Chapter 11 #3
“My wife…” he began carefully, then cleared his throat.
“She was dutiful. That is the best way to describe her. Too dutiful, perhaps. From the moment we married, it seemed she measured everything by what she must do. For the dukedom, for appearances, for our lineage. She cared little for affection, for companionship... for love. It was all duty, all expectation. I suppose I expected the same of myself. I am an only child, so I was trained thoroughly to do exactly what was expected. Manners, propriety, the careful execution of every obligation. I learned early that deviation was dangerous, and that sentiment could be costly.”
He paused, brushing a hand through his hair.
“We married young, and I know what you want to hear, but unfortunately, it was not out of love. It was duty. I thought it was what I must do. She had her own expectations of the marriage. She thought she must provide heirs, secure her position, and cement the future of the dukedom. We never truly matched. Our lives together were a series of duties performed in parallel. I did what was expected, she did what was expected, and between us, there was distance. A polite, cold distance that never bridged the divide of our hearts.”
Lucy listened, silent, her fingers tightening around Daniel’s small hand without realizing it, caught in the intimacy of the moment.
“She had our last child… Daniel,” Rowan continued, his voice barely above a murmur.
“I recall the day after she gave birth to him, she was already talking about a fourth child. Hoping that this time, it would be a girl, since she had secured the dukedom already with three boys. She wanted a girl for herself. But that night, she started to bleed again, and she passed. It was unexpected. Her death was very difficult for us. I mean, we never really shared a bond, but I felt her absence deeply.”
He inhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment, then opened them to meet Lucy’s gaze upon him. “Sometimes, I wish I weren’t so distant with her. We could have been good friends. But like you’ve always noted, I can be... extreme with my jokes. She never liked it when I told them.”
The room seemed to grow still, the storm fading to a soft patter against the window. Lucy’s mind raced with the depth of his confession, the way his eyes changed... darkened when he spoke of it, and how it shocked her that it was obvious even in that low-lit room.
“It must have been terribly difficult for you,” Lucy murmured, her gaze following the gentle rise and fall of his chest. “To navigate a newborn and two little children on your own. I cannot imagine how trying that time must have been.”
Rowan’s eyes flicked away, shadowed and distant, and for a moment, it felt like he had gone somewhere. Like he was no longer there. But she wanted to speak to him. To look him in the eyes and tell him he did a very good job raising three impeccable little boys.
So instinctively, her hand moved before her thoughts could intervene. A strand of hair had fallen across his forehead, brushing his eyes. She reached for it, a small, delicate gesture, intending only to tuck it behind his ear so she might see him properly, eye to eye.
Her fingers paused as they brushed his temple, lingering longer than intended, caressing the smooth line of his forehead. Rowan’s breath caught softly at the contact, and he finally turned his gaze to hers.
For a suspended heartbeat, they looked at each other fully, the air between them more potent than any words could be.
His eyes, so familiar in their calm command, fell to her lips as they always did, but this time, there was a flicker, a vulnerability fleeting across the surface.
He swallowed, and in the same motion, he regained his composure, setting his features into their usual calm.
Rowan gave a small, almost imperceptible nod toward Daniel, still resting against him.
“We should get him settled in his room,” he said almost breathlessly.
Lucy released Daniel’s hand reluctantly, her heart still caught in the echo of that exchange, and together, they rose as Rowan lifted Daniel gently.
Rowan lifted Daniel with careful strength, cradling him against his chest as they moved down the corridor. The loose fabric of his sleeping shirt parted slightly with each step, revealing the gentle curve of his shoulders and the warm line of skin across his chest.
“I will escort you to your room, then tuck him in for the night,” he said softly, as Lucy trailed behind.
They reached her door first. Rowan paused, looking down at her with that dark, unreadable expression in his sleepy eyes. “Goodnight, Lucy,” he said.
Her heart skipped a beat, a small, frantic flutter she tried desperately to ignore.
She stepped forward, stopping him before he could leave, words tumbling awkwardly from her lips.
“I… I’m sorry, Your Grace. I did not mean to overstep.
I wasn’t thinking. I just… I wanted to… I don’t know.
I just wanted to look at you. Wait, not exactly to look at you but.
.. we were talking, and you went somewhere and… ”
Her explanation faltered, unravelling under the weight of her own embarrassment. The more she tried, the less sense it made until she simply stopped, helpless and flushed, unable to form another coherent sentence.
Rowan’s expression softened. A small, knowing smile curved his lips. “It’s all right,” he said gently. “You don’t need to explain. It was a vulnerable moment, and I understand. Sleep well.”
Lucy watched as he lifted Daniel effortlessly, the boy nestling against his chest. The loose sleeping shirt still hung open, giving her glimpses of the warm line of his chest and the subtle definition of his torso.
There was something achingly tender in the way he cradled his son, the careful, protective angle of his arms, the slight furrow of concentration in his brow, even as fatigue tugged at his eyes.
Her chest warmed as an involuntary smile tugged at her lips.
There was a strength in him, yes, but also a softness, a vulnerability that he never allowed others to see.
Then again, she wondered how anyone else could witness this side of him.
Only someone present at this hour, in this dim, intense moment, could see him so utterly human, so exposed in his devotion to his child.
Yet, she was here, observing, intruding almost, like a presence that felt entirely out of place.
She was not meant to be the one to see him like this, and the awareness made her heart beat faster.
Before she could tame it, Lucy felt an unexpected surge of affection and admiration. It was too intimate of a moment for her to be in, one that stirred something deep within her, but for a heartbeat, she allowed herself simply to watch, unashamed and fully present.
“Sleep well, Your Grace,” she said, denying herself the pleasure of watching him walk away as she rushed into her room, shut the door behind her, and sank to the ground, utterly confused by the manner in which her own body was treating her.