Page 19 of The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna

Either the man showed, or he didn’t, and Roderick was back to square one with solving his financial woes. However, if Camden came, all Roderick’s dilemmas could be eradicated by mealtime.

He tilted his chin up and brought his arms up, interlocking his fingers behind his neck to support the weight of his head. All the while, his muscles relaxed, and he breathed easier, certain Camden would come.

He smiled. He hadn’t been filled with an ounce of hope since he left the widow Cavendish the night before the scandal had hit. She’d agreed to meet with him several nights later and hand over the ledger of names, accounts, and bank locations for each gentleman involved in the damning ring of hells. Those lords had convinced his feeble-minded, gambling-and-drink-addicted father to hand over all of his family’s fortune to invest in a new gaming hell in the Rookeries.

Roderick’s grin faded at the memory. His father, the late sixth Duke of Montrose, had thought to settle his own gaming debts and invest in a business venture that would benefit his son—and his son’s sons—for years to come.

He’d been utterly and unceremoniously swindled.

By men he’d likely considered his friends.

Men Roderick had never met nor knew anything of.

It was the main reason Roderick kept to himself. That, and he had no idea who was involved in the charade that now had him offering to wed a woman who he had little in common with, had only seen on two occasions, and who angered him to no end.

Lady Lucianna had thought herself cunning, no doubt. Luring him into the darkened gardens only to assault him and flee.

Little did the woman know Roderick was becoming quite adept at finding people and locating the information he sought. He was not his father, and would not be trifled with, especially by a mere slip of a lady.

Plus, he most likely would have already caught the men responsible for stealing his family’s money if it hadn’t been for Lucianna sticking her nose in his affairs. Or if finding the men were impossible, then he would have wed and used Lady Daphne’s dowry to continue his quest for justice.

He massaged the ache in his neck. Maybe he should have sought his bed—or at least a warm bath and a change of clothes—after sending the missive to the Marquis of Camden. Roderick glanced to his liquor-stocked sideboard, longing for a tumbler to fortify his resolve; however, he needed to keep his wits about him if he were to best the marquis during the betrothal negotiations. His confidence was overly high his guest would not turn down the proposal.

A knock echoed from the foyer, and his grin returned.

Footsteps hurriedly moved to open the front door, and his butler welcomed Roderick’s guest before the pair started in the direction of Roderick’s study.

His butler’s usual shuffle could be heard, followed by the solid, confident steps of Camden—and another, much lighter step. Had Camden brought his wife?

It hadn’t occurred to Roderick that Camden would include anyone else. The match made sense on paper: the daughter of a marquis to wed a duke. Roderick’s grin faded once more, and his jovial mood soured at the notion of convincing Lady Camden of his affection for Lady Lucianna.

* * *

Lucianna glanced around at the gaudy, almost abhorrent foyer as the butler ushered them in. A large monstrosity of a chandelier hung overhead, dripping with dozens of candles. The floor shone as if it were waxed only an hour before. The table at her side was free of dust, and its vase filled with fresh, blue blossoms.

“His Grace is expecting you, my lord.” The butler closed the door behind them, and a footman hurried forward to accept their coats. “Right this way.”

Following her father, Luci moved deeper into the house. She had no idea whose townhouse it was nor why they were there. Hanover Square was an area even more prestigious than Mayfair, the houses far grander with sprawling lawns and extravagant gardens and stable houses. This property seemed a bit less cared for than others on the street, but nonetheless, its station was much loftier than her family home.

“Father?” She set her hand on his sleeve. “Who lives here?”

“You will find out soon enough, child,” he snipped back, halting to take in her emerald gown, neatly pinned hair, and white gloves. “You should be thankful I have brought you along on such a momentous occasion.” His brow furrowed. “As your father, I have every right to handle your future in any way I see fit.”

Her future? She was only attending her first Season after the tragedy of her friend’s death had cut her previous London Season short. As yet, no gentleman had shown any overt interest in her. Not that she planned to wed anytime soon. An honorable man was nearly impossible to find in a sea of scoundrels, rakehells, and rascals. Men drank too much, gambled exceedingly, favored women of the night, or lived day by day, hoping to keep out of debtor’s prison.

Luci had no intention of being forever tied to an unsavory man.

With no suitors to speak of, she could only assume her father meant to sell her to the highest bidder—wealth, and stature—as a business deal.

Not uncommon and certainly not something she’d think was above her father’s ilk. The Marquis of Camden was known for his vicious business dealings and cutthroat practices during venture negotiations. Luci owed him a bit of gratitude as he’d settled large dowries on both her and Candace. Though all that did was bring forth fortune hunters and men who would not give a whit about her once he held her money.

Every speck of common sense within screamed for her to beg her father to reconsider whatever matter had brought them to this house, plead with him to depart and never return.

Luci was helpless, a feeling she’d felt on one other occasion, a time she wished she’d tried harder to convince her friends and the magistrate that there was a villain in their midsts, not a grieving bridegroom. Very similar to the day Tilda had been pushed to her death, Luci was walking into a situation out of her control.

“Do not tarry, Lucianna.” Her father glanced over his shoulder at her. “When a meeting time is set, it is highly improper to be late, especially with the significance of today.”

The man’s foul demeanor from that morning had vanished, replaced by a man who knew his worth and position. Confidence and arrogance dripped from his every word. The set of his shoulders was one of haughtiness. His easy manner told Lucianna that whatever awaited them in this home, her father was certain he held the upper hand.