Page 18 of The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna

Ophelia smiled for the first time. “But now we know it was you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Luci demanded, releasing Ophelia’s hands and returning to her seat. Her mind whirled with the possibility that someone at the ball had recognized her as she’d fled.

“At least no one suspects it was you.” Edith’s cheerful tone irked Luci.

“But Montrose!” Luci’s mind was reeling. “He will pay for embarrassing me.”

“Again, no one knows it was you.”

“I know it was me. The rakehell has some nerve.” Luci’s hands balled into fists. “Yes, he will be seeking my forgiveness when I get done with him.”

“I think it best you stay far away from the man,” Edith pleaded. “What if he speaks the truth? You could be ruined—and put the Mayfair Confidential in jeopardy.”

“All before we are able to prove Abercorn killed Tilda!”

“I can promise you, the man knows naught about our agreement with the Gazette.” If Luci’s friends noticed her words didn’t hold any conviction, they didn’t comment on it. “Now, I must ready myself. My father has requested my attendance at a meeting this afternoon. I must change my gown before he calls for me.”

Luci stood, her friends following suit.

“Just promise us you will not say or do anything hasty until we know for certain exactly what Montrose knows,” Edith said pointedly.

Shrugging, Luci embraced Edith and then Ophelia. “I promise to not act in a rash manner.”

The women said their good-byes, agreeing to meet at Oliver’s Book Shoppe the following day.

Neither Edith nor Ophelia noted Luci’s phrasing: she would not act in a rash manner. But who determined if a manner was rash or well thought through?

Chapter 7

Roderick sat, not moving, behind his neatly organized, mahogany desk; at times, forgetting to breathe. He’d remained awake all night, pondering his situation and a way out of it—or, as best he could, a way through it. His drumming fingers broke the silence that had descended upon the room sometime that morning after he’d penned the letter to the Marquis of Camden.

Not a person had disrupted him in hours.

Though that did not stop him from jumping to attention at any little noise that penetrated his study door.

He’d informed his butler no one was to cross the threshold of his study until his guest arrived.

The solution to his many problems had been easily achieved, especially after he’d reassessed what actually needed fixing.

First, his financial status. He was low on funds; therefore, could not afford to keep an investigator on retainer. This made it no simple task to track down the men who’d played his father for a fool and left the Montrose estate with barely more than enough coin to keep the servants’ salaries paid and wax for lighting. Yes, the key to rectifying this was far easier to attain than Roderick would have thought before the previous night.

His second problem would unwittingly solve his first. The hellion, Lady Lucianna. She was a woman in need of taming—and Roderick would be the man to offer for her hand. Their match—and her dowry—would not completely solve his financial woes, but it would give him ample funds for an investigator.

His chest tightened at the thought of possessing Lady Lucianna and all her fiery spirit.

No longer would it matter about the article she’d posted in the Gazette bringing scandal upon him. She had stolen his family’s good name and honor with her foolish article, but now, she would correct the problems she’d created in his life.

If Lady Lucianna’s father were as peeved by his wayward daughter as Roderick was, the man would willingly agree to the match. The betrothal agreement would be drafted with all due haste. The banns read as quickly as was allowed. Before long, both Lucianna and her dowry—a sizeable amount no doubt, if the Marquis of Camden’s legendary eye for business deals and cutthroat ventures were to be believed—would belong to him.

The marquis would be gaining a duke for a son-in-law and have Lucianna taken off his hands.

And Roderick would insist that she reform her hellion ways or retire to the country.

Simple.

Now, he need only wait for Camden to arrive.

He glanced at the clock—nearly two in the afternoon. It wouldn’t be long now.