easier to remember.”

“Very well.” Lucy sat up straight and scanned the page. She flipped to the next. “How about this? ‘Sir Duke, I regret to inform you that I am otherwise occupied tomorrow and the next day and the next. I am engaged every day upon which you might inquire as to my availability. In fact I am feeling a trifle under the weather at present and hope you will retrieve your hat and gloves with all due haste and remove yourself and your equine companion from this address.’” She finished with a firm nod of her head.

Jane arched a dark brow. “That was shorter?”

“It was every bit as rude,” Garrett added, shaking his head.

“Lucy, I would never say something like that.” Cass tugged on her gloves. “It’s just too mean.”

Lucy tossed a hand in the air again. “Mean? Mean? Cass, the man is trying to court you and refuses to take no for an answer and you’re worried about being mean?”