Page 44 of The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna

The housekeeper swept into the room with a full tea service, but the wooden slab did not close.

Luci tilted, narrowing her eyes on the darkened hallway beyond, as Charlotte prepared her normal cup of tea: Earl Grey, cream, and one lump of sugar with extra-hot water.

When not a sound came from the hallway except for the receding footsteps of their housekeeper, Luci focused on her beverage, which Charlotte held out to her before resuming her chore.

Lucianna closed her eyes as the brush moved through her long locks with nary a knot or tangle. It was much as she longed for her life to be: predictable, even in course, with only the occasional concern. She didn’t want a life plagued with arguments, doubts, hardships, and, worst of all, regrets.

It was the main reason she pushed so hard to prove Abercorn’s guilt. Until that day came, she would be weighed down by regrets, held down by daily reminders that she’d failed her friend not only in life but also in death.

“Lucianna?” a quiet voice called from behind her. A tone that never failed to soothe her when she doubted herself or was sad or even overjoyed. Today, it infused the finality of things. “May I come in?”

“Of course, Mother.” Luci opened her eyes to see the marchioness take the brush from her maid and nod for Charlotte to depart. With a sigh, the older woman took over the lady’s maid’s chore, brushing Luci’s thick, onyx hair from scalp to tip as she had when Luci was younger before it was deemed improper for a woman to spend so much time with her children as companions.

For the span of a heartbeat, she thought to unburden the weight on her shoulders; throw herself at her mother’s feet and beg she do something to right the situation.

However, her weak smile of greeting died on her lips.

Lady Camden never made eye contact with her eldest child but preferred to keep her stare on the brush in her hand. The action was all too unfamiliar for Luci. Even at meals, with all her children gathered, the marchioness did not speak to anyone beyond a comment on the weather or a question about the schoolroom. She’d given up her role as matriarch of the family many years ago, around the time her magnificent black hair had turned grey, seemingly overnight, and her deep green eyes had dulled, any spirit they’d once held vanishing with her last strands of self-respect.

She was a woman born into a world that afforded her no decisions beyond those allowed by her father—and later, her husband. Certainly, she was charged with planning the meals for the household, securing the proper clothing for the children, making sure they attended their studies and prepared for University. Beyond that, Luci knew the marchioness lived a solitary life; cut off from her family years prior with no friends to speak of now beyond her four children. And even they had become silent observers to their mother’s pain.

All while the man she’d pledge to love and service was serving other women.

That was a fate worse than death for Luci.

No matter the fury inside her, Luci was incapable of changing the course of Lord and Lady Camden’s marriage; however, she could never resent her mother for the life she’d chosen. Lady Camden’s four children were well taken care of, educated, and would make fine matches—even if Luci’s match was to a man over double her years.

“Mama,” Luci sighed, her eyes drifting closed once more, desperately needing to be a child again, to go back to before her mother was broken—or maybe it was just before her children noticed how injured and beaten down she was.

“Yes, my fox.” Her mother set the brush aside and stared into the dressing table mirror as Luci’s eyes fluttered open.

Smiling, Luci said, “You haven’t called me that in years.”

“I haven’t felt the need to remind you of your wit, your cunning, and your intelligence for some time.” Her mother sighed, and she appeared far older, if not wiser, than her thirty-seven years. “You are able to see through deception and take swift action to change any situation. You are very brave, my fox.”

“This may be beyond my control, Mama.” Luci reached up and grasped her mother’s hands that hovered directly over her shoulders. “I fear Father is not one to be trifled with, especially when he believes this match will benefit his many business ventures.”

The marchioness clicked her teeth and shook her head. “I have long thought you would be the one to rescue us all from your father’s domineering, cruel ways. Especially with your secretive activities since Tilda’s death—”

“You know, Mama?” Suddenly, Luci had to see her mother’s eyes, know if her mother detested Lucianna’s means for handling the unsavory man in their lives.

“I was uncertain, at first, but then, after the night your father brought his mistress to that ball, well…“ Her mother focused once more on her task of brushing Luci’s hair. “When the Gazette soundly thumped your father, I knew you had had a hand in the deed. And while I said nothing, inwardly, I cheered your spirit and your bravery for calling out the man.” She went silent for a moment, and Luci’s heart skipped a beat. It was the first time, in many years, Luci felt she had an ally in her home instead of more people to protect. “You will save us all, I have no doubt.”

It was much to ask of a mere slip of a girl, barely venturing into womanhood; however, Luci never wanted to let her mother down. She feared that if she did, the woman would lose all hope for her future and that of her younger offspring if left solely to the devices and whims of Lord Camden.

There was so much pressure in her mother’s few words.

Lady Lucianna was to be her mother’s only hope for survival.

Her chin lowered as she pondered the greatness her family expected of her. Anger raced up her spine to think everyone seemed to believe it was her responsibility to prove Abercorn had killed Tilda, to stop her father’s overreaching abuse of his family, and to find a way to stop her betrothal to Abercorn.

She was only nineteen. She’d never been outside of England, and even more rarely away from London proper. How could anyone think her strong enough, witty enough, cunning enough, to do anything to help them—let alone drastically alter her own life’s path.

“Mama,” Luci asked, pressing her mother’s hand to her cheek. “When did you decide to give up, allow Father the reins, and step back into the shadows?”

She knew from the tears brimming in her mother’s eyes that she’d hurt her, but still, the question hung in the air. “I have never given up, Lucianna.”

“But Father does whatever he wants. He parades around one mistress after another, rarely accompanies us to societal gatherings, and we hear him shouting at you when you think we are all fast asleep.”