“What was this all for, Father?” Luci asked as she settled her skirts. The carriage dipped as the marquis entered and took the front-facing seat. “Dragging me from the house only to wait in some lord’s hallway seems peculiar.”

Her father, ever the arrogant marquis, only stared at her before shouting to their driver to return them home. No matter her question or her rising temper, the man would not be prodded into answering any of her questions until he was ready to speak.

It was a trait Luci long suspected she’d inherited from the marquis.

She crossed her arms and stared out the window, prepared to wait for her father to speak. Arguing and insisting answers would get her nowhere. Maybe disinterest would lull him into a false sense of security, and he’d speak of what he planned to gain from meeting with Montrose?

Luci kept one eye on him. He didn’t appear upset or furious, so Montrose hadn’t spoken of the Mayfair Confidential and her part in the articles. She was thankful for that much.

Finally, her father sighed, and she turned from the carriage window to see him scrutinizing her. They were much alike, all darkness. Yet, Luci suspected her father’s darkness was far deeper than surface level.

“You have been out of the schoolroom for nearly two years now.”

Truly only fifteen months, but Luci kept that bit of information to herself.

“And you are spending my coin to furnish your second Season.”

As if the Camden coffers were in jeopardy of running dry. Besides, Luci hadn’t the time to spend any money beyond her basic wardrobe last Season before she and her friends went into mourning for Tilda. More accurately, Luci was enjoying just her third month as a debutante.

“Have you found a suitor to your liking?” he asked.

There it was. He wanted Luci to take a man to husband—and depart his household. The marquis would relish that. In one fell swoop, he’d have his hellion of an eldest daughter gone, and no one would stand in his way of treating his wife, Luci’s mother, any way he saw fit.

It would be all the more satisfying when she delivered her next—and finale—blow to the marquis.

“I do not plan to wed, at least not this Season.” After Tilda’s death, and everything Luci had learned about the other unscrupulous men of the ton, she had little hope a decent man existed—with the exception of Lord Torrington. Plus, if she were to wed and move away, who would care for her siblings? There would be no one willing to step between them and their father’s fury.

“Then we are both lucky I have found not one but two suitors for you.” He picked a piece of lint from his sleeve as if his declaration were nothing more than him expressing his love of carnations, while Luci sat still—frozen—unable to process what he’d said. “Obviously, the Duke of Montrose is an influential, shrewd lord, who would make a great addition to the Camden lineage.”

“You think to wed me to…Montrose?” Luci stumbled over the words.

“What did you think our meeting was concerning?” His tone said her father thought her dim-witted.

Luci hadn’t given the meeting much thought beyond her father requesting her accompaniment, which was anything but normal. She and Montrose would make a most disastrous pair—she’d bitten the man, for heaven’s sake.

“He requested an audience to discuss the joining of our two families.” Camden spoke of her betrothal as if he were agreeing to discuss the purchase of a new carriage. “I cannot say I am against the match; however, I have other offers to consider.”

That had Luci pushing back into the cushioned seat. “Other offers?” she squeaked, repulsed by the weak tone in her voice.

“Yes. Abercorn.” He continued to gaze out the window. “Though I am uncertain if Abercorn is the man for you. Three wives and no children. What is to say you won’t marry the man and grow old, never producing an heir—his Dukedom would pass on to another relative and forever be out of Camden control.”

A business arrangement.

Her future had been reduced to nothing more than deciding what would gain her father more in the long run. A virile, robust lord like Montrose, who simply exuded potency and prowess. Or an aging, very wealthy duke like Abercorn, who would bring many business connections but no guarantee for a future including children who would be linked to the Camden name via their mother.

Luci shouldn’t have thought any other option was open to her—unless she’d been able to stall long enough for her twenty-first birthday to arrive; however, she was two years from the date.

Montrose or Abercorn. Was that truly any choice at all?

“Abercorn killed Tilda…and Montrose is a known rakehell,” she hissed, gaining her father’s full scrutiny. “You would make me choose between a murderer and a philanderer? You would enjoy that greatly, wouldn’t you? Men of your own ilk, the pair of them.”

“Lucianna!” he warned in a harsh tone. One that in her youth would have had her mouth clamping shut and her eyes averting to his feet. Not today. Not in this coach. And certainly not in matters dealing with her future. “You—and those silly, foolish women you call friends—caused quite the scene last Season. You are lucky either gentleman will have you. You are tarnished goods, to say the least.”

She’d taken aim at her father and levied her most unforgiving insult; however, she’d said what needed to be said. If her father correlated her words with what had been printed in the London Daily Gazette, it would be a wonder.

Leaning back, Luci crossed her arms and turned her attention to the passing London street.

“Do not sulk, it will cause wrinkles,” he mumbled. “You will marry either Montrose or Abercorn. Whomever I see fit to select for you.”

Luci would rather a coin be tossed into the air to seal her fate.

“And if I will have neither?” she dared ask.

The marquis chuckled, a light, wheezy snort. “I did not raise a chit fool enough to think she has any say in whom I chose for her marriage. Do not be dim, Lucianna, it is very unbecoming.”

“Abercorn killed Tilda,” Luci said. Images of her lovely, bright friend lying lifeless at the bottom of Abercorn’s staircase filled her mind. “You honestly cannot expect me to overlook that damning fact, no matter how tarnished you think I am.”

“That was a sad, unfortunate occurrence. Do not think I completely lack sympathy for the girl. However, that is in the past. I am speaking for the future of the Camden name.” His stealthy glare landed on her, almost begging her to argue further.

“Father, I…” She sucked in a deep breath to stop from sobbing.

“You will marry. And it will be either Abercorn or Montrose.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I will drag you before the clergyman and see that the deed is done,” he said with utter calm and composure. He was a man used to getting exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it. That he was prepared to hand his daughter over to a murderer, only meant gaining access to business deals that were before out of his reach. “Now, put a smile upon your face. We are almost home, and you will speak of your two suitors with vigor to your siblings. You will be overjoyed to learn whom I will ultimately offer your hand to.”

“And then you will finally be rid of me.”

Her father sat a bit straighter, an odd grin and faraway look entering his eyes. “Yes, yes, that is another boon I have yet to fully think through, though I will find great happiness in having you out from under my roof.”

Luci could not blink, would not allow her father to think she would go quietly into a marriage she did not agree with—or any marriage at all.

But his stare matched hers in force. Her hurt mirrored in his determination.

Suddenly, the footman pulled the carriage door open.

They’d arrived at home.

“Smile, my dear daughter,” he hissed. “I am certain you would not want to anger me into a hasty ceremony by special license.”

Luci hated herself for giving in, but she smiled. This game was one of finely executed moves, parried by advanced defensive tactics.

Much like fencing.

And that was one sport she would always best her father at.