He picked up one of the pages. Just as he’d suspected, it was the letter he’d written for Berkeley. Hmm. It had made her smile. That was something. Better than flowers?
She’d gathered the rest of the papers and he handed her the other. “Am I interrupting anything?” she asked in a shaky voice he’d never heard from her before.
“No. Not at all. I just sent some flowers up to Lady Cassandra and I was hoping—”
The butler returned just then and presented Derek with a folded crisp white note sitting upon a silver tray. “From Lady Cassandra,” the butler intoned.
Derek plucked the note from the tray, unfolded it, and read it while the butler took his leave.
“What does Cass say?” Lucy asked, hugging her letter to her chest and biting her lip in a most fetching display.
“She says the flowers are lovely and she regrets being unable to accompany me today. We’d planned a picnic.”
“Oh, yes. That’s really too bad.” Lucy buried her face back in her letter and turned as if to leave, but Derek’s next words stopped her.
“She also says she’s askedyouto keep me company while she is ill.”
Lucy froze. She slowly turned around, the hand that held the letter falling to her side. “Yes. Yes. That’s right. She did.”
He gave her a sidewise smile. “She says that you agreed. Though I must say I find it difficult to believe.”
Lucy barely met his eyes. “I’d do anything for Cass.”
“Anything like going on a picnic with me?”
Lucy blinked. She pointed at herself with her free hand. “You wantmeto go on the picnic withyou?”
Derek folded his hands behind his back and braced his booted feet apart. “The food has all been prepared and the basket packed. It would be a shame for it to go to waste.”
Lucy nodded. “I am a bit peckish.”
He grinned. “So, what do you say?”
She winced a bit as if the words pained her. “Very well, Your Grace. I’ll go on a picnic with you.”
***
They assembled their little feast near a garden just south of the Upper Crescent. It was an idyllic scene, with sweeping views of the hillsides beyond town and the sweet smell of summer flowers wafting toward them. Two of the duke’s footmen readily rolled out blankets, unpacked the meal, and poured two glasses of sweet red wine before taking themselves off a considerable distance to allow the pair their privacy.
Lucy took a deep breath. After a bit of a rocky start in the drawing room, it was surprisingly not awkward between them today. It was almost as if nothing untoward had happened. Almost. For when she closed her eyes, she pictured Derek on top of her, making her feel things she’d never felt before. She closed her eyes and shook her head. No reason in the world to remember all that. She must act as if that had never happened.
In the end, she’d decided to go with him. A picnic was quite safe and public. There was little chance of them repeating their licentious behavior on a grassy knoll in the middle of town. What harm was there in filling in for Cass today?
“Thank you for agreeing to accompany me.” Derek took a sip of wine. He’d leaned back, bracing himself on one wrist. He looked so charming and boyish. She longed to reach out and brush away the bit of dark hair that had fallen across his forehead.
She smiled at his words. He was being nice and accommodating. Most out of character. Why? “Thank you for asking. And I believe that’s the most pleasant thing you’ve ever said to me.”
He laughed. “That makes two of us. I think that’s the most pleasant thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Lucy busied herself arranging the plates of bread, fruit, and cheese on the blanket in front of them.
Derek cleared his throat. “I couldn’t help but notice you were reading a letter earlier, when you came into the drawing room.”
A wide smile spread across Lucy’s face. “Yes. Yes. I was.”
“And the letter pleased you?”
She glanced up at him, wrinkling her nose. What did he care? In fact the letter had been from Lord Berkeley and had been the nicest, sweetest, kindest, funniest, most clever letter she’d ever received. Not too overly solicitous, not too sentimental, not too sweet. It had been exactly what she’d known Lord Berkeley was capable of. He’d told her how much he enjoyed spending time with her and mentioned a variety of topics, all of which kept her thoroughly entertained. Obviously Lord Berkeley was a man of letters, not words. He was the sort who had a penchant for writing. Of course he was. He was an intellectual. Something Derek knew nothing about. “Yes, it did please me.”
