The Misfortune of Lady Lucianna (The Undaunted Debutantes Book 2) Page 6

  Either the man showed, or he didn’t, and Roderick was back to square one with solving his financial woes. However, if Camden came, all Roderick’s dilemmas could be eradicated by mealtime.

  He tilted his chin up and brought his arms up, interlocking his fingers behind his neck to support the weight of his head. All the while, his muscles relaxed, and he breathed easier, certain Camden would come.

  He smiled. He hadn’t been filled with an ounce of hope since he left the widow Cavendish the night before the scandal had hit. She’d agreed to meet with him several nights later and hand over the ledger of names, accounts, and bank locations for each gentleman involved in the damning ring of hells. Those lords had convinced his feeble-minded, gambling-and-drink-addicted father to hand over all of his family’s fortune to invest in a new gaming hell in the Rookeries.

  Roderick’s grin faded at the memory. His father, the late sixth Duke of Montrose, had thought to settle his own gaming debts and invest in a business venture that would benefit his son—and his son’s sons—for years to come.

  He’d been utterly and unceremoniously swindled.

  By men he’d likely considered his friends.

  Men Roderick had never met nor knew anything of.

  It was the main reason Roderick kept to himself. That, and he had no idea who was involved in the charade that now had him offering to wed a woman who he had little in common with, had only seen on two occasions, and who angered him to no end.

  Lady Lucianna had thought herself cunning, no doubt. Luring him into the darkened gardens only to assault him and flee.

  Little did the woman know Roderick was becoming quite adept at finding people and locating the information he sought. He was not his father, and would not be trifled with, especially by a mere slip of a lady.

  Plus, he most likely would have already caught the men responsible for stealing his family’s money if it hadn’t been for Lucianna sticking her nose in his affairs. Or if finding the men were impossible, then he would have wed and used Lady Daphne’s dowry to continue his quest for justice.

  He massaged the ache in his neck. Maybe he should have sought his bed—or at least a warm bath and a change of clothes—after sending the missive to the Marquis of Camden. Roderick glanced to his liquor-stocked sideboard, longing for a tumbler to fortify his resolve; however, he needed to keep his wits about him if he were to best the marquis during the betrothal negotiations. His confidence was overly high his guest would not turn down the proposal.

  A knock echoed from the foyer, and his grin returned.

  Footsteps hurriedly moved to open the front door, and his butler welcomed Roderick’s guest before the pair started in the direction of Roderick’s study.

  His butler’s usual shuffle could be heard, followed by the solid, confident steps of Camden—and another, much lighter step. Had Camden brought his wife?

  It hadn’t occurred to Roderick that Camden would include anyone else. The match made sense on paper: the daughter of a marquis to wed a duke. Roderick’s grin faded once more, and his jovial mood soured at the notion of convincing Lady Camden of his affection for Lady Lucianna.

  Lucianna glanced around at the gaudy, almost abhorrent foyer as the butler ushered them in. A large monstrosity of a chandelier hung overhead, dripping with dozens of candles. The floor shone as if it were waxed only an hour before. The table at her side was free of dust, and its vase filled with fresh, blue blossoms.

  “His Grace is expecting you, my lord.” The butler closed the door behind them, and a footman hurried forward to accept their coats. “Right this way.”

  Following her father, Luci moved deeper into the house. She had no idea whose townhouse it was nor why they were there. Hanover Square was an area even more prestigious than Mayfair, the houses far grander with sprawling lawns and extravagant gardens and stable houses. This property seemed a bit less cared for than others on the street, but nonetheless, its station was much loftier than her family home.

  “Father?” She set her hand on his sleeve. “Who lives here?”

  “You will find out soon enough, child,” he snipped back, halting to take in her emerald gown, neatly pinned hair, and white gloves. “You should be thankful I have brought you along on such a momentous occasion.” His brow furrowed. “As your father, I have every right to handle your future in any way I see fit.”

  Her future? She was only attending her first Season after the tragedy of her friend’s death had cut her previous London Season short. As yet, no gentleman had shown any overt interest in her. Not that she planned to wed anytime soon. An honorable man was nearly impossible to find in a sea of scoundrels, rakehells, and rascals. Men drank too much, gambled exceedingly, favored women of the night, or lived day by day, hoping to keep out of debtor’s prison.

  Luci had no intention of being forever tied to an unsavory man.

  With no suitors to speak of, she could only assume her father meant to sell her to the highest bidder—wealth, and stature—as a business deal.

  Not uncommon and certainly not something she’d think was above her father’s ilk. The Marquis of Camden was known for his vicious business dealings and cutthroat practices during venture negotiations. Luci owed him a bit of gratitude as he’d settled large dowries on both her and Candace. Though all that did was bring forth fortune hunters and men who would not give a whit about her once he held her money.

  Every speck of common sense within screamed for her to beg her father to reconsider whatever matter had brought them to this house, plead with him to depart and never return.

  Luci was helpless, a feeling she’d felt on one other occasion, a time she wished she’d tried harder to convince her friends and the magistrate that there was a villain in their midsts, not a grieving bridegroom. Very similar to the day Tilda had been pushed to her death, Luci was walking into a situation out of her control.

  “Do not tarry, Lucianna.” Her father glanced over his shoulder at her. “When a meeting time is set, it is highly improper to be late, especially with the significance of today.”

  The man’s foul demeanor from that morning had vanished, replaced by a man who knew his worth and position. Confidence and arrogance dripped from his every word. The set of his shoulders was one of haughtiness. His easy manner told Lucianna that whatever awaited them in this home, her father was certain he held the upper hand.

  And that terrified Luci.

  No matter how much she despised her father, as the head of the Camden household, he was her master; just as he commanded and demanded respect from his servants, so were Luci and her siblings to follow his every edict.

  She only need look to her mother to see the consequences if she ever actively sought to refuse her father’s orders.

  A shiver went through her at the penalties she’d face if the marquis ever learned it was by his own daughter’s hand he had been exposed in the London Daily Gazette.

  Luci squared her shoulders and notched her chin high—every ounce the daughter of the Marquis of Camden—as she marched down the hall after her father.

  The servant opened a door at the end of the hall and announced their arrival. “Your Grace. The Marquis of Camden and Lady Lucianna to see you.”

  “Show them in, Danvers.”

  That voice…

  Luci froze mid-step, every nerve in her body revolting against moving another inch. If she took another step, she’d enter the room, and her greatest fear would be realized.

  “Come, Lucianna,” her father hissed, stepping into the room and leaving her alone in the hall.

  She suspected all color had drained from her face as icy tendrils reached toward every limb of her body.

  The Duke of Montrose. They were meeting with the one man who more than likely knew all her secrets.

  Luci suspected after witnessing Montrose’s anger the night before that he’d stumbled upon her truth. The identity of the person behind the Mayfair Confidential. She hadn’t been able to admit it to Edith or Ophelia that morning,
but the fury Montrose had focused on her as he stormed through the garden could only mean he’d discovered she posted the article exposing his disloyalty to Lady Daphne.

  The only thing left to do was stall him from telling her father.

  Luci stepped into the room, greeted by Montrose’s cocky grin of victory.

  Chapter 8

  Roderick stood to greet the marquis, his welcoming smile returning to cover his shock at Lady Lucianna’s presence. Camden strode into the study, taking in the room around him before acknowledging his host. Lucianna was blocked from view behind her father.

  Danvers gave Roderick a curt bow, and he nodded for the butler to depart and close the door.

  This discussion demanded privacy, even from his household.

  He knew full well what he’d asked Camden here to discuss, but Lucianna was a wild card. Roderick was uncertain if her father had shared the purpose of this meeting. If he hadn’t seen fit to enlighten his daughter, it was possible she would be very upset when she learned of the reason behind the appointment.

  Roderick did not want his entire household eavesdropping and spreading the news within the servant’s gossip mill before an agreement was signed.

  Hell, it might become necessary for Roderick to inform Camden of Lucianna’s unsavory activities as the Mayfair Confidential authoress, which he was loath to do, as it could cause a scene within his house that would not be easy to mask.

  Lucianna stepped from behind her father; her emerald gown matching her eyes, and her black hair framing her face angelically. Though Roderick knew from the glint in her eye that the woman was anything but angelic. Beguiling and witty, yes. Sharp-tongued and elegant, for certain. Demure, reserved, and modest, however, were not words he’d ever use to describe Lucianna.

  She seemed as shocked to see him as he was to see her, and judging from the look of contempt that settled on her face, she was prepared to do battle with him once more. It was a shame they were not at Bentley’s. He couldn’t help but wonder who would have the upper hand this day.

  “My lord,” Roderick greeted Camden, refusing to allow his eyes to stray toward the marquis’ daughter again. “Thank you for accepting my invitation to discuss this”—how to describe the matter at hand?—“delicate matter.”

  He risked a glance at Lucianna to see her frown deepen. It was the only sign the woman gave at her discomfort of the situation. He admired her ability to keep her emotions under such tight control, though the corner of her lips turned up in a confidence smirk.

  Roderick was unable to harness his own shock, his brow lifting in a silent question as to what she found so comical.

  “I see there is no need to introduce the pair of you,” the marquis muttered. He looked back and forth between Roderick and his daughter. “Please, wait outside, Lucianna. I will speak with Montrose and call for you when we have settled on the details.”

  Her mouth gaped open as her face reddened. The woman was not used to being so easily dismissed, and Roderick would be fooling himself if he didn’t admit he enjoyed her stunned expression.

  For once in their brief acquaintance, she had no sharp retort, no sugar-dipped reply, and no way of refusing her father’s command without causing a scene.

  Lucianna, no matter her hellion ways, was still a woman born and bred into the highest society in England. She knew her role as the daughter of a marquis and played it well.

  Would continue to play it well until she was no longer in a position for playacting. It was that time that should concern Roderick.

  If she were anything like him, her memory was long, and her need for vengeance patient.

  Finally, she nodded. “Yes, Father.”

  With arms crossed and one last lingering, scathing glare for Roderick, she turned on her heels and marched toward the closed door. She paused for the span of a single breath, as if expecting someone to jump forward and open it for her. When it did not happen, she reached forward and pulled the door wide, stepped out of the room, and slammed the door in her wake.

  She was not happy. From Camden’s slight cringe, he knew it as well as Roderick.

  The marquis masked his irritation with his daughter by taking the seat before Roderick’s desk. “Now, Montrose—“

  “Do call me Roderick,” he said. “If you are here, I assume my proposal is agreeable to you. We might one day be family.”

  Camden chuckled. Outright laughed in Roderick’s face.

  Roderick’s brow rose. “Should I assume you are not here to speak about a betrothal between me and Lady Lucianna?” The hair lifted on the back of his neck, and his confidence lessened for the first time since sending the letter to Camden that morning.

  The marquis sobered, eyeing Roderick. “Do you think you are the only duke sniffing around my daughter?”

  Roderick sat heavily in his chair, taken aback. He hadn’t even considered another offer for Lucianna’s hand. “Well—I—I am certain it does not surprise me, my lord. Your daughter is charming and very beautiful, with quite possibly dozens of suitors clamoring for her attention.”

  “But she has the attitude of a dour matron, I assure you.” Camden crossed his legs and reclined in his seat. “However, she is well-connected, schooled in the fine art of managing a household, and comes with a sizeable dowry. So, I should have expected the men to come calling, despite her less than agreeable nature.”

  Did the man not note the regal, graceful, perfection that was Lady Lucianna? Roderick supposed wealth did not lend itself to a keen eye for value and quality.

  And make no mistake, no matter how angry he was at Lady Lucianna, how betrayed he felt by a woman who did not know him from the King of France, she was a woman of worth. It only took one look—and a few seconds in her presence—to know she was something special. Something worth having…and keeping.

  “I must warn you, this auction may very well see a betting war the likes of Tattersall’s best.” The man chuckled again. “But before we speak of such important matters. Let us toast our new association with a drink.”

  Roderick leapt to his feet and moved to the sideboard, not because the marquis had commanded it, but for the sole purpose of hiding his flabbergasted expression—and growing anger—from the man.

  The Marquis of Camden had just sat in his study and compared his daughter’s betrothal negotiation to that of a horse at auction.

  Devil take it, she was worth more than any horse!

  Turning two tumblers right side up, Roderick filled each with a healthy portion of amber spirits. If the marquis’ entrance was any indication, Roderick’s afternoon would not be proceeding as expected.

  Camden took his tumbler gratefully and sniffed at the liquor, as if the quality and age of the stuff would lend a good air on the man who’d served it. The brandy they held was aged longer than Camden himself.

  How could Roderick have thought making a game of taking Lucianna as wife would be a simple, uncomplicated matter between two men?

  Lady Lucianna was complicated at her core; a woman who fenced as well as any accomplished man, a lady who did not shy away from exposing her own father’s misdeeds, and a hoyden who dared invite a gentleman to deepen a kiss only to bite down on his tongue.

  “Now, I must admit, your offer to take the girl off my hands is much appreciated,” Camden began, swirling the brandy in his glass. “I fear she has become a handful since her coming out—gallivanting about London, speaking out of turn, and Lord knows what else she does when I—or my staff—are not keeping watch over her.”

  Roderick only nodded in agreement. The woman was certainly entangled in far more than her father knew.

  “And most recently, Lucianna has seen fit to turn my entire household against me. My younger children, always so obedient and well-mannered, have begun to challenge my authority and even look to Lucianna before adhering to my command. Honestly, I cannot have such mutiny in my home.”

  “My lord, I—“

  Camden brought his narrowed stare to Roderick’s, cutti
ng off anything he’d thought to say in Lady Lucianna’s defense.

  “So, Montrose, in other words, I am very interested in your marriage offer. Unfortunately, I have gained another offer for Lucianna’s hand, though I am not entirely hard-pressed to pick the better lord. She is like any wild filly. She will need a firm hand; possibly need to see the end of a whip every once in a while to keep her in line.”

  Roderick’s skin crawled as if a thousand ants marched along every inch of his body.

  He was repulsed.

  What father instructed his daughter’s suitor to use cruel methods for harnessing her wayward tendencies?

  The mere thought was baffling.

  And Camden was obviously entertaining offers from other gentlemen. At least Roderick knew he would never raise a hand—or a weapon—against any woman, no matter how irritating their actions or words.

  Roderick sat a bit straighter in his chair. Had another perspective husband agreed with Camden: a firm hand and a whip here or there when necessary?

  Bloody hell, the marquis sickened Roderick; however, if he withdrew his interest in Lady Lucianna, she might very well be left with a man far less honorable than he.

  Roderick would not forsake any woman to that fate—even Lucianna who’d stolen his only opportunity to find his family fortune.

  However, marrying Lady Lucianna also meant tying himself to Camden.

  He shuddered to think whom Lucianna would find herself betrothed to if it weren’t Roderick. There were many cruel men living within London. Men who by no stretch of the imagination could ever be considered gentlemen. Men who spent their nights in scandalous brothels disguised as legitimate gaming hells. If a gaming hell could ever be legitimate in nature.

  Lucianna was helpless to disobey her father’s decision on whom she would marry.

  “Ah, well.” Camden emptied his tumbler in one swift gulp and slammed the glass on the desk between them. “I can see you are not the man for her. Which is a pity. I suspect Abercorn will have to do, even though he is as old as Corinthians.”