“That is not up to you,” Abercorn said with a smug smile before looking to Camden for confirmation, but his grin fled when he saw the scowl on the marquis’ face. “What I mean to say is—“
“It does not matter what you mean, Abercorn,” Camden hissed, for the first time allowing his cool demeanor to fall. “Who I choose for Lucianna is my decision. Neither of you has any say in who that is—nor when things will be officially settled.”
It was the only bright spot in the conversation. Abercorn had sparked her father’s displeasure, and Luci only hoped it was more than the transgression her father laid upon her shoulders. Maybe he would see reason, understand that in no world should she be required to wed a man who might very well have killed her dearest friend.
“I think it best if Montrose, Abercorn, and I speak privately.” Her father pivoted sharply and stalked from the room, expecting Roderick and Abercorn to follow.
Abercorn and her father had given her matching smiles, and Luci swore they would have continued with an explanation of letting men handles the business at hand while the ladies returned to their tea and needlework.
Abercorn and Sissy were the first to snap into action and hurry after the marquis. “My lord, we can use my study, if that pleases you.”
“Do keep your nose above trouser level, Francis,” her father huffed.
Luci held tightly to Roderick’s sleeve, knowing she should allow him to go—to speak with her father quickly and not cause the marquis’ anger to settle on him if he were tardy to the study; however, she needed to speak with him.
There were many things they hadn’t discussed, namely, their association after this feigned betrothal ended. Was he even willing to continue with the charade?
More importantly, could Luci ask him to make that sacrifice?
Once their betrothal was called off, Roderick would face another round of scandalous gossip—once again caused by Luci and her petty actions. There would be no chance that Roderick would forgive her twice for ruining his chances of securing a wife.
“Roderick, please…” She looked up into his eyes, eyes she’d always seen as icy and closed off, but now, they appeared crystal blue with a hint of desperation. “I cannot wed Abercorn, but neither will I expect you to throw away your future to save me.”
A reassuring squeeze on her shoulder brought Luci’s attention to Edith and Ophelia, both at her sides with looks of determination. Even Lord Torrington’s dour scowl spoke volumes.
“I—we—will never allow Abercorn to get his hands on you,” Roderick assured her, taking her icy hands into his warm palms. “We will think of something.”
“If all else fails, the pair of you are welcome to my original plan to wed Lady Edith,” Torrington offered with a grin, but it quickly faded when he realized the stark expressions on everyone else’s faces. “Honestly, it is a solid plan and would not be hard to see done.”
“I agree with Triston,” Edith said with a nod. “Gretna Green may be the only answer.”
“Gretna Green?” Roderick stared between Torrington, Edith, and Luci. “But that would mean—“
“We would actually have to wed,” Luci finished, shaking her head. “I cannot ask that much of you, Roderick. A fake betrothal is one thing, but a legally binding marriage? I could never ask you to sacrifice so much.”
Nor was Luci certain she could live with such a grand sacrifice on her part. A future with Montrose as her spouse, neither having agreed to the match willingly, could very well prove a disaster.
“But we will not know anything until Montrose meets with the marquis and Lord Abercorn.” Ophelia’s low, hesitant words cut through the many emotions flooding Luci. “Let him meet with your father. Then we shall convene again and decide our next move.”
“Since when did you become the voice of reason, Ophelia?” Edith asked, clinging to Torrington’s side.
Ophelia’s brow rose. “Likely since you became so smitten with Lord Torrington your sensible nature has been all but forgotten. Besides, I have always been infused with much sense, though I rarely need express it. That is what I have you and Luci for.”
Nervous laughter filled the room as the group started toward the door.
“I think you all should wait at Lord Torrington’s father’s townhouse,” Roderick instructed as they entered the foyer. “I will meet with the marquis and join you immediately after.”
“I will stay here with you.” Luci pushed her shoulders back and paced toward the study door that stood ajar, not bothering to glance behind her to see her friends depart or Roderick trail her.
This was her life—her future—and she would not see her fate decided by her vengeful father or Abercorn and his delusional, self-absorbed tendencies. Neither man was the least bit concerned with her well-being or happiness.
“Slow down, Lucianna, or you will stumble and injure yourself.” Roderick grabbed her arms to halt her, but did not hold her so tightly she could not pull away. She adored that about him—he wanted her to listen to him, yet he would not force his ideas, concerns, or opinions on her.
Roderick did care about her happiness.
Of that, she was certain.
He might even willingly sacrifice his future to make certain Abercorn never touched her.
What kind of woman would Luci be if she allowed him to throw away his life to make certain she wasn’t forced into a marriage not of her choosing?
He stared down at her, imploring her to stop and listen, but Luci couldn’t do that. If he spoke, gave her all the many reasons he should go through with their betrothal, Luci might be convinced to allow him to sacrifice himself. Hell, after their walk yesterday, she’d even led herself to believe he actually cared for her beyond the retribution he sought for Luci’s hand in ruining him.
For those many minutes, Luci envisioned a future wrapped in his arms, always safe and protected. She dreamt of a home all their own—and children with their midnight hair. A girl with her father’s intense blue eyes, and a baby boy with Luci’s moss-green irises.
Both were tanned beyond what was proper because Roderick insisted they spend a great deal of time outdoors, picnicking in the park or hiking the trails along the Thames.
It was foolish and self-serving to even think about the possibilities and future to be had as the Duchess of Montrose.
“I will come with you to meet with my father and Abercorn.” Every muscle in her body tightened, but Luci refused to allow her calm demeanor to slip. “I think my father will listen if I am present.”
Roderick stared into Lucianna’s deep green eyes—taking in the desperation and hurt that lingered just below the surface of her calm exterior. He had no right to demand she depart with her friends, nor ask her to wait outside the study.
The marquis and Abercorn were, even now, discussing Lucianna’s future. Something her father may legally have control over, but not if he sought to hand her off to an unsavory, despicable lord. No woman should be lowered to play the pawn between gentlemen.
Roderick’s honor as a nobleman would not allow such a thing.
Luci was everything any English gentleman should long for in someone they called wife, though not because of increased social status, or wealth, or even because of her exquisitely dark beauty. She had a wit superior to most men, the smarts to know her own worth, and the cunning to make her own way if her father’s chosen path did not suit her.
“We will confront your father and Abercorn together,” Roderick compromised. It was Lucianna’s decision in the end. “But if you feel the need to depart at any time, we will leave together, as well.”
When she nodded, a lock of hair came loose from her pins and hung down along her cheek to caress the top of her shoulder. For not the first time, Roderick longed to run his hands through her unbound hair and bring the long tresses to his nose. They must certainly smell of lavender or vanilla.
There would be time for that. Bloody hell, but Roderick would make certain there was plenty of time together in their
future. Their brief walk hadn’t been enough. His chaste kiss to her forehead was not nearly sufficient to extinguish his desire for her. Not even a fortnight wrapped in her embrace, staring into her deep, complex, green eyes, with unlimited hours talking about their pasts, the present, or the future they envisioned for themselves would satisfy him.
She grasped his arm, notched her chin high, and squared her shoulders, signaling that she was prepared to face her father.
Roderick wished he felt even a small measure of the confidence she displayed as they walked the several paces across the foyer and entered Abercorn’s study.
Even together, they were on uneven ground—the advantage going to Abercorn.
Roderick pledged silently to take that benefit from the other duke.
Entering the room, Lucianna pulled close to his side, Roderick realized he’d held the upper hand the entire time. Abercorn may have his title, his wealth, and his many business ventures, but Roderick had Lucianna.
On his arm, at that moment. And if he had his way, every day hereafter.
Roderick had successfully broken through the tough exterior Lucianna had built up to keep her heart safe from both her father and others who meant her harm.
The way she held his arm tightly, her fingers squeezing through his sleeve, told him she’d allowed Roderick in, expecting him to reinforce any weak spot in her defenses. And bloody hell, he was loath to disappoint her.
“Camden.” Roderick nodded before turning to Abercorn, who scurried behind his desk, a place of perceived safety, no doubt. “Abercorn.”
“Lucianna,” Camden said, his narrowed glare settling on her. “You will depart immediately and await me at home.”
Lucianna stiffened. “I will—“
“Lord Camden,” Roderick cut in, giving Lucianna a reassuring smile. “Lady Lucianna has a right to be here. This is her future we are discussing. Do you not believe she should be heard?”
Camden lifted his palm loosely as if to say it mattered naught to him before he turned away and took one of the seats before Abercorn’s desk, leaving only one chair open. “Sit, Montrose.”
Roderick led Lucianna farther into the room and pulled the chair out for her to sit as he stood behind her.
It was as much to show Lucianna the respect due her—that these two men ignored—as it was to keep Camden off guard during the coming negotiation.
“I see no reason for Lady Lucianna and Montrose to be present.” Abercorn tapped a stack of papers on the desk surface before him. “The agreement has been drawn up, reviewed, and only needs your signature, my lord.”
“While I partly agree with you, Francis,” Camden spoke slowly, “I do not agree the present agreement is acceptable.”
“But that is not what you said before Lady Lucianna and her friends arrived.”
“That was before I was aware of the seriousness of Montrose’s pursuit of my daughter.” Camden sat back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap as if greatly satisfied by the change in circumstances. “Two men, dukes no less, seeking Lucianna’s hand in marriage? I think it best I retire and allow you both to meet with your men of business to submit new agreements if your goal is to call my daughter wife.”
Roderick snorted.
The man actually expected a bidding war to ensue for Lady Lucianna’s hand. Roderick did not disagree that she was worth the effort on both his and Abercorn’s parts if they wanted to pursue her. However, she was being treated like cattle whose highly valued lineage and sires demanded men offer all they had to own her. These men, Abercorn and her father, seemed not to realize the priceless value of his midnight English rose—but he knew all too well.
No one would ever own Lucianna.
Not even Roderick.
Chapter 16
What of my heart? Lucianna wanted to scream as Charlotte led her to her bedchambers. The maid kept up with a litany of mumbled nonsense, “There there,” “Get some rest,” “Allow the men to handle things,” and the most infuriating, “Your father will choose wisely.”
Luci didn’t remember bidding Roderick farewell nor entering her father’s coach.
A servant steered her clear of Lord Torrington’s family townhouse and made certain she was settled before the conveyance took off toward Mayfair.
Now, she sat at her dressing table as Charlotte brushed out her hair as if Luci were preparing for bed. It was only late afternoon. A time when fashionable men and women were strolling in the park or shopping on Bond Street, not being carted away by the powers that be—namely, her father—without so much as a fight.
She was a beautiful, fragile bird in a cage made for two—her mother and her.
Luci snorted. She’d truly thought to escape it all, carve her own way in life, never being reduced to that of a captive. The many times she’d underestimated her father had finally caught up with her. The overwhelming pain in her chest told Luci her determination had waned to desperation. And, finally, hopelessness.
She looked around her childish room with its frilly, lilac bedding and matching pillows. The window drapes were several shades darker, more of a violet. The hues should clash, throwing the room into disarray, as a pure lilac color was no match for an overpowering dark violet. However, her mother had insisted that every piece of furniture in the room be white—pure, untouched, and innocent.
Had Lady Camden tried to reclaim her own innocence as she’d designed this room when Lucianna was in short skirts and pinafores?
If it had been Lucianna’s choice—and nothing thus far in her life had been—she would have decorated the room in dark burgundy with blue accents, and the occasional gold trimming. The room would evoke a need to bow to the power held by its occupant.
However, the castle did not make the king.
It went much deeper than that. It was a sense of rightness everyone around the sovereign felt with such a man in power. The security of knowing that the correct person could be trusted to make a well-thought-out and conscious decision that would benefit all.
No matter how hard she attempted to take control of the situation with Abercorn, her friends questioned her. No matter how many times she’d declared she would not wed that murdering lord, Luci felt her voice blowing on the breeze, heard by no one.
Not no one, precisely. Roderick was aware of her wants and needs.
He was conscious of the fact that Luci would rather run to the wilds of Scotland than be joined in matrimony with Abercorn.
Did he suspect she had no such aversion to him as her husband?
Secrets and all, Lucianna still cared deeply for him. Even now after such a short time. It was his wounds, the ones he’d shared with her on their walk, and the many he still kept inside that drew her to him. However, long after the mystery of him vanished, she would want Roderick still.
A tap at the door had Charlotte setting down her brush and hurrying over to open the portal.
The housekeeper swept into the room with a full tea service, but the wooden slab did not close.
Luci tilted, narrowing her eyes on the darkened hallway beyond, as Charlotte prepared her normal cup of tea: Earl Grey, cream, and one lump of sugar with extra-hot water.
When not a sound came from the hallway except for the receding footsteps of their housekeeper, Luci focused on her beverage, which Charlotte held out to her before resuming her chore.
Lucianna closed her eyes as the brush moved through her long locks with nary a knot or tangle. It was much as she longed for her life to be: predictable, even in course, with only the occasional concern. She didn’t want a life plagued with arguments, doubts, hardships, and, worst of all, regrets.
It was the main reason she pushed so hard to prove Abercorn’s guilt. Until that day came, she would be weighed down by regrets, held down by daily reminders that she’d failed her friend not only in life but also in death.
“Lucianna?” a quiet voice called from behind her. A tone that never failed to soothe her when she doubted herself or was sad or even overjoyed. Tod
ay, it infused the finality of things. “May I come in?”
“Of course, Mother.” Luci opened her eyes to see the marchioness take the brush from her maid and nod for Charlotte to depart. With a sigh, the older woman took over the lady’s maid’s chore, brushing Luci’s thick, onyx hair from scalp to tip as she had when Luci was younger before it was deemed improper for a woman to spend so much time with her children as companions.
For the span of a heartbeat, she thought to unburden the weight on her shoulders; throw herself at her mother’s feet and beg she do something to right the situation.
However, her weak smile of greeting died on her lips.
Lady Camden never made eye contact with her eldest child but preferred to keep her stare on the brush in her hand. The action was all too unfamiliar for Luci. Even at meals, with all her children gathered, the marchioness did not speak to anyone beyond a comment on the weather or a question about the schoolroom. She’d given up her role as matriarch of the family many years ago, around the time her magnificent black hair had turned grey, seemingly overnight, and her deep green eyes had dulled, any spirit they’d once held vanishing with her last strands of self-respect.
She was a woman born into a world that afforded her no decisions beyond those allowed by her father—and later, her husband. Certainly, she was charged with planning the meals for the household, securing the proper clothing for the children, making sure they attended their studies and prepared for University. Beyond that, Luci knew the marchioness lived a solitary life; cut off from her family years prior with no friends to speak of now beyond her four children. And even they had become silent observers to their mother’s pain.
All while the man she’d pledge to love and service was serving other women.
That was a fate worse than death for Luci.
No matter the fury inside her, Luci was incapable of changing the course of Lord and Lady Camden’s marriage; however, she could never resent her mother for the life she’d chosen. Lady Camden’s four children were well taken care of, educated, and would make fine matches—even if Luci’s match was to a man over double her years.
The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna (The Undaunted Debutantes Book 2) Page 12