Chapter 17 #2
The horses slowed at last, breath misting faintly in the cool air as the path dipped toward the river.
Rowan drew his mount to a halt and loosened the reins, allowing the animal to lower its head and drink.
The water moved lazily over smooth stones, untroubled by anything more pressing than the afternoon light.
It was Magnus who had broken the silence. “You? Rowan? Getting married?” he continued.
Rowan looked up, leaning against his saddle. “I am,” he said plainly.
Magnus exchanged a glance with Valentine, whose horse had also come to a halt. “Not just to anyone,” he said slowly. “The woman in question… is your matchmaker? My wife’s dear cousin? Lucy Crampton?”
Rowan allowed himself a small smile. “Yes. My matchmaker.”
Valentine laughed softly. “You told us you were planning to settle down, but I confess I still cannot imagine it. Your agreeing to marry someone is ridiculous. We have known your stance on marriage for a long time.”
Rowan shook his head, a gnawing disbelief threading through him. He had thought he would clarify, explain, and make them understand the circumstances. Yet the truth was more complicated than words could carry without betraying something he was only beginning to decipher himself.
He remembered the moment when Lucy had made the suggestion so clearly.
The very moment she had offered herself as his wife.
Only moments before then, he had told her she was free to go.
That she was relieved of her matchmaking duties and that he would not hold her to the deal they made.
Yet she had still offered to keep her end of the deal.
In doing that, she had lodged an idea in his mind that he could neither dismiss nor control.
The thought had struck him first with astonishment, then with an ease of feeling he had not anticipated.
He had smiled that day, without realizing it, without caution. He had allowed the idea of marrying her to soften the edges of his world, and even now, he could not entirely convince himself that it was prudent.
Magnus prodded again. “Rowan, I know you like the back of my hand. You might be playful, and you can turn any serious situation into a comedy, but you are resolute when you make a decision, and you don’t make one rashly. Are you sure this is what you want?”
Rowan inhaled slowly, watching the water ripple past their horses’ hooves. “I do not know what I expected,” he admitted. “I did not foresee how it would feel or how quickly it would all happen.”
Valentine’s brow rose. “Sounds as though you are unsettled.”
Rowan nodded, offering no further explanation. He knew better than to speak more than he must. Words, once released, had a habit of twisting themselves beyond control.
Magnus glanced at him sharply. “Why her, Rowan? Tell us, at least, why you decided to marry her.”
“I told you, I am marrying her,” Rowan said. “That’s just how things turned out. Lucy and I are getting married soon. Once we set the date.”
Magnus leaned on his saddle. “Do you feel certain this is the right thing?”
Rowan lifted his eyes, meeting his friend’s, and nodded. “Certain enough,” he said aloud.
But inside, he was still unsettled. Certain, yes, but also keenly aware of how little he had anticipated the way his own heart had betrayed him.
The strange lightness in his chest when he thought of her, the anticipation of seeing her, the memory of her voice offering him something he had never allowed himself to want. Peace.
“Your silence is troubling, Rowan Clawridge,” Magnus observed as he approached him.
“First, you write, asking for my presence right away, so I drop everything going on in my estate and come here, and now, you won’t talk.
You’re quiet, and you never are. You are one of the few people that I know who has an opinion on everything. So what is it?”
Rowan adjusted the reins in his hands, letting them slip through his fingers without loosening. “I am not unusually quiet,” he said carefully. “There is just nothing else to say.”
Valentine raised a brow. “Do not pretend, Rowan. You have been tense from the moment we set off. You barely spoke a word until we reached the river. Something about this is troubling you.”
Magnus nudged him with his elbow. “A man of your temperament rarely stays this still. Has the prospect of marriage suddenly made you pensive?”
Rowan’s jaw tightened, and he remained silent for a moment. There was much he wished to say that had been the very reason he had summoned them, but the thoughts tangled in his mind, stubborn and unyielding, resisting any attempt to form them into words.
Valentine leaned forward, curiosity sharpened. “You are concealing something, Rowan. Tell us plainly. What has got you brooding like this?”
Rowan finally let out a slow breath. “It is she,” he said simply. “Lucy has a strange effect on me. There, I said it.”
Magnus’s eyebrows shot up. “Effect? What do you mean? I know she is clever, yes, but cleverness alone rarely leaves a man so… distracted.”
Rowan shut his eyes, searching for words that would satisfy them without revealing more than he should.
“It is not her wit or her counsel or the manner in which she carries herself. It is the way she exists alongside me. I find myself noticing everything she does. How she speaks, how she moves, how she interacts with my sons. It unsettles me, though I do not wish to be unsettled. Yet I cannot stop noticing. She is too... involved in my home. In my life.”
Valentine smiled knowingly. “So it is not simply marriage that makes you uneasy. You are aware of her, more than you expected.”
“Yes,” Rowan admitted quietly. “More than I expected and more than I can fully explain. That is why I am quiet. That is why I have not spoken. My mind is not occupied with the ride or the horses or any of the things I might normally comment upon. It is preoccupied.”
Magnus shook his head, half amused, half incredulous. “I have never seen you like this. Ever. You are tense, silent, even thoughtful. For you, this is remarkable.”
“But beyond all of this, there’s something else that bothers me. I’ll explain from the start,” Rowan said and turned to face them both.
Magnus leaned forward, curiosity sharpened. “By all means.”
Rowan took a slow breath. “It begins with a deal I made. Well, the deal Lucy and I made. I gave Lucy two weeks to find me a suitable bride when she first arrived at the estate. That was the condition. I did not want to waste any time on it, so I gave her a deadline.”
Valentine’s brow rose. “Two weeks?” he repeated. “Surely that is an impossibly short span of time to secure a marriage for a man of your standing. Even the most industrious matchmaker would struggle.”
“Indeed,” Rowan said. “She failed. But there was a condition if she failed. One she had to meet.”
Magnus blinked. “She failed, and therefore...”
“She becomes my bride,” Rowan finished.
Valentine whistled low. “You gave her two weeks to find you a bride, or she becomes your bride?”
“It was her choice,” Rowan replied. “I made the terms clear. It was different because Lucy did not want to get married. She was adamant on it. That’s why she was so keen on becoming a matchmaker.
I figured that would make her desperate enough to do the job well.
She knew what was at stake. If she could not find a suitable match for me, she would accept the alternative. ”
Valentine exchanged a glance with Magnus, both of them fascinated. “So you offered her a choice, and she chose to risk her future. Bold, I must say.”
“There’s more.” Rowan exhaled slowly, running a hand along the horse’s mane as he searched for the words.
“When she failed to find a bride for me,” he said.
“I confess… I had already begun to reconsider the arrangement. I thought perhaps she need not marry me at all. I could release her from the terms. She could go, live her life as she chose. I would not hold it against her.”
Valentine’s eyes widened. “Did you release her?”
Rowan’s lips pressed together. “Yes, I did. I told her that she was free to leave, deal or not. That she need not marry me simply because she had failed her task.”
Magnus’ eyebrow furrowed. “I’m confused. If you set her free from the deal, then...” He let the words hang, knowing the conclusion before Rowan spoke it.
“She volunteered,” Rowan admitted. “She chose to marry me, despite herself. Despite the fact that she has never wished to wed. She chose to keep her end of the deal.”
Valentine leaned back against his saddle, exhaling slowly. “But why would she do that? You are correct. From what I have heard about Lucy from my wife, she does not wish to wed. It was precisely for that reason that her mother sent her to live with her aunt in the countryside.”
Rowan’s eyes traced the riverbank. “It surprised me,” he murmured.
“Yet… somehow, I began to wonder if her acceptance was not simply duty.
She was not bound to me in any way. She owed me nothing.
So all I can think of... the only thing that makes sense is that perhaps she feels something else. Perhaps she feels as I do. “
Magnus squinted his eyes. “And just to be clear... what you feel is...”
Rowan lifted his eyebrows. “The strange effect.”
“Right.” Magnus tilted his head, a faint, knowing smile on his lips. “But you are not certain of this strange effect. Even now?”
“No,” Rowan said, jaw tightening slightly. “I can think about it, I can wonder, but nothing is certain until she confirms it herself.”
Valentine leaned back on his saddle, whistling softly. “So, if that is the issue… if you think she might feel the same way about you, then shouldn’t that be a good thing? You’re on the same page, and she wants to marry you.”
Rowan said nothing in response.
He ran his fingers through his hair and turned to face the water then. Even though it felt good to imagine things and convince himself that Lucy might be on the same page that he was, he figured he could not allow himself to imagine too much. He knew better.
The only thing that would settle his troubled thoughts was if Lucy confirmed it herself. He would need to hear it from her, from her own words, before his mind wandered any further.
Yet, the possibility that she might feel as he did filled him with a happiness so sharp it unsettled him. It was hope, long denied, and he did not yet know how to carry it.