“I arrived at the Camden townhouse to call on Lady Lucianna. Unfortunately, my manners escaped me, and I did not send word ahead, asking for an audience.” Roderick felt, rather than saw, Lucianna’s eyes on him. “And so, I offered to transport her and her maid here.”
Though if he’d known he was going to face a battle squad, Roderick may have departed the Camden townhouse alone, his flowers still in hand.
“Why were you calling on Luci?” Lady Edith pried, her eyes narrowing on him once more.
“It is a long story.” He waved away her question. “But since you have arrived, I will bid you all ado and leave Lady Lucianna in your company.”
Lucianna’s arm shot out and snagged his sleeve, mercifully dried from the earlier flower incident. She held him in place at her side. “Montrose will remain. This is not as much his issue as ours. It seems my father is entertaining an offer from Abercorn.”
“For what?” Lady Ophelia finally pushed in front of Torrington.
“For my hand in marriage.”
Both women gasped, and Torrington’s shoulders stiffened. “That cannot be true.”
“I assure you it is, my lord,” Roderick replied.
“The Duke of Montrose has graciously also made an offer for my hand.” She glanced up at him for confirmation. When he nodded, Lucianna continued. “And, so, I will accept his offer…for now. But we must find the evidence we need to see Abercorn taken in by the magistrate. Then this whole charade can be put behind us and Roder—the duke—can return to his own endeavors.”
“What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” Roderick didn’t have any other endeavors, at least not the emotional kind—or any other he was willing to share with Lucianna and her companions.
And why did he care if Lady Lucianna and her friends thought he was involved with another woman?
Three sets of rounded stares turned toward him.
The shopkeeper appeared behind Lord Torrington and the women, holding his finger to his pursed mouth, silently demanding silence.
“Oh, I find I like this man very much,” Torrington barked with laughter.
“He does seem quite useful, doesn’t he?” Lady Edith nodded in agreement.
“But he is rather imposing with his dark features and cold, blue stare,” Lady Ophelia said, inspecting him from head to toe. “However, Luci looked like a storybook heroine in his arms. I could hardly tell where her black locks ended and his onyx hair began.”
Were they seriously discussing him in front of him?
“Imposing?” Roderick could not keep up with the group’s banter. “At least I am not the size of a bison.”
All eyes turned to Torrington, not a single person mistaking whom he spoke of.
“Ah, well, I have been called much worse by a far lovelier person, Montrose. You need to do better if you think to wound my delicate sensibilities.” He tapped his finger against his cheek in thought. “I believe an ox was the comparison, though that is very much in line with a bison. Oh, and arrogant and demanding, of course. Am I forgetting anything, my love?”
The blonde, Lady Edith, giggled, lifting on her tiptoes to place a kiss on Torrington’s cheek. “I have apologized many times for calling you arrogant. I still stand behind my oxen reference, though.”
“My lords, my ladies,” the shopkeeper called, bustling down the row toward them, his own silence forgotten as his heeled boots clacked against the hardwood floor. “Please take your rambunctious assembly elsewhere, you are disturbing my patrons who are here for serious pursuits of knowledge.”
“My apologies, Oliver, we will keep our voices down and not disturb anyone.” Lucianna smiled at the shopkeeper, flashing her most angelic, innocent grin, and the man practically wilted where he stood. “If we promise, may we stay?”
Oliver eyed the group, his stare lingering on Lord Torrington a moment longer than the others before he conceded with a nod. “But keep it down, and don’t clutter the row if someone comes looking for a book. I have bills to pay, after all.”
“Of course, sir.”
“We wouldn’t dream of costing you business.”
And finally, from Torrington, “Thank you.”
“This way,” Ophelia waved toward the back of the shop and pushed through the group, making certain not to make eye contact with Roderick. “There is an alcove toward the back where we can speak privately.”
Roderick raised his brow at Lucianna, who only shrugged but followed her friends.
He hung back to allow the women to proceed him into the rear of the shop. That it allowed him a moment to take in the sway of Lucianna’s hips as she linked arms with Lady Ophelia and Lady Edith was only good timing. With their heads tilted together, the trio of women whispered as they hurried to the alcove.
What wasn’t as advantageous, was Torrington matching his slow strides, his hands clasped behind his back.
“They are a formidable group, are they not?” Torrington said in a low tone.
Roderick eyed the women, uncertain what he’d gotten himself involved in and what type of trouble awaited them. “Are they always this…aggressive?”
“Only when they have their minds set on something,” Torrington replied, nudging Roderick onward. “Not long ago, it was me. Thankfully, now, it is…well, you.”
“Me?” Roderick halted as they exited the row of books, and Torrington was able to step next to him as opposed to walking a step behind.
“Oh, make no mistake, Lady Lucianna has her sights set on you.”
The woman was confusing. One moment, she was running from him, the next she’d bitten him, and then she agreed to wed him. “Only a moment ago, she made it very clear she would only agree to a feigned betrothal.”
Torrington patted him on the shoulder and turned toward the women, who’d each taken a seat on the alcove bench as they spoke quietly. “Yes, Lady Lucianna is a bit hard to read; however, she trusts you. It took her weeks to even speak to me.”
Trust was an unfamiliar concept to him, so much more so since his father’s passing.
“I thought this was all about Abercorn and finding proof of what he did…not that I can even say with any certainty what Lady Lucianna is accusing him of.” He watched as the women’s conversation became more intense as their voices rose. Lucianna scowled, and Lady Edith slashed her hand through the air, silencing everyone.
Torrington shook his head. “I fear it took me some time to figure it all out, as well, and it wasn’t until the woman I love“—he tilted his head in Lady Edith’s direction—“disappeared, that I wised up and took this whole Abercorn thing seriously. I’m uncertain if he is guilty of what they are accusing him of; however, the man is guilty of something dastardly.”
“Do you think—“
“Triston.” Lady Edith waved them over, her brow furrowed.
“We best join them before they decide to burn Abercorn’s townhouse to the ground. Or something far worse.”
“What could be worse than setting a house ablaze?” Roderick asked, his shoulders stiffening at the thought.
“Judging from the scowl on Lady Lucianna’s face and the abject terror on Lady Ophelia’s, I think we are about to find out.” Torrington leapt into action far quicker than a man his size should be capable of and called over his shoulder, “We should hurry, before their minds are set.”
Roderick caught up to Torrington as they both entered the alcove, the space having appeared far larger until they joined the women.
“We have decided how to proceed.” The set of Lucianna’s chin and her straight posture was all confidence.
“They have decided,” Lady Ophelia interjected before her cheeks blossomed with heat, almost matching the hue of her long locks.
“There is no other option.” Lady Edith set her hand on Ophelia’s and squeezed. “Our time has run out, and we cannot risk the marquis favoring Abercorn’s pursuit of Luci over yours, Your Grace. The Duke of Abercorn is known for moving quickly to secure what he seeks. His courts
hip of Tilda only lasted a fortnight before they were properly betrothed, the banns read, and a wedding date set.”
“I still believe there is—“
“There is no other way, Ophelia,” Lucianna cut off the woman’s protest.
“Then what has been decided?” Torrington asked, lowering himself to the bench between Lady Edith and Lucianna.
Roderick ignored the spike of possessiveness that coursed through him at Torrington’s proximity to Lucianna.
“We will knock on his door and simply ask him if he pushed Tilda.” All three women nodded at Lucianna’s proclamation.
“You think it is as simple as all that?” Roderick knew little about the old duke, but outright asking him if he killed a woman did not appear to be the most sensible course of action if they sought to discover what truly happened. “Why would he tell the truth now?”
“Because we plan to expose him in our next Mayfair Confidential column if he refuses to give us answers about the night Tilda died.”
All four nodded in agreement as if writing a risqué column used to ruin men of the ton was not outlandish in any way, but completely commonplace among the group.
Chapter 12
Luci stared out the window as Montrose’s coach turned into her drive and halted before her door.
The journey home had been tense, filled to brimming with awkward silences and averted eyes. Roderick, along with Lord Torrington, had venomously discouraged the women from confronting Lord Abercorn, especially in his own home.
A footman hurried to assist Charlotte down, but Luci waved him off when he offered her his hand.
She needed to speak with Roderick—privately.
Without her maid present, without the fear of an eavesdropping shop owner or her friends close to ask questions she didn’t want to answer. In fact, it was Roderick who owed her answers.
And she would have them, even if she were forced to remain in his coach all night.
The thought sent a tingle through her as she touched her lips, no longer swollen from their kiss, yet she could still imagine the heat of his mouth against hers. Maybe all night with the intense man sitting across from her was not such a discouraging notion.
Luci shook the thought from her mind. Ever since he’d appeared at her door, flowers in hand, she sensed she’d judged him far too harshly and made assumptions inaccurately. It was a trait she despised in others, and she did not take kindly to it in herself.
“Your servant is waiting, my lady.” Roderick shifted on the seat across from her. “There is little doubt the marquis awaits you across the threshold, as well, just out of sight.”
“My father awaits no one, Your Grace.” Luci reclined on the bench, setting her hands lightly in her lap. She was not going anywhere. “If he were home and had any need of me, he would simply drag me from this carriage.”
She glanced toward the open door, and Roderick followed suit.
“See, the marquis is likely not in residence, or is ensconced in his study.”
“I suppose you are correct,” he conceded. “Your father is a formidable man. I think you take after him in that regard.”
“That is highly insulting.” Luci retorted. Never did she want to be her father—nor her mother, for that matter, but especially not her father. “The marquis is ruthless in business and merciless with his kin. He knows not the meaning of empathy or compassion. I would hope that is not the way you see me.”
Despite all her agitated bluster, he only gave her a toothy grin and chuckled. The odd smile should have added a comical air to his appearance, but it only confirmed that there was a part of him Luci was unaware of.
But if she found out, what would that mean for her determination to see all unsavory men exposed and scandalized?
“While I know my status as an honorable lord has been called into question recently, I have not fallen so far as to think it acceptable or appropriate to insinuate that a woman is lacking in any way. I assure you of that, my lady.” He sobered quickly at her narrowed glare and held up his hands, warding her off. “By formidable, I only meant undaunted by circumstance.”
Her chest tightened at his words. That could only be taken as a compliment.
“May I ask you a question?” He sat forward, her answer seeming to hold immense weight. When she nodded, he continued. “Would it be improper to ask you to accompany me on a stroll down the lane? I find myself thinking you have many questions you wish to ask, and I cannot think to remain in this heated carriage overlong. I believe a spot of fresh air would do us both a lot of good.”
Some time outside, still a private walk, but without the overwhelming urge to place her lips against his once more did sound wise.
She’d never been one to wilt into the arms of a man—especially one with a sordid past.
Admittedly, a disreputable past she had exposed…and was by the minute seeming unlikely for the man she’d come to know during their excursion to the bookshop. But how could she have misjudged him? He was at the opera with a woman who was not his betrothed. What explanation could there be for his action other than a scandalous one? Still, she had the feeling she’d been wrong about him.
“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.
The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna (The Undaunted Debutantes Book 2) Page 9
