The Unexpected Duchess (8 page)

“It’s a necessary evil to defend the country,” he added. “But I do not relish war.”

Lucy tilted her head to the side. Surprising that he would say such a thing.

Cass raised her voice as loud as Lucy had ever heard it. “I hate war. It’s kept my friend away for so many years.”

The duke’s voice was low. “It’s kept many of us away for many years, I’m afraid, Lady Cassandra. I’m glad it’s over.”

Cass nodded.

“Tell me, why don’t you think your friend will propose to you when he returns?” the duke asked.

Cass hung her head. “He won’t. He … he can’t.”

“Is he married?”

“Something like that.”

“Unrequited love is painful,” he said.

Lucy’s head snapped up. Unrequited love? The duke was discussing unrequited love? Why, she hadn’t known he was capable of such tender emotions.

“What do you know about unrequited love?” The words flew from her throat before she had a chance to stop them.

“Lucy!” Cass’s voice held a note of rebuke.

The duke turned his head toward her. “No. It’s all right, Lady Cassandra. Frankly, I’ve been surprised Lady Lucy here has remained silent as long as she has.”

Lucy glared at him. “Well?”

“Love, I’ve found, is a messy business. Marriage is another matter entirely,” he said.

“Spoken like a poet,” Lucy retorted.

“Lucy, please,” Cass begged.

The duke arched a brow at Lucy. “Something tells me a poet would be made short shrift in your world, my lady.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes on him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means any man who isn’t willing to dodge your gibes is quickly gone, is he not? I suspect that’s why you’ve taken such a dislike to me. I don’t run away at your slightest barb.”

Lucy squeezed her hands in the folds of her skirts. How did that man manage to get to the heart of things so easily? It was as if he had a window into her personality. And was it true that she disliked him so vehemently because he refused to leave? She bit her tongue. No use giving him more ammunition to lob back at her. Why, oh why, did he make her so insane? “Perhaps you should.”

“You seem to know a lot about affairs of the heart, my lady,” he said. “What about the war? Do you know anyone who won’t be coming back?”

Lucy jerked back as if he’d struck her. He was questioning whether she’d been hurt in life. Seen painful things. Lost someone she loved. “I’ve lost someone. Someone quite dear to me.”

A combination of surprise and regret passed over his face. “A man?”

Lucy looked away. “Yes.”

The rest of the journey continued in silence. When the phaeton finally rolled to a stop in front of Cass’s parents’ town house, the duke alighted and helped Cass down. He left the footman to help Lucy.

“Will I see you tomorrow evening at the Havertys’ dinner party, Lady Cassandra?” he asked.

Cass nodded. “Yes, I’ll be there, but—”

This was the moment. Cass would tell him she didn’t want to see him again. And if that happened and he finally took no for an answer, then—

The duke’s arrogance and assuming manner had left Lucy wanting more, another chance to put him in his place. She brushed past him, pulling Cass into the house with her. “
We’ll
see you there, Your Grace.”

“I look forward to it,” he replied.

“I’ll wager you do.”

“You’re not about to scare me off with your sharp tongue, my lady,” he said.

“We’ll see about that, Your
Grace
,” Lucy replied.

She had nearly shut the door behind them when the duke’s strong, sure voice rang out behind them. “That sounds like a challenge to me.”

Lucy didn’t look back. “Oh, Your Grace, if I were challenging you, you’d know it.”

“Very well,” he said. “While we’re on the subject of wagers and sharp tongues, I’d like to challenge
you
to one, Lady Lucy.”

She froze, standing as still as a statue. Then she slowly turned to face him, her eyes narrowed on his features.

She tilted her head to the side. “To what? A wager?”

“Yes,” he replied with a smile on his face.

“A wager?” Cass gulped.

“What sort of wager?” Lucy asked. She had to admit, she was intrigued. Quite intrigued, actually.

“I challenge you to a battle of words. Tomorrow night, at the Havertys’ party.”

“A word challenge?” she scoffed. “You challenge
me
?”

Cass pointed a finger in the air. “Um, Your Grace, I’m not certain if you understand exactly…”

The duke waved away the warning. “Oh, I understand, perfectly. Lady Lucy here is known for her way with words. Correct?”

Cass nodded.

He grinned. “And I intend to show her up.”

Lucy picked up her skirts and crossed the threshold into the house. She didn’t let him see the small smile that had popped to her lips. It had been an age since anyone had challenged her. “You’d best get plenty of sleep tonight, Your Grace. You’ll need it.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“The betting book at White’s has seen no rest in the last twenty-four hours.” Garrett slapped his gloves against his knee as the four friends bounced along in his carriage to the Havertys’ party the next evening. “Everyone in town is speculating about your challenge with the duke.”

Lucy straightened her shoulders and eyed her cousin. “First of all, how has everyone in town found out about it? Second, I didn’t think you were a member at White’s.”

Garrett laughed. “I’m not. But everyone at Brooks’s has been talking about it nonstop as well. You wouldn’t believe how high some of the bets are up to.”

“You didn’t answer the first question,” Lucy pointed out.

Garrett shrugged. “Very well, I
may
have mentioned it to a few chaps.”

“Dissolute gambler,” Jane mumbled, pulling the book away from her nose. She eyed Garrett over the top of it. “And out of curiosity, exactly how high are the bets?”

Garrett whistled. “High enough to buy a new carriage. And I’ll ignore the fact that you just called me dissolute.”

Jane smirked at him.

Cass worried her hands. “I think it is disastrous, simply disastrous.”

Lucy reached over and patted Cass’s knee. “Don’t worry, Cass. I’m certain to win.”

“I know that, Lucy. I’m just worried that it’ll harm your reputation and … Making a bet with a duke, the Duke of Claringdon of all people, cannot be good for your reputation. I’m certain of it.”

“Reputations are highly overrated if you ask me,” Jane said from behind her book.

Garrett’s eyebrow shot up. “Really?” he asked, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Jane pulled the book down to the tip of her nose and eyed him over its edge. “Yes, are you surprised I think that, Upton?”

Garrett shrugged. “No. Not particularly. Perhaps I’m only surprised that you admitted it.”

“I’m a bluestocking, Upton. If I gave a toss about my own reputation, I’d study far less and spend far more time worrying about things like hair ribbons and frocks.”

He blinked at her innocently. “Bluestockings don’t wear hair ribbons, Miss Lowndes?”

Jane pushed up the book to hide her face again. “We wear them, Upton. We just don’t
care
about them.”

“I’m truly worried for Lucy tonight,” Cass continued, interrupting them.

Jane dropped her book again. “I’m not worried. I’m looking forward to it, actually. I can see tomorrow’s headline in the
Times
, ‘Lady Lucy Crushes Claringdon.’”

Lucy raised her chin and smiled. “Thank you for your faith in me, Janie.”

“And I, for one, want a front-row seat tonight,” Jane added with a sly smile.

Cass waved her hand. “I’m worried. What if the headline ends up being, ‘Duke of Claringdon Wins Yet Another Battle’?”

“Do you really think our Lucy will let him win?” Garrett asked.

“Thank you, Garrett,” Lucy replied.

“I just think the duke is quite clever, and he’s seen a lot of the world,” Cass said. “I would hate for you to be humiliated, Lucy.”

Lucy regarded her friend closely. “Don’t worry, Cass. I’ll be fine. Have some faith.” Truth be told, she’d had her own moment of doubt in the middle of last night. Confronting the duke in public? Why, she wouldn’t be human if she didn’t have a moment’s doubt, would she? Would the arrogant duke consider for a moment if he would lose to her? She’d quickly got over it, however.

Lucy had few talents. Charming people, dancing, playing the pianoforte—those skills had eluded her for her entire life, but cutting people to shreds with her tongue? That was a gift the universe had seen fit to bestow upon her and she never doubted it. Well, perhaps for one brief little minute last night, but in the end, she knew she’d win. She had to.

When Lucy’s little group entered the ballroom, tension crackled in the air. It was as if one hundred pairs of eyes turned immediately to watch them.

“I wonder if the duke is here already,” Cass whispered from her right.

The answer to that question quickly materialized in the form of their hostess, Lady Haverty. The woman glided up to them with a sly smile on her face. “Lady Lucy, good to see you. The Duke of Claringdon has yet to arrive.”

Lucy let out her breath. Why did that reprieve give her a bit of peace?

“Thank you so much for your kind invitation this evening,” Lucy replied. Her friends also greeted their hostess warmly.

“My pleasure,” Lady Haverty said. Lucy got the distinct impression that that lady was ever so glad to be the hostess of what was sure to be one of the most talked-about dinner parties of the Season.

“Yes, well, be certain to let me know when the duke arrives,” Lucy said in what she hoped was a casual voice.

She did not have long to wait. It seemed mere minutes later that a commotion at the door caused everyone to glance up while the butler intoned the name of the Duke of Claringdon.

“This is it,” Garrett said under his breath, giving Lucy a warning glance laced with an encouraging smile.

Lucy shrugged. “I’m perfectly ready whenever he is.”

Within a matter of minutes, the riotous crowd had jostled the two of them together toward the middle of the ballroom and Lucy looked up into the daring, handsome face of the Duke of Claringdon.

She curtsied. “Your Grace.”

“My lady.” He bowed and brushed his lips across the knuckles on her gloved hand. She shuddered. Not fair. She snatched her hand away as if it had been burned.

The crowd quickly filled in around them.

“Seems we’ve garnered quite an audience,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and circling her. “What shall we discuss?” He arched a brow in a challenge.

She gave him her best false smile. “You’re so clever, Your Grace. I defer to your expertise in picking a subject.”

He eyed her warily. “Sarcasm becomes you, my lady.”

She smirked. “So I’ve been told.”

“Why don’t you dance with me first and we can think about it?” he offered.

She nearly snorted. “Dance with you? No. Thank you.”

One brow shot up. “Ah, now
that’s
surprising.”

She regarded him down the length of her nose. “What is?”

“Why, with your reputation for wordplay, I’d have thought you’d find something infinitely more clever to say in response to a gentleman with whom you do not wish to dance than, ‘No. Thank you’.”

He was mocking her. Her face heated. Her ears were no doubt turning red. “You think you can do better?”

He inclined his head in acceptance, a devilish smile on his firmly molded lips. “I
know
I can.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

He grinned and raised his voice so the audience would hear him. “This shall be the wager then. I shall come up with a plethora of more inventive ways to turn down a dance than ‘No, thank you.’”

“How many?” she asked, still trying to quell the riotous emotions in her middle.

The duke turned and called out to their audience. “Does anyone have a pack of cards?”

“I do!” Lady Haverty offered, calling to a footman to bring cards posthaste.

The wait was not long. The footman hurried back with the cards while the entire ballroom appeared to converge upon their little enclave. In the meantime, Cass and Jane gave Lucy encouraging smiles and then faded into the crowd with everyone else.

The duke took the cards from the footman and presented them to Lucy with a flourish. “My lady, pick one, if you please.”

“What for?” Lucy asked, valiantly attempting to keep the rising panic from her voice. What was he up to?

“Whatever card you draw will be the number of responses I invent.”

Lucy arched a brow. “And what if I draw a royal?”

“Twenty,” he answered simply, as if he did this sort of thing on a regular basis.

She eyed him warily but hovered her hand over the stack and plucked a card from the center. She flipped it over. “The King of Hearts,” she announced with a satisfied smile.

A muffled
ooh
made its way through the crowd.

“You wouldn’t be interested in the best two of three, would you?” he asked with a jaunty grin.

Lucy shook her head and smiled back at him. “Twenty sounds perfect to me.”

He winked at her. “How did I know you would say that?”

She shrugged. “Lucky guess?”

“Very well,” he agreed. “I shall come up with twenty better ways to refuse a dance with a gentleman than your ‘No, thank you.’”

Lucy tapped her slipper against the parquet floor. She had no choice. He’d made the challenge and she must see it through. Wise of him actually, to keep her from being the one to use her tongue. Quite wise indeed. “Very well. I accept. Let’s hear them.”

“Ah, wait. First, we must decide. What shall be the forfeit?” he asked, plucking nonchalantly at his ivory cuff.

Lucy arched a brow. “Forfeit?”

“Yes. What shall the winner win?”

She wrinkled her nose at him, then stepped forward to whisper so their audience would not hear. “When I win, you agree to leave Cass alone.”

He appeared to consider it for a moment. “Agreed,” he whispered back. “Only because I know I will win.”