Page 26 of The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna

The man looked between Lucianna, buttoning her walking cloak, and back to Roderick, his arms damp from the flowers. “Where are you going, girl? I do not remember you asking for permission to leave.”

Lucianna’s chin lowered as if to convince everyone present of her meek nature. “I am to meet Lady Edith and Lady Ophelia at Oliver’s Book Shoppe in less than an hour.”

“You are taking your maid with you?” Camden’s brow furrowed.

“Of course, Father.”

“Then I see little reason why Montrose cannot go along, as well.”

It was the first thing the marquis had ever said that Roderick agreed with.

Roderick smiled, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking on his heels.

“It is settled. Now, I have work to do,” Camden nodded to Roderick and headed down the hallway with not so much as a “by your leave” for Lady Lucianna.

“Do not look so pleased, Your Grace.” Lucianna pushed past him toward the door. “Come, Charlotte.”

He glanced around the empty foyer—Camden had slammed a door down the hall, the butler had disappeared with the flowers, and Charlotte had followed her mistress outside.

Pulling the door closed, he followed the women to the drive. “We can take my carriage,” he called, hurrying to catch up and assist the women, his driver caught off guard.

Lucianna halted, assessing his coach. “I think Charlotte and I would be far more comfortable in the Camden coach.”

“Do not be stubborn, my lady,” Roderick sighed, as the triumph of being included in her outing evaporated at her sour expression. “My coach and driver are ready and at your service.”

She glanced at the conveyance, and Roderick expected her to turn down the offer; however, she surprised him by nodding and holding out her hand for assistance. Charlotte followed suit, and he entered the carriage last, galled to find the pair on the forward-facing seat. Roderick clamped his mouth shut, his teeth grinding, but he would not comment on the rudeness.

“Where to, Your Grace?” his driver called.

“Oliver’s Book Shoppe off Bond Street.”

At Lucianna’s raised brow, he continued, “Do you think me so uncivilized that I am unfamiliar with local bookshops?”

“Humpf.” Lucianna jerked her handbag onto her lap and busied herself flapping her fan.

Her maid had the good sense to stare out the window and act as if she were not present.

* * *

They departed the carriage in much the same manner as they’d entered, with Lucianna hesitantly allowing him to assist her.

He then tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and pulled her close before whispering, “Do not bite again or you will fast learn I bite back.”

Lucianna made to pull away, but he laughed and held her firmly in place. The woman needs must learn that while he was an understanding man, he would not put up with her hoyden tendencies.

Charlotte trailed them into the shop, a bell chiming overhead as they entered.

“Do wait for us here,” Lucianna called over her shoulder as they walked farther into the bookstore.

The smell of worn leather and old ink surrounded Roderick, and he remembered his childhood spent in his grandfather’s library. Shelves lined the room from floor to ceiling, each cluttered with books of every size. The hiss of conversation drifted on the air, and he noticed the shopkeeper and an older gentleman deep in discussion by the register. It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself the opportunity to wander rows of books, searching for adventure in written form.

“Are you looking for anything in particular, my lady,” he asked as they meandered down a deserted aisle, putting distance between them and her maid. He noted the hair on the back of her neck prickle, exactly as he’d intended when he leaned in close with his last words. “I am here to assist you in any way.”

“Do stop doing that,” she hissed. “We are not in your private coach nor a secluded garden.”

“But, nonetheless, alone.” Roderick peered down the aisle and then back the way they’d come. “There is no one to see—or hear us.”

Lucianna pulled from his grasp and turned her pointed stare on him. “That is very advantageous because I find I have much to say to you.” Her glare traveled down his form and back to his face. “You are a scoundrel, a man in the habit of taking advantage of women when they are out of options. And I, Your Grace, will not abide by any of it.”