Lucy’s shoulders slumped. “So be it.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’ll never see each other again.”
Derek turned on his heel, a savage look in his eye. “Is this about Berkeley, God damn it?”
“What? No!”
A muscle ticked in Derek’s jaw. “Blast it, Lucy. Don’t do this.”
Lucy ran from the clearing. She stopped at the trellis that led outside and turned back to face him, desperately struggling to hold back her tears. She tilted her head to the sky. “It’s the only way. Derek, I refuse to see you again. Ever. Do the right thing, marry Cass.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Derek had been back in London for exactly twenty-four hours before his brothers arrived. He’d barely had time to contemplate the mess he’d left with Lucy and Cassandra in Bath. Lucy was scared. She was scared and she was under the mistaken impression that she was doing the right thing. But by God, if Derek had an inkling that it was really because of Berkeley, he’d hunt the viscount down and—
“The Misters Hunt,” Hughes announced, snapping Derek from his thoughts. Derek glanced up to see Collin following a bedraggled Adam through the door to the study. The two men fell into a heap on the sofa.
Derek crossed over to the sideboard to pour them both stiff drinks. “You must be exhausted I’m having Hughes make up rooms for you immediately. You’ll stay with me until you’re rested.”
“We have an appointment at the War Office,” Collin said.
Derek splashed liberal amounts of brandy into two glasses. “No. You’ll wait until tomorrow. They’ll understand.”
Adam was silent. Derek turned, a glass in each hand, and ran a watchful eye over his youngest brother. The remnants of a black eye and bruising elsewhere upon his face bespoke the torment he’d no doubt endured. Their mother would be coming as soon as she heard her boys were safe. Derek could only hope Adam healed a bit more quickly so she wouldn’t have to know what he’d suffered.
Adam must have known what he was thinking because his split lip cracked into a smile and he said, “Believe me, the broken ribs are much more painful than the blow to my ego resulting from the damage to my face.”
Derek strode over to stand in front of the sofa. He handed each man a drink. Crossing his booted feet at the ankles, Derek leaned back against a solid oak table and braced his hands behind him. “Adam—”
Adam took a long swig from his glass, scrubbed a hand through his hair, dropped his head back against the sofa, and closed his eyes. “Don’t say it, Derek.”
Derek arched a brow. “I find it interesting that you know what I was about to say when I don’t.”
Collin smiled at that and took a long drink.
Adam glanced up at Derek. “You’re going to say I shouldn’t have been there. Put myself in danger. Put the mission in danger. But I—”
“You’re damn right you shouldn’t have been there,” Derek replied.
“Blast it. They needed me.” Adam groaned when his movement jostled his midsection. The broken ribs were still healing, apparently.
Derek uncrossed his ankles, stood up straight, and folded his arms tightly across his chest. “Why don’t we begin with exactly what happened?”
Collin shifted in his own seat and watched his younger brother, too.
Adam took a deep breath. “We made camp outside Charleroi. We each took turns serving as lookout.”
“Whose turn was it?” Derek asked.
Adam’s eyes narrowed. “You think it was mine, don’t you?”
“I didn’t say that,” Derek answered.
“It was Swifdon’s actually. He must have fallen asleep. I don’t know. All I do know is that I woke up with a pistol to my head.” Adam absently rubbed his jaw.
“And Swifdon and Rafe?” Derek asked.
