Page 42 of The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna

This was her life—her future—and she would not see her fate decided by her vengeful father or Abercorn and his delusional, self-absorbed tendencies. Neither man was the least bit concerned with her well-being or happiness.

“Slow down, Lucianna, or you will stumble and injure yourself.” Roderick grabbed her arms to halt her, but did not hold her so tightly she could not pull away. She adored that about him—he wanted her to listen to him, yet he would not force his ideas, concerns, or opinions on her.

Roderick did care about her happiness.

Of that, she was certain.

He might even willingly sacrifice his future to make certain Abercorn never touched her.

What kind of woman would Luci be if she allowed him to throw away his life to make certain she wasn’t forced into a marriage not of her choosing?

He stared down at her, imploring her to stop and listen, but Luci couldn’t do that. If he spoke, gave her all the many reasons he should go through with their betrothal, Luci might be convinced to allow him to sacrifice himself. Hell, after their walk yesterday, she’d even led herself to believe he actually cared for her beyond the retribution he sought for Luci’s hand in ruining him.

For those many minutes, Luci envisioned a future wrapped in his arms, always safe and protected. She dreamt of a home all their own—and children with their midnight hair. A girl with her father’s intense blue eyes, and a baby boy with Luci’s moss-green irises.

Both were tanned beyond what was proper because Roderick insisted they spend a great deal of time outdoors, picnicking in the park or hiking the trails along the Thames.

It was foolish and self-serving to even think about the possibilities and future to be had as the Duchess of Montrose.

“I will come with you to meet with my father and Abercorn.” Every muscle in her body tightened, but Luci refused to allow her calm demeanor to slip. “I think my father will listen if I am present.”

* * *

Roderick stared into Lucianna’s deep green eyes—taking in the desperation and hurt that lingered just below the surface of her calm exterior. He had no right to demand she depart with her friends, nor ask her to wait outside the study.

The marquis and Abercorn were, even now, discussing Lucianna’s future. Something her father may legally have control over, but not if he sought to hand her off to an unsavory, despicable lord. No woman should be lowered to play the pawn between gentlemen.

Roderick’s honor as a nobleman would not allow such a thing.

Luci was everything any English gentleman should long for in someone they called wife, though not because of increased social status, or wealth, or even because of her exquisitely dark beauty. She had a wit superior to most men, the smarts to know her own worth, and the cunning to make her own way if her father’s chosen path did not suit her.

“We will confront your father and Abercorn together,” Roderick compromised. It was Lucianna’s decision in the end. “But if you feel the need to depart at any time, we will leave together, as well.”

When she nodded, a lock of hair came loose from her pins and hung down along her cheek to caress the top of her shoulder. For not the first time, Roderick longed to run his hands through her unbound hair and bring the long tresses to his nose. They must certainly smell of lavender or vanilla.

There would be time for that. Bloody hell, but Roderick would make certain there was plenty of time together in their future. Their brief walk hadn’t been enough. His chaste kiss to her forehead was not nearly sufficient to extinguish his desire for her. Not even a fortnight wrapped in her embrace, staring into her deep, complex, green eyes, with unlimited hours talking about their pasts, the present, or the future they envisioned for themselves would satisfy him.

She grasped his arm, notched her chin high, and squared her shoulders, signaling that she was prepared to face her father.

Roderick wished he felt even a small measure of the confidence she displayed as they walked the several paces across the foyer and entered Abercorn’s study.

Even together, they were on uneven ground—the advantage going to Abercorn.

Roderick pledged silently to take that benefit from the other duke.

Entering the room, Lucianna pulled close to his side, Roderick realized he’d held the upper hand the entire time. Abercorn may have his title, his wealth, and his many business ventures, but Roderick had Lucianna.

On his arm, at that moment. And if he had his way, every day hereafter.

Roderick had successfully broken through the tough exterior Lucianna had built up to keep her heart safe from both her father and others who meant her harm.

The way she held his arm tightly, her fingers squeezing through his sleeve, told him she’d allowed Roderick in, expecting him to reinforce any weak spot in her defenses. And bloody hell, he was loath to disappoint her.

“Camden.” Roderick nodded before turning to Abercorn, who scurried behind his desk, a place of perceived safety, no doubt. “Abercorn.”

“Lucianna,” Camden said, his narrowed glare settling on her. “You will depart immediately and await me at home.”

Lucianna stiffened. “I will—“