Page 43 of The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna

“Lord Camden,” Roderick cut in, giving Lucianna a reassuring smile. “Lady Lucianna has a right to be here. This is her future we are discussing. Do you not believe she should be heard?”

Camden lifted his palm loosely as if to say it mattered naught to him before he turned away and took one of the seats before Abercorn’s desk, leaving only one chair open. “Sit, Montrose.”

Roderick led Lucianna farther into the room and pulled the chair out for her to sit as he stood behind her.

It was as much to show Lucianna the respect due her—that these two men ignored—as it was to keep Camden off guard during the coming negotiation.

“I see no reason for Lady Lucianna and Montrose to be present.” Abercorn tapped a stack of papers on the desk surface before him. “The agreement has been drawn up, reviewed, and only needs your signature, my lord.”

“While I partly agree with you, Francis,” Camden spoke slowly, “I do not agree the present agreement is acceptable.”

“But that is not what you said before Lady Lucianna and her friends arrived.”

“That was before I was aware of the seriousness of Montrose’s pursuit of my daughter.” Camden sat back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap as if greatly satisfied by the change in circumstances. “Two men, dukes no less, seeking Lucianna’s hand in marriage? I think it best I retire and allow you both to meet with your men of business to submit new agreements if your goal is to call my daughter wife.”

Roderick snorted.

The man actually expected a bidding war to ensue for Lady Lucianna’s hand. Roderick did not disagree that she was worth the effort on both his and Abercorn’s parts if they wanted to pursue her. However, she was being treated like cattle whose highly valued lineage and sires demanded men offer all they had to own her. These men, Abercorn and her father, seemed not to realize the priceless value of his midnight English rose—but he knew all too well.

No one would ever own Lucianna.

Not even Roderick.

Chapter 16

What of my heart? Lucianna wanted to scream as Charlotte led her to her bedchambers. The maid kept up with a litany of mumbled nonsense, “There there,” “Get some rest,” “Allow the men to handle things,” and the most infuriating, “Your father will choose wisely.”

Luci didn’t remember bidding Roderick farewell nor entering her father’s coach.

A servant steered her clear of Lord Torrington’s family townhouse and made certain she was settled before the conveyance took off toward Mayfair.

Now, she sat at her dressing table as Charlotte brushed out her hair as if Luci were preparing for bed. It was only late afternoon. A time when fashionable men and women were strolling in the park or shopping on Bond Street, not being carted away by the powers that be—namely, her father—without so much as a fight.

She was a beautiful, fragile bird in a cage made for two—her mother and her.

Luci snorted. She’d truly thought to escape it all, carve her own way in life, never being reduced to that of a captive. The many times she’d underestimated her father had finally caught up with her. The overwhelming pain in her chest told Luci her determination had waned to desperation. And, finally, hopelessness.

She looked around her childish room with its frilly, lilac bedding and matching pillows. The window drapes were several shades darker, more of a violet. The hues should clash, throwing the room into disarray, as a pure lilac color was no match for an overpowering dark violet. However, her mother had insisted that every piece of furniture in the room be white—pure, untouched, and innocent.

Had Lady Camden tried to reclaim her own innocence as she’d designed this room when Lucianna was in short skirts and pinafores?

If it had been Lucianna’s choice—and nothing thus far in her life had been—she would have decorated the room in dark burgundy with blue accents, and the occasional gold trimming. The room would evoke a need to bow to the power held by its occupant.

However, the castle did not make the king.

It went much deeper than that. It was a sense of rightness everyone around the sovereign felt with such a man in power. The security of knowing that the correct person could be trusted to make a well-thought-out and conscious decision that would benefit all.

No matter how hard she attempted to take control of the situation with Abercorn, her friends questioned her. No matter how many times she’d declared she would not wed that murdering lord, Luci felt her voice blowing on the breeze, heard by no one.

Not no one, precisely. Roderick was aware of her wants and needs.

He was conscious of the fact that Luci would rather run to the wilds of Scotland than be joined in matrimony with Abercorn.

Did he suspect she had no such aversion to him as her husband?

Secrets and all, Lucianna still cared deeply for him. Even now after such a short time. It was his wounds, the ones he’d shared with her on their walk, and the many he still kept inside that drew her to him. However, long after the mystery of him vanished, she would want Roderick still.

A tap at the door had Charlotte setting down her brush and hurrying over to open the portal.