Chapter TWENTY-ONE
The journey to Bath was bumpy, hot, and a bit crowded to be honest, what with Jane, Lucy, Cass, Aunt Mary, and Garrett all squeezed into Garrett’s coach. And while it was a superb vehicle, by the time the conveyance pulled to a stop in front of Garrett’s fine town house in the upper streets, Lucy was rubbing bruises out of places she didn’t know existed.
The door to the town house flung open and the servants came bustling down the steps to help them alight from the coach. Aunt Mary turned into a whirlwind of efficiency, ordering the servants about and directing everyone to their respective rooms. Lucy’s aunt Mary, Garrett’s mother, had never been accepted by her own mother. “Far too brash and friendly,” Lucy’s mother had said of her sister-in-law, a frown firmly on her lips. But that was just what Lucy adored about her aunt. Aunt Mary always had a smile on her face and treated everyone with warmth and enthusiasm.
The footmen shuffled to and fro, unloading the luggage from both the carriage they’d ridden in and the one that had followed them with the extra trunks. They all entered the grand house and were quickly ushered into one of the drawing rooms where they were served tea and refreshments.
“I’m so glad you all came on this trip with us,” Aunt Mary said, her voice a high-pitched rush of excitement. “We shall have a grand time this summer. You’ll see.”
“Thank you for having us, Aunt,” Lucy replied.
“Oh, it’s Garrett’s house now, not mine.” The shadow of sorrow passed briefly over her face. Aunt Mary had been a widow for over two years, since Uncle Charles had passed away.
Garrett had just finished taking a sip of tea. “Mother, it’s as much yours as mine.”
Aunt Mary patted her son’s hand. “Such a good boy. I’m lucky to have you.”
Lucy smiled. How she wished she and her own mother could have a relationship like that. Or she and her father, for that matter. Her parents had long ago given up hope for her to make a decent match and mostly stayed in the countryside lamenting the fact that Garrett would one day inherit all their lands and Father’s title. It was sad, really. When they might all be a big happy family. As if those existed.
Aunt Mary clapped her hands, calling Lucy’s attention back to the drawing room. “There is to be a grand ball just two nights hence at the Upper Assembly Rooms. It’s certain to be a great deal of fun.”
“Excellent,” Garrett said.
“Looking forward to it,” Lucy replied.
“Me too,” Jane offered, though no one truly believed her.
Cass seemed less than enthusiastic, but she managed a small smile when Aunt Mary insisted that she would go and have a grand time.
“And Mrs. Periwinkle told me that the Duke of Claringdon has just rented a house on Uphill Drive.”
Cass’s eyes looked a bit fearful. Lucy crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes, we heard he’d be coming, too.”
“Ooh, how did you know, dear?” Aunt Mary asked, sitting on the edge of her seat as if the duke’s comings and goings were of the utmost importance to her.
Lucy took a sip of her tea. “He told us himself.”
Aunt Mary nearly toppled from her seat. “You spoke to the duke?”
“Yes,” Lucy replied. “He’s been attempting to court Cass.”
Aunt Mary looked as if she was tempted to throw her teacup in the air. Her eyes were as wide as the saucer. She clutched at her chest. “The Duke of Claringdon is courting our Cassandra?”
Cass shook her head fervently. “Oh, not really. Not—”
“He’s attempting to,” Lucy repeated. “Cass, however, is not interested.”
If Aunt Mary were the type to have an apoplectic fit, surely it would be well under way by now. She’d somehow managed to retrieve a fan from a wrinkle in her skirts and was fanning herself at a pace that made Lucy worry for her wrist; indeed, her entire arm. “What? Not interested in the Duke of Claringdon? How is that possible?” She stared at Cass as if she were a mythological creature who’d just flown through the window out of the pages of a storybook.
Cass’s face flushed pink. “He’s only paid a call or two.”
“Don’t forget you went riding in the park,” Jane chimed in, stuffing her second tea biscuit in her mouth.
Cass nodded. “Yes. We also went riding in the park.”
“We’ve been trying to rid ourselves of him, actually,” Lucy added, unsuccessfully attempting to keep the pique from her voice. “But he insisted on following us to Bath.”
“He’s come here for you!” That was it. Aunt Mary might very well have an apoplectic fit after all. Lucy wondered if Cass traveled with smelling salts. A fainting spell seemed imminent.
“No. No. He wanted to see the town. He’s never been,” Cass assured her, squirming in her seat.
“Cassandra, you’re being modest.” Garrett’s voice was quiet and calm. “The duke appears to be quite taken with you.”
Cass plucked at the folds in her butter-colored gown. She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“You know what I think?” Jane piped up. She’d just finished her last tea biscuit and dabbed at her lips with the edge of her napkin.
“No, what?” Garrett asked, a smirk on his face.
Jane completely ignored him. “I think Lucy is better suited for the duke than Cass.”
For the first time since they’d begun speaking of the duke, Cass had a happy look on her face. “Oh, I quite agree.”
“Furthermore, I think she may actually be a bit interested in him,” Jane added, a small smile on her lips.
Lucy went hot and cold. She snapped up her head and blinked at her friends. “The duke? Me? Interested in the duke? I most certainly am not.”
Jane pursed her lips as if she were about to whistle and took a small sip of tea. “Are you quite certain?”
Cass nodded. “I have to admit, I’ve had the same thought a time or two.”
Garrett crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his chair. A bark of laughter followed. “Lucy and the duke. Now, there’s a thought. How do you like that, Your Grace?”
Lucy set her teacup down with a clatter. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. She settled for folding them in her lap. “You are all being absolutely ridiculous. There is no one I admire less than the Duke of Claringdon.”
“Oh, yes, he’s only a handsome, wealthy, war-hero duke,” Jane said, fluttering a hand in the air. “What’s to admire?”
Lucy narrowed her eyes at her friend. “If he’s so magnificent, why don’t you pursue him?”
Jane laughed at that. “An overbearing controlling soldier? Not my sort. He is, however, your sort.”
Lucy’s mouth dropped open. “Preposterous. I don’t have a sort.”
“Don’t you? He’s just like you,” Garrett chimed in.
Lucy made a mental note to kick her cousin the next time they were out of eyesight from her darling aunt. In the meantime, she counted ten and picked up her teacup again. She refused to allow her friends to bait her any longer. They were just teasing her, after all, and she’d got a bit too ruffled about it. But as she sipped her tea she couldn’t help but think of what Jane had said. The duke was just like her, was he? Gulp.