Chapter 9 #2
“Do you not already see that I am currently at his level, Your Grace?” she shot back, flicking at the sticky residue on her sleeves.
“I am covered in juice! You will do no such thing. As I have said, I will handle it, and I assure you, Brook will remember it long after he has forgotten the many other ways he has annoyed me.”
Rowan shook his head calmly and scoffed as he took a step forward. “Lucy, I reckon you have far more pressing matters on your plate than playing with a little boy.”
“The boy wishes to play. Shall we deny him that? No. We cannot. This matter is between Brook and I, Your Grace. I would appreciate it if you stayed out of it...” she paused, noting how overly eager she sounded at the idea of playing with a ten-year-old boy. “Thank you kindly,” she added.
Lucy was about to excuse herself and continue her search for Brook when she noticed his gaze falter.
It caused her to pause and meet his eyes, but his eyes had travelled far lower.
Usually, Rowan had made a habit of staring at her lips whenever she spoke to him but this time, his gaze had not fallen there. It was even lower....
It was then that she became aware of herself in an entirely new and mortifying way.
The dampness of her gown had rendered it far too revealing, the fabric darkened and drawn close by the remnants of beet juice and the lingering chill in the air.
What should have fallen loosely now clung, molding itself where it should not.
The silk adhered too closely at her waist, and worse still, lay unguarded across her bodice, outlining curves that had never before been so plainly declared.
Her breath caught. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized how exposed she was in that moment.
Rowan turned his head almost at once when he caught himself staring, his jaw tightening. He tried to clear his throat as he coyly took a step back and inhaled deeply, causing an awkward air to form between them.
Lucy folded her arms over herself at once, fingers pressing into the damp silk as though she might erase the moment by sheer will.
Her heart thudded, traitorous and loud, echoing in her ears.
The warmth that followed was not entirely from embarrassment, which only made matters worse.
It felt like a thrill, an unwelcome, shameless thrill derived from the fact that he looked at her.
“I should… I should change,” she said quickly, her voice betraying nothing she did not wish him to hear. Her gaze remained fixed anywhere but his face, though she could feel him still, carefully distant.
“You really should,” he said, almost in a whisper.
There was a brief pause then he simply reached up and shrugged out of his coat. He stepped closer only long enough to drape it around her. The coat was too large, its weight settling over her arms, its scent unmistakably his.
“Take this,” he said quietly. “The corridor is not empty at this hour.”
She hesitated only a moment before accepting it. The coat was warm from him, heavier than she expected, and when she slipped it around her shoulders, it swallowed the worst of her disarray, hiding most of her dress.
Rowan stepped aside, turning his body just enough to give her privacy without fully looking away.
“Thank you,” she said softly, already moving past him.
She stepped past him, her pulse racing. She resisted the urge to run, settling instead for dignity reclaimed in fragments, her back straight even as her thoughts scattered. Behind her, she sensed rather than saw his stillness.
“There you are,” Lucy’s voice cut through the silence of Rowan’s personal library. “I’ve been looking all over for you, all day.”
Rowan had not expected to be interrupted.
He had seated himself on the library floor, a scatter of letters, ledgers, and trunks around him, each item a fragment of his father’s meticulous order now devolved into chaos.
Hours had passed, each spent rifling through the old accounts, searching for a missing ledger.
He looked up from the scattered papers only when Lucy walked in, squinting through the fatigue. Her presence was immediate and precise, as though the house had conspired to place her in his path at the exact moment he most needed distraction.
“You’ve been here all day?” she asked, stopping just beyond the edge of the papers.
He nodded, studying her without rising. Slowly, she sat down against a bookcase, far enough away to keep a distance from him yet near enough that her slipper brushed the edge of his stocking. He did not move. He did not flinch. His eyes swept the room, noting the disorder and noting her.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
He gestured at the chaos around him and let out a loud sigh.
“Something unfinished. Something misplaced. Something that cannot be settled without particular knowledge.” He let his gaze drift back to the ledger strewn among the papers.
“I’m looking for something important. I might have found it, but I’m not sure it is it until I read the entire thing. ”
Lucy nodded, scanning the papers too. “Is it something you can tell me about?”
“It depends,” he said and closed the ledger in his hands. “First, tell me why you were looking for me.”
Lucy’s eyes flicked toward him, and he caught her smile. “For two reasons,” she began. “The first is… well, I finally managed to prank Brook back.”
Rowan arched an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You did what?”
She leaned forward slightly. “I pranked him with beet juice. Like he did to me the other day. He was pouting so horribly that he stomped off, but it was so funny and satisfying. I bet he will think twice before pranking me again.”
Rowan shook his head. “I cannot believe you actually went through with it. You managed to prank Brook, and no one... no one has ever managed that.”
“Yes,” she said quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Brook and I have a special relationship that is waiting to blossom.”
He studied her closely, noting the certainty in her posture, the easy tilt of her head, and something in her eyes that suggested she had wrestled with this idea. “A relationship… with Brook?” His voice was skeptical.
“I would like to think that I understand him,” she said softly.
“You see, I was an only child, mostly alone with my governess and my parents preoccupied. Sometimes I did things for attention, little stunts, because otherwise, I was invisible. Only my cousins seemed to notice me. So I understand him to an extent.” Her gaze met his, and she added, “Anthony is usually busy with his studying. He loves his books, so he is always occupied. Daniel is little, and he has his interests. Brook is... in the middle. Sometimes it can get boring.”
Rowan’s eyebrows furrowed. “I was an only child too, and I never pulled any pranks.”
“Oh, I’m sure it was different for you,” she scoffed. “You were the only son of a duke. Life could not have been boring. Also, you would have barely had time to pull any pranks between the reading, responsibilities... School.”
“You know me so well,” he teased.
“I’m glad,” she teased back.
Rowan’s chest tightened slightly. He had never heard such an observation spoken so plainly, especially not about his children. For a moment, he wondered at the precision of her mind, how she could deduce intentions, parse behaviors, and still carry it with patience.
“Interesting,” he said finally. “You seem to understand my children better than I do.”
Lucy shrugged, still focused on the papers, though he noted the faint flush creeping up her neck. “So, are you going to tell me what is bothering you now, Your Grace?”
Rowan shook his head. “You said there were two reasons,” he answered, steering the conversation away again. “What’s the second reason?” he asked, closing the ledger fully and leaning back, keeping his gaze fixed on her, curious despite himself.
“Right. The second reason,” she started, “is that the ball is only a few days away, Your Grace. I thought it wise we have one final lesson. You will be expected to hold conversation for longer than a turnabout the room. Ladies notice when a gentleman cannot remain present once the introductions are done.”
He gave a short, humorless breath. “An endurance test?”
“Don’t think of it like that,” she replied, her mouth curving faintly. “Your Grace, you have to be interested. Or are you forgetting that you promised Anthony? For this to work, you need to put in some effort so that you find someone who matches you and is good for your sons.”
Rowan felt something soften inside him as he noted the sincerity in her voice. He felt his usual retort fade away as he clasped his hand in front of him, making a mental note that, for once, he would try to play along even though he found it completely amusing when Lucy spiraled.
“Since I seem to have found you surrounded by whatever has been occupying your mind all day, I now figure it might serve us both,” she said.
“How about you speak of what troubles you, and I observe whether you can maintain a conversation with a lady without retreating into silence, sarcasm, or intimidation?”
The audacity of it would have irritated him under different circumstances. Instead, he found himself considering the practicality. She was right. Entirely and inconveniently right. He had made a vow he had to keep after all.
“All right,” he said lightly. “So, I just... talk to you?”
“Yes, Your Grace. This time, about what is bothering you,” she said, simply. “Think of it as practice under forgiving conditions. I am, after all, paid to persist.”
“Very well,” he said, gathering a few of the scattered papers into a neater pile, also taking the moment to gather his thoughts. “This—” he gestured to the disorder around them “—is what has been troubling me.”
Lucy sat up. “How so?”