Page 25 of The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna

The idea of her yelling and screaming at him was not what he feared.

No, he feared one question from her: why?

…and that would be the first time he’d be forced to lie to the woman he’d take as his wife.

Roderick would not tell her it was because he needed her dowry. There was no way he would be honest enough to tell her it was because he feared leaving her in Camden’s household. And neither would he start off by asking her to write a retraction to the article in the Gazette.

Not that an apology from the Mayfair Confidential would change anything.

Regardless, he was coming up to snuff. No matter what the marquis asked, Roderick was prepared to comply.

It struck him as odd he’d willingly agree to any conditions Camden set forth, but Roderick was appalled at his father’s mismanagement of the Montrose estate—and he needed funds as soon as possible if he did not want his creditors to come knocking. What if his father had been working under the guise of doing what was right and honorable, but found himself waylaid in the process or even misguided by those he trusted?

The sleeve of his jacket moistened, and belatedly, Roderick realized the bottom of the bouquet had opened, and water was saturating his cuff.

Blast it all, but he shouldn’t have gone through the trouble of procuring flowers…hell, what if she did not favor these exact blossoms? He would look like the fool he already felt he was.

He switched his hold to the other hand and shook his arm, water splattering the closed door in front of him, only leading to the continued leakage of moisture on his other sleeve.

Roderick leapt off the stoop to avoid more water marring the entrance. “For the love of—“

“May I help you, my lord?”

The tips of his ears heated, and Roderick shuffled his feet to hide the marks on the stoop. It was as if Cook had found him with his hand in the cookie jar.

He cleared his throat and smiled. “Good day. I am here to call on Lady Lucianna.”

“My lady is not accepting visitors at this time.”

As simple as that. Roderick had gone out of his way to do something special for the confounded woman, and she was not accepting visitors.

He fought to keep his temper under control. Circumstances had changed—he now needed her. Proving a point or teaching her a lesson was no longer important.

“I am certain if you give my name, Lady Lucianna will agree to see me.” To help with his point, he held out the flowers before him and gave them a solid shake. “I would hate to see these beautiful blossoms waste away before Lady Lucianna has time to appreciate them.”

The butler looked from Roderick to the flowers and back again, his brow pinched in a peeved manner before he sighed and held the door wide for the duke to enter.

“Whom may I tell her is calling?” he asked.

“Montrose!” Lady Lucianna’s unmistakable hiss sounded from behind the servant. “How dare you—“

“I can call a footman to throw him out, my lady,” the butler said, starting to close the door in Roderick’s face, but he was already over the threshold, and the door only knocked his hand, the flowers falling to the stoop.

The servant’s manners presented themselves once more. “Oh, my lord, allow to me collect—“

Roderick swatted the man away. “I can collect them without assistance.” He knelt to the floor. “But thank you, all the same.”

“What are you doing here, Montrose?”

Roderick cocked his head to the side to stare up. Lady Lucianna stood several feet behind the butler, her toe tapping as she pulled on her gloves.

“Your father gave me permission to call on you,” Roderick replied, pushing awkwardly to his feet, the flowers once again clutched in his hand, although several blooms were either bent or missing altogether. “So, here I am.”

“And here I go.” Lucianna tied the strap of her hat under her chin and took her handbag from a side table. “I fear I have a previous engagement.” She glanced over her shoulder and nodded. “Charlotte, come along before we are late.”

“Lucianna!” The marquis’ thundering voice preceded his solid footsteps as he descended the stairs. “Where are you—” Camden took in Roderick at the threshold. “McMahon! Step back and allow His Grace entrance. What is wrong with you? Take the damned flowers to the housekeeper.”

Roderick nodded to the butler, regretful for his part in angering Lord Camden. “My lord. I was in the area and thought to call on Lady Lucianna, but it seems I should have sent word ahead, asking for an audience.”