Lucy glanced over at the duke. He was standing by the Grecian column in the middle of the crowded ballroom. She narrowed her eyes. Very well. Cass was right. The Duke of Claringdon was handsome. More than handsome, actually. Spectacularly handsome. He was also huge. Soaring and muscled, he looked like the god of war come down from Olympus. He was well over six feet tall, had midnight-black hair and jade-green eyes, wide shoulders that tapered to a flat abdomen, and muscles from top to toe. A war hero to boot. A lieutenant general known for his decisiveness. He’d won a variety of battles over the last few years and had been sent to meet Wellington in Brussels just before Waterloo. The Duke of Decisive, they called him now.
He was also arrogant and commanding, they said. Which, Lucy was certain, was quite an asset on the field of war, but his way, at the moment, involved making her friend nervous.
And for that, Lucy would not stand. Lucy, bold, blunt, completely without a demure bone in her body, had only two friends in this world—well, three if you counted Garrett—and Cass was one of them. Elegant, modest Cass who was too friendly and kind to rebuff anyone. Yes, Cass had always been quietly loyal to Lucy, and Lucy was nothing if not loyal back. If Cass wanted to avoid the attentions of the Duke of Claringdon, well, Lucy would assist her in any way she was able.
“How do you suppose he managed to have such a golden glow to his skin?” Cass asked, stealing another surreptitious glance at the duke.
Lucy wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “I heard he was on holiday in Italy just before he was called back to battle. Apparently his last mistress was Italian.” She stole another glance herself.
Yes, the duke was powerful and more handsome than he had a right to be. And the whole war-hero bit didn’t diminish his appeal, but he came from a completely unknown family—and most important, Lucy wasn’t about to allow him to bully Cass. And something told her that the duke had set his sights on her friend.
Lucy didn’t exactly blame him. Who wouldn’t love Cass? Why, she’d had more offers than you could count. And she’d refused them all. Yes. Cass had managed to remain unattached for the last five seasons, waiting for her precious Julian to return from the war. Whichwouldhave been a splendid idea. The only problem was that Julian was all but betrothed to Cass’s cousin Penelope. As soon as Julian returned from the Continent, he and Penelope planned to formally announce their engagement and marry.
“Lady Chambers introduced me to him earlier,” Cass said, referring to their hostess. “She told Mama the duke had specifically asked to meet me.”
Lucy raised both brows. “What did he say to you when you were introduced?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Cass replied. “It was just the way helookedat me. As if he was examining me. I didn’t like it. I told Mama so.”
Lucy snorted and then clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the unladylike noise. “And what did your mama say?”
“She said I should be flattered.” Cass bit her lip.
Lucy rolled her eyes and tapped her foot in time to the music again. “Of course she did. He’s a duke. An incomparable catch as far as your mother is concerned, no matter who his family is. His just glancing in your direction has probably got her planning your wedding trousseau.”
“He frightens me,” Cass whispered. “He’s just so big and he looks as if he could kill a man with his bare hands.”
Lucy patted Cass’s shoulder. “I know, dear.” She glanced back at the duke. She didn’t want to make things worse by suggesting to Cass that he probablyhadkilled men, a great many of them, with his bare hands. Lucy had no doubts. But he didn’t scare her. Not one bit.
Cass tugged on her gloves. “When he looks at me, I want to shrink back against the wall.”
Lucy had just opened her mouth to offer some additional comforting words when their third friend, Jane, came hurrying up. Jane had chestnut-brown hair, wide brown eyes that were framed by a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles, and a lovely face that she usually kept buried in a book. Despite Jane’s desire to remain unattached, Jane’s mother dutifully dressed her up and trotted her out at every ball every Season, hoping her bookish bluestocking of a daughter would eventually catch some gentleman’s eye. She never did. Which is precisely how Jane liked it.
Jane reluctantly spent her time at these affairs badly pretending to enjoy herself, famously scribbling notes for her future books, and biding the time until she grew old enough that her mother would give up and allow her to remain at home in peace.
And that was why, at the ripe old age of twenty-three, Cass, Lucy, and Jane were all solidly on the shelf.
“What’s happening?” Jane asked, slipping into line beside the two of them.
Still tapping her foot, Lucy shrugged. “I’m enjoying the music, and Cass here is hiding from a duke.”
Jane’s head snapped to the side. “A duke?”
“The Duke of Claringdon,” Cass replied in a hushed whisper. “He’s watching me.”
Jane snuck a glance at the duke. “Ooh, heiswatching you. Who knew he’d be so large? And handsome? I expected him to have scars, perhaps be missing an ear or something.”
Cass slapped at Jane’s light blue sleeve. “Good heavens, that’s positively morbid. You and your writerly imagination.”
Lucy eyed the duke, arms crossed over her chest. “He doesn’t look as if he’s missing anything to me.” She shook herself. “But that’s not the point. If Cass isn’t interested, she isn’t interested.”
“Do not worry,” Jane replied, addressing her remarks to Cass. “Simply tell him so. He’s certain to immediately retreat. Men like him usually have enormous overconfidence that is easily deflated.”
Lucy glanced over at the duke, who was still eyeing Cass like a prize horse. “Something tells me it won’t be that simple. The man seems to be quite used to getting his way.”
Cass was busily smoothing her skirts, her eyes downcast. “Lucy’s right. But even if I wanted to, I couldn’t tell him I’m not interested. I’m not like you, Lucy. When I’m frightened, words completely leave my head. I wish I had a bit of your gift for witty repartee.”
Lucy snorted again. Oh, she might as well completely give up attempting to be ladylike. It just wasn’t in her. “And I wish I had your ability to keep my mouth shut when I ought.”
