Chapter 18 #2
Lucy smiled softly to herself, the sight still calming some of the tension she had carried since morning.
The boys’ laughter rang across the garden, mingled with the chuckle of their father as he began to improve with each turn.
She stayed on the bench, content to simply watch them together, absorbing the ease, the warmth, the way Rowan allowed himself to laugh with them.
After a few more turns, Rowan’s hoop clattered harmlessly to the grass, and he straightened with a small sigh. “I believe a pause is in order,” he said, brushing his hands over his coat.
Anthony groaned, but Brook only nodded. “Very well, Father,” he said solemnly. “But do not sit too far. We still expect proper competition.”
Rowan smiled faintly, and without waiting for more, he strode over to where Lucy was perched on the low bench beside the flowerbeds. He removed his gloves, letting the sun catch the faint sheen of gold at his cuff buttons, and settled beside her, leaving a polite space.
“You’ve been awfully quiet,” he observed, watching the boys chase hoops along the grass. “I hear you went shopping today. Was it agreeable?”
Lucy’s hands flexed slightly in her lap.
“It was productive, Your Grace,” she said carefully.
“Exhausting, I think, would be the more accurate word. So many choices, so many fabrics, and Aunt Selina wanted me to try on a lot of them, I just...” She waved a hand vaguely, exhaling.
“I daresay I did not know I could grow weary simply looking at gowns.”
He arched an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “I see. Well, if there is anything you desire, anything at all, clothing, jewelry, even the smallest of comforts, you need not lift a finger. Simply ask. I will bring people to you. You don’t have to go to them.”
Lucy’s fingers tightened subtly around her gloves. “I appreciate the offer, Your Grace,” she said carefully.
He gave a small shrug, eyes never leaving hers. “Consider it not an offer but a promise. You need only speak, and it shall be arranged, Lucy. I will see to it personally, so you may devote yourself to more… pleasant pursuits.”
She inclined her head slightly, unsure how to respond but grateful, nonetheless.
Rowan’s gaze softened, and for a moment, it seemed he was merely observing the boys. Then, with a tilt of his head, he spoke again.
“Though, I must admit,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “it would be a shame if you spent all your time arranging comforts and watching them without enjoying the garden yourself. Surely, one must indulge in some amusement.”
“Oh, I have been amused since I walked into the garden with Anthony and Brook. I will admit that I was frustrated after returning from the modiste, but they happened to make me smile playing their game.”
“Ah,” he sighed and sat back. “Now, I would have loved to see that. I must admit that the sight of you laughing can be terribly distracting.”
Lucy’s cheeks flamed crimson. She looked quickly down at her hands, wishing, absurdly, that they could shield her from his gaze. “Distracting, Rowan?” she murmured, her voice catching slightly.
“Yes,” he said, leaning back slightly, still watching her with that deliberate, searching look. “I have told you before that your smile is quite captivating. Now, I have spent the bulk of my morning staring at ledgers, so pardon me if I really want some distraction.”
“Ah, and my smile is that distraction?” she asked with raised eyebrows.
“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation.
Lucy swallowed hard, her fingers twisting together in her lap. She had not expected him to speak this way, not so openly, not so intentionally. The flush in her cheeks spread, unbidden, and she realized with a start that he had changed, or perhaps she had just never truly noticed him before.
“I—” she began, but then she stopped, aware of the boys tumbling around them.
Rowan’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. “Do not think to hide it, Lucy Crampton,” he murmured lightly, “I can see it, you know? You do it a lot. You look away, you adjust your stance, so I cannot see your face anymore.” He paused momentarily, inching closer to her.
Lucy’s blush deepened, almost to the point of embarrassment.
She forced a laugh, trying to redirect the attention.
“You must be in a very good mood today, Rowan,” she said, shifting slightly on the bench, finally daring to meet his gaze.
“You seem unusually at ease,” she said carefully.
“With all of this—the wedding, the arrangements, everything.”
Rowan gave a small, almost wry smile. “Yes,” he said plainly. “I’ve made peace with it. Since we are already to be married, there is little point in fretting. We might as well speak of dates, of arrangements, and settle these matters as quickly as we can.”
Lucy frowned lightly, unsure how to respond. There was something so steady about him now, so calm, that it both reassured and unnerved her. “You really don’t seem troubled at all,” she murmured.
“Troubled?” he echoed softly. “Why should I be? It is what it is, and there are far more pressing matters to consider than my mood.”
He leaned forward just slightly, eyes fixed on her.
“For instance...” he continued, “... you should not have to endure the stress you went through this morning. That shopping, the decisions, the endless choices, it should not fall upon you. You do not want to be too stressed before the big day. If there is anything you want, need, or require, it will be arranged. You need only ask. You will not have to do it yourself.”
Lucy’s breath caught, and for a moment, she felt something settle heavy on her chest. The seriousness in his tone, the care in his words, it was unlike anything she had expected from him.
Her gaze fell again, unable to meet his, as her heart betrayed her resolve.
She tried to anchor herself, to convince herself that he only needed a mother for his children.
Nothing more. That was all it was. He was trying to make it work, so there would be no friction between them.
She had to make sure she did not forget that.
Why else would he be so nice to her?
As Lucy shut her eyes, trying to gather her scattered thoughts, a sudden, tingling touch brushed against her skin.
Rowan’s fingers, warm and surprisingly soft, moved to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
The contact was electric in its simplicity, sending a quick, unexpected thrill up her arm and making her chest tighten.
She drew in a sharp breath, startled by how acutely aware she suddenly became of him, of the closeness, of the warmth of his hand lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
“Are you all right, Lucy?” he asked softly, almost in a whisper. “You suddenly look pale.”
To top it off, the sound of his voice in that tone sent another shiver up Lucy’s spine.
Her pulse leapt, and a warmth spread through her cheeks.
She flinched instinctively, as if the closeness had startled her body as much as her mind.
Swallowing hard, she pressed a hand to her lap, trying to steady the rapid thrum of her heart, but the tingling warmth lingered.
“I’m fine,” she said, lifting her gaze to meet his for a brief moment. “I understand the situation, and I… I appreciate your concern, but you need not trouble yourself over such matters.”
Rowan’s eyes studied her for a long moment, searching, and she felt the intensity of his eyes on hers. He was searching for something. She could see it in the way he peered into her eyes so deeply.
“I told you,” she continued, her voice firmer, “I’ll honor our agreement. I’ll do my duty by the children.”
For a heartbeat, his expression faltered. His lips pressed into a thin line, and his gaze sharpened, darkening so much that it made her stomach lurch. The teasing ease she had grown used to vanished, replaced by something almost dangerous that pressed against her chest and made her pulse pound.
“I was not speaking of the arrangement,” he said quietly. “Nor of the boys. I was asking whether you are well.”
Lucy inhaled slowly. She could not allow herself to answer that honestly.
“That is precisely why I must speak of it,” she said instead. “Because the boys are what matters. Everything that has brought us here exists because of them. Because they needed a mother and because you needed someone willing to be that for them.”
Her voice steadied as she went on, even as her chest tightened. “I will never forget that. I would never allow myself to.”
Rowan’s mouth opened, his expression sharpening. “Lucy, what—”
She shook her head, gently but firmly, forcing herself to finish. “You need not worry about me. Or concern yourself with my comfort. Or speak to me kindly out of obligation. I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it. I will do my part. I will not go back on what I promised.”
There was a long moment where he simply looked at her with clenched jaw, as though he were holding back words that pressed hard against his restraint.
Before he could speak, footsteps thundered across the lawn.
“Father!” Anthony called, already reaching for him. “You must play again!”
Brook followed, laughing. “You’re much better now; you can’t stop!”
Rowan hesitated only a second before allowing himself to be pulled away, but before he turned fully, his eyes returned to Lucy, lingering there with a seriousness that she could not bring herself to look at.
She remained seated, hands clasped tightly together, her breath shallow. Only when they were gone did she allow herself a single, unguarded breath.
Lucy had known confusion before. She had stood at a crossroads, weighed choices, and undone mistakes she had once made in haste. She had questioned herself, corrected herself, and learned to live with the consequences of her decisions.
But this moment was different.
This was the most confused she had ever been in her life, and what unsettled her most was not the confusion itself but the fact that she could not name it. She could not locate it, could not grasp its cause. It hovered just beyond her understanding, heavy and insistent.