The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables Book 2)

by Darcy Burke

  For some bizarre reason, Lucy felt the need to defend him. “How do you know he didn’t ask? You know I don’t want to marry.”

  “He asked you to marry him?” Aquilla sounded incredulous. “And you said no?”

  “He did not, actually.” Lucy threw Ivy a quelling glance. “We shared a lovely evening together—one that I shall never forget or regret.”

  Aquilla sat back and studied Lucy for a long moment. So long that Lucy shifted and wondered if she maybe had a crumb on her face from one of the cakes she’d eaten.

  “I’m not sure I believe you,” Aquilla said at last. “You were quick to defend him, you call him Andrew, and watching you talk about him…your eyes light up. And you almost smile, even as you’re talking. I think you would marry him if he asked.”

  Aquilla, her dear and charming friend, had done what she did best—she’d cut right to the heart of a matter and astutely comprehended what was really happening.

  Lucy looked from Aquilla to Ivy, who wore an expression of concern, back to Aquilla. She whispered what she never thought she’d say, “I would. If he asked. But he won’t.” Her insides twisted. “I’m sure you don’t approve or understand, Ivy.”

  Ivy exhaled. “Approval has nothing to do with it, but no, I don’t understand. He misused you horribly.”

  Lucy arched a brow at her. “I was a willing participant. No, he didn’t handle things well, but it’s my own fault. We were very clear early on—neither one of us desired marriage.”

  “Does he know you’ve changed your mind?” Aquilla asked.

  “No, and I don’t plan to tell him.”

  “Why is he so adamantly against it? He’s an earl. Surely he understands the need to beget an heir.”

  That was a valid point and one Lucy hadn’t pressed with him. She was curious about that now. But she wouldn’t have the opportunity to ask him about it. “I believe it’s because he lost his entire family when he was young. They all died of winter fever.” Mrs. Alder had confirmed the illness when she’d helped Lucy prepare to leave.

  Aquilla brought her hand to her mouth. “How terrible. My family is awful, but I wouldn’t wish them dead.”

  “I would,” Ivy muttered.

  “My family?” Aquilla asked, her eyes round with shock. “I know you don’t care for them, but that’s rather cruel.”

  Ivy looked down at her lap. “I wasn’t speaking of your family but mine.” She flicked a glance at Lucy. “He doesn’t wish to have a family of his own because he’s still mourning the one he lost?”

  Lucy longed to ask Ivy about her family—whom she never talked about—but could tell she wasn’t ready to reveal more than she already had. “Something like that, yes.” Lucy reached over and stroked Ivy’s arm briefly. “We’re your family, you know.”

  Ivy smiled at her and then Aquilla. “I do know, and I love you both for it. I know I’m not always the easiest person to like, and that you’ve both become the dearest people in my life means the world to me.”

  “Oh, Ivy.” Aquilla jumped up and went to hug her.

  Lucy joined them, and soon they were in a heap on the settee, laughing.

  When they’d composed themselves and returned to their respective seats, Aquilla looked at Lucy. “What do you plan to do now?”

  “As I said, my association with Andrew—Dartford—is over.” She’d do well to stop first-naming him. He was nothing more than a memory now. “I sold some jewelry. Between that and my winnings, I have enough to invest. We’ll need to live frugally for a bit, but I think it will work out. I’ve been looking for cottages near Bath.”

  “Is your grandmother happy?” Ivy asked. “I imagine she must be.”

  “Or not,” Aquilla said. “She’s been clear about her wish for Lucy to marry.”

  “What Aquilla says is true, but I think she would like for me to be with her. I’m acclimating her to the idea.” Lucy turned to Ivy. “I may also seek employment, so I’d be keen to be introduced to your contacts in Bath.”

  “I’ll send letters when you’re ready to move.”

  Aquilla crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. “I’m going to miss you terribly. Is there no way we can persuade Dartford to marry? He clearly felt something for you, yes?”

  Something, yes. But Lucy didn’t think it went anywhere near as deep as the way she felt about him now. He treated her like an equal—appreciating her talent and her mind and, yes, even her beauty, which she’d thought was nonexistent. He made her feel special. Admired. Hadn’t he even said he’d admired her once?

  She didn’t want to think about this, about him, anymore. It was too painful.

  Lucy summoned a hearty smile and looked at Aquilla. “It doesn’t matter what he might have felt or what I feel, our association is over, and I’m making plans for the future that don’t include him.”

  Aquilla’s frown deepened. “I’m still disappointed. I suppose we must make the best of the time we have left together, then. You’re still coming to Lady Morecott’s ball tonight, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Grandmama has been looking forward to it.” Lucy even had a new gown—at Grandmama’s insistence that she needed it to snare Edgecombe. However, since Andrew’s visit yesterday, Grandmama had begun talking of him instead of Edgecombe, much to Lucy’s chagrin.

  “Excellent, we’ll play name that Untouchable.” Aquilla grinned as she uncrossed her arms and straightened.

  “Haven’t we named them all?” Ivy asked.

  “Probably, but perhaps we should change some of their names. I think I’d like to rename Dartford the Duke of Disdain.”

  Ivy laughed. “Perfect. I don’t like him at all anymore. Sorry, Lucy.”

  Lucy wished she didn’t like him anymore either. Instead, she loved him. And it hurt.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Andrew strolled into the ballroom at Morecott House. Even though it was one of the largest, most opulent homes in Grosvenor Square, the event was still a crush. He doubted his ability to find Lucy in the crowd.

  He’d regretted his decision not to seek her out at the Goodwin ball last night. He wanted to share with her his suspicions about Greene. Or maybe he just wanted to see her.

  He should just have called on her that afternoon, but he imagined she wouldn’t receive him. Perhaps he should’ve sent a note. Except he wondered if she would’ve tossed it in the fire without opening it.

  Since she hadn’t acknowledged the money he’d given her, he assumed she didn’t wish to have any communication with him. And their parting yesterday had been stiff and…strange. Her words had been clipped, and though she’d said she wasn’t angry, he was fairly certain she had been.

  But there was nothing he could do about any of that. What he could do, however, was warn her about Greene.

  He scanned the ballroom, but it was a confusing jumble of people. He supposed touring the wall might be his best chance of finding her.

  That annoyed him. She shouldn’t be a wallflower. She should be the most sought-after woman here. Men were idiots, he decided. They’d marry an insipid beauty with rocks in her head over a smart, stunning woman who would engage him every single day with her vitality and wit.

  A nagging voice in his mind said that if he felt that way, he should marry her, but Andrew ignored it. Marriage and family weren’t for him.

  Andrew moved closer to the wall and began a circuit of the ballroom. After a few minutes of plodding movement, his gaze caught a familiar face—Lucy’s friend whom he’d met.

  Mustering his most charming smile, he stopped in front of her. She stood with another young woman who was taller, with reddish-blonde hair and a rather severe look. “Good evening, Miss Knox. I’m looking for your friend, Miss Parnell.”

  Miss Knox had a bright smile and lively eyes. “Ah yes, Dartford. Allow me to introduce Miss Ivy Breckenridge.”

  The tall blonde glared at him. He nearly recoiled at the disgust in her gaze. “I’m certain Miss Parnell has no interest in speaking with you.”


  Miss Knox clearly elbowed her friend in the side and whispered something Andrew couldn’t hear but was fairly certain was “Be quiet!”

  The two women could not be more different in their reception of him. Miss Knox had seemed quite welcoming, even pleased to see him. Miss Breckenridge, on the other hand, looked as if she might cheerfully lead him to his execution. His neck prickled. He directed his attention to the friendlier Miss Knox. “Is Miss Parnell here this evening? It’s rather important that I speak with her.”

  “She is, in fact.”

  Now Miss Breckenridge elbowed Miss Knox. Andrew stifled a smile. They seemed like the perfect friends for Lucy—not the typical diffident young women who populated these sorts of events.

  “Might I inquire where she is?” he asked.

  Miss Breckenridge scowled. “No.”

  Miss Knox threw her a chiding glance. “She’s dancing. And it’s a rather long set, I think.”

  Damn. Andrew turned his head to look at the dance floor but couldn’t see her. He looked back at the two women and smiled. “Thank you for your time.”

  He spun around and found a place where he could better survey the dance floor. It was a reel, and he scanned the dancers until he found her group. Seeing her… It was as if the breath had been sucked out of him.

  He’d just seen her yesterday, but it was as if he’d forgotten how stunning she was. She wore a vibrant green gown with gold trim, and a gold band encircled her upswept dark hair. She looked elegant and beautiful, utterly feminine. And he wanted to pummel her dance partner. He craned his neck to see who it was. They were in a group, so he supposed it could be any of them.

  Hell and the devil.

  Greene was there. Was he her partner? Probably. Andrew circuited the dance floor, waiting impatiently for the set to end. He ended up near the doors leading to the terrace where he stood seething.

  “My lord.”

  The feminine voice came from his left. He turned his head to see Miss Breckenridge eyeing him disdainfully.

  “Miss Breckenridge, to what do I owe this…pleasure?” He wasn’t in the mood to charm her. Besides, he had the distinct sense that she was immune.

  “Let us walk to a more private location—closer to the wall, if you please.”

  Andrew looked out at the dance floor and at potential places along the wall. His sight line might be impaired.

  Her green eyes pierced him with their intensity. “My lord, if you please. This is a conversation I insist on having, and I won’t do it here.”

  Resigned, he walked to the left of the terrace doors, near a potted tree. He turned, putting his back to the wall and made sure he could still see Lucy. “Will this do?”

  She moved closer, taking a position beside him. “I came to ask you to leave Lucy alone.” She kept her voice low, just above a whisper.

  That she referred to her friend as Lucy drew his attention. Miss Breckenridge didn’t mean this to be a formal, rule-abiding conversation.

  “I came to speak with her about a matter of importance,” he said. He inwardly flinched as Greene took Lucy’s hand in the dance.

  “Is it important enough that you would cause her distress in the delivery?”

  He snapped his gaze to hers. “Perhaps you should progress directly to your point. You don’t strike me as a woman to mince words.”

  She smiled, but he doubted it was prompted by humor or any sense of pleasantry. “You are very astute, my lord. Lucy is my very dear friend, and I don’t wish to see her hurt by the likes of you. She deserves far better.”

  He agreed. “Yes, she does.” Miss Breckenridge blinked, and he knew he’d caught her off guard. “Is she hurt, or are you protecting her from the potential?” He thought of how their walk had ended the day before, and while he knew she’d been angry, he hadn’t considered that it might be more than that. He didn’t want to consider it.

  Miss Breckenridge’s eyes narrowed, and there was a fire in their depths. “You used her and tossed her aside.”

  Bloody, bloody hell.

  Was that how she felt—that he’d used her? “She told you that?” He looked out at the dance floor and saw Lucy laughing, her face glowing with pleasure. His chest tightened. He hated thinking that he’d hurt her.

  “She told us enough. She doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

  No, she didn’t. But he hadn’t used her. He’d wanted her, and, yes, he’d probably taken advantage, but he hadn’t used her. He had, however, tossed her aside—he wouldn’t have put it quite so inelegantly, but there it was.

  He’d thought she’d agreed that nothing had changed, that they were both still committed to independent lives. Except things had changed. He felt a dangerous connection to her. A connection that could threaten the carefully constructed wall of protection he’d built after his family had died.

  His throat constricted, and he fought to take a deep breath. “I have nothing but the utmost esteem and admiration for Miss Parnell. Please excuse me.”

  He wanted to talk to Lucy, but he couldn’t do it here. Had he hurt her? He needed to know. He also needed to warn her about Greene. He cut his way through the crowd, his mind made up.

  He directed his driver to drop him at Bolton Street.

  Lucy watched her grandmother begin to nod off as they rode home in the carriage from the ball. They’d stayed later than normal, and Lucy wondered if Grandmama would even make it upstairs without assistance.

  “That was quite a successful evening.” Grandmama’s sudden declaration surprised Lucy, making her twitch.

  “Did you have a good time?” Lucy asked.

  “Oh yes, of course. But I meant you. You danced so much! I daresay this might finally be your year. Yes, I’ll be shocked if Edgecombe doesn’t come up to scratch.”

  Lucy had danced with him again, and while he was charming and pleasant, he wasn’t Andrew. Unfortunately, she compared everyone to him.

  “Who was the young gentleman you danced with—the tall one?”

  Greene. Lucy had grown suspicious when he’d asked her to dance again. He still hadn’t seemed to recognize her, but she’d gone out of her way to act incredibly feminine to be sure. She’d actually simpered. Or at least she’d tried. As with tittering, she didn’t count simpering as one of her skills. “Mr. Greene,” she belatedly answered.

  “He’s very attractive. You may inspire a battle.” Grandmama’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction in the lamplight.

  Lucy didn’t want a battle. She didn’t want Edgecombe or Greene or anyone who wasn’t Andrew. And she couldn’t have him.

  The coach stopped in front of the town house, and the footman helped Grandmama down. Lucy stepped out and took her grandmother’s arm as they walked up to the door. The butler let them in, and Lucy escorted Grandmama to her chamber where her maid was waiting to take over.

  “She’ll be asleep in a trice,” Lucy whispered. The maid nodded.

  Lucy yawned, thinking that she’d fall asleep quickly too. Good, she didn’t want to lie awake thinking of Andrew.

  She went to her chamber, closing the door behind her and immediately pulling the band from her hair. As she crossed the carpet to pass her bed on the way to her dressing area, she stopped short.

  There, reclining on the bed, his cravat loosened and his coat nowhere to be seen—wait, it was on the back of a chair—was Andrew. His gaze connected with hers, and a fervent longing stabbed through her chest and spread heat lower.

  She clutched the band with her fingertips and stared at him in shock. “What are you doing here?”

  He uncrossed his legs and jumped up. “I came to see you.”

  She tried to ignore her attraction to him. It was incredibly difficult because he was almost unbearably handsome. His cravat was loose, exposing more of his neck than was appropriate. But then she supposed they’d moved quite past propriety, especially since he was standing in her bedroom. “How did you get in here?”

  He gave a light shrug. “I’m sneaky. I saw your
maid, but I convinced her I was here with your permission.”

  “You aren’t.”

  “No.” He came toward her slowly. “I saw you dancing with Greene.”

  “You were at the ball?” Her voice sounded a bit high to her ears.

  “Yes. I went to find you.”

  He’d gone to the ball, and now he was here. Awareness danced along her flesh and flutters of desire careened in her belly. She turned from him and dropped her headband on her dressing table. “What’s wrong?”

  He’d moved close behind her—she could feel his proximity like a fire heating her back. “I believe Greene knows you’re Smitty. I wanted you to be aware.”

  She turned. He was very close. She pressed her thighs back against the dressing table. “He told you?”

  “No, but he’s been acting odd.” He scowled. “I nearly ruined everything at Darent Hall when I called you ‘her’.”

  She arched a brow at him. “You ruined everything when you told them I was a physician.”

  His scowl deepened. “I apologized for that.”

  “Did you?” She honestly couldn’t remember. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. I appreciate you sharing your suspicion. I shall take it under advisement.”

  His brows formed a V over his eyes. “What does that mean?”

  She shrugged, perversely enjoying his agitation. “It means that I’ll assess the situation for myself when I next see Greene.” She ought to tell him she agreed with his assessment, that she’d wondered if Greene had seen through her disguise, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

  He blinked. “You have plans to see him?”

  Was he jealous? “Not specifically, no. Is there another reason you came to my bedchamber? You could just as easily have sent me a note about Greene.”

  “I could have, but I didn’t wish to write it down.”

  She appreciated that.

  They looked at each other without speaking. He seemed to be trying to determine what to say. Lucy, meanwhile, was trying not to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him.