Page 35 of The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna

Luci opened her eyes slowly, knowing once she did, whatever had been blossoming between them would need be stowed away for another time, another moment of privacy.

If and when it happened again, Luci would be ready.

Glancing down the street, she noted the Camden crest on the approaching carriage. From the quick manner in which Roderick put a respectable distance between them, he’d also recognized the coach and prepared for who would be within.

Luci turned toward the carriage and waved. There was no reason to hide—she and Roderick were doing nothing wrong. Charlotte followed them at a discreet distance, and it had been her father who’d suggested the duke accompany her for the afternoon. If anything, her father should be proud of her for coming to accept his dictates without further argument.

The conveyance slowed as it came abreast of them as they turned to return to the Camden townhouse.

“Good day, Father,” Luci called with a smile when the marquis glared out the open window. “Beautiful day, is it not?”

Her father’s scowl was all Luci needed to see to enforce that her jovial mood only irritated the man.

“Montrose,” her father greeted Roderick curtly. “I thought you would have departed hours ago.”

Why did he care if Roderick and she became better acquainted? After all, if things continued down the path her father had set, they would be formally announcing their betrothal before long.

Luci had to applaud Roderick on his skill at playacting, as he grinned at her father, ignoring his dour stare. “We returned not long ago but, as Lady Lucianna commented, the day is too marvelous to spend trapped indoors. We decided on a stroll down the lane. You are welcome to join us for the return walk, my lord.”

Luci nearly burst with laughter as her father recoiled in shock at the offer.

“Certainly not,” the marquis said, leaning back into his coach. “Home, Rogers.”

Without another glance, her father’s driver put the horses back into motion, and soon disappeared into the Camden drive, several houses down the lane.

“Your father,”—Roderick pulled her close once more and set a slow pace—“he is a peculiar man.”

“Is that another trait you will proclaim I inherited from him?” Luci let out the deep laugh she’d been holding inside. It didn’t matter that her father thought he was using her as a pawn. She would not concern herself with worries over inciting her father’s anger with her joyous mood.

No, for the next several minutes, Luci was determined to bask in the sun with the cool breeze on her face and Roderick by her side.

Tomorrow, she would fret once again about Abercorn and proving his guilt. When she sat down to her family supper table that evening, she would think over the truths Roderick had shared with her, and dwell on the secrets he still kept. As she prepared for bed that night, she would allow her own culpability in Tilda’s death to wash over her and extinguish her spark of happiness. After Roderick’s carriage had pulled away, Luci would reenter her family home to guide her siblings, protect her mother, and distract her father from his unavoidable fury.

But this moment, and the next fifty or so paces, belonged to her.

She lifted her chin to look at Roderick at her side and smiled—the most sincere grin she could remember since she’d watched her future shatter into a million tiny pieces as Tilda tumbled down those stairs.

“Your Grace,” she sighed. “Thank you.”

His brow furrowed in question, but he returned her smile. “What for?”

“For reminding me that it is acceptable to carve a moment out of life to stop—or stroll—and appreciate the warm sun, the call of the birds, and the afternoon breeze in my hair.”

Silently, she added, And the kiss of a most dashing man.

Chapter 13

“Stop fidgeting, Ophelia,” Luci scolded as they arrived at the Abercorn townhouse stoop. “We have yet to even knock on his door. He will see through our ruse if you keep that up.”

The girl was a nervous Nellie if she’d ever seen one, afraid of her own shadow, and prone to picking at the stitching of her gowns. Despite all that, Ophelia was Luci’s dearest friend since Tilda’s passing, and she loathed putting her in this predicament; however, they all needed to confront Abercorn.

Edith patted Ophelia’s shoulder. “Everything will be all right, do not worry.”

“There is no need to coddle her,” Luci hissed. “If the pair of you would have agreed to expose Abercorn in the Gazette months ago, none of us would be here right now.”

“You cannot possibly know that,” Edith snipped.

“Oh, I most certainly do know that.”