Page 23 of The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna

He should feel a measure of relief to know that a formal betrothal between him and Lucianna was almost guaranteed, which meant his coffers would be full once more—or at least, back to a more agreeable amount—and he could resume his endeavors to locate the men responsible for stealing from the Montrose estate.

Relief flooded him. A bone deep sense of rightness filled him.

He would have his money—and Lady Lucianna.

His troubles were coming to an end. The confidence that had filled him earlier returned.

Chapter 9

“What was this all for, Father?” Luci asked as she settled her skirts. The carriage dipped as the marquis entered and took the front-facing seat. “Dragging me from the house only to wait in some lord’s hallway seems peculiar.”

Her father, ever the arrogant marquis, only stared at her before shouting to their driver to return them home. No matter her question or her rising temper, the man would not be prodded into answering any of her questions until he was ready to speak.

It was a trait Luci long suspected she’d inherited from the marquis.

She crossed her arms and stared out the window, prepared to wait for her father to speak. Arguing and insisting answers would get her nowhere. Maybe disinterest would lull him into a false sense of security, and he’d speak of what he planned to gain from meeting with Montrose?

Luci kept one eye on him. He didn’t appear upset or furious, so Montrose hadn’t spoken of the Mayfair Confidential and her part in the articles. She was thankful for that much.

Finally, her father sighed, and she turned from the carriage window to see him scrutinizing her. They were much alike, all darkness. Yet, Luci suspected her father’s darkness was far deeper than surface level.

“You have been out of the schoolroom for nearly two years now.”

Truly only fifteen months, but Luci kept that bit of information to herself.

“And you are spending my coin to furnish your second Season.”

As if the Camden coffers were in jeopardy of running dry. Besides, Luci hadn’t the time to spend any money beyond her basic wardrobe last Season before she and her friends went into mourning for Tilda. More accurately, Luci was enjoying just her third month as a debutante.

“Have you found a suitor to your liking?” he asked.

There it was. He wanted Luci to take a man to husband—and depart his household. The marquis would relish that. In one fell swoop, he’d have his hellion of an eldest daughter gone, and no one would stand in his way of treating his wife, Luci’s mother, any way he saw fit.

It would be all the more satisfying when she delivered her next—and finale—blow to the marquis.

“I do not plan to wed, at least not this Season.” After Tilda’s death, and everything Luci had learned about the other unscrupulous men of the ton, she had little hope a decent man existed—with the exception of Lord Torrington. Plus, if she were to wed and move away, who would care for her siblings? There would be no one willing to step between them and their father’s fury.

“Then we are both lucky I have found not one but two suitors for you.” He picked a piece of lint from his sleeve as if his declaration were nothing more than him expressing his love of carnations, while Luci sat still—frozen—unable to process what he’d said. “Obviously, the Duke of Montrose is an influential, shrewd lord, who would make a great addition to the Camden lineage.”

“You think to wed me to…Montrose?” Luci stumbled over the words.

“What did you think our meeting was concerning?” His tone said her father thought her dim-witted.

Luci hadn’t given the meeting much thought beyond her father requesting her accompaniment, which was anything but normal. She and Montrose would make a most disastrous pair—she’d bitten the man, for heaven’s sake.

“He requested an audience to discuss the joining of our two families.” Camden spoke of her betrothal as if he were agreeing to discuss the purchase of a new carriage. “I cannot say I am against the match; however, I have other offers to consider.”

That had Luci pushing back into the cushioned seat. “Other offers?” she squeaked, repulsed by the weak tone in her voice.

“Yes. Abercorn.” He continued to gaze out the window. “Though I am uncertain if Abercorn is the man for you. Three wives and no children. What is to say you won’t marry the man and grow old, never producing an heir—his Dukedom would pass on to another relative and forever be out of Camden control.”

A business arrangement.

Her future had been reduced to nothing more than deciding what would gain her father more in the long run. A virile, robust lord like Montrose, who simply exuded potency and prowess. Or an aging, very wealthy duke like Abercorn, who would bring many business connections but no guarantee for a future including children who would be linked to the Camden name via their mother.

Luci shouldn’t have thought any other option was open to her—unless she’d been able to stall long enough for her twenty-first birthday to arrive; however, she was two years from the date.

Montrose or Abercorn. Was that truly any choice at all?