Luci did her best to glare at her father, but inside, she was falling apart, crumbling, caving in. She blinked rapidly to hold back the tears that threatened to cascade down her face. Crying before Roderick was bad enough; however, she adamantly refused to allow her father or Abercorn to see her weaken. Or show any sign of giving up.

The situation had spiraled so quickly, Luci could barely understand what was transpiring. Her father had made it seem as if he were pushing Luci toward Montrose as a suitor when all along, he was set on Abercorn. But why? There could be very little besides an added two decades mingling with the upper crust of society that Abercorn had to offer her father.

And there was no doubt, the Marquis of Camden’s goal when marrying off Lucianna was to increase his connections; both within society and in the business. It begged the question: what had Abercorn offered Roderick could not?

“Things are decided,” her father said with a confident nod. “I think it best if you and your friends leave, and you return home. I will arrive shortly to speak with you.”

She didn’t like the way he sniffed at the word “friends” as if Edith and Ophelia were little more than rodents riding her coattails.

“I will not leave, Father,” Lucianna seethed. When she felt Roderick’s hand caress her arm, she cooled down a bit. “I have no intention of wedding Abercorn.”

“That is not up to you,” Abercorn said with a smug smile before looking to Camden for confirmation, but his grin fled when he saw the scowl on the marquis’ face. “What I mean to say is—“

“It does not matter what you mean, Abercorn,” Camden hissed, for the first time allowing his cool demeanor to fall. “Who I choose for Lucianna is my decision. Neither of you has any say in who that is—nor when things will be officially settled.”

It was the only bright spot in the conversation. Abercorn had sparked her father’s displeasure, and Luci only hoped it was more than the transgression her father laid upon her shoulders. Maybe he would see reason, understand that in no world should she be required to wed a man who might very well have killed her dearest friend.

“I think it best if Montrose, Abercorn, and I speak privately.” Her father pivoted sharply and stalked from the room, expecting Roderick and Abercorn to follow.

Abercorn and her father had given her matching smiles, and Luci swore they would have continued with an explanation of letting men handles the business at hand while the ladies returned to their tea and needlework.

Abercorn and Sissy were the first to snap into action and hurry after the marquis. “My lord, we can use my study, if that pleases you.”

“Do keep your nose above trouser level, Francis,” her father huffed.

Luci held tightly to Roderick’s sleeve, knowing she should allow him to go—to speak with her father quickly and not cause the marquis’ anger to settle on him if he were tardy to the study; however, she needed to speak with him.

There were many things they hadn’t discussed, namely, their association after this feigned betrothal ended. Was he even willing to continue with the charade?

More importantly, could Luci ask him to make that sacrifice?

Once their betrothal was called off, Roderick would face another round of scandalous gossip—once again caused by Luci and her petty actions. There would be no chance that Roderick would forgive her twice for ruining his chances of securing a wife.

“Roderick, please…” She looked up into his eyes, eyes she’d always seen as icy and closed off, but now, they appeared crystal blue with a hint of desperation. “I cannot wed Abercorn, but neither will I expect you to throw away your future to save me.”

A reassuring squeeze on her shoulder brought Luci’s attention to Edith and Ophelia, both at her sides with looks of determination. Even Lord Torrington’s dour scowl spoke volumes.

“I—we—will never allow Abercorn to get his hands on you,” Roderick assured her, taking her icy hands into his warm palms. “We will think of something.”

“If all else fails, the pair of you are welcome to my original plan to wed Lady Edith,” Torrington offered with a grin, but it quickly faded when he realized the stark expressions on everyone else’s faces. “Honestly, it is a solid plan and would not be hard to see done.”

“I agree with Triston,” Edith said with a nod. “Gretna Green may be the only answer.”

“Gretna Green?” Roderick stared between Torrington, Edith, and Luci. “But that would mean—“

“We would actually have to wed,” Luci finished, shaking her head. “I cannot ask that much of you, Roderick. A fake betrothal is one thing, but a legally binding marriage? I could never ask you to sacrifice so much.”

Nor was Luci certain she could live with such a grand sacrifice on her part. A future with Montrose as her spouse, neither having agreed to the match willingly, could very well prove a disaster.

“But we will not know anything until Montrose meets with the marquis and Lord Abercorn.” Ophelia’s low, hesitant words cut through the many emotions flooding Luci. “Let him meet with your father. Then we shall convene again and decide our next move.”

“Since when did you become the voice of reason, Ophelia?” Edith asked, clinging to Torrington’s side.

Ophelia’s brow rose. “Likely since you became so smitten with Lord Torrington your sensible nature has been all but forgotten. Besides, I have always been infused with much sense, though I rarely need express it. That is what I have you and Luci for.”

Nervous laughter filled the room as the group started toward the door.

“I think you all should wait at Lord Torrington’s father’s townhouse,” Roderick instructed as they entered the foyer. “I will meet with the marquis and join you immediately after.”

“I will stay here with you.” Luci pushed her shoulders back and paced toward the study door that stood ajar, not bothering to glance behind her to see her friends depart or Roderick trail her.

This was her life—her future—and she would not see her fate decided by her vengeful father or Abercorn and his delusional, self-absorbed tendencies. Neither man was the least bit concerned with her well-being or happiness.

“Slow down, Lucianna, or you will stumble and injure yourself.” Roderick grabbed her arms to halt her, but did not hold her so tightly she could not pull away. She adored that about him—he wanted her to listen to him, yet he would not force his ideas, concerns, or opinions on her.

Roderick did care about her happiness.

Of that, she was certain.

He might even willingly sacrifice his future to make certain Abercorn never touched her.

What kind of woman would Luci be if she allowed him to throw away his life to make certain she wasn’t forced into a marriage not of her choosing?

He stared down at her, imploring her to stop and listen, but Luci couldn’t do that. If he spoke, gave her all the many reasons he should go through with their betrothal, Luci might be convinced to allow him to sacrifice himself. Hell, after their walk yesterday, she’d even led herself to believe he actually cared for her beyond the retribution he sought for Luci’s hand in ruining him.

For those many minutes, Luci envisioned a future wrapped in his arms, always safe and protected. She dreamt of a home all their own—and children with their midnight hair. A girl with her father’s intense blue eyes, and a baby boy with Luci’s moss-green irises.

Both were tanned beyond what was proper because Roderick insisted they spend a great deal of time outdoors, picnicking in the park or hiking the trails along the Thames.

It was foolish and self-serving to even think about the possibilities and future to be had as the Duchess of Montrose.

“I will come with you to meet with my father and Abercorn.” Every muscle in her body tightened, but Luci refused to allow her calm demeanor to slip. “I think my father will listen if I am present.”

* * *

Roderick stared into Lucianna’s deep green eyes—taking in the desperation and hurt that lingered just below the surface of her calm exterior. He had no right to demand she depart with her friends, nor ask her to wait outside the study.

The marquis and Abercorn were, even now, discussing Lucianna’s future. Something her father may legally have control over, but not if he sought to hand her off to an unsavory, despicable lord. No woman should be lowered to play the pawn between gentlemen.

Roderick’s honor as a nobleman would not allow such a thing.

Luci was everything any English gentleman should long for in someone they called wife, though not because of increased social status, or wealth, or even because of her exquisitely dark beauty. She had a wit superior to most men, the smarts to know her own worth, and the cunning to make her own way if her father’s chosen path did not suit her.

“We will confront your father and Abercorn together,” Roderick compromised. It was Lucianna’s decision in the end. “But if you feel the need to depart at any time, we will leave together, as well.”

When she nodded, a lock of hair came loose from her pins and hung down along her cheek to caress the top of her shoulder. For not the first time, Roderick longed to run his hands through her unbound hair and bring the long tresses to his nose. They must certainly smell of lavender or vanilla.

There would be time for that. Bloody hell, but Roderick would make certain there was plenty of time together in their future. Their brief walk hadn’t been enough. His chaste kiss to her forehead was not nearly sufficient to extinguish his desire for her. Not even a fortnight wrapped in her embrace, staring into her deep, complex, green eyes, with unlimited hours talking about their pasts, the present, or the future they envisioned for themselves would satisfy him.

She grasped his arm, notched her chin high, and squared her shoulders, signaling that she was prepared to face her father.

Roderick wished he felt even a small measure of the confidence she displayed as they walked the several paces across the foyer and entered Abercorn’s study.

Even together, they were on uneven ground—the advantage going to Abercorn.

Roderick pledged silently to take that benefit from the other duke.

Entering the room, Lucianna pulled close to his side, Roderick realized he’d held the upper hand the entire time. Abercorn may have his title, his wealth, and his many business ventures, but Roderick had Lucianna.

On his arm, at that moment. And if he had his way, every day hereafter.

Roderick had successfully broken through the tough exterior Lucianna had built up to keep her heart safe from both her father and others who meant her harm.

The way she held his arm tightly, her fingers squeezing through his sleeve, told him she’d allowed Roderick in, expecting him to reinforce any weak spot in her defenses. And bloody hell, he was loath to disappoint her.

“Camden.” Roderick nodded before turning to Abercorn, who scurried behind his desk, a place of perceived safety, no doubt. “Abercorn.”

“Lucianna,” Camden said, his narrowed glare settling on her. “You will depart immediately and await me at home.”

Lucianna stiffened. “I will—“

“Lord Camden,” Roderick cut in, giving Lucianna a reassuring smile. “Lady Lucianna has a right to be here. This is her future we are discussing. Do you not believe she should be heard?”

Camden lifted his palm loosely as if to say it mattered naught to him before he turned away and took one of the seats before Abercorn’s desk, leaving only one chair open. “Sit, Montrose.”

Roderick led Lucianna farther into the room and pulled the chair out for her to sit as he stood behind her.

It was as much to show Lucianna the respect due her—that these two men ignored—as it was to keep Camden off guard during the coming negotiation.

“I see no reason for Lady Lucianna and Montrose to be present.” Abercorn tapped a stack of papers on the desk surface before him. “The agreement has been drawn up, reviewed, and only needs your signature, my lord.”

“While I partly agree with you, Francis,” Camden spoke slowly, “I do not agree the present agreement is acceptable.”

“But that is not what you said before Lady Lucianna and her friends arrived.”

“That was before I was aware of the seriousness of Montrose’s pursuit of my daughter.” Camden sat back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap as if greatly satisfied by the change in circumstances. “Two men, dukes no less, seeking Lucianna’s hand in marriage? I think it best I retire and allow you both to meet with your men of business to submit new agreements if your goal is to call my daughter wife.”

Roderick snorted.

The man actually expected a bidding war to ensue for Lady Lucianna’s hand. Roderick did not disagree that she was worth the effort on both his and Abercorn’s parts if they wanted to pursue her. However, she was being treated like cattle whose highly valued lineage and sires demanded men offer all they had to own her. These men, Abercorn and her father, seemed not to realize the priceless value of his midnight English rose—but he knew all too well.

No one would ever own Lucianna.

Not even Roderick.