The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna (The Undaunted Debutantes Book 2)

by Christina McKnight

  The Duke of Abercorn?

  What would the old duke want with such a young bride?

  Neither alternative was acceptable. Turn away from a betrothal to Lady Lucianna and leave her in her father’s clutches—and likely betrothed to Abercorn within a fortnight—or agree to Camden’s conditions and be tied to Lady Lucianna and beholden to her father.

  Roderick would never give the impression he’d abuse a woman, no matter what she may do to incite his anger; however, leaving her in Abercorn’s clutches was the same, even if he were the one holding the whip.

  “My pursuit of Lady Lucianna is very serious, my lord.” Roderick commanded his shoulders to relax, to look at ease and not alert the marquis to the danger he was in even speaking of injuring a woman. “I am prepared to have the documents prepared and signed whenever you wish it.”

  “I will need to discuss it with my daughter. She is unaware of the nature of our business here.”

  Roderick wanted to laugh. He suspected Lady Lucianna was never fully unaware of anything.

  “I have one request, my lord.”

  “Of course, Montrose.” Camden stood, signaling their meeting was nearing an end. Roderick followed suit.

  “I wish to call on Lady Lucianna.” It had been many years since he’d attempted to court a woman. Even with Lady Daphne, it had all been arranged and handled behind closed doors. “I think it best she and I become acquainted more before we formally announce our betrothal.”

  “If you are to be betrothed,” Camden corrected. “However, a stroll in the park or trip to Bond Street for ices would not be unacceptable.”

  “Very well. I will call on her presently.” Hell, he would call on her this very evening, if it would not be seen as too eager. The last thing Roderick needed was for Camden to change his mind and give Lucianna to the Duke of Abercorn. “Shall we bring Lady Lucianna in and tell her about our agreement?”

  Roderick wouldn’t mind a bit of time in Lucianna’s presence. Hell, maybe he would be so bold as to request a moment alone with her. They were to be wed, after all. Her father would be a fool not to accept Roderick’s offer and nor could Camden be against allowing the soon-to-be betrothed couple a moment together.

  “That will not be necessary, Your Grace.” Camden shook his head and bowed. “I will inform her of my decision, and she will be prepared when you call on her. I will have my man draw up the paperwork for your signature.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  There was nothing more Roderick could say or do as the marquis departed the room, soundly closing the door behind him. Truly, there was little Roderick suspected needed to be done at this time. Camden would handle informing Lady Lucianna, and when next they met, she would have no cause to deny him her company.

  The sound of two sets of footsteps retracing their way back to the foyer was all Roderick heard as Camden led Lady Lucianna from the house.

  For not the first time, Roderick wondered why the marquis had brought his daughter if only to instruct her to wait in the hall until they departed.

  He refilled his drink and collapsed back into his chair.

  He should feel a measure of relief to know that a formal betrothal between him and Lucianna was almost guaranteed, which meant his coffers would be full once more—or at least, back to a more agreeable amount—and he could resume his endeavors to locate the men responsible for stealing from the Montrose estate.

  Relief flooded him. A bone deep sense of rightness filled him.

  He would have his money—and Lady Lucianna.

  His troubles were coming to an end. The confidence that had filled him earlier returned.

  Chapter 9

  “What was this all for, Father?” Luci asked as she settled her skirts. The carriage dipped as the marquis entered and took the front-facing seat. “Dragging me from the house only to wait in some lord’s hallway seems peculiar.”

  Her father, ever the arrogant marquis, only stared at her before shouting to their driver to return them home. No matter her question or her rising temper, the man would not be prodded into answering any of her questions until he was ready to speak.

  It was a trait Luci long suspected she’d inherited from the marquis.

  She crossed her arms and stared out the window, prepared to wait for her father to speak. Arguing and insisting answers would get her nowhere. Maybe disinterest would lull him into a false sense of security, and he’d speak of what he planned to gain from meeting with Montrose?

  Luci kept one eye on him. He didn’t appear upset or furious, so Montrose hadn’t spoken of the Mayfair Confidential and her part in the articles. She was thankful for that much.

  Finally, her father sighed, and she turned from the carriage window to see him scrutinizing her. They were much alike, all darkness. Yet, Luci suspected her father’s darkness was far deeper than surface level.

  “You have been out of the schoolroom for nearly two years now.”

  Truly only fifteen months, but Luci kept that bit of information to herself.

  “And you are spending my coin to furnish your second Season.”

  As if the Camden coffers were in jeopardy of running dry. Besides, Luci hadn’t the time to spend any money beyond her basic wardrobe last Season before she and her friends went into mourning for Tilda. More accurately, Luci was enjoying just her third month as a debutante.

  “Have you found a suitor to your liking?” he asked.

  There it was. He wanted Luci to take a man to husband—and depart his household. The marquis would relish that. In one fell swoop, he’d have his hellion of an eldest daughter gone, and no one would stand in his way of treating his wife, Luci’s mother, any way he saw fit.

  It would be all the more satisfying when she delivered her next—and finale—blow to the marquis.

  “I do not plan to wed, at least not this Season.” After Tilda’s death, and everything Luci had learned about the other unscrupulous men of the ton, she had little hope a decent man existed—with the exception of Lord Torrington. Plus, if she were to wed and move away, who would care for her siblings? There would be no one willing to step between them and their father’s fury.

  “Then we are both lucky I have found not one but two suitors for you.” He picked a piece of lint from his sleeve as if his declaration were nothing more than him expressing his love of carnations, while Luci sat still—frozen—unable to process what he’d said. “Obviously, the Duke of Montrose is an influential, shrewd lord, who would make a great addition to the Camden lineage.”

  “You think to wed me to…Montrose?” Luci stumbled over the words.

  “What did you think our meeting was concerning?” His tone said her father thought her dim-witted.

  Luci hadn’t given the meeting much thought beyond her father requesting her accompaniment, which was anything but normal. She and Montrose would make a most disastrous pair—she’d bitten the man, for heaven’s sake.

  “He requested an audience to discuss the joining of our two families.” Camden spoke of her betrothal as if he were agreeing to discuss the purchase of a new carriage. “I cannot say I am against the match; however, I have other offers to consider.”

  That had Luci pushing back into the cushioned seat. “Other offers?” she squeaked, repulsed by the weak tone in her voice.

  “Yes. Abercorn.” He continued to gaze out the window. “Though I am uncertain if Abercorn is the man for you. Three wives and no children. What is to say you won’t marry the man and grow old, never producing an heir—his Dukedom would pass on to another relative and forever be out of Camden control.”

  A business arrangement.

  Her future had been reduced to nothing more than deciding what would gain her father more in the long run. A virile, robust lord like Montrose, who simply exuded potency and prowess. Or an aging, very wealthy duke like Abercorn, who would bring many business connections but no guarantee for a future including children who would be linked to the Camden name via their mother.

&
nbsp; Luci shouldn’t have thought any other option was open to her—unless she’d been able to stall long enough for her twenty-first birthday to arrive; however, she was two years from the date.

  Montrose or Abercorn. Was that truly any choice at all?

  “Abercorn killed Tilda…and Montrose is a known rakehell,” she hissed, gaining her father’s full scrutiny. “You would make me choose between a murderer and a philanderer? You would enjoy that greatly, wouldn’t you? Men of your own ilk, the pair of them.”

  “Lucianna!” he warned in a harsh tone. One that in her youth would have had her mouth clamping shut and her eyes averting to his feet. Not today. Not in this coach. And certainly not in matters dealing with her future. “You—and those silly, foolish women you call friends—caused quite the scene last Season. You are lucky either gentleman will have you. You are tarnished goods, to say the least.”

  She’d taken aim at her father and levied her most unforgiving insult; however, she’d said what needed to be said. If her father correlated her words with what had been printed in the London Daily Gazette, it would be a wonder.

  Leaning back, Luci crossed her arms and turned her attention to the passing London street.

  “Do not sulk, it will cause wrinkles,” he mumbled. “You will marry either Montrose or Abercorn. Whomever I see fit to select for you.”

  Luci would rather a coin be tossed into the air to seal her fate.

  “And if I will have neither?” she dared ask.

  The marquis chuckled, a light, wheezy snort. “I did not raise a chit fool enough to think she has any say in whom I chose for her marriage. Do not be dim, Lucianna, it is very unbecoming.”

  “Abercorn killed Tilda,” Luci said. Images of her lovely, bright friend lying lifeless at the bottom of Abercorn’s staircase filled her mind. “You honestly cannot expect me to overlook that damning fact, no matter how tarnished you think I am.”

  “That was a sad, unfortunate occurrence. Do not think I completely lack sympathy for the girl. However, that is in the past. I am speaking for the future of the Camden name.” His stealthy glare landed on her, almost begging her to argue further.

  “Father, I…” She sucked in a deep breath to stop from sobbing.

  “You will marry. And it will be either Abercorn or Montrose.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then I will drag you before the clergyman and see that the deed is done,” he said with utter calm and composure. He was a man used to getting exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it. That he was prepared to hand his daughter over to a murderer, only meant gaining access to business deals that were before out of his reach. “Now, put a smile upon your face. We are almost home, and you will speak of your two suitors with vigor to your siblings. You will be overjoyed to learn whom I will ultimately offer your hand to.”

  “And then you will finally be rid of me.”

  Her father sat a bit straighter, an odd grin and faraway look entering his eyes. “Yes, yes, that is another boon I have yet to fully think through, though I will find great happiness in having you out from under my roof.”

  Luci could not blink, would not allow her father to think she would go quietly into a marriage she did not agree with—or any marriage at all.

  But his stare matched hers in force. Her hurt mirrored in his determination.

  Suddenly, the footman pulled the carriage door open.

  They’d arrived at home.

  “Smile, my dear daughter,” he hissed. “I am certain you would not want to anger me into a hasty ceremony by special license.”

  Luci hated herself for giving in, but she smiled. This game was one of finely executed moves, parried by advanced defensive tactics.

  Much like fencing.

  And that was one sport she would always best her father at.

  Chapter 10

  One day.

  One full day.

  Roderick raised his hand to shield his eyes from the blazing sun. Well, it had been at least twenty-three hours.

  That was an acceptable amount of time to wait before calling on one’s intended, soon-to-be-betrothed.

  Roderick slammed his hand into his jacket pocket to stop the shaking. His other held a large bouquet of yellow blossoms—he hadn’t any notion the variety, but he felt like a coxcomb pacing before the Camden townhouse, scared to knock and face Lucianna.

  The idea of her yelling and screaming at him was not what he feared.

  No, he feared one question from her: why?

  …and that would be the first time he’d be forced to lie to the woman he’d take as his wife.

  Roderick would not tell her it was because he needed her dowry. There was no way he would be honest enough to tell her it was because he feared leaving her in Camden’s household. And neither would he start off by asking her to write a retraction to the article in the Gazette.

  Not that an apology from the Mayfair Confidential would change anything.

  Regardless, he was coming up to snuff. No matter what the marquis asked, Roderick was prepared to comply.

  It struck him as odd he’d willingly agree to any conditions Camden set forth, but Roderick was appalled at his father’s mismanagement of the Montrose estate—and he needed funds as soon as possible if he did not want his creditors to come knocking. What if his father had been working under the guise of doing what was right and honorable, but found himself waylaid in the process or even misguided by those he trusted?

  The sleeve of his jacket moistened, and belatedly, Roderick realized the bottom of the bouquet had opened, and water was saturating his cuff.

  Blast it all, but he shouldn’t have gone through the trouble of procuring flowers…hell, what if she did not favor these exact blossoms? He would look like the fool he already felt he was.

  He switched his hold to the other hand and shook his arm, water splattering the closed door in front of him, only leading to the continued leakage of moisture on his other sleeve.

  Roderick leapt off the stoop to avoid more water marring the entrance. “For the love of—“

  “May I help you, my lord?”

  The tips of his ears heated, and Roderick shuffled his feet to hide the marks on the stoop. It was as if Cook had found him with his hand in the cookie jar.

  He cleared his throat and smiled. “Good day. I am here to call on Lady Lucianna.”

  “My lady is not accepting visitors at this time.”

  As simple as that. Roderick had gone out of his way to do something special for the confounded woman, and she was not accepting visitors.

  He fought to keep his temper under control. Circumstances had changed—he now needed her. Proving a point or teaching her a lesson was no longer important.

  “I am certain if you give my name, Lady Lucianna will agree to see me.” To help with his point, he held out the flowers before him and gave them a solid shake. “I would hate to see these beautiful blossoms waste away before Lady Lucianna has time to appreciate them.”

  The butler looked from Roderick to the flowers and back again, his brow pinched in a peeved manner before he sighed and held the door wide for the duke to enter.

  “Whom may I tell her is calling?” he asked.

  “Montrose!” Lady Lucianna’s unmistakable hiss sounded from behind the servant. “How dare you—“

  “I can call a footman to throw him out, my lady,” the butler said, starting to close the door in Roderick’s face, but he was already over the threshold, and the door only knocked his hand, the flowers falling to the stoop.

  The servant’s manners presented themselves once more. “Oh, my lord, allow to me collect—“

  Roderick swatted the man away. “I can collect them without assistance.” He knelt to the floor. “But thank you, all the same.”

  “What are you doing here, Montrose?”

  Roderick cocked his head to the side to stare up. Lady Lucianna stood several feet behind the butler, her toe tapping as she pulled on her gloves.

  “Y
our father gave me permission to call on you,” Roderick replied, pushing awkwardly to his feet, the flowers once again clutched in his hand, although several blooms were either bent or missing altogether. “So, here I am.”

  “And here I go.” Lucianna tied the strap of her hat under her chin and took her handbag from a side table. “I fear I have a previous engagement.” She glanced over her shoulder and nodded. “Charlotte, come along before we are late.”

  “Lucianna!” The marquis’ thundering voice preceded his solid footsteps as he descended the stairs. “Where are you—” Camden took in Roderick at the threshold. “McMahon! Step back and allow His Grace entrance. What is wrong with you? Take the damned flowers to the housekeeper.”

  Roderick nodded to the butler, regretful for his part in angering Lord Camden. “My lord. I was in the area and thought to call on Lady Lucianna, but it seems I should have sent word ahead, asking for an audience.”

  The man looked between Lucianna, buttoning her walking cloak, and back to Roderick, his arms damp from the flowers. “Where are you going, girl? I do not remember you asking for permission to leave.”

  Lucianna’s chin lowered as if to convince everyone present of her meek nature. “I am to meet Lady Edith and Lady Ophelia at Oliver’s Book Shoppe in less than an hour.”

  “You are taking your maid with you?” Camden’s brow furrowed.

  “Of course, Father.”

  “Then I see little reason why Montrose cannot go along, as well.”

  It was the first thing the marquis had ever said that Roderick agreed with.

  Roderick smiled, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking on his heels.

  “It is settled. Now, I have work to do,” Camden nodded to Roderick and headed down the hallway with not so much as a “by your leave” for Lady Lucianna.

  “Do not look so pleased, Your Grace.” Lucianna pushed past him toward the door. “Come, Charlotte.”

  He glanced around the empty foyer—Camden had slammed a door down the hall, the butler had disappeared with the flowers, and Charlotte had followed her mistress outside.