Chapter THIRTY-NINE
The next day, they went riding out into the hillsides surrounding Bath. Two grooms accompanied them, and Derek brought a horse for Lucy. A beautiful little filly with brown and white markings named Delilah.
Lucy stroked the horse’s neck and offered her an apple she’d swiped from the kitchens. They hadn’t even mentioned Cass. Was it possible Derek was as afraid as Lucy that Cass was recovered? She remained an awful friend. She hadn’t even checked on Cass this morning to see how she was feeling.
Lucy had also received another letter from Christian just as clever and charming as the last. But ever since Garrett had mentioned that it was odd that Christian was sending letters more often than he was coming around, she couldn’t help but be preoccupied with that thought. Why was it that he sent letters every morning but she hadn’t seen him since before she’d received the first one? Why was he so painfully shy and quiet in her company when his letters were so expressive and eloquent?
She shook herself. This was exactly why she’d been on the shelf for so long. She questioned everything about anyone and, if he was found lacking, chased him away. Sometimes she didn’t even wait for a reason to chase him away. She needed to find a husband eventually. She wanted a family, children … Love? Perhaps that was too much to ask for, but children would do for a start and a husband precipitated children. It was time for her to finally begin to be serious about courtship and finding a willing and worthy gentleman. Meeting Christian had been fortuitous indeed. She had merely to keep from chasing him away.
It was probably best for both of them that Christian hadn’t come around. Less chance for her to stick her foot solidly in her throat. Besides, she did so enjoy his letters. What sort of a contrary person was she that she assumed the worst? She was being courted by a handsome, eligible viscount who obviously liked her a great deal. Why couldn’t she just accept it and enjoy it?
In the meantime, she was spending time with a handsome, mouthy duke who drove her mad and whom she—ahem—may or may not have done questionable things with in the past. Things she couldn’t forget, even when she was reading Christian’s letters. Derek’s voice snapped her from her thoughts.
“I thought we’d go for a race.” He flashed his famous devilish grin.
“A race?”
“Yes. Do you race, Miss Upton?”
“Of course I do,” she answered with a returning smile. She was getting quite used to him calling her Miss Upton. Quite used to it indeed.
“I thought so,” he replied. “Any young lady who prided herself on her boyish pursuits as a child is bound to race.”
“Not only do I race, I just might beat you, Your Grace,” she replied with a laugh.
“No you won’t.” He winked at her.
Her stomach did that funny little flip it always did when he looked at her that way. And arguing with him about racing was ever so much more enjoyable than arguing with him about Cass’s marital aspirations. It was fun, this competition with him. Derek didn’t give any quarter, and he didn’t back down. When was the last time she’d met a man who treated her this way? Garrett, of course, had always treated her as an equal, but Garrett had known her since she was born. Derek was the first man she’d known who’d ever stood up to her, challenged her, teased her, and did so without the slightest bit of fear that he’d anger her. In fact, he seemed to look forward to angering her. Relished it, actually. And that’s what intrigued her about him.
They rode leisurely through town and into the surrounding hillside. There they found a long, clear meadow, the perfect spot for racing.
“Do you require a head start, Miss Upton?” Derek called to her.
Lucy tossed a challenging stare back at him. “It’s Lady Lucy, Your Grace, and no, I do not, but if that’s your indication that you need one, by all means.”
He shook his head, the grin still resting on his handsome face. “From that first tree then? To the end of the meadow, near the barn?” He pointed and Lucy turned to look.
She nodded. “Yes. That should give me plenty of time to beat you soundly.”
He laughed at that and then they were off. Lucy slapped Delilah’s flanks with her crop and leaned low over the horse’s head, whispering to the girl to go faster, faster, faster. “I’ll give you a bucket of apples if we win, Delilah,” she promised with a giant grin on her face as she maneuvered alongside the duke.
From the moment they’d taken off, Derek hadn’t looked back. When Lucy and her horse came galloping alongside, his face registered his chagrin for all of a moment before he leaned farther down over his own horse and slapped his flank with his crop. Apparently, the duke realized he was in for a bit of true competition. His grin was unrepentant.
They raced like that, past the tree, through the meadow, up the hill, and to the top where a small red barn sat, leaning slightly to one side.
Lucy hunkered over the horse, several lengths behind Derek. During a race, it was always in one’s best interest to allow one’s opponent to believe he would win. But in the last stretch, she slapped Delilah’s flank again and the horse took off with a bolt of speed.
Derek’s neck snapped up the moment he realized he’d been passed. He leaned low and let out the reins on his gelding. “Yah, yah,” he shouted to his horse.
Lucy breathed heavily, laughing. The wind had pulled some of the pins from her hair, and the strands covered her eyes momentarily. She looked back to see Derek’s face and wiped at the strands of hair in her eyes.
“No!” she called as Derek’s larger, faster mount pulled astride and ahead of her just as they passed the barn.
“I win!” he shouted.
Lucy couldn’t stop her laughter. “You cheated!” she breathed, pressing her hand to her belly.
“I did not.”
“I know, but I am a very ungraceful loser, Your Grace.” She laughed and laughed. “I cannot believe you bested me.”
He was laughing, too. As he maneuvered the horse around to face her, their eyes met. They both were panting and laughing and Lucy self-consciously put her hand to her hair to push the unruly strands back under her bonnet.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had such a close call,” he admitted. “Thank you for a most enjoyable ride.”
Lucy finished tucking her hair behind her ears and into her hat. She nodded. “Don’t worry, Delilah,” she whispered to the horse, patting her neck. “I’ll get you a bucket of apples yet.”
They both walked their horses to a stop and dismounted. When the grooms caught up, Derek motioned for them to take the mounts. The servants grabbed the reins to continue to walk the horses after their hard ride. They trailed off in the opposite direction.
“Would you care to go for a walk?” Derek asked Lucy.
Her stomach did a little somersault. She nodded. “I’d like that.”
Derek removed his hat, and they took off down a trail through the meadow past the barn. The wind still whipped through Lucy’s hair. She had to hold her bonnet to the top of her head with one gloved hand.
“You’re quite an accomplished horsewoman, my lady.”
She laughed. “Would you please tell that to my father if ever you should meet? He refuses to believe it still. He won’t let me ride astride and refuses to allow me to go on the steeplechases outside the village.”
“You cannot go?”
“Oh, I go, all right. Father just doesn’t know about it. I’d rather do it with his blessing, of course.” She grinned unrepentantly.
Derek grinned back at her. “Why does it not surprise me that you defy your father?”
“It shouldn’t surprise anyone who knows me at all,” she replied. “Least of all Father, yet he continues to be baffled by my behavior.”
“I’ll tell him how accomplished you are,” Derek said.
Lucy nearly stopped short. What was he implying? That he did intend to meet her father one day? The thought made her a little giddy.
Derek led the way over a fallen log. He helped Lucy over it by taking her hand. “Does your father get along with your cousin?”
“Garrett? Oh, they tolerate each other, and Father’s resigned to the fact that Garrett will inherit the estate and the title one day, but I wouldn’t say they ‘get along.’”
Derek nodded. “Yet you’re close with your cousin?”
“Garrett loves to tease me and say I’ll be an old maid living under his roof forever. And I tease him back and say he’ll need me to be his maiden cousin to run his household because he’ll never find a lady willing to put up with him.”
Derek’s face went sober for a moment. “You don’t think you’ll marry?”
Lucy swallowed. How had the conversation turned to her marriage all of a sudden? She shook her head. “Oh, Cass says she’ll help me find a husband. We have an agreement of sorts.” She looked away self-consciously. “But truthfully, no. I doubt I’ll marry. I’ve yet to find a man who isn’t”—she cleared her throat—“intimidated by me.” She needed to change the conversation and change it immediately. It had all become much too serious and much too about her.
“What about Berkeley?” Derek asked, his voice low.
And there was the question Lucy had been dreading. “What about him?”
They walked beneath a willow tree and Lucy pushed her slippered foot against the trunk, hoping against hope that Derek would drop the subject. No such luck.
“I thought you two were—”
“Enough about me,” she said, shaking her head. “Tell me, how did you become a lieutenant general? Especially at such a young age?”
He smiled at that. “Am I so young? Sometimes I feel as if I’m one hundred years old.”
“You certainly don’t look one hundred.” Now, why had she gone and said that? She blushed and looked away. Oh perfect. Now she was a blusher. He’d turned her into a blusher.
He grinned at that. “Why, thank you, Miss Upton.”
She brushed at his sleeve in a playful manner before gulping and snatching her hand away. His arm was solidly muscled. A vision of the muscled abdomen she’d seen the night he climbed up to her window flashed before her eyes. She shook her head. “I’m serious. How did you go about becoming a lieutenant general?”
He scrubbed a hand across his face and looked off into the meadow as if contemplating the matter for a moment. “I was raised in a military family.”
She picked her way along the base of the tree, holding up her pale yellow skirts. “You were?”
“Yes, my father was a solider. He fought in the revolution.”
She glanced up at him, eyes wide. “Was he a general?”
He pushed his hands into his pockets and shook his head. “No, actually. He never advanced far.”
“But you did. Quite far.”
He leaned his head back, looking up into the branches of the tree. “I was trained for the military from the time I was a babe. I began military drills when I was three years old.”
Lucy stopped and let her skirts drop. She turned to face him. “Surely you’re jesting.”
“No. I’m afraid I’m not.” He smiled at her, and her heart skipped a beat.
“Why so young?” She began walking, much safer than looking directly at him.
He stared off across the meadow again with a faraway look in his eye. “My father intended me to be a great military leader since the day I was born. He ensured that I was prepared for it.”
“Is it what you wanted?”
He kicked at a tuft of grass with his boot. “It’s all I know, Lucy.”
The tenderness with which he said her name made her breath catch in her throat. “You had no choice?”
He shrugged. “We were not of the privileged class. I had few options open to me. The army seemed as good a choice as any.”
She bit her lip. “Well, you’re obviously quite good at it.”
Another shrug. “When you train for something your entire life, it’s easy to be good at it.”
“I can’t believe that. Surely you also have a natural talent for it.”
“I suppose I do.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Two brothers,” he said.
“Are they also in the military?”
“You could say that.”
Lucy wrinkled her nose at that answer but let it pass.
“It must have been difficult for your mother to see all of her children go to war.”
“It has been.” Derek held back the long branches of the willow tree, and Lucy preceded him into the meadow where they resumed their stroll.
Lucy twined her fingers together and watched her feet. “Your father must be exceedingly proud of you.”
A wan smile passed his lips. “My father is dead.”
Lucy pressed a hand to her throat. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right. It’s been several years. He knew I’d been promoted. But he never knew I was a lieutenant general, or a duke,” Derek finished with a humorless laugh.
Lucy stopped and faced him. “He’d be proud of you, Derek. I’m certain of it.”
A look passed between them. One that was intense and real.
Derek glanced away. “No, he’d say he expected no less.”
Lucy swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “He sounds as if he was quite demanding.”
He expelled his breath. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“More than demanding?” she ventured.
“My father’s favorite word was decisive. He ensured I was decisive.”
The Duke of Decisive. The memory of the moniker shot through her mind. She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”
He pulled on his lapels, looked down his nose at her, and affected a deeper voice. “A man is decisive, always.”
Lucy watched him carefully, suddenly fascinated by the idea that a father would demand that his son be decisive. If Ralph had lived, would her father have demanded that of him? “What did he do? To ensure you were decisive?”
Derek shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Suffice it to say, it worked.”
She stopped, put her hand on his sleeve, and looked him in the eye. “I’d truly like to know.”
He blew a deep breath through his nostrils and, taking off his hat, ran his hand through his hair. “Very well. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She nodded and swallowed again.
Derek leaned his shoulder against another tree and took a long, deep breath. “When I was six years old, my father taught me how to swim. After I got the right of it, he brought out two of my favorite things.”
Lucy eyed him carefully. “What things?”
“One was my favorite toy. A tin soldier. I’d had it as long as I could remember. I took it everywhere with me.”
Lucy put her hand to her throat. A chill suddenly came over her. “What was the other thing?”
“My eight-week-old puppy.”
Lucy gasped. “What did he do?”
Derek shook his head. Looking down at his boots, he scuffed the tip of one of them in the dirt. “Before I knew what he intended, he tossed both of them in the creek several yards apart.”
Lucy grasped her throat. “No.”
“He threw them in opposite directions at the same time. Choose,” he shouted. “Decide! Now!”
“What did you do?” Lucy bit the back of her knuckles.
“I did the only thing I could. I picked the puppy. I dove in the creek and saved him from drowning.”
Lucy’s throat clogged with tears. “And your toy soldier?”
“It sank. I never saw it again. Though I used to dive in that spot looking for it. I never found it.”
Lucy clenched her fist. “What an awful man.”
Derek shrugged. “Perhaps, but he taught me the value of being decisive. There were other drills, other tests, but none as memorable as that one. I’ve never hesitated a moment since, despite my father’s unorthodox method.”
Lucy swallowed. That was why Derek was so bent on having Cass. He’d already decided. It all made sense.
She stepped toward him. They were close, barely a hairbreath apart. “The Duke of Decisive,” she said quietly.
He nodded. “Yes. That’s exactly right.”
Lucy looked up at him and blinked. He was so handsome, so handsome and strong. Her heart wrenched at the thought of a little boy who had to choose between his favorite toy and his pet.
Derek reached down and tugged on one of the black curls that had managed to wrangle itself free from her bonnet. “Do you know how pretty you are?”
She inhaled sharply but couldn’t take her eyes off his face. “I’m not pretty. Cass is pretty.”
“You are. So pretty.” He ran the back of his hand lightly over her cheekbone.
Lucy shuddered.
“And your eyes are so…”
“Strange?” she finished for him.
“I was going to say unusual. Mysterious.”
She smiled lightly. “I suppose those are nicer words for it. Someone once told my mother I was a witch.”
“That’s preposterous.” Derek’s jaw clenched. “They said that in front of you?”
“No, but Mother told me.”
He cursed under his breath. “Why would she do that?”
“It was always clear that Mother and Father blamed me for … not being a boy.”
Derek didn’t say a word. He just rubbed his knuckle along her cheek again and traced the outline of her ear with his rough thumb. “I’m glad you’re not a boy.”
Lucy drew in a deep breath.
He leaned down, toward her. She held her breath. He was going to kiss her. She wanted him to. She wanted him to badly. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes.
“Damn it, Lucy. I’m supposed to be decisive in everything.”
She opened her eyes and stared at him, blinking.
“That’s why it’s so difficult for me to know how much I want you.”
Lucy glanced down at the soft green grass. Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. She’d been mistaken. He wasn’t going to kiss her.
She turned away. That was for the best.