Luci stared out the window as Montrose’s coach turned into her drive and halted before her door.

The journey home had been tense, filled to brimming with awkward silences and averted eyes. Roderick, along with Lord Torrington, had venomously discouraged the women from confronting Lord Abercorn, especially in his own home.

A footman hurried to assist Charlotte down, but Luci waved him off when he offered her his hand.

She needed to speak with Roderick—privately.

Without her maid present, without the fear of an eavesdropping shop owner or her friends close to ask questions she didn’t want to answer. In fact, it was Roderick who owed her answers.

And she would have them, even if she were forced to remain in his coach all night.

The thought sent a tingle through her as she touched her lips, no longer swollen from their kiss, yet she could still imagine the heat of his mouth against hers. Maybe all night with the intense man sitting across from her was not such a discouraging notion.

Luci shook the thought from her mind. Ever since he’d appeared at her door, flowers in hand, she sensed she’d judged him far too harshly and made assumptions inaccurately. It was a trait she despised in others, and she did not take kindly to it in herself.

“Your servant is waiting, my lady.” Roderick shifted on the seat across from her. “There is little doubt the marquis awaits you across the threshold, as well, just out of sight.”

“My father awaits no one, Your Grace.” Luci reclined on the bench, setting her hands lightly in her lap. She was not going anywhere. “If he were home and had any need of me, he would simply drag me from this carriage.”

She glanced toward the open door, and Roderick followed suit.

“See, the marquis is likely not in residence, or is ensconced in his study.”

“I suppose you are correct,” he conceded. “Your father is a formidable man. I think you take after him in that regard.”

“That is highly insulting.” Luci retorted. Never did she want to be her father—nor her mother, for that matter, but especially not her father. “The marquis is ruthless in business and merciless with his kin. He knows not the meaning of empathy or compassion. I would hope that is not the way you see me.”

Despite all her agitated bluster, he only gave her a toothy grin and chuckled. The odd smile should have added a comical air to his appearance, but it only confirmed that there was a part of him Luci was unaware of.

But if she found out, what would that mean for her determination to see all unsavory men exposed and scandalized?

“While I know my status as an honorable lord has been called into question recently, I have not fallen so far as to think it acceptable or appropriate to insinuate that a woman is lacking in any way. I assure you of that, my lady.” He sobered quickly at her narrowed glare and held up his hands, warding her off. “By formidable, I only meant undaunted by circumstance.”

Her chest tightened at his words. That could only be taken as a compliment.

“May I ask you a question?” He sat forward, her answer seeming to hold immense weight. When she nodded, he continued. “Would it be improper to ask you to accompany me on a stroll down the lane? I find myself thinking you have many questions you wish to ask, and I cannot think to remain in this heated carriage overlong. I believe a spot of fresh air would do us both a lot of good.”

Some time outside, still a private walk, but without the overwhelming urge to place her lips against his once more did sound wise.

She’d never been one to wilt into the arms of a man—especially one with a sordid past.

Admittedly, a disreputable past she had exposed…and was by the minute seeming unlikely for the man she’d come to know during their excursion to the bookshop. But how could she have misjudged him? He was at the opera with a woman who was not his betrothed. What explanation could there be for his action other than a scandalous one? Still, she had the feeling she’d been wrong about him.

“I think I would enjoy a stroll, Your Grace.” Roderick, she thought to herself. Forever in her mind he would be Roderick. Not Your Grace, and certainly not the Duke of Montrose. “You are correct in assuming I have many things I’d like to discuss with you.”

And many apologies to offer, though a mere spoken act of contrition could never repair the damage she’d done by posting the article in the Gazette. She’d still been grieving the loss of Tilda, wrecked with guilt over her passing. Bloody hell, she would forever be plagued by remorse at her dear friend’s death; however, she could still attempt to make amends with Roderick.

Though he had every right to rebuff her.

He leapt from the carriage and held his hand out to assist her down. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” Luci couldn’t stop from smiling at his gallant behavior.

She nodded to the footman when Roderick tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her back down the drive to the street beyond. There were no horses or carriages stirring up dust. No gardeners lingered in the yards of neighboring townhouses. It was as if they hadn’t left the privacy of the Montrose carriage at all—until Luci noticed her maid, Charlotte, trailing at a discreet distance.

All thoughts of dragging Roderick behind the nearest shrub and imploring him to kiss her fled as they settled into a slow, steady walk. Besides her friends, Luci had never experienced such easy companionship. She watched over her younger siblings, but they were just that, brothers and sisters, not confidantes. She was their guiding light, and she struggled every day to search deep within to keep that light shining.

She had to be strong in every sense, or she feared turning into her mother; a woman so battered and beaten by years of neglect and harsh words she’d given up the fight. It was a pity Lady Camden, Eloise Constantine, once the daring, mysterious debutante had lost every ounce of fight within her.

That was not to be Luci’s fate.

Her shoulders stiffened with resolve.

Never would she allow a man, any man, to bring her to such a low point. No matter if it were her father, a suitor, or the gentleman she pledged to serve for all her days.

But here, with Roderick, she could just be. Walk at her own pace. Remain silent if she so desired. There was no need for her to take control, lead the way, or carve a path.

She almost let slip from her mind the many nagging questions she had for him, in favor of simply enjoying this rare moment of ease. The late afternoon breeze pulled at her pinned hair, desperate to free it. The sun heated her skin, raining comforting kisses of warmth along her neck. A matching set of collared doves chirped and cooed from a tall tree as they strolled past. Roderick’s hold on her arm tightened, tugging her closer to his side as if the breeze would blow her out of his reach, or the sun would scorch her delicate skin, or the birds would draw her attention too far from him.

In that brief moment, Luci was wanted. Cherished. Adored. She was worth more than her role as her father’s bartering chip. Her sibling’s protector. Her mother’s champion. And Tilda’s voice from beyond.

She was Roderick’s prize. He was her protector. He would champion for her future. And he would supply voice when hers could not long speak loud enough to be heard.

Yet, he was still, in almost every way, a stranger.

It was nearly impossible to grasp that a man could stumble into her life and usurp her every thought. Make her long for things she hadn’t wanted since her innocence had been shattered.

Since departing the coach, Luci had yet to dwell on their coming visit to Abercorn’s townhouse. The overwhelming pressure to prove the man’s guilt before all of society did not seem as all-consuming as a few hours before. No longer did she worry about Abercorn being the victor for her hand. Roderick, her defender, would never allow it.

He’d said as much, and she believed him with every ounce of her being.

She sighed.

“Do you wish to return home, my lady?” he asked, tentatively.

“Surprisingly, there is no other place I’d rather be than right here, right now.” She stared ahead, scared to see his reaction to her forthright comment. Perhaps, it was he who wished to return her and be on his way. “Unless you have other matters to attend to?”

She risked a glance up at him from under lowered lashes. In the past, it would have been seen as coquettish, a feigned timid manner filled with doubt and reservations; but in this moment, Luci was terrified he did want to return her to her father’s townhouse and escape the trouble she’d dragged him into.

“I have not another place to be today. Or any day, for that matter, Lucianna.” He stared straight ahead, a pleasant smile overtaking his intense nature. “I think we have much to discuss, and the time is now before things progress further.”

Luci was helpless to concentrate on anything after he’d said her name—Lucianna. The name had always signified the striking, rare, courageous woman she felt like on the inside. An outward sign to others that she was not a typical, pliable, demure maiden but something far more.

A woman destined to be remembered.

For her fierce love. For her loyal nature. For her invincible pride.

Not as a woman bought and sold at the discretion of any man.

Because of those exact qualities, she needs must make amends for the wrongs she suspected she’d done to Roderick. “What were you doing at the opera that night?”

His shoulders tensed, and Luci feared she had been right all along about him, that the disparaging accusations she’d levied against him in the Gazette were not misrepresented or false, but true.

“I was there seeking information.” He kept his focus straight ahead as a coach turned onto the street and ambled by. “I was not there to be with another woman, nor did I ever seek to hurt Lady Daphne or tarnish her reputation.”

“What type of information can be found at the opera?” She’d witnessed men, like her father, seeking out the willing, nimble bodies of ladybirds. She’d once stumbled upon a couple in an intimately scandalous embrace off a well-lit path at Covent Gardens. She was not fool enough to think that the sirens littering the playhouses and outdoor parks did not tempt gentlemen.

He sighed, and she sensed that he’d made an important decision, one he’d been debating since they started their walk.

Suddenly, the breeze blew no more, the birds were eerily silent, and a cloud passed over the sun, casting a large shadow over them.

“I was there to meet the widow of my father’s best friend.” He halted and turned toward her. “I was not there to betray Lady Daphne. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“One might think it suspicious that a man would believe being seen in a very public setting with another woman on his arm would not harm the woman he is purported to love.”

Roderick rubbed his jaw and pushed his hand through his hair. “I was thinking of none of that, only securing the information I needed to…” His words trailed off, and he dropped Luci’s arm, pacing a few steps down the walk and pivoting to return and face her. “Lucianna, it was not my intention to bring Lady Daphne into the muddled mess of my life. Neither did I plan to levy that weight upon you. My family, everything my ancestors worked so hard for, was taken…and I have charged myself with getting it back.”

Luci understood him a bit more in that moment. Roderick was searching for something, much like she was searching. “While that is very kind of you, it is my decision, as your betrothed, to decide what burdens I share with you and which ones I leave on your shoulders. I have little doubt we can assist one another.”

He looked away, focusing on a house farther down the lane, and Luci feared it would be the end of their discussion. He would share no more and would refuse her help.

“I need to be honest with you. When I decided to offer for your hand, it was done out of a sense of vengeance, a need to hurt you—to take away your opportunity at a match of your choosing—much like your post in the Mayfair Confidential did to me.”

He kept his eyes averted, but Luci was helpless to look away from the pain etched across his face.

She should feel an immense betrayal at his confession, laced with anger and outright indignation at his deceptive plans; however, none of these filled her.

“I know,” she admitted. She’d known from the time she walked into his study with her father, though she’d tried to deny it, even to herself. “But what do you seek to gain from our marriage now?” Luci had little doubt Roderick would one day be her husband, the man who would protect her for the rest of her days.

And she longed to do the same for him.

His breath left him in a loud whoosh. “I wish I knew, Lucianna. Unfortunately, I’ve lived my life one day at a time since my father passed away, never planning past tomorrow because, well, the future is too bloody unpredictable. I thought I had things figured out that night at the opera, or at least, the means to sort through everything. But just as quickly, it was all stripped away.”

“By my hand.” Luci glanced down at the ground, ashamed of her part in ending his previous betrothal. “I am sorry you lost Lady Daphne.”

He placed his hand beneath her chin and lifted her face, their eyes meeting. “While I cared for Lady Daphne—she is a sweet girl, everything that most lords require in a wife—we had nothing but a friendly fondness for one another. Love was not a part of our association, or at least, it hadn’t matured to that point before our match was called off.”

Roderick caressed her cheek, and Luci’s eyes drifted closed, the warmth of the sun returning, his touch seemingly pushing the clouds away. It should seem scandalous to be so connected to this man, all while he spoke of his past fondness for another woman.

“In all our time together, I never felt for Lady Daphne what I’ve come to feel for you in the past several days,” he confided. He placed a delicate kiss on her forehead before his hands fell away. “A coach is coming.”

The words escaped him on a sigh.

Roderick had wanted to say more—and Luci was desperate to hear it.

Luci opened her eyes slowly, knowing once she did, whatever had been blossoming between them would need be stowed away for another time, another moment of privacy.

If and when it happened again, Luci would be ready.

Glancing down the street, she noted the Camden crest on the approaching carriage. From the quick manner in which Roderick put a respectable distance between them, he’d also recognized the coach and prepared for who would be within.

Luci turned toward the carriage and waved. There was no reason to hide—she and Roderick were doing nothing wrong. Charlotte followed them at a discreet distance, and it had been her father who’d suggested the duke accompany her for the afternoon. If anything, her father should be proud of her for coming to accept his dictates without further argument.

The conveyance slowed as it came abreast of them as they turned to return to the Camden townhouse.

“Good day, Father,” Luci called with a smile when the marquis glared out the open window. “Beautiful day, is it not?”

Her father’s scowl was all Luci needed to see to enforce that her jovial mood only irritated the man.

“Montrose,” her father greeted Roderick curtly. “I thought you would have departed hours ago.”

Why did he care if Roderick and she became better acquainted? After all, if things continued down the path her father had set, they would be formally announcing their betrothal before long.

Luci had to applaud Roderick on his skill at playacting, as he grinned at her father, ignoring his dour stare. “We returned not long ago but, as Lady Lucianna commented, the day is too marvelous to spend trapped indoors. We decided on a stroll down the lane. You are welcome to join us for the return walk, my lord.”

Luci nearly burst with laughter as her father recoiled in shock at the offer.

“Certainly not,” the marquis said, leaning back into his coach. “Home, Rogers.”

Without another glance, her father’s driver put the horses back into motion, and soon disappeared into the Camden drive, several houses down the lane.

“Your father,”—Roderick pulled her close once more and set a slow pace—“he is a peculiar man.”

“Is that another trait you will proclaim I inherited from him?” Luci let out the deep laugh she’d been holding inside. It didn’t matter that her father thought he was using her as a pawn. She would not concern herself with worries over inciting her father’s anger with her joyous mood.

No, for the next several minutes, Luci was determined to bask in the sun with the cool breeze on her face and Roderick by her side.

Tomorrow, she would fret once again about Abercorn and proving his guilt. When she sat down to her family supper table that evening, she would think over the truths Roderick had shared with her, and dwell on the secrets he still kept. As she prepared for bed that night, she would allow her own culpability in Tilda’s death to wash over her and extinguish her spark of happiness. After Roderick’s carriage had pulled away, Luci would reenter her family home to guide her siblings, protect her mother, and distract her father from his unavoidable fury.

But this moment, and the next fifty or so paces, belonged to her.

She lifted her chin to look at Roderick at her side and smiled—the most sincere grin she could remember since she’d watched her future shatter into a million tiny pieces as Tilda tumbled down those stairs.

“Your Grace,” she sighed. “Thank you.”

His brow furrowed in question, but he returned her smile. “What for?”

“For reminding me that it is acceptable to carve a moment out of life to stop—or stroll—and appreciate the warm sun, the call of the birds, and the afternoon breeze in my hair.”

Silently, she added, And the kiss of a most dashing man.