Chapter FORTY-THREE
There she was. Finally! Jane sat lounging on a stone bench in the garden behind Garrett’s house reading a book, of course, and unconsciously twisting a brown curl around her finger.
“Do you have a moment, or perhaps an hour, to talk?” Lucy asked, scooting onto the bench beside her.
Jane looked up and promptly snapped shut her book. “Of course, Luce. I’m sorry we haven’t had the opportunity before now. What’s wrong?” She pushed up her spectacles.
“It’s me, and Cass, and Derek.” Lucy dropped her face into her hands. “Oh, Jane. I’ve gone and made a mess of everything.”
Jane pushed her book aside on the bench and put her arm around Lucy. “Don’t worry. We’ll sort it out. Tell me what’s happened.”
“As you know, at first I detested the Duke of Claringdon,” she cleared her throat, “Derek…”
Jane arched a brow. “Yes, and I noticed you’re calling him Derek now.”
“Oh, that’s not the half of it. Let me finish.”
“By all means.”
“At first I detested him, then he kissed me. Then I detested him more, then he kissed me again, ahem, among other things. And now, since Cass has been ill, we’ve been spending time together and I … I … I think I may have feelings for him.”
Jane, being Jane, didn’t look particularly shocked. “Let’s be clear: When you say, ‘Ahem, other things,’ do you mean the types of things that might necessitate an immediate wedding?”
Lucy looked up into the tree branches hovering above them wishing she could somehow turn into a bird and fly far away. “Not exactly. But let’s just say it’s nothing I’d want to explain in detail to my mother, either.”
Jane nodded sympathetically. “Few things are, dear. Few things are.”
“Oh, Janie, what am I going to do?” Lucy let her face drop into her hands again.
Jane tapped her fingertips along the edge of the bench. “I must tell you the truth, Luce. It is a pickle. An astonishing pickle, to be sure. But it’s not insurmountable. You know, Lucy, Cass isn’t particularly interested in the duke, in fact, she’s been acting as if—”
Lucy winced. “Oh, wait. There’s more.”
Jane’s eyebrows shot up. “More?”
“Yes.” Lucy nodded. “Cass has decided to give Derek a chance, and today she received a letter from Julian saying good-bye and telling her to marry him.”
“Marry Julian?”
“No, marry Derek.”
“What?”
“Exactly!” Lucy blew out a long breath. “Julian asked Cass to promise him that she would marry Derek.”
“Ooooh,” Jane said. “And what about Lord Berkeley? You haven’t even mentioned him.”
“Oh, I kissed him, too.”
“What?”
“That’s right.”
“How was it?”
“It was … nice,” Lucy answered glumly. “Oh, Janie. Tell me there’s some way out of this. Tell me there’s something I can do to make this right.”
Jane stood up and paced in front of the bench. “First of all, what’s the duke doing kissing you if he’s supposed to be courting Cass?”
Lucy nodded. “Yes, there is that to consider. The first time it was quite unexpected and we both agreed never to speak of it again. The second time was a…” Oh, she knew she was flushed bright red. “A bit more deliberate and bit more involved and I—”
Jane covered her ears with both hands. “Please spare me the details.”
“Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to tell you that. It’s just that it’s been since Cass has taken ill and he hasn’t seen her since. I think he’s as confused about what to do as I am.”
Jane pulled her hands away from her ears. “It does sound like a mess. Have you told Garrett?”
“I can’t tell Garrett. I kissed the man! And I … did other things.”
Jane nodded. “I understand. He’s your cousin.” She resumed her pacing. “What is it that you want to do?”
Lucy blinked. “I don’t understand.”
Jane laughed. “It’s a simple question, Lucy. What do you want?”
“What does that matter? Cass and Derek are meant to be married.”
Jane stopped pacing and faced her, her hands on her hips. “That doesn’t answer my question,” she replied in a singsong voice.
Lucy twisted her hands together. “I can’t even think about being with Derek. It feels like a betrayal of Cass. I’m the worst friend in the world for what I’ve already done.”
“No, you’re not. You’re merely human, and this entire situation has been complicated to say the least. Cass isn’t certain she cares for the duke. You cannot be blamed for being confused as well. Though I must say it complicates things even more that he kissed you. More than once. And, ahem, did other things.”
Lucy slapped her palm onto her forehead. “Oh, Jane, what am I to do?”
“You’re quite certain you think nothing about Lord Berkeley other than he’s … nice?”
Lucy sighed and nodded. “Yes. He wrote me these wondrous letters but when we’re together, we have nothing to talk about. It’s quite awkward. I think I intimidate him.”
“And the kissing?”
Lucy squeezed her eyes shut. “All I could think about was Derek when I was kissing Christian.”
“Oh, that’s telling.” Jane leaned down and squeezed Lucy’s shoulder. “Let me share some advice that someone quite wise once shared with me.”
Lucy glanced up and gave her a hopeful look. “Yes?”
Jane plopped back down onto the bench next to her and grasped her hand. “You can never go wrong if you’re honest and follow your heart.”
Lucy wrinkled her nose. “Wollstonecraft?”
Jane gave her an exasperated look. “No, silly, you.”
“Me?” Lucy blinked.
“Yes. You’re always saying that to Cass about Julian. You’ve said it for years.”
“I have?”
“You don’t remember?”
Lucy shook her head. “Oh, why is it so much easier to offer others counsel than to heed it myself?”
Jane laughed at that. “Now, there’s a good question.”
Lucy took a deep breath. “Very well. I think I know what I must do.”
“What?” Jane asked, leaning forward on the bench toward Lucy.
“I’ll tell you as soon as I have it all settled.” Lucy stood, scooped up Jane’s book, and handed it back to her.
Jane plunked her free hand on her hip. “Not fair. I give you this wonderful advice and you won’t tell me what you’re planning to do?”
“I thought it was my advice,” Lucy said with a laugh.
“That’s hardly the point.” Jane pushed her nose in the air and opened her book again.
“Thank you, Jane, for everything.”
“You’re quite welcome. Now run off and do whatever it is you’re going to do, so that you may inform me of what it is that much sooner.” She smiled at her friend.
Lucy raced out of the garden, into the house, and up to her bedchamber. She hurried over to her writing desk, pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment, and quickly scribbled a note. She sanded it, sealed it, and rang for a footman to deliver it to Derek’s address.
She could only hope he would heed its contents.