Page 69 of The Duke of Daring (The Untouchables)
Lucy sipped her tea as she listened to Aquilla tell her and Ivy about the Goodwin ball last night. Aquilla had danced once, which might have sounded inadequate, but since it was precisely once more than the previous ball she’d attended, Aquilla counted it as a success. Lucy heard the disappointment lurking behind her friend’s cheerful disposition. For some time now, she’d been waiting for something to break within Aquilla—for her to lose her perpetually pleasant outlook. But Aquilla was still, for now at least, Aquilla.
Ivy asked Aquilla about her dancing partner, Lord Linley, and as they conversed, Lucy’s mind turned to the money that Andrew had obtained for her mother’s pearls, which had been delivered just before Aquilla and Ivy arrived for tea. It was a decent sum, and Lucy was considering how she might invest it. No, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d been wondering if Andrew was as sorry to see their association over as she was.
Likely not, since she was frustratingly in love with him, and he could apparently turn away from her without a second thought.
“I can’t tell if you liked Linley or not,” Ivy said. “Never mind, you like everyone.”
“That’s not true,” Aquilla responded. “I don’t at all care for Lady Abercrombie.”
“No one cares for her,” Ivy said. “She’s tedious and loud.”
“Some people say I’m loud.”
“Don’t compare yourself to her. You arenotloud. If anything, you have an excess of charm, and that can’t be bad. Isn’t that right, Lucy?”
Lucy sat up straight at the sound of her name. “That Aquilla’s charming? Of course.”
Ivy regarded her over the edge of her teacup. “Youwerelistening. Here I thought you were off in some daydream.”
Shehadbeen.
Aquilla looked at her shrewdly, her gaze narrowing. “She’s been like that since she went to Darent Hall. I should love to know what transpired there, but she won’t say.”
“And that is her right.” Ivy looked at Lucy in sympathy.
Lucy appreciated her support. While Aquilla longed to know what had happened, Ivy had said it was none of their business. She had, however, privately—and in a most dire tone—told Lucy that if she ever wanted to discuss what had happened, she would be happy to listen.
Lucy looked at her friends, wondering why she was bothering to keep it from them. Because it had felt incredibly intimate—something just between her and Andrew. Now that they’d gone their separate ways, it seemed like a dream. She was removed from the entire experience somehow.
“You know that he was injured in the landing.” Lucy had said that in her note to Aquilla, citing her need to look after him as the reason for staying at Darent Hall. “And I’m sure you wonder why it was necessary for me to remain to care for him when he likely has a house full of retainers.”
Both Ivy and Aquilla watched her intently. “We did wonder,” Ivy admitted.
Lucy wasn’t surprised—or annoyed—to learn they’d discussed the situation. “Andrew and I developed a rather close association through our gaming hell excursions.”
Aquilla’s eyes widened. “Andrew?”
Lucy pursed her lips. “Yes, Andrew. As I said, we became rather close. He asked me to stay.” She’d thrilled at his specific request that she remain while demanding everyone else leave. Except she hadn’t fared any better the following morning. “So I stayed.”
“I see.” Ivy sipped her tea.
“You say you cared for him,” Aquilla said. “Is that all that happened?” She pressed her lips together. “My apologies. I don’t mean to pry.”
“It’s all right. I’ve decided I don’t mind if you do. I’ve nothing to hide when it comes to him—at least not from you. Our association is at an end anyhow.”
Aquilla leaned forward, her expression one of distress. “What happened?”
“We, ah, shared his bed for the evening, and he asked me to leave in the morning.” She didn’t want to disclose the specifics of his behavior. Those werehissecrets, not hers. She also saw no benefit in describing the horrid way he’d treated her or the crushing disappointment she’d felt, just as she didn’t plan to share the unexpectedly lovely apology he’d given her. None of it mattered.
“Youdidn’t.” Ivy’s hand had arrested with her teacup partway to her mouth. Her tone was low and deep—wounded almost.
“We didn’t dothat,” Lucy clarified. “We were…intimate in other ways.” She wasn’t quite certain how to describe it. She knew Aquilla had never done those things, but she honestly wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Ivy had. She was older than both of them by a few years and had lived an independent life for nearly a decade.
Aquilla was rapt, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. “How was it?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ivy snapped. “He threw her out when he was done with her.”
That was precisely what Lucy had thought at the time, but now she believed she understood. “Andrew had his reasons for asking me to leave.”
