Page 1 of The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna

Prologue

Devonshire, England

December 1813

Lady Lucianna Constantine sat beside her dearest friend, Lady Tilda Abercorn, formally Miss Tilda Guthton—at least before her morning wedding to Lord Abercorn, a duke. Luci wanted to be happy for Tilda; she longed to feel an ounce of the joy and merriment evident in her other friends—Lady Edith and Lady Ophelia—but she simply could not find the emotion within her. So, for the moment, she settled a less than genuine smile on her face and prepared to send Tilda off for her first glimpse of what a marriage bed held.

If Tilda’s shoulders appeared a bit too stiff or her posture a bit too straight, none of her friends mentioned it.

“I truly must return to my chambers before His Grace suspects I have slipped out…before our marriage was so much as consummated.” Tilda leapt to her feet from the lounge.

When Lady Ophelia giggled, Lucianna joined in. The sound far lighter than her normally husky chuckle. It should be Luci preparing for her wedding night, not Tilda, the mere daughter of a baronet. As the daughter of the Marquis of Camden, Luci had always thought she would make a match long before Tilda. Or even Edith and Ophelia. It irked her to see her friend find a match before her father had even so much as mentioned any possible suitors for her.

Not that Luci would ever consider taking Abercorn, a man old enough to be her father, as husband; however, she’d always imagined she would be the first one to share all the delectable secrets found behind a closed bedchamber door.

The tall clock nestled between the bay windows had chimed midnight at least five minutes earlier.

“You will tell us everything on the morrow? At breakfast and not a moment later. I truly must know if everything is as I’ve been told.” Luci suggestively raised one brow, wrapping Tilda in a tight embrace before withdrawing and taking in her appearance from head to stocking-covered toes. “You look breathtakingly innocent.”

And utterly terrified.

Quite possibly ready to expire from her nervousness.

The other women liked to think Tilda possessed a backbone of fortified whalebone, but Luci knew differently. They’d been bosom friends since they could barely toddle about in their families’ townhouses in Mayfair.

It was Edith’s turn to console Tilda. “You are beautiful. You are smart. And today was a perfect way to start your married life. I only hope Ophelia, Luci, and I are blessed with such generous husbands.”

Generous husbands? Tilda’s spouse would be lucky to see another five years upon this earth. Luci hoped the man didn’t pass to the hereafter, leaving his widow to care for an unruly horde of children—or worse yet, no offspring, and needing to find a new home when Abercorn’s closest relative and heir came to claim his due.

“Thank you, Edith. You have always been a great friend.” Tilda found compassion in Edith’s arms, melting into the blond-haired English rose’s hug. It was an emotion Luci struggled to offer—empathy for others.

She’d been taught from a young age that one fought for what they wanted. If they did not get what they desired, then it was because they hadn’t wanted it badly enough. Or so her father, Lord Camden, had drilled into his four children’s heads since they were knee-high.

Tilda pulled back, her smile wobbling. “I must hurry. It will not do for my husband to arrive in my room to find that I have fled.”

Luci slipped her arms through Tilda’s, while Ophelia retrieved her book and followed a few paces behind them. Luci knew Ophelia was there because the girl, no matter how many times she’d been scolded, did not see the need to lift her feet high enough to avoid shuffling.

“I will extinguish the candles,” Edith called.

“Always the responsible one,” Luci said over her shoulder with a smirk. The only thing that irritated her more than Ophelia’s sluggish footsteps was Edith’s sensible demeanor.

Luci pulled Tilda close as they walked toward the main staircase. “Now, Tilly, when I said I want to hear every word, I meant every detail!” she cooed. “Since you insisted on wedding first and rushing the ceremony before your first Season was even half over, you owe us.”

Tilda’s feet slowed, and the stare she turned on Luci was laced with concern…and doubt. “You know as well as I this match was my father’s doing, not my own. I would have gladly waited until the end of the Season to announce my betrothal.”

She placed a quick kiss on Tilda’s cheek. “I know, I know. My father would have done the same had Abercorn shown an interest in me.” Luci gently turned Tilda toward the stairs and swatted her bum. “Now, get up there and greet your new husband properly.”

“Luci!” Tilda hissed. “I must admit, I have no notion what you mean by that.”

It did not irk her at all that Abercorn favored demure, reserved, soft brunette beauties over Luci’s tall, slender frame and midnight-black hair falling all the way down her backside. No, Luci had no doubt she’d claim a dashingly handsome, witty lord as her husband. She could already picture the envious stares from other eligible men—and unattached ladies. Maybe a prince…

Tilda started up the stairs, hesitant at first, but Luci gave her a wink when Tilly glanced down at her, which gave the woman the confidence to dash up toward the final landing.

A shadow stepped into view at the top of the staircase, a hand grasping Tilda’s arm.

Luci moved to better see who had stopped her friend. All the other guests had been in their chambers abed for several hours. Not even a servant had been seen since a footman had stoked the hearth over two hours before.

“No, I swear to it. I did not…” Tilda’s whine sounded from atop of the stairs, a firm shake from her companion muting the remainder of Luci’s friend’s words.