Chapter 14 #3
“I am never kind, Your Grace. I am merely observant,” Selina teased, her eyes dancing with mischief as she glanced at Lucy’s flaming cheeks. “But I suppose I must give credit where it is due. It seems my niece has actually succeeded in her impossible task.”
Lucy felt the heat climb her neck, her gaze darting between her aunt’s mischievous face and Rowan’s unreadable expression. “Aunt, please,” she murmured, wanting the earth to swallow her.
Rowan’s expression shifted, his gaze momentarily softening as it landed on Lucy.
“Indeed,” he said, “Miss Crampton has performed her duties with an excellence I did not truly expect when we began this... arrangement. She has been diligent, remarkably patient with my sons, and has managed to navigate the complexities of my household with a grace that few could match. She found exactly what I asked for. She has done a very good job, Lady Mullens. You should be proud of her professional prowess.”
Lucy felt the praise like a physical heat, far more intense than her aunt’s teasing. To hear Rowan acknowledge her work so formally, especially after their heated argument in the garden, felt weird. Like he had an ulterior motive.
“Well,” Selina chirped, looking between them, “it sounds as though the match is a success, then.”
Rowan’s face suddenly shuttered, the warmth vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
“It is. Everything went smoothly yesterday, and I see no reason to delay. I have already written a letter to Lady Judith, inviting her back to the estate this afternoon so that we may speak privately. I intend to formalize the proposal.”
He turned to Lucy. “As the match is now effectively made, our contract is nearing its end. You will be free to leave the estate whenever you wish, Miss Crampton. I imagine you are eager to return to your own life now that your mission here is complete.”
It felt like the air had been kicked from Lucy’s lungs. She had spent weeks orchestrating this exact moment, calculating every glance, every conversation, every social hurdle, yet now that the finish line was here, it felt less like a victory and more like an ending she wasn’t ready for.
He is proposing already?
The thought echoed hollowly in her mind. She had expected a courtship, perhaps a few more weeks of “negotiations” where she would still be needed. She didn’t think he would seal the deal the very second she was out of the room.
Her pulse stumbled, traitorous and immediate, especially as she watched his posture shift. The man who had almost leaned into her in the garden just minutes ago was gone. In his place stood a cold and unyielding duke.
“I am sure Lady Judith will be delighted, Your Grace,” Lucy said, her voice sounding thin to her own ears.
“I expect so, Miss Crampton,” Rowan replied.
Miss Crampton.
Not Lucy. Not even the sharp, exasperated way he had barked her name during their arguments. He was retreating behind the safety of his title, erecting a massive, invisible barrier between them that no amount of friendship could bridge.
She saw the rigidity of his shoulders and the way he refused to meet her eyes, focusing instead on a point somewhere over her aunt’s head. He was making it very clear. The ‘deal’ was the only thing that had ever bound them, and that deal was done.
Lucy took a shallow breath, forcing her features into a mask of professional politeness.
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter.
If he wanted a barrier, she would help him build it.
She would be happy for him, she would be the successful matchmaker who had saved a family and earned her fee.
“It is exactly what we worked for,” Lucy said, forcing a bright, hollow smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I am truly happy that everything has moved so quickly. It is a testament to the suitability of the match. You will have a duchess, and the boys will have a mother. It is a perfect conclusion.”
Selina’s gaze lingered on Rowan, then she turned to Lucy.
“What of Lucy?” she asked, leaning slightly forward.
“Surely she will be invited to the wedding. After all, she needs to always be present at the occasions she arranges. It would be a splendid chance for her to make acquaintances or perhaps, even a match of her own.”
“Aunt!” Lucy cautioned her.
Rowan’s expression stiffened, and his jaw tightened slightly. “I do not believe that will be necessary.”
Lucy felt the words prick at her, and she pressed her hands to her lap, struggling to keep her composure. She looked from her aunt to Rowan, noting the faint edge in his tone that bespoke more than mere civility.
Selina’s eyes narrowed just enough to convey mild surprise. “Not necessary?” she repeated.
“It will be a small event,” Rowan replied, inclining his head with careful formalities. “Brief. Entirely private. Nothing beyond what must be done.”
Selina’s lips pressed together lightly, the hint of a smile tugging at one corner.
“I see. Very well, Your Grace,” she said.
“It would be wise to depart on the morrow or the next day,” she said, her tone carefully neutral though her eyes flicked to Rowan with a glint that suggested she was gauging his reaction.
Lucy hesitated, her fingers twisting in her lap. “Yes… that seems prudent,” she murmured.
Rowan’s hand, which had been resting casually behind him, flexed slightly, the knuckles whitening as he made a fist, though his face remained composed.
He gave a curt nod, a barely perceptible acknowledgment, like he was swallowing down whatever impulse rose within him.
Finally, he exhaled, the tension easing slightly from his shoulders, and he allowed himself to speak. “Very well. Tomorrow, then.”
Lucy caught the movement of his hand, the tightening and release, and a flutter of unease passed through her chest. She glanced quickly at him, noting the subtle rigidness in his posture, the way his eyes seemed to flick toward her before he turned his attention elsewhere.
She sighed softly, almost imperceptibly, and allowed herself a moment to process what had passed. The room was still, tense—even more tense than the past couple of days had been for her—and Lucy felt utterly overwhelmed.