Chapter 12 #2
Rowan, however, showed no inclination to retreat.
There was an insistence to him now, and she couldn’t understand why.
The way he held her attention and continued to press the matter, as though he had decided that this lesson mattered more than any other they had attempted.
It unsettled her, not because of what he asked but because of how closely he watched her while asking it.
“You will be joining us for dinner this evening,” Rowan said, as though he were informing her of the decision, not asking.
Lucy looked up from where she stood, her brows drawing together at once. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”
“Lady Judith will arrive in a few hours,” he continued, entirely unbothered by her reaction. “She will dine with us. We will talk. The boys will be present. You will be present as well.”
Lucy turned fully toward him now. “Why would I be?” she questioned. “Your Grace, I am quite certain I am not required. You have already met her, you have spoken with her at length, and she appears perfectly at ease in your company.”
“That is precisely why I need you there,” he replied.
She stared at him. “That makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” Rowan said calmly. “You will observe. You will correct me if I falter. You will ensure that I am doing everything properly.”
“Doing what properly?” Lucy asked. “Eating? Speaking? Existing?”
His mouth twitched. “Flirting.”
She let out a short breath that might have been a laugh had it not carried such disbelief. “You cannot be serious.”
“I am entirely serious.”
“You do not need supervision,” she argued, shaking her head. “Lady Judith already likes you. That much is obvious. You are a duke, you are courteous when you want to be, and you have not frightened her off with your personality. Truly, what more do you think is required?”
“I am less confident in that assessment than you are.”
Lucy studied him then, properly, and it struck her that he was standing closer than before.
Close enough that she was aware of him in a way she would have preferred to ignore.
She did not step back. She couldn’t anyway, Rowan had her pinned to the window, and the way he stood adamantly made her feel curious as to his reasoning.
“Is there something you are avoiding telling me, Your Grace?” she asked with squinted eyes.
Rowan frowned. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you are being persistent today,” Lucy said, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “More than usual. You have not been like this before.”
He considered her for a moment. “So, what conclusion have you drawn from that?”
Lucy shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps, the thought of this dinner makes you uneasy,” she suggested.
“Well, maybe not the dinner itself, perhaps, but what it represents. You have spoken to Lady Judith before without difficulty. You have practiced conversation with me more than once. There is nothing left to rehearse. Yet here you are, insisting I be at the dinner beside you and monitor your every word.”
His jaw tightened. “It is not unreasonable to wish to make a good impression.”
“No,” Lucy said softly, “but it is unusual for you to doubt yourself.”
The words lingered between them. Rowan exhaled slowly. “I am not doubting myself.”
“Then what is it?”
For a moment, he did not answer. His gaze dropped, as it so often did, and rested on her lips, lingering there just long enough for her to feel it, before he lifted his gaze again to meet hers.
“It is not unreasonable...” he said, his voice lower now. “... to ensure that every detail is accounted for. To see that the evening passes without misstep. That nothing is left to chance.”
“That sounds less like preparation,” she said, “More like fear.”
His brow furrowed. “Fear of what?”
She hesitated, then forced herself to speak plainly. “Of tonight changing everything you weren’t prepared for. Of the boys... Anthony, Daniel... Brook liking Lady Judith so much that they don’t want her to leave.”
His expression shifted, only slightly. “You imagine far too much.”
“Do I?” she asked. “You have never needed this level of reassurance before. Not from me. Not from anyone.”
He stepped closer, not enough to touch her but enough that she became acutely aware of the smallness of the space between them, though she refused to acknowledge it aloud. “Is it truly so alarming that I should wish the evening to unfold perfectly?” he asked.
“Yes,” Lucy said quietly. “But it doesn’t really matter now, does it, Your Grace?”
His eyes searched her face. “What do you mean?”
She drew in a steadying breath, lifting her chin.
“Because if everything goes perfectly, then there will be no further need for me. I have done precisely what you asked of me. I have prepared you. I have guided you. I have ensured that Judith sees you as she ought to see you. If tonight goes well, truly well, then you will be able to propose soon, and my role will be complete.”
He watched her intently, his expression unreadable.
“How does that make you feel?” he asked.
“Elated,” she said at once. “I am rather pleased with myself.”
That earned her a faint, surprised look. “Pleased?”
“Yes,” Lucy said, finding her footing again. “Because it would mean I succeeded. It would mean I have done my duty well enough that I am no longer required. I might even be able to leave sooner than expected if everything proceeds as it should.”
“As it should,” Rowan repeated.
She nodded. “You will propose. Lady Judith will accept. The household will be settled. Your sons will have the mama they need. That is the goal we set from the beginning. I think that is the very definition of success.”
For a long moment, Rowan said nothing. His eyes returned to her lips again, though this time he did not seem aware he was doing it, as though some instinct had overridden his restraint.
“Would it truly be so terrible to be married to me, Lucy Crampton?” he asked.
His words shocked her. She opened her mouth to speak, but her breath faltered, her pulse answering so treacherously and entirely beyond her control. For an instant, she forgot caution, forgot purpose, forgot the careful distance she had promised herself to maintain.
“No,” she said, and the truth of it rang too clearly in her chest. “It would not.”
Rowan’s gaze darkened at once, drawn again to her mouth as though the answer had summoned something he had not meant to reveal. Lucy felt it then, the danger of the moment, the way her honesty had opened a door she had no right to step through.
She gathered herself quickly, finishing the thought she should have led with from the start. “Of course not,” she added, more evenly now. “You are a duke. You are respected, accomplished, and you can sometimes be kind. Any woman would consider herself fortunate to marry you.”
The warmth she had allowed herself receded. “Is that all it would be to you?” he whispered. “A marriage of convenience?”
Lucy met his gaze, her expression composed even as her heart continued to betray her. “It is what it must be,” she replied. “Anything else would be foolish.”
He did not argue with her, though something in his eyes suggested he had not accepted the answer either. The silence stretched, charged so much that it made Lucy suddenly aware of her own breathing, of the faint closeness of him, of how the room seemed to have narrowed without her permission.
“There is something I have never managed to say properly,” Rowan murmured. “Perhaps because I have put it together in my head.”
Lucy swallowed. “What would that be?” she replied, though the words felt weak the moment they left her mouth.
His gaze remained fixed on her, and then he slowly smiled. “You know, you always look away when you get speechless,” he said. “I have noticed that.”
Her heart thudded painfully as he closed the space between them by degrees so small they felt deliberate, inevitable.
She noticed it then, more clearly than ever, the way his gaze lingered on her lips.
Not her smile, not her eyes, not even the slight flush of her cheeks.
.. her lips. A sudden, dizzying thought struck her.
Was this why he had been staring all those times before? Not admiration for her smile like he had said, but because he had wanted to... wanted to kiss her?
Or perhaps it was all part of his practice, some exercise in preparation for Judith, she reasoned. But she couldn’t convince herself of it. The way he was now, the intensity in his eyes, the deliberate, slow approach was something else entirely.
Lucy lowered her gaze, blinking repeatedly as she tried to figure out her next step.
“Do not look away,” Rowan said quietly.
It was not only the words but the tone of his voice when he said it that startled her into stillness. She lifted her eyes at once, meeting his gaze in open surprise. He was closer now, close enough that she could no longer pretend she did not know what was happening.
His hand rose, tentative but certain, his fingers closing gently around her arm, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the cool air in the room.
His other hand followed, resting just above her elbow, not restraining her, not quite claiming her either, but leaving no doubt of his intentions.
Lucy opened her mouth, unsure whether she meant to protest or to just let it happen. “Your Grace, perhaps it would be best to—”
He leaned even closer, interrupting her with the motion. She shut her eyes, waiting with her heart in her throat. Just as his nose brushed hers, the door burst open, and Anthony’s voice cut through the charged silence.
“Father! She has arrived,” he announced.
Rowan instinctively stepped back, giving them both space, and Lucy mirrored him, her hands dropping to her sides.
The air between them still thrummed with intensity, but the nearness that had set her pulse racing was broken, just enough to make her ache.
The spell, whatever it had been, shattered instantly.
“Thank you, Anthony,” Rowan said, and he cleared his throat.
Anthony lingered a moment, eyes flicking from Rowan to Lucy, then he retreated with a polite bow.
Once they were alone again, Rowan’s gaze fell on Lucy. For several heartbeats, they simply looked at each other, the world outside the study fading. She could see something in is eyes, but she was too dizzy to try and figure out what it was.
Finally, he drew in a slow breath and looked away. “I will see you at dinner,” he murmured. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room.
Lucy remained where she was, hands resting on her knees, her pulse still hammering. The study felt impossibly empty now, but the echo of his presence, the almost-kiss, and the look in his eyes seared itself into her mind. She drew in a shaky breath, trying to steady herself, but it was no use.
Some moments, she realized, were meant to linger, and this one would haunt her long after the candles had burned down.
“Why on God’s green earth did you close your eyes, Lucy Crampton?” she mumbled to herself.