Chapter TWENTY-FOUR
“My dear cousin, I have some good news for you,” Garrett announced to Lucy two nights later, just as they were preparing to leave for yet another ball at the Assembly Rooms. They were walking down the stairway together.
Lucy eyed him askance. “Good news? Whatever do you mean?” She had spent the last two days, vowing, vowing, to keep her nose out of the affairs of her friends. Well, Cass’s at least. After her last frustrating and disappointing interaction with the maddening Duke of Claringdon, she decided to remove herself from the entire situation. She’d done what she could. If Cass wanted him to stop, it was up to her now to say so. He wasn’t listening to Lucy. He was on a blasted mission to honor a dying friend. No, the Duke of Claringdon had no intention of heeding Lucy’s pleas. Never had and never would. She hated to admit defeat but it was time. Only a fool didn’t know when to quit.
Garrett looked dashing in his black formal evening attire and snowy white cravat. “I just learned my friend Berkeley is in town. He’ll be at the ball tonight. He told me he’s very much looking forward to meeting you.”
Lucy wrinkled her brow, trying to remember her cousin’s friend. “Berkeley? Berkeley? The name sounds familiar.”
“We went up to Eton together. Capital fellow. A viscount, don’t you know?” Garrett said. He handed Lucy down onto the landing and followed her off the steps.
Lucy cocked her head to the side. “Why have I never met him?”
“What she means to ask is, Is he handsome?” Jane added from the foyer where she was busily pulling on her pelisse.
“That is not what I meant,” Lucy said, marching into the foyer to retrieve her own pelisse.
“If Lucy doesn’t want to know, I do.” Cass came quietly plodding down the stairs in a pretty green dress. She’d been doing her best the last two days to stop crying and remain brave in the face of the news about Julian. If the idea of a new gentleman’s interest in Lucy kept her preoccupied from her grief, Lucy was more than happy to oblige.
Jane, her pretty silvery pelisse smartly fastened, turned to face them all. “I do, too.”
Garrett arched his brow at all three of them. “Don’t tell me you’re all interested. He’s only one man.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “I’m not interested in that way. I simply want to know for Lucy’s sake.”
“Me too,” Cass agreed.
Lucy pulled her cloak over her shoulders. “I find it quite suspect. In all these years, Garret, you’ve never introduced me to any of your friends. Trying to get rid of me finally?”
“I have a strict rule. I don’t try to matchmake with my friends. I suspect it’s one reason my friends are still my friends. I am making an exception in this case because Berkeley specifically mentioned to me that he wanted to meet you. I am now asking you if you’re interested in meeting him. That is the extent of my involvement in this little affair.”
Lucy snorted. “You never answered my question. Why have I never met him before?”
Garrett shrugged. “Because he lives in the North and rarely comes to town.”
Lucy nodded sagely. “Ah, he must not have heard the rumors about me.”
“He must have heard rumors that you are beautiful,” Jane said. “That’s why he wants to meet you, Lucy.”
“Oh, how sweet of you, Janie. And here all this time, all I’ve needed to do was to wait for gentlemen who’d never come to London,” Lucy replied. “It’s been so simple, really.”
“Or those back from the war,” Jane said. Lucy and Jane exchanged a glance.
“He doesn’t have a goiter on his neck or a clubfoot or anything, does he, Garret?” Jane asked.
Garrett pulled on his leather gloves. “No, why do you ask?”
“We merely want to ensure that Lucy may actually want to meet him,” Jane pointed out.
Lucy sniffed. “I can’t be such a chooser. A goiter and a clubfoot may end up being my fate what with my prospects. Neither sounds particularly bad at present.”
“He has neither,” Garrett replied, shaking his head. “Honestly, the way you ladies talk, I swear it’s a wonder any matches are made in this country at all.”
“You’ll notice that no matches have been made for the three of us,” Jane added with a laugh.
“Coincidence?” Garrett shot back.
Cass finished with her own pelisse. “No goiter and no clubfoot. Sounds entirely promising, Lucy.”
“But how do we know our friend Lucy here won’t chase the poor man off, as usual?” Jane said with a laugh.
“Because her cousin has recommended him. He cannot be objectionable, given that,” Cass replied with a nod.
Lucy laughed. “I’ve no objection to meeting him, but let’s not plan my wedding quite yet. And if I’m to curb my tongue, you must help me, Cass.”
“My pleasure,” Cass replied with a curtsy.
Lucy smiled at her cousin. “Come now, Garrett, there must be something wrong with your Lord Berkeley. What is it?”
“There is nothing wrong with him,” Garrett insisted. “He’s handsome, or so the ladies always say, he’s dashing, fashionable, wealthy, well educated. He may be a bit … Oh, you’ll see for yourself.”
“A bit what?” Jane asked. “Gouty? Old? Smelly?”
Garrett rolled his eyes again. “None of those things. And I’m finished talking about this. I already wish I’d never brought it up.”
“Who is gouty, old, and smelly?” Aunt Mary came hurrying out of her rooms to join them.
“No one, Mother,” Garrett said, giving the other three a warning glare.
The three ladies exchanged laughing looks as the butler held open the door for them and they all trotted down the steps and climbed into Garrett’s coach.
Once they arrived at the Assembly Rooms their little group seemed to scatter to the four winds. The Duke of Claringdon was there, Lucy noted with some ire, but she refused, refused, to acknowledge him or to go anywhere near him—or Cass for that matter, if he was speaking to Cass. It was the first opportunity to test her self-imposed abstinence from the matter of Cass and the duke, and she meant to stand by her resolve.
Lucy was tapping her slipper in time to the music, drinking a glass of punch, and having a lovely conversation with Mrs. Periwinkle about the flowers in the gardens along the Upper Crescent when Garrett tapped her on the shoulder.
“Lucy.”
She stopped tapping and turned at the sound of her cousin’s voice. “Yes?”
Standing beside Garrett was a gentle man who could be described as nothing other than gorgeous. He had golden hair, crystal blue eyes, and a physique any man would admire. Tall and muscled with a bit of a cleft in his chin, when he smiled at her, his perfectly aligned white teeth twinkled in the firelight. Ooh, in addition to having neither a goiter nor a clubfoot, it seemed Lord Berkeley was, in fact, amazingly good looking. Lucy felt a bit light-headed.
“Lucy, may I introduce you to my friend, Christian, Lord Berkeley?” To Lord Berkeley he said, “Christian, this is my cousin, Lady Lucy Upton.”
Lucy curtsied. A promising beginning, to be sure. Oh, she mustn’t make a mess of this and say anything outlandish or rude. “A pleasure to meet you, my lord,” she managed. That was well done, wasn’t it? Neither outlandish nor rude. A good start, actually.
Lord Berkeley gallantly bowed over her hand. “My lady, the pleasure is entirely mine.”
From across the room, she saw Cass and Jane avidly watching. When her eyes met theirs they fanned themselves rapidly to indicate that they approved wholeheartedly of the dashing Lord Berkeley. Lord Berkeley’s gaze soon followed Lucy’s. When he glanced toward her friends, Cass and Jane immediately looked up at the ceiling and around at the backs of their dresses, feigning interest in anything to keep from being caught staring.
Lord Berkeley returned his gaze to Lucy, who was trying her best to keep from laughing. A smile hovered on the viscount’s face. “Friends of yours?”
“Yes,” Lucy replied. “Though I’m a bit hesitant to claim them at the moment.”
Lord Berkeley smiled at that. “W … Would you care to dance, Lady Lucy?”
Ah, a man who knew to call her Lady Lucy instead of Miss Upton, what a pleasant change of pace. But had that been a bit of hesitation in his voice? Was she not what he had expected after all? Surely someone as good looking and dashing as Lord Berkeley would be more interested in someone more like … Cass. Oh, she mustn’t think such unhelpful thoughts. Instead she gave him a bright smile. “Why, yes, my lord, I would. Very much.”
Lord Berkeley, she soon discovered, was a lovely dancer. Not much of a conversationalist, however, at least not during their dance. Perhaps he preferred to concentrate on the steps. And he was doing a marvelous job. The man swept her around the floor with an ease and grace that surprised her in someone so tall. Yes, the duke was tall and he was a lovely dancer, too, but— No. She refused to think about the duke. Not tonight. She firmly pushed him from her mind.
After their dance Lord Berkeley led her back toward the refreshment table. “Tell me, Lady Lucy, how is it that we have not met before? I find it such a pity.”
Ooh, perhaps this was when she would discover what Garrett had meant when he had said Lord Berkeley was a bit … She’d been studying the man throughout their dance and had found absolutely nothing lacking about him. She gave him a wide smile. “I was just asking Garrett that same thing earlier, my lord. He mentioned that you rarely come to town.”
“It’s true. I’ve been to a few functions here and there over the years but I much prefer the country. Don’t you?”
Lucy thought about the question for a moment. The country meant her parents. No, she was not a devotee of the country. “I wouldn’t say that I prefer it, my lord. I certainly do like holiday towns like Bath. Tell me, what brought you here?”
“My own cousin is getting married here this week,” he said.
Married. The word caused Lucy to remember how she’d told her own friends not to begin planning her wedding quite yet, but she couldn’t help but think what sort of a life she would lead were she and Lord Berkeley to be a match.
“Ah, best wishes to your cousin, then. Are you enjoying Bath?”
“Yes. Quite,” he replied, giving her a dazzling smile.
Lucy smiled back. The viscount was tall and handsome and quite a good dancer. But she mustn’t seem too eager. Besides, the more time she spent in his company, the greater chance she might say something outlandishly rude. She must watch her tongue. “Thank you for a lovely dance, Lord Berkeley.”
“You’re quite welcome, my lady.”
Lucy opened her mouth to continue their conversation, but another guest came up to pay his respects to Lord Berkeley. The viscount was forced to excuse himself. Lucy sighed and said good night.
Twenty minutes later, she and her friends were sitting in a small cluster of chairs along the sidelines of the dancing drinking ratafia and laughing. “I swear I don’t know how in the world I’ve gone this long without Garrett introducing me to some of his handsome, dashing friends,” Lucy said.
“Or more specifically Lord Berkeley,” Jane added. “The man seems perfect to me.”
“Why, if Lord Berkeley had been around the year of your come-out things might have been quite different for you, Lucy,” Cass added.
Lucy had to smile at that. “You mean I might not be an on-the-shelf rapidly devolving into a spinster?” But even as she had the thought she wondered if it was really true. Would she have appreciated Lord Berkeley’s good looks and good manners five years ago? She couldn’t be certain. But tonight. Tonight she’d enjoyed them indeed. Lord Berkeley was exactly the sort of man she should be interested in. Impeccable manners and impeccable breeding. Quite different from a certain someone who knew little about the ways of the ton and Society even if he did happen to be a duke. Yes. Lord Berkeley was a perfect match. Though she couldn’t help but glance over at Derek from time to time to see if he’d noticed her new companion.
Blast it. Why did she even care? Interestingly enough, Derek had kept his distance from Cass tonight. Was it because of the Julian connection? Had that caused him to rethink his pursuit despite his comments to the contrary the other night? Or was it because Lucy was otherwise occupied and not paying a whit of attention to Cass and him this evening? Now, that was an interesting question. Was the duke only interested in Cass when Lucy was hovering around like a mama hen ready to pounce and peck him the first chance she got?
No. No. No. It didn’t matter. The duke was not who she should be thinking about. Lord Berkeley was. She refused to look back in Derek’s direction.