Roderick leaned against the three-story townhouse at his back and crossed his arms, keeping his stare on Lucianna through the window. Lady Edith and Lady Ophelia sat close to the arched panes, hardly taking their focus off Roderick and Torrington.

The sun was high overhead, the eaves from Torrington’s family home shielding them from the harsh heat of noonday. He took his eyes off Lucianna perched on the lounge in Abercorn’s home for a brief moment to take in the bright blue sky above. Since their morning sparring match at Bentley’s, not a single rain cloud had dared cross the London landscape—this fact had not escaped his notice.

“We never should have agreed to allow them anywhere near Abercorn without us present.” Torrington sighed heavily, pacing in the shadows of his father’s townhouse. “Anything could happen before we are able to get to them.”

While nervous, Roderick was confident in Lucianna’s ability to care for herself. The blasted woman had bested him with a foil and survived all these years under the control of Camden. She was no demure, fragile creature.

However, Torrington’s lovesick, puppy dog demeanor, fretting over Lady Edith’s decision to accompany Lucianna and Lady Ophelia into the duke’s townhouse was fast growing cumbersome and annoying.

“If it would make you feel better, you are welcome to press your nose to the windowpane, mayhap you will even hear a bit of the conversation,” Roderick jested. “Oh, and you can look upon Lady Edith with your smitten stares of affection.”

He half expected the man to round on him and throw a fist at his face, but instead, he chuckled, breaking the tension that had stiffened his shoulders. “Is it so apparent?”

“Is what so apparent?”

“That I can hardly take my eyes off her for a moment.”

“Only to anyone blessed with sight.” Roderick wanted to reach out and halt the man’s pacing, but instead, he turned back toward the window.

“This is not a normal occurrence for me, I assure you,” Torrington gushed, turning once more. His feet trampled the vegetation as he continued his stalking. “It took nearly losing the bloody woman for me to realize I’d fallen unequivocally in love with her.”

“So you mentioned.” Roderick casually pushed away from the wall, attempting to hide his interest in the direction of their conversation. “What happened?”

The question halted Torrington mid-stride. “Lady Lucianna did not tell you?”

He shook his head.

“You did not read of it in the Gazette?” Torrington’s brow rose in question.

“If I had, I now know not to believe a word of it,” Roderick said with a shrug. “Likely, Lady Lucianna did not see it as her place to share.”

Roderick was loath to admit that, in fact, they’d had scarce moments alone to discuss anything more serious than the matters transpiring between them.

“My father’s wife kidnapped Edith and absconded with her to her family’s Southend home, determined to toss us both over the cliffs to our deaths.”

He waited for Torrington to laugh at his joke, but his expression remained serious.

“Your mother did—“

“Not my mother,” he corrected. “My father’s third wife.”

“Why in heaven’s name would anyone wish to harm Lady Edith?” Roderick inquired, suddenly feeling the need to pace himself.

“She thought Edith and I had spied her with her lover,” Torrington turned his attention back to the window—and Lady Edith’s copper stare—and Roderick feared the man would fall silent, but he continued. “But, with Lady Lucianna’s and Lady Ophelia’s assistance, I rescued her…and then Lady Lucianna rescued all of us from scandal with her story about a carriage accident and my gallant appearance to save them from a night stranded along a deserted country road.”

“What happened to your stepmother?”

“Oh, she has since retired to the country and will never cause Edith harm again.”

“I would suspect her lover has noticed her disappearance,” Roderick prodded.

When Torrington didn’t immediately answer, Roderick turned toward him, fearful he’d insulted or angered the man, but Torrington only nodded to the window. “It doesn’t appear as if Lord Abercorn is pining away for his lost lover.”

“Abercorn?” Roderick didn’t even attempt to suppress his shock. “Your stepmother’s lover was Abercorn?”

“Afraid so,” Torrington nodded in confirmation. “And to make matters even more scandalous, my stepmother, Esmee, was once my betrothed…until she took a liking to my father’s title and decided not to wed me and wait to become a marchioness instead.”

“And I thought society eyed me with concern,” Roderick mused. “If I keep you by my side, I never have to fear they are staring at me.”

Their chuckles were cut short by a loud crash and two female screams.

“Bloody hell!” Torrington shot into action, not pausing a single second to see if they could deduce what had caused the commotion. He was already running toward Abercorn’s front door—with Roderick close behind.

Within a few yards, Roderick passed Torrington, his feet pounding down Abercorn’s cobbled drive. It didn’t matter who saw him thundering toward Abercorn’s door.

They’d taken their focus off the women for only the blink of an eye.

And something had gone seriously wrong.

Roderick didn’t bother to knock or await the butler’s answer. He gasped the door latch and pushed. Thankfully, the door was unlocked, or Abercorn would have returned to the foyer to see a splintered, used piece of wood that could no longer be confused as a door.

The entrance was dripping with candles, and the sconces were lit along the three halls Roderick glanced down. It was a bit odd for only an afternoon social call. Even the chandelier above held the maximum candles, glowing brightly and gleaming off the polished floor.

“What are you waiting for?” Torrington shouted, knocking Roderick on the shoulder when he continued into the foyer and turned left toward the salon the women had been shown to. “They are this way.”

Bloody hell, but Roderick knew which direction Lucianna was in. Even if he hadn’t been watching from outside, he was drawn to her. Her very essence called to him. She was a siren—his very own siren.

Torrington flung one door open, but the room was empty.

Roderick hurried past the man and opened the next door with a bit less force.

“Lucianna?” Roderick stepped into the room, taking in the sight surrounding him.

Lucianna still sat on the lounge, but Lady Edith stood near the window, her hands clutching at her throat. Lady Ophelia trembled, eyes wide as she fanned her face, the color having drained from it. But he didn’t spy Lord Abercorn as his narrowed stare surveyed the room—though it was possible the offensive color scheme played tricks on his eyesight.

“What is going on?” Abercorn called gruffly, his head popping up from behind the lounge Lucianna sat upon. “Why, I never—“

“I can ask you the same thing, Lord Abercorn,” Roderick thundered, the tone so deep and menacing it shook the portraits on the walls. “What is the meaning of this?”

Lady Edith stepped hesitantly around Abercorn as he struggled to push himself to his feet, and she hurried to Torrington’s side. They began to whisper between one another, but Roderick couldn’t take his attention off Abercorn. The man was dangerous, Roderick was certain of it.

He was at Lady Lucianna’s side within the blink of an eye, and he took her hand, pulling her to her feet and dragging her into his arms. “Is everything as it should be? I was so worried.”

“I am well, Roderick, I promise.”

He could barely hear her words over the thrashing of his pulse, but he pulled her tighter to him, his embrace only softening when she pulled away to stare over his shoulder.

Lady Ophelia gasped and collapsed onto the bench near the window, and the color drained from Lucianna’s face, leaving her looking green.

Thundering footsteps sounded from the hall, entering the room behind him.

“Lucianna, girl,” the Marquis of Camden’s voice boomed into the room. “What is the meaning of all this?”

“Father, I—“

“Your daughter,” Abercorn said, back on his feet and moving closer to where Roderick continued to hold Lucianna, though not as closely as he’d like. “Arrived a few moments ago, her two friends in tow“—Abercorn paused for a moment, nodding to both Lady Edith and Lady Ophelia—“to accept my proposal. She said she is honored to become the Duchess of Abercorn. I fear I was so overjoyed, I tripped over a settee in celebration.”

“What?” Lady Ophelia exclaimed, jumping from her seat on the bench.

“That is preposterous,” Lady Edith shouted, setting her hands on her hips.

“That is not at all what transpired,” Luci said, pulling away from Roderick to stare at her father, her head shaking back and forth. “I would not accept Lord Abercorn’s offer of marriage.”

“Then what is happening here?” Another woman, far more matronly than Lucianna and her friends, cut in. The adornment on her hat bobbed precociously as she pushed her way into the room and rushed over to Lord Abercorn. “Are you hurt, Frannie?”

Roderick looked to Lucianna and then Torrington, but no one seemed to know what in the blazes was going on.

“Oh, do not fret over me, Sissy,” Abercorn pushed the woman’s hands away. “I am only filled with excitement and was not careful enough. Can you believe Lady Lucianna has agreed to be my wife?”

Abercorn and the elderly woman shared a quick embrace before Sissy placed a quick kiss on the duke’s cheek and receded back toward the door—where Camden still stood, silently watching the room.

“There is a mistake. This is a mistake. Abercorn is addlebrained,” Lucianna said, moving toward her father. “I was not here to accept Abercorn’s proposal.”

“She is only embarrassed to be caught in my home by so many.” Abercorn chuckled. “She is such a delicate lady; however, there is no need to keep hidden what we have any longer, Luci.”

Roderick wanted to pull Lucianna back to his side and punch Abercorn in the jaw at the same time. Unfortunately, only one was possible.

“I assure you, Lord Camden,”—Roderick grasped Lucianna’s arm, but he didn’t need to tug to have her return to his side—“Lady Lucianna and her friends were not here to accept any form of courtship or betrothal from Abercorn.”

Camden’s shoulders stiffened, and his narrowed stare landed solidly on Roderick as if he were the unsuitable, unwelcome occupant of the room.

“Lucianna,” the marquis seethed, never taking his glare off Roderick. “What is the meaning of this? I did not instruct you to call on Lord Abercorn, nor did I allow you to spend more time with Montrose. Did you seek to thwart my plans, much like you do in our home?”

He advanced on his daughter, but Roderick took a step also, pushing Lucianna behind him as he held up his hand. “Lord Camden, allow us to sit down and discuss this—mayhap without so many prying eyes?”

“I do not see what we would need to discuss,” Abercorn blustered, looking between Camden and Lucianna, the first hint of doubt crossing his face. “Lady Lucianna and I are ready to make our betrothal official. Camden and I were just in the library going over the agreement.”

Roderick’s stomach sank when Camden made no move to deny Abercorn’s words.

“Father,” Lucianna said, her voice laced with hurt. “Tell me you have not decided my fate.”