Chapter 14 #2
Lucy drew a breath. “I have been occupied,” she began, then winced at her own choice of words.
Selina’s brows rose. “Occupied?” she repeated. “So very occupied that my clever, conscientious niece could manage only a single letter in two weeks?”
Lucy looked down at her hands. “I did not realize so much time had passed.”
“That is rarely the case. Time does not slip away unless one is avoiding something or becoming entangled in it. Did you fail? Is that why you were so hesitant to write to me?”
Lucy lifted her gaze again, caught between guilt and relief. “No, Aunt Selina. That is not why. I promise, time just flew by. I did not mean to worry you.”
“Yet you did,” Selina said, leaning back slightly though her eyes never left Lucy’s face.
“You departed with purpose. You wrote to say you had arrived safely, that matters were progressing. Then silence. I began to wonder whether you had been overwhelmed or worse, persuaded to remain where you ought not.”
Lucy shook her head at once. “No one persuaded me. Not exactly.”
Selina gave a small, knowing hum. “That is not the reassurance you think it is.”
Lucy closed her eyes for a moment then opened them again, trying to steady herself before stepping onto uncertain ground.
“There is something I must explain,” she said. “Something I did not understand myself until I was already here.”
Selina inclined her head, inviting her to continue.
“The letter,” Lucy began. “The one requesting your services. The one we received that day, and you decided that I take it. It was not written by the Duke of Langridge.”
Selina did not look surprised.
Lucy noticed. Her brows drew together slightly. “It was written by his son,” she went on. “Anthony Clawridge. He was desperate, frightened in his own way. He believed his father needed help, even if His Grace would never admit it. I only learned the truth after I had already arrived.”
“All right, and when you did?” Selina asked.
Lucy exhaled slowly. “I intended to leave. I was prepared to. But Anthony insisted I stay, and he insisted that the Duke let me. We managed to convince him because the situation had already taken shape, and undoing it would have caused more disruption than allowing me to remain.”
Selina’s gaze sharpened. “That was how you found out he never asked for you?”
“Yes,” Lucy said quietly, then she looked up again, noting that Selina was not reacting in the way that she had expected to the news that Rowan had not asked for her.
“I am confused.” Lucy squinted her eyes. “Did you know that it wasn’t His Grace who asked for me?”
Selina’s lips curved faintly. “I suspected that much when I read the letter.”
“When you read the letter?” Lucy’s eyes widened. “Not later? That same day?”
Selina nodded. “I have read countless of letters soliciting my services. One thing dukes have in common is how formal they always sound. How rigid. A duke would never ask earnestly or plead. This one did. Dukes do not confess helplessness so neatly.”
Lucy leaned forward now, frustration breaking through her composure. “Then why send me at all? Why allow me to come here under false pretenses, knowing I might be dismissed the moment the truth came to light?”
Selina regarded her. “Because I also knew you,” she explained.
“I knew you would not relent. You were everywhere. Going through my study, looking through letters, trying to find something that should not concern you. If you were turned away, if the Duke refused your services outright, you would take it as proof that this work you have chosen has no place in the world you wish to enter.”
Lucy stiffened. “You thought I would abandon it.”
“I thought you might,” Selina corrected. “You have always been quick to withdraw when you believe you have misjudged your worth.”
Lucy’s jaw tightened. “That was not your decision to make.”
“No,” Selina agreed. “But it was my place to protect you from making it in despair.”
Lucy looked away, her hands curling slightly in her lap. “You risked humiliating me.”
“I risked challenging you,” Selina said. “There is a difference.”
Lucy turned back, her eyes bright. “You sent me here thinking I would either fail entirely or be forced to confront something I was avoiding.”
“Yes,” Selina said simply.
“What if the Duke had dismissed me that very first day?”
“Then you would have returned home angry,” Selina replied. “Wounded. Perhaps, you would have done what any normal lady would do and concentrate on marriage.”
Lucy let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “I cannot believe this. I actually thought you trusted me. I thought you were the first person who saw my worth. Why do this to me?”
“I am sorry, my child, but I have lived your life. Can you not trust me to make decisions for you?”
“You are just like Mama,” Lucy shot back, the words leaving her before she could soften them.
Selina did not recoil. If anything, her expression gentled, as though Lucy had finally said something true enough to deserve patience.
“Lucy, can you not try to understand me? I have lived this life!” Selina replied.
Lucy rose from her chair, unable to sit still any longer. She paced a short distance then stopped near the window, her arms folding tightly across her chest.
“You sent me here believing I will fail,” she said. “Or that I might succeed and then be forced to choose something I was not prepared for. That is not trust, Aunt Selina. That is a test.”
“It was a chance,” Selina countered quietly. “One you have never allowed yourself before.”
Lucy turned back to her, eyes bright with frustration and something close to fear. “A chance at what? Marriage?” Her laugh was unsteady. “You speak of it as though it is a certainty I am merely delaying, as though my reluctance is childish rather than deliberate.”
Selina leaned back slightly, studying her. “You speak as though I wish to trap you. I do not. I wish to spare you.”
“Spare me from what?”
“From waking one day and realizing that independence, however hard-won, does not shield one from loneliness.”
Lucy flinched though she did not look away.
“You fear that I will be alone,” Lucy replied, her voice rising despite herself. “As though solitude is some failing that must be corrected before it becomes permanent.”
Selina gave a short, incredulous laugh. “You speak as though companionship is an insult.”
“No,” Lucy said quickly. “I speak as though marriage is not the only proof of a life well lived.”
“Yet you want to spend your years arranging other people’s unions,” Selina countered. “Do you imagine yourself exempt from the very thing you insist brings others happiness?”
Lucy faltered, only for a moment, then lifted her chin. “I want to arrange marriages because they matter. Because they shape lives. That does not mean I wish to surrender my own.”
Selina folded her arms. “Or perhaps it means you want to hide behind other people’s futures so long that you no longer know what to do when faced with your own.”
The accusation stung. Lucy turned away, pacing a step before stopping herself, refusing to give her aunt the satisfaction of seeing her unravel. Inside, however, her thoughts refused to stay orderly.
She let out a breath that was more a huff than a sigh. “If you wished me to abandon my work,” she said, turning back sharply, “you will be disappointed to learn that I have done the opposite. Quite thoroughly in fact.”
Selina studied her, measuring. “Oh?”
“Yes,” Lucy went on, the words coming faster now, sharpened by irritation and a need to reclaim ground.
“I have succeeded. Entirely. The Duke of Langridge has a prospective bride, one entirely suitable to his station, temperament, and household. Matters have progressed so well that she dined here last evening and will return again.”
That did it. Selina’s composure cracked, just slightly. “You mean to tell me,” she said slowly, “that you have actually found a match for him? Despite everything?”
Lucy lifted her chin. “I have done precisely what I was asked to do. More than that, I have done it well.”
For a fleeting moment, satisfaction warmed her chest. It did not last.
Selina’s surprise faded, and she sat back. “Then I am glad,” she said plainly. “Truly. But I still stand my ground. This is not the path for you.”
Lucy let out a sharp laugh. “I cannot believe this.”
“I wanted you to encounter something that would force you to question whether arranging love for others is enough to sustain you. Beyond marriage. What about love? You are telling me that in two weeks, you worked closely with the Duke, you did not feel anything for him?”
Lucy stiffened. Before she could marshal a response sharp enough to defend herself, the door opened.
Both women turned.
Rowan stood just inside the threshold, impeccably dressed, his expression polite but alert, as though he had walked into a room charged with more than he had anticipated.
“Lady Mullens. I beg your pardon,” he said, inclining his head. “I did not mean to interrupt. I only wished to offer my greetings.”
His gaze moved briefly between them, lingering for a fraction of a second longer on Lucy than was strictly necessary.
Lucy’s pulse stumbled, traitorous and immediate, and she hated that it did so even now, even in the middle of this.
Selina recovered first. “Your Grace,” she said smoothly, “how kind of you.”
She stepped forward, her eyes traveling over Rowan with a bold, appraising look that would have been scandalous in a younger woman.
A slow, delighted smile spread across her face.
“Though I must say, descriptions of you did you a grave injustice. I have heard mentions of a duke of ‘sturdy character’ and ‘serviceable features.’ They neglected to mention that you are, in fact, quite the most handsome man I have seen in three counties.”
Rowan stiffened, clearly unaccustomed to such blunt flirtation. “Lady Selina,” he acknowledged with a formal, albeit tight, bow, “I am flattered. You are too kind.”