Page 10 of The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna

Chapter 4

The night was purely magical. Everything that Edith and Triston—Lord Torrington—deserved in their betrothal ball. The ton had turned out in droves, not an invite turned down as they all clamored to the Earl of Shaftesbury’s Mayfair townhouse to gain a look at the new couple. Their love story, or at least what society had been told, started when Lord Torrington had dashingly rescued Edith, Luci, and Ophelia from a carriage accident outside of London.

Thankfully, no one had inquired as to why the ladies had ventured into the English countryside unchaperoned, or how their parents had not discovered they’d been missing an entire day, which was advantageous for the trio because there had been no carriage accident. However, Lord Torrington had rescued Edith from the clutches of his evil stepmother, who’d kidnapped her from the London streets and whisked her off to the seaside cliffs of Southend.

All had been set to rights since her rescue the month before, and now, Luci adored Torrington as much as Edith and Ophelia did. He was a man above all men, and one not tarnished by scandalous misdeeds—all too common in Englishmen.

He was perfect for Lady Edith.

“It is allowed for one to be envious of a friend so long as it does not cross the line to jealousy,” Luci recited quietly as she watched Edith, held securely to Triston’s side as they greeted guests and walked the perimeter of the ballroom.

Everything was perfect.

As Luci knew the couple’s future would be.

“I am surprised you are not dancing this set,” Ophelia said, handing Luci a flute of champagne as she turned to examine their dear friend and her betrothed greeting yet another couple who’d joined the ball.

Luci stifled another yawn. “I am exhausted. After staying up all night to deliver and make certain the column was posted, and then my morning at Bentley’s, followed by helping Edith prepare for this grand soirée, I am falling asleep on my feet.”

Ophelia fanned her face and took a sip from her champagne. “Mayhap, if you’d listened to me and not been in such an uproar over your father’s actions and your need to harm him, you would have gotten at least a bit of sleep last night.”

“And we both know how I excel at taking orders from others.” Luci glanced at Ophelia out of the corner of her eye. The woman with her auburn hair, fair skin, and pale blue eyes was as exotic as Luci was, but in a wholly different and more innocent manner. Luci was all dark with her long, black hair, startlingly green, catlike eyes, and height as tall as most men. Ophelia was pure light—if she would ever come out of her shell and allow herself to shine.

“Oh, look!” the woman exclaimed, pulling Luci’s attention back to the crowded room in time to see her father depart the card room with none other than Lord Abercorn. “What is your father doing with that vile man?”

“A better question is: why was Abercorn issued an invitation at all?” Luci seethed.

“Come now, Luci,” Ophelia chastised. “Abercorn is Lord Torrington’s neighbor. And no one would want to offend the man, lest he spread rumors about what truly happened when Edith was taken. And, as far as Edith is concerned, she thinks it best to keep her friends close and our enemies closer.”

“Very true.” Luci narrowed her gaze on the men, wishing her look would set the pair ablaze. While her father hadn’t killed anyone—that she knew of—the Marquis of Camden and the Duke of Abercorn were identical in many ways. “When he drops his guard, we need be close and ready to expose him. The man will not get away with Tilda’s death, I assure you of that. He should have been hauled off by the magistrate the very night it occurred.”

“You know I agree with you, but there just was not enough proof that he pushed her, Luci.” Ophelia snapped her fan shut and turned her stare back to Edith and Lord Torrington, who were now moving in their direction.

Ophelia could refuse to discuss the topic all she desired, but Luci knew full well what she’d seen. Abercorn and Tilda had argued, he’d shaken her, and then Tilly was plummeting to the ground floor at Luci’s feet. How Abercorn had changed from his red dressing robe back to his formal attire, Luci wasn’t certain, but she knew he had been the one to kill Tilda.

If only her two friends had spoken up that night, aligned with Luci and pointed the finger at Abercorn, none of this would be happening now. Then again, the Mayfair Confidential column would not exist, Edith would not have met Torrington, and Luci would not have had to run from her fencing club after learning the name of her opponent that morning.

So many things would be different. Maybe the trio of them would have completed their first Season and found loving, honorable husbands, instead of observing the appropriate mourning period for Tilda.

Unfortunately, none of them would know how things could have turned out.

“You are scowling, Luci,” Ophelia hissed, nudging her elbow into Luci’s hip. “And people are starting to notice.”

“Let them stare. The girl who cried wolf,” Luci mimicked the name she’d heard society call her behind her back; however, she attempted at least a look of passivity as opposed to an outright frown. “I will not be happy until Abercorn has been punished.”

“Be that as it may, tonight is not that night.” Ophelia drained her glass before continuing. “Tonight is about celebrating Edith and Lord Torrington and their upcoming nuptials. Do you think you can find an agreeable demeanor for at least another couple of hours?”

“For Edith, I can.” But that did not mean she could stop the fury she felt over her father and Abercorn from heating her insides.

“Very good. Now, look, a new guest is arriving.” Ophelia stood on tiptoes as the butler announced the new guest. “I do hope it is Lady Prudence and Lady Chastity. They are great fun.”

Lord Torrington’s younger sisters were acceptable as debutantes went. They weren’t vain or featherbrained, which were things Luci could not tolerate in a friend. However, Luci hadn’t taken the time to truly get to know the women. It would behoove her to try. After Edith’s wedding, the pair was likely to be underfoot a lot.

“…the Duke of Montrose.”

Luci’s eyes snapped to the ballroom entrance as Montrose took the first step into the room.

Her heart stopped for what seemed like several long moments as he searched the crowd. He was looking for someone—and it was highly likely it was she.