by Darcy Burke
“I think I would enjoy a stroll, Your Grace.” Roderick, she thought to herself. Forever in her mind he would be Roderick. Not Your Grace, and certainly not the Duke of Montrose. “You are correct in assuming I have many things I’d like to discuss with you.”
And many apologies to offer, though a mere spoken act of contrition could never repair the damage she’d done by posting the article in the Gazette. She’d still been grieving the loss of Tilda, wrecked with guilt over her passing. Bloody hell, she would forever be plagued by remorse at her dear friend’s death; however, she could still attempt to make amends with Roderick.
Though he had every right to rebuff her.
He leapt from the carriage and held his hand out to assist her down. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” Luci couldn’t stop from smiling at his gallant behavior.
She nodded to the footman when Roderick tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her back down the drive to the street beyond. There were no horses or carriages stirring up dust. No gardeners lingered in the yards of neighboring townhouses. It was as if they hadn’t left the privacy of the Montrose carriage at all—until Luci noticed her maid, Charlotte, trailing at a discreet distance.
All thoughts of dragging Roderick behind the nearest shrub and imploring him to kiss her fled as they settled into a slow, steady walk. Besides her friends, Luci had never experienced such easy companionship. She watched over her younger siblings, but they were just that, brothers and sisters, not confidantes. She was their guiding light, and she struggled every day to search deep within to keep that light shining.
She had to be strong in every sense, or she feared turning into her mother; a woman so battered and beaten by years of neglect and harsh words she’d given up the fight. It was a pity Lady Camden, Eloise Constantine, once the daring, mysterious debutante had lost every ounce of fight within her.
That was not to be Luci’s fate.
Her shoulders stiffened with resolve.
Never would she allow a man, any man, to bring her to such a low point. No matter if it were her father, a suitor, or the gentleman she pledged to serve for all her days.
But here, with Roderick, she could just be. Walk at her own pace. Remain silent if she so desired. There was no need for her to take control, lead the way, or carve a path.
She almost let slip from her mind the many nagging questions she had for him, in favor of simply enjoying this rare moment of ease. The late afternoon breeze pulled at her pinned hair, desperate to free it. The sun heated her skin, raining comforting kisses of warmth along her neck. A matching set of collared doves chirped and cooed from a tall tree as they strolled past. Roderick’s hold on her arm tightened, tugging her closer to his side as if the breeze would blow her out of his reach, or the sun would scorch her delicate skin, or the birds would draw her attention too far from him.
In that brief moment, Luci was wanted. Cherished. Adored. She was worth more than her role as her father’s bartering chip. Her sibling’s protector. Her mother’s champion. And Tilda’s voice from beyond.
She was Roderick’s prize. He was her protector. He would champion for her future. And he would supply voice when hers could not long speak loud enough to be heard.
Yet, he was still, in almost every way, a stranger.
It was nearly impossible to grasp that a man could stumble into her life and usurp her every thought. Make her long for things she hadn’t wanted since her innocence had been shattered.
Since departing the coach, Luci had yet to dwell on their coming visit to Abercorn’s townhouse. The overwhelming pressure to prove the man’s guilt before all of society did not seem as all-consuming as a few hours before. No longer did she worry about Abercorn being the victor for her hand. Roderick, her defender, would never allow it.
He’d said as much, and she believed him with every ounce of her being.
She sighed.
“Do you wish to return home, my lady?” he asked, tentatively.
“Surprisingly, there is no other place I’d rather be than right here, right now.” She stared ahead, scared to see his reaction to her forthright comment. Perhaps, it was he who wished to return her and be on his way. “Unless you have other matters to attend to?”
She risked a glance up at him from under lowered lashes. In the past, it would have been seen as coquettish, a feigned timid manner filled with doubt and reservations; but in this moment, Luci was terrified he did want to return her to her father’s townhouse and escape the trouble she’d dragged him into.
“I have not another place to be today. Or any day, for that matter, Lucianna.” He stared straight ahead, a pleasant smile overtaking his intense nature. “I think we have much to discuss, and the time is now before things progress further.”
Luci was helpless to concentrate on anything after he’d said her name—Lucianna. The name had always signified the striking, rare, courageous woman she felt like on the inside. An outward sign to others that she was not a typical, pliable, demure maiden but something far more.
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 home 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, pl
astering 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.