Chapter THIRTY-FIVE
Derek was sitting in the study going over ledgers. The accounts for the lands he’d been granted as part of his dukedom were a bloody mess. Someone with absolutely no head for figures had been handling them to date. Derek had already dismissed the steward and hired a new solicitor to help him run things, but he intended to work through every single figure himself. Damn noblemen and their damn unwillingness to manage their own affairs. Why, the last owner had been robbed half blind. But far be it from an aristocrat to actually see to his own business. Derek would see to it, and put it all to rights before he allowed anyone else to so much as touch a page of the ledger.
A knock at the door made him glance up. “Come in.”
Hughes stood there, his back ramrod-straight as usual. “Your Grace, you have a visitor.”
A visitor? Was it Lucy? Somehow he doubted it, but just the thought of having her in his house again made him shift uncomfortably in his suddenly too-tight breeches. “Who is it, Hughes?”
“A Lord Berkeley, Your Grace. He asks for a moment of your time.”
Derek tossed his quill atop the ledger and sat back in his chair, clasping both hands behind his head. Berkeley? What the devil? That made no sense at all. “Is he alone, Hughes?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Show him in.”
Derek narrowed his eyes on the far wall of his study. What could Berkeley possibly want with him?
Hughes returned in a mere minute with the man in question. After ushering him into the study, the butler pulled the door shut.
Berkeley bowed to Derek. “Your Grace, thank you for seeing me.”
“Come in, Berkeley. Have a seat.”
Berkeley made his way over to Derek’s desk and sat in one of the two large leather chairs in front of it. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Derek stood and strolled over to the sideboard where he splashed a bit of brandy into a glass. “Care for a drink, Berkeley?”
“No, thank you, Your Grace. I don’t consume spirits stronger than a bit of wine.”
Derek arched a brow at the sideboard at that news. “You don’t mind if I have a brandy, do you?”
“Not at all.”
Good. He could tell he was going to need it. He swiped the glass from the tabletop, tossed a bit of wine into another glass for Berkeley, handed it to him, and crossed back over to his desk where he took a seat. “Tell me, Berkeley. What brings you here?”
Setting his wine glass aside, Lord Berkeley moved forward on the edge of the chair and placed his folded hands on top of the desk. “I wanted to … to ask you f … or a f … favor, Your Grace.”
Derek took a drink. “A favor?”
“Yes, Your Grace. It’s involving Lady Lucy Upton.”
Derek breathed in deeply through both nostrils. “Lady Lucy? What about her?”
“Well, Your Grace.” Berkeley straightened his cravat. “I am … you c … could say that I am quite interested in c … courting Lady Lucy.”
Derek narrowed his eyes on him. Where exactly was he going with this? “Go on.”
“I’d like v … very much to c … court her formally, Your Grace, and I … I n … need your help. If you’re w … willing to give it, that is.”
Derek downed the entire contents of his glass in one swallow. “You want my help courting Lucy?” Blast, he’d just made a mistake hadn’t he? He shouldn’t be calling her Lucy in front of Berkeley.
“Y … yes, Y … Your Grace.”
Derek eyed the younger man carefully. Seemed Berkeley had a bit of a speech impediment. It must have been difficult for him to come here and ask for his help.
“What exactly do you think I can do to help you?” Derek asked.
“Lady L … Lucy, she seems quite taken w … with your p … penchant for w … wit, Your Grace.”
Derek furrowed his brow. “She does?”
“Y … yes, Y … Your Grace. She’s mentioned it to me m … more than once. H … how you and s … she banter.”
Derek arched a brow. “She has?”
“Y … yes, Y … Your Grace.”
The man was going to have to stop calling him “Your Grace”; it was just too excruciating to listen to, poor devil. “That still doesn’t answer how you think I may be of help to you, Berkeley.”
Lord Berkeley pulled his hands back into his lap and stared down at them. “I was h … hoping, Y … Your Grace, that y … you w … would h … help me say the things I cannot say. That y … you w … would agree to write a letter to Lady Lucy. As if it were from me.”