Lucy leaned forward slightly, her hands folded neatly in front of her, attempting to soften the abruptness. “I believe what theDuke is illustrating, Lady Kitty, is that firmness and guidance are necessary with children.”
Kitty nodded though her brow furrowed slightly. “Of course. I… understand. If I may, do you find that they learn more readily with gentle instruction or with… deliberate firmness? Can it be a mix of both?”
Rowan’s lips twitched. “Gentleness is overrated. One must be unwavering. I would not have them believe that the rules bend at a whim. A child who thinks himself a swan may, at the age of seven, attempt flight from the balcony. Firmness, Lady Kitty, prevents misadventures.”
Lucy intervened smoothly, trying to salvage the warmth of the discussion. “What the Duke means is that consistency provides security, Lady Kitty. Children flourish best when they understand the expectations clearly.”
Kitty’s hand lifted to her chin, unsure whether she was being tested or instructed. “Ah… yes, certainly. I imagine that with three children, there is always some mischief?”
Rowan’s dark eyes gleamed. “Mischief is an understatement. Just yesterday, one of my sons attempted to convince the other that the cat required formal introductions before being permitted near the fireplace. I allowed the experiment to proceed for a mere twenty minutes before intervening.”
Kitty stifled a nervous laugh. “A formal introduction for the cat?”
“Precisely,” Rowan said, expression unwavering. “I find that discipline is best imparted through subtle instruction and the occasional demonstration of folly. One must not be too kind nor too harsh.”
Lucy inclined her head, struggling to make sense of Rowan’s parables. “What the Duke is suggesting is that practical experience and careful observation help children understand consequences. I have often found it instructive myself in my work with... families.”
Kitty’s cheeks colored faintly, relief mingling with confusion. “Yes, I… think I follow. Experience teaches lessons in a manner words cannot. Sometimes, children need to realize for themselves how foolish some of their decisions are.”
Rowan’s gaze lingered on her. “Indeed. One must discern which lessons are worth learning and which are frivolous. As I mentioned regarding the goose, some delusions, while amusing, must be corrected before they lead to disaster.”
Lucy exhaled softly in her mind, feeling the weight of the delicate balance she maintained, encouraging Kitty to engage while keeping Rowan’s dry wit from unraveling the entire visit. She realized just how impossible the task would be, guiding a candidate toward favor with a Duke who regarded humor as an intellectual weapon and whose children were, in effect, tiny geese under stern observation.
“Tell me, Lady Kitty,” Rowan said suddenly, leaning forward slightly, “when you were a child, were you a goose? Did youflap about in delusions of grandeur, imagining yourself swans or peacocks, perhaps?”
Lady Kitty stiffened, her polite composure flickering. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”
“Or perhaps,” Rowan continued, undeterred. “Did your family allow you such fantasies unchecked? One must wonder how a young lady learns the difference between reality and aspiration.”
Lucy felt her stomach tighten. She could see the flash of offense in Kitty’s eyes, the subtle rigidness of her posture. Rowan, she realized, was not aiming to be cruel. This was—yet again—his humor.
Rowan’s gaze sharpened further. “Did you, Lady Kitty, ever presume to challenge authority? Flap against expectation as geese might? Or were you docile, the sort to obey without question?”
Kitty’s lips parted, caught somewhere between disbelief and polite outrage. Lucy’s hand instinctively tightened over the corner of a chair.
Enough.
She rose from her seat, the swish of her skirts cutting through the tension. “Lady Kitty,” she said firmly, her voice calm yet carrying authority, “would you be so kind as to grant us a brief moment?”
Kitty blinked, uncertain, then nodded. “Of course,” she murmured, her voice tight with the effort of holding herself composed.
Lucy gestured towards the children. “Anthony, take your brothers, please. Why don’t you step outside for a while? Enjoy the garden. This conversation will not require your presence.”
The boys hesitated for a fraction of a moment before nodding, casting curious glances back toward Rowan, and then slipping quietly out of the room.
Lucy turned back to Lady Kitty, who was already moving toward the door. “Perhaps,” Kitty said, pausing briefly in the doorway, “it would be best if we scheduled another meeting. My time has flown faster than I anticipated.”
Lucy inclined her head politely. “Of course, Lady Kitty. Thank you for your patience.”
With that, Kitty made her way out, her skirts rustling softly on the polished floor, leaving the library empty except for Lucy and the Duke.
Rowan adjusted the cuff of his coat with deliberate care, letting his gaze linger on the doorway where Lady Kitty had just departed. “Well,” he said, his tone calm but carrying the faintest edge of amusement, “that went quite well, did it not?”
Lucy crossed her arms, raising a brow. “Quite well? You call that quite well? You spoke for a great percentage of the time.”
“It was quiet,” Rowan said, fingers brushing his lips. “I had to say something.”
“You do not have to fill every silence,” Lucy countered, her arms crossed. “Sometimes silence is best. You once told me you liked quiet, yet here you are, insisting on filling it with… whatever that was.”
