A woman destined to be remembered.
For her fierce love. For her loyal nature. For her invincible pride.
Not as a woman bought and sold at the discretion of any man.
Because of those exact qualities, she needs must make amends for the wrongs she suspected she’d done to Roderick. “What were you doing at the opera that night?”
His shoulders tensed, and Luci feared she had been right all along about him, that the disparaging accusations she’d levied against him in the Gazette were not misrepresented or false, but true.
“I was there seeking information.” He kept his focus straight ahead as a coach turned onto the street and ambled by. “I was not there to be with another woman, nor did I ever seek to hurt Lady Daphne or tarnish her reputation.”
“What type of information can be found at the opera?” She’d witnessed men, like her father, seeking out the willing, nimble bodies of ladybirds. She’d once stumbled upon a couple in an intimately scandalous embrace off a well-lit path at Covent Gardens. She was not fool enough to think that the sirens littering the playhouses and outdoor parks did not tempt gentlemen.
He sighed, and she sensed that he’d made an important decision, one he’d been debating since they started their walk.
Suddenly, the breeze blew no more, the birds were eerily silent, and a cloud passed over the sun, casting a large shadow over them.
“I was there to meet the widow of my father’s best friend.” He halted and turned toward her. “I was not there to betray Lady Daphne. Quite the opposite, actually.”
“One might think it suspicious that a man would believe being seen in a very public setting with another woman on his arm would not harm the woman he is purported to love.”
Roderick rubbed his jaw and pushed his hand through his hair. “I was thinking of none of that, only securing the information I needed to…” His words trailed off, and he dropped Luci’s arm, pacing a few steps down the walk and pivoting to return and face her. “Lucianna, it was not my intention to bring Lady Daphne into the muddled mess of my life. Neither did I plan to levy that weight upon you. My family, everything my ancestors worked so hard for, was taken…and I have charged myself with getting it back.”
Luci understood him a bit more in that moment. Roderick was searching for something, much like she was searching. “While that is very kind of you, it is my decision, as your betrothed, to decide what burdens I share with you and which ones I leave on your shoulders. I have little doubt we can assist one another.”
He looked away, focusing on a house farther down the lane, and Luci feared it would be the end of their discussion. He would share no more and would refuse her help.
“I need to be honest with you. When I decided to offer for your hand, it was done out of a sense of vengeance, a need to hurt you—to take away your opportunity at a match of your choosing—much like your post in the Mayfair Confidential did to me.”
He kept his eyes averted, but Luci was helpless to look away from the pain etched across his face.
She should feel an immense betrayal at his confession, laced with anger and outright indignation at his deceptive plans; however, none of these filled her.
“I know,” she admitted. She’d known from the time she walked into his study with her father, though she’d tried to deny it, even to herself. “But what do you seek to gain from our marriage now?” Luci had little doubt Roderick would one day be her husband, the man who would protect her for the rest of her days.
And she longed to do the same for him.
His breath left him in a loud whoosh. “I wish I knew, Lucianna. Unfortunately, I’ve lived my life one day at a time since my father passed away, never planning past tomorrow because, well, the future is too bloody unpredictable. I thought I had things figured out that night at the opera, or at least, the means to sort through everything. But just as quickly, it was all stripped away.”
“By my hand.” Luci glanced down at the ground, ashamed of her part in ending his previous betrothal. “I am sorry you lost Lady Daphne.”
He placed his hand beneath her chin and lifted her face, their eyes meeting. “While I cared for Lady Daphne—she is a sweet girl, everything that most lords require in a wife—we had nothing but a friendly fondness for one another. Love was not a part of our association, or at least, it hadn’t matured to that point before our match was called off.”
Roderick caressed her cheek, and Luci’s eyes drifted closed, the warmth of the sun returning, his touch seemingly pushing the clouds away. It should seem scandalous to be so connected to this man, all while he spoke of his past fondness for another woman.
“In all our time together, I never felt for Lady Daphne what I’ve come to feel for you in the past several days,” he confided. He placed a delicate kiss on her forehead before his hands fell away. “A coach is coming.”
The words escaped him on a sigh.
Roderick had wanted to say more—and Luci was desperate to hear it.
Luci opened her eyes slowly, knowing once she did, whatever had been blossoming between them would need be stowed away for another time, another moment of privacy.
If and when it happened again, Luci would be ready.
Glancing down the street, she noted the Camden crest on the approaching carriage. From the quick manner in which Roderick put a respectable distance between them, he’d also recognized the coach and prepared for who would be within.
Luci turned toward the carriage and waved. There was no reason to hide—she and Roderick were doing nothing wrong. Charlotte followed them at a discreet distance, and it had been her father who’d suggested the duke accompany her for the afternoon. If anything, her father should be proud of her for coming to accept his dictates without further argument.
The conveyance slowed as it came abreast of them as they turned to return to the Camden townhouse.
“Good day, Father,” Luci called with a smile when the marquis glared out the open window. “Beautiful day, is it not?”
Her father’s scowl was all Luci needed to see to enforce that her jovial mood only irritated the man.
“Montrose,” her father greeted Roderick curtly. “I thought you would have departed hours ago.”
Why did he care if Roderick and she became better acquainted? After all, if things continued down the path her father had set, they would be formally announcing their betrothal before long.
Luci had to applaud Roderick on his skill at playacting, as he grinned at her father, ignoring his dour stare. “We returned not long ago but, as Lady Lucianna commented, the day is too marvelous to spend trapped indoors. We decided on a stroll down the lane. You are welcome to join us for the return walk, my lord.”
Luci nearly burst with laughter as her father recoiled in shock at the offer.
“Certainly not,” the marquis said, leaning back into his coach. “Home, Rogers.”
Without another glance, her father’s driver put the horses back into motion, and soon disappeared into the Camden drive, several houses down the lane.
“Your father,”—Roderick pulled her close once more and set a slow pace—“he is a peculiar man.”
“Is that another trait you will proclaim I inherited from him?” Luci let out the deep laugh she’d been holding inside. It didn’t matter that her father thought he was using her as a pawn. She would not concern herself with worries over inciting her father’s anger with her joyous mood.
No, for the next several minutes, Luci was determined to bask in the sun with the cool breeze on her face and Roderick by her side.
Tomorrow, she would fret once again about Abercorn and proving his guilt. When she sat down to her family supper table that evening, she would think over the truths Roderick had shared with her, and dwell on the secrets he still kept. As she prepared for bed that night, she would allow her own culpability in Tilda’s death to wash over her and extinguish her spark of happiness. After Roderick’s carriage had pulled away, Luci would reenter her family h
ome to guide her siblings, protect her mother, and distract her father from his unavoidable fury.
But this moment, and the next fifty or so paces, belonged to her.
She lifted her chin to look at Roderick at her side and smiled—the most sincere grin she could remember since she’d watched her future shatter into a million tiny pieces as Tilda tumbled down those stairs.
“Your Grace,” she sighed. “Thank you.”
His brow furrowed in question, but he returned her smile. “What for?”
“For reminding me that it is acceptable to carve a moment out of life to stop—or stroll—and appreciate the warm sun, the call of the birds, and the afternoon breeze in my hair.”
Silently, she added, And the kiss of a most dashing man.
Chapter 13
“Stop fidgeting, Ophelia,” Luci scolded as they arrived at the Abercorn townhouse stoop. “We have yet to even knock on his door. He will see through our ruse if you keep that up.”
The girl was a nervous Nellie if she’d ever seen one, afraid of her own shadow, and prone to picking at the stitching of her gowns. Despite all that, Ophelia was Luci’s dearest friend since Tilda’s passing, and she loathed putting her in this predicament; however, they all needed to confront Abercorn.
Edith patted Ophelia’s shoulder. “Everything will be all right, do not worry.”
“There is no need to coddle her,” Luci hissed. “If the pair of you would have agreed to expose Abercorn in the Gazette months ago, none of us would be here right now.”
“You cannot possibly know that,” Edith snipped.
“Oh, I most certainly do know that.”
A whistle sounded behind them, letting Luci know that Roderick and Lord Torrington were in place, keeping a close eye on the trio from the shadows of Torrington’s father’s townhouse, directly neighboring the duke’s property.
It reassured her to know Roderick was close and would allow nothing to happen to her. He didn’t have to say it. After their time together the day before, Luci was confident Roderick had more in common with Lord Torrington than her father. He was not guilty of what she’d accused him of—escorting his mistress to the opera while betrothed to another. She would do what she could to polish his tarnished reputation. But right now, she had to keep her focus on Abercorn.
“Is this the best place to speak with him?” Ophelia tugged at her gown. “We saw what happened the last time we were in his home.”
“There is no other place the man will be as complacent—feel as secure—as in his own surroundings.” Edith and Luci had heavily debated this part of the plan, deciding that approaching the duke in a crowded ballroom or at the opera would not lead him to speak freely. “Besides, we have all agreed to remain downstairs.”
Luci was confident in their decision to confront Abercorn, even though Ophelia appeared so nervous she’d likely fall over at the littlest breath of trouble.
“Are we ready?” Edith asked, plastering a smile on her face, ever the fearless one since she’d fallen in love with Torrington.
“As ready as we will ever be.” Ophelia fanned her reddening cheeks.
“Remember”—Luci eyed both of her friends—“we are here to speak with Abercorn about his generous offer of marriage. This is a purely social visit with you both serving as my chaperones. Everything is above reproach.”
“Until we get our feet in the door,” Edith whispered.
“Exactly.” Lucianna grinned.
Their plan was as solid as it could be. After they had entered Abercorn’s townhouse and were led to a receiving salon, the women would make certain the drapes were pulled back, allowing Roderick and Torrington a clear view to keep watch over the trio.
If anything went awry, they would kick in Abercorn’s front door, if necessary, to reach the women.
Luci knocked on the door, and footsteps were instantly heard from within.
An elderly butler pulled the door wide, his eyes scrutinizing the trio.
“Lady Lucianna Constantine, accompanied by Lady Edith Pelton and Lady Ophelia Fletcher, here to see Lord Abercorn.” Luci handed the butler her calling card, determined that they not be turned away. “Is the duke receiving visitors?”
At the butler’s continued silence, Luci worried Abercorn was not in residence at all and their carefully crafted plan would be thwarted by their own mistake.
The servant finally stepped back, holding the door for them to enter.
Edith and Ophelia both sighed with relief.
Luci glanced over her shoulder as the two women entered the Abercorn townhouse. Roderick gave her a reassuring nod.
Their idea may very well be harebrained and without chance of success, but at least Roderick had enough faith in her to allow her the opportunity to lure the truth from Abercorn. There was no doubt Roderick had his own secrets. She’d be a fool not to notice the way his shoulders appeared to hold the weight of a thousand pounds or the hard lines around his eyes, a product of sorrow and loss. Or the way he analyzed everyone as if outlining every way they could injure him if he allowed them close.
Luci shuddered to think she’d caused some of that burden with her piece in the Gazette.
“My lady?” the butler asked when she remained on the stoop. “This way, please.”
Putting Roderick from her mind, Luci entered the foyer, surprised by the many candles lighting the area. It was certainly a waste of coins to burn this amount of wax on a daily basis.
The servant shuffled, his feet never actually leaving the floor as he walked across the foyer and opened the room to a similarly lit salon. Upon entering, Luci was pleased to see the drapes were open, and a clear view of Lord Torrington’s father’s townhouse was in sight.
“I will let Lord Abercorn know of your presence. His Grace will be with you momentarily.” He bowed stiffly as the women glanced about the room. “I will ring for tea. Do have a seat.”
He pulled the door closed on well-oiled hinges, leaving Luci to inspect the room as Edith hurried to the window and waved in Torrington’s and Roderick’s direction.
The salon was decorated in bold shades of yellow and blue, complete with striped drapes, polka dot pillows, and matching plaid lounge and stuffed chairs. The obnoxious sight had Luci’s head swirling at the odd pattern contrast and color combination. Upon closer inspection, the pieces in the room, including the tables, lamps, and wing-backed chairs close to the hearth appeared fairly dated. Even the pillow on the lounge was frayed at the edges.
This room had been appointed long ago, likely before Abercorn was out of the schoolroom.
Edith and Ophelia selected a low-slung sofa in sight of the large, arched window, remaining visible to the men outside, while Luci continued to stand. She was unsure why, but something told her standing was the best way to face the opposition.
And Abercorn was most certainly their opponent.
Luci would not allow herself to be fooled into a false sense of security based on her friends being near and Roderick being just outside the window. That was exactly what had happened to Tilda. The duke had presented himself as an honorable, kind, and worthy lord when he held none of those traits.
If she were utterly honest, the man might have duped any of them into marriage.
A shiver went down her spine to think it could have been her lying at the bottom of those stairs—or Ophelia, who would have been even less likely to defend herself than Tilda.
No, Abercorn would not remain free to harm another woman, especially Luci.
She would take Lord Torrington’s suggestion and run off to Gretna Green before she’d allow her name to be forever linked to Abercorn. Though wasn’t it already? She’d caused the scene at the duke’s country manor, demanding the magistrate investigate Tilda’s fall and pointing the finger at her friend’s new husband.
Luci crossed her arms in defiance. She would sound the alarm again without a second thought—only this time, she would protest louder…and longer. Until Abercorn was removed from polite soci
ety and never given another opportunity to harm someone.
Tears stung her eyes.
Poor Tilda.
Again, they should have noted something not quite right about her bridegroom.
But Luci hadn’t…and her friend had suffered the consequences.
“Lady Lucianna, my dear. What a charming surprise.”
She pivoted in time to see Abercorn enter the room and close the door behind himself.
“And Ladies Edith and Ophelia?” He paused, his stare widening on the women sitting close to the window. “I must say, this is very unexpected—but in a good way, nonetheless.”
“Your Grace,” Luci said, dipping into a curtsey. “My father spoke of your betrothal offer, and I thought it time I pay you a social visit.”
Both Edith and Ophelia sprang to their feet and dipped low in greeting. Luci couldn’t help but notice the duke’s eyes stray to Edith’s bosom as she curtseyed.
“No matter the reason.” He waved his hand, dismissing her words. “It is a pleasure to have you all in my home. I know there is much in our past; however, I am certain it can all be discussed with time—and a measure of patience. Please, do have a seat.”
Edith and Ophelia looked to Luci with hesitation, but she nodded, and the pair regained their seats by the window. She noted Edith glance toward Torrington with a weak smile. Blessedly, Abercorn seemed preoccupied and didn’t appear to notice Edith’s fascination with the landscape beyond the windowpane.
Luci followed suit and sat upon the lounge, facing her friends and hoping the duke would take the seat across from her. That would put his back to the window and allow her friends’ attention to go unnoticed.
She crossed her feet at the ankles and arranged her skirts, biding some time before it became necessary to speak. The cushion crackled with disuse beneath her when she shifted to tuck her feet under the lounge.
“Your home…” Luci paused, debating how to continue. She was loath to insult Abercorn before he’d even begun speaking. “It is very antiquated.”
The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna (The Undaunted Debutantes Book 2) Page 10