By choice, Lucy lived with her aunt and her cousin Garrett. Garrett had been her closest childhood friend. Lucy’s own parents would never forgive her for not being a boy. They’d essentially disowned her. Well, completely ignored her for the most part. And while her parents preferred to remain in the country, Lucy adored Garrett’s mother, Aunt Mary, who acted as her chaperone while she was in town.
Lucy hastily made her way to the drawing room. If Jane and Cass were there, surely Garrett had made his way to the drawing room as well. Garrett seemed to appear wherever Cass was lately. Lucy suspected he had an infatuation with her beautiful blond friend.
Lucy pushed open the double doors to the drawing room and marched inside.
“Ah, Your Grace, lovely of you to join us,” Garrett said in his usual sarcastic tone. Lucy hid her smile. Yes. Garrett was here. The honorific he’d called her by was a jest between the two of them. He’d begun calling her that soon after her come-out, after all the eligible suitors had fallen away. Lucy had heard one of them say that he wasn’t interested because of her wasp’s tongue and high airs.
“You’d think she was a duchess the way she carries herself,” Lord Widmere had said. It had stung Lucy, but only that first time. She refused to allow anyone to see her hurt and her shame. She’d spent her life trying to be the son her parents didn’t have, shunning all things ladylike and girlish. Was it her fault she spoke her mind and refused to suffer fools? Her penchant for unvarnished honesty had earned her the reputation of having a shrew’s tongue. But if it helped in situations like Cass’s debacle with the overbearing Duke of Claringdon last night, she’d take her so-called waspish tongue over being a demure little miss any day. And as for her supposed duchesslike airs, well, those had been an unfortunate by-product of her refusal to show anyone that their rejection hurt. She pushed up her chin, squared her shoulders, and told herself she didn’t need the approval of theton. What did it matter to her what they thought?
So she’d shared Lord Widmere’s words with Garrett, and they’d made a jest of them. A jest that nettled her still a bit, but she absolutely adored her cousin, even if her father detested him. Perhaps because her father detested him. Father couldn’t stand Garrett for the simple reason that Garrett would inherit his title and estates one day and he was not Father’s very own son. Ah, what a loving family.
Lucy returned Garrett’s smile and fell into a deep curtsy. “At your service,” she said with a smile.
Garrett was sitting next to Cass—he was always sitting next to Cass—his longish dark hair brushing his collar, his hazel eyes, the same color as one of Lucy’s, flashing in merriment.
“We didn’t wake you, did we?” Garrett asked.
“Absolutely not.” Lucy swept up her violet skirts with one hand and made her way over to the settee to sit between Cass and Garrett. She flourished the piece of parchment in her hand. “I was up with the sun this morning writing a list of things for Cass to say to the Duke of Claringdon when he calls on her.”
Jane sat on a chair across from them steadfastly reading a book.
“How is Cassandra supposed to read off a list with the duke standing there?” Garret asked.
“I suppose you have a better idea, Upton.” Jane calmly pushed up her spectacles and turned the page.
Garrett opened his mouth to issue a no-doubt-scathing retort. Garrett and Jane had disliked each other upon sight. They’d met at a play they’d all attended five years ago, and the two had fallen into a continual war of words. Lucy had long ago learned it was best if she cut their wordplay off at the start.
“As a matter of fact—” Garrett began.
“She’ll just have to memorize them, that’s all,” Lucy interrupted.
Cass pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Memorize them? Oh, no. I’m afraid I cannot.” She took the parchment from Lucy’s grasp and eyed the first few lines. “Lucy, I’ll never be able to remember all this—and even if I did, I’d be too shy to say it.”
Garrett gave Lucy an I-told-you-so stare. “There, you see. You cannot go putting words in Cassandra’s mouth.”
Lucy plucked the paper back. “What’s wrong with this?” She cleared her throat, reading the first paragraph. “‘While I’m certain there are scores of ninnies who would fall all over themselves at the slightest crook of your ducal finger, I do not happen to be one of them. I believe I’ve made myself exceedingly clear on the point and must wonder what they taught you in your military schools because it appears understanding the King’s English isn’t among your varied talents, whateverthosemay be.’”
Garrett gave Lucy a long-suffering stare. “Honestly?MustI tell you what’s wrong with that?”
“I quite like it,” Jane added, not taking her eyes from the page she was reading. “Perhaps a bit too long for my taste but clear enough.”
Garrett narrowed his eyes at Jane. “Of courseyoulike it. If provided a quill you’d most likely write something far worse.”
Jane snorted. “Something far worse? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean you like it because I don’t. I swear if I claimed the world was round you’d say it was flat merely to be contrary,” Garrett replied.
“You give yourselffartoo much credit, Upton. It makes me question—”
Garrett opened his mouth to speak. This time Cass stopped him.
“Oh, Lucy, you must know I couldn’t possibly say that to the duke,” Cass said, her cheeks bright pink.
“Why not?” Lucy asked.
“For one thing, it’s terribly rude,” Cass replied.
“Not to mention I doubt the duke would believe that Cassandra came up with that on her own, even if she could memorize all of it,” Garrett added.
