The music began, soft strings weaving through the air like a whispered promise, and Rowan’s hand found her waist with ease. He offered his other hand, palm open, and she placed hers within it, fingers brushing against his.
“I did not know you favored the color blue,” Lucy noted after a beat of silence.
His smile instinctively deepened. “I have liked it for as long as I can recall,” he admitted, tilting his head to catch the light in her eyes.
She shook her head, letting a faint laugh escape despite herself. “Then perhaps you should have told me when you were speaking of yourself. But you were ever so stubborn, and I knew nothing of it.”
Rowan’s gaze softened, tracing the curve of her lips as she spoke, and he could not help but wonder why such a trivial detail seemed to matter so much to her. “And why,” he asked quietly, “do you look so perturbed by this revelation?”
Lucy’s eyes darted away. “So, how was the dance with Lady Judith?” she asked briskly, changing the subject. “I assume that is the reason you asked me to dance. To discuss it?”
“Right. That,” he answered, trying to recall the entirety of it.
“That?” she asked with raised eyebrows. “Surely it was good?”
Rowan caught the subtle way her gaze lingered on him, alert and curious, and a brief pang of responsibility pricked at him. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel that all her careful guidance, all her advice and preparation, had been for nothing.
He exhaled softly, glancing down at her. “Yes,” he admitted, choosing his words deliberately. “She is agreeable, intelligent, and well-mannered. Precisely the sort of companion a man might seek. She might just be the one I am looking for.”
Lucy’s lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile. “I am glad to hear it,” she said. “It seems, then, that my efforts have not been in vain. I was right after all.”
He lifted a brow, curiosity flickering across his features. “Pray, how did you know?”
Lucy’s smile broadened, and the sight of it made Rowan’s grip on her waist tighten instinctively. “I have studied you as closely as one may,” she explained. “The whispers of society, the little truths people let slip together tell a story. From them, I could see that you and Lady Judith share much in common. Interests, temperaments, even the way your minds turn to the world. I imagined that if you simply allowed yourselves to converse, to meet, to enjoy one another’s company, the match would reveal itself.”
Rowan chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. “One might almost think you have the eyes of a hawk, the way you talk about these things...”
“Perhaps I do,” she replied lightly. “But even a hawk needs the patience to watch and the willingness to act when the moment is right.” She leaned forward, her voice softening. “You should invite her to the estate one of these days, Your Grace. For lunch, something nice with the children. It will give you both the chance to discover just how compatible you truly are.”
He nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “Very well. I have seen that your counsel is wise, and I will follow it.”
Lucy’s smile deepened before it slowly waned. “I am pleased,” she said simply.
Rowan hesitated for a heartbeat, then asked. “What of yourself, Lucy? After aiding so diligently in the affairs of others, do you plan to apply your talents to your own heart, or shall you remain forever the matchmaker, leaving yourself unclaimed?”
She lifted her eyes to his, and he caught a faint shadow crossing her expression. “I chose, long ago, to live my life untethered, Your Grace,” she said softly. “To become a woman tied to a man and anything more is not for me. I will not surrender my days to the whims or affections of another, no matter how… appealing he might be.”
Rowan’s brow lifted, curiosity mingling with concern. “Why this determination?”
Lucy’s lips curved in a faint, almost wistful smile. “As you know, I was neglected a lot as a child, left to my own devices far more than any young girl ought to be. My parents were very strict with my upbringing, so much so that I had little freedom to do anything.”
She paused, then lowered her gaze. “There was one incident where I did something I ought not to have done. Some might even have called it scandalous. You may have heard the rumors, though I am certain my family did all that they could to cover it well, but it altered the course of lives.”
“Was it the betrothal to Valentine?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “Of course, he must have told you of it. We were betrothed, and I did something foolish in an attempt to end it. My actions were selfish, but in a rather crooked turn of events, it brought him to my cousin, Cecilia. They are married now. They are very happy. Truly happy. I have witnessed that happiness, and in some strange way, it has convinced me thatperhaps my path is not to have love for myself but to guide it for others.”
Rowan’s chest tightened, a pang of something he did not know stirring within him. Her voice masked a depth that struck him in ways words could not touch.
“I have seen enough of my parents’ marriage,” she continued, her tone brittle. “It is not a model for me. I don’t think I want a family of my own, nor the small obligations and compromises it demands. My calling, if one can call it that, is to bring people together and to see them find what I will not seek for myself.”
He remained silent, listening, the strange hollow in his chest widening.
She watched him, and then, almost imperceptibly, a shift came. She leaned closer, as though commanding the air around them. “Perhaps… in some ways,” she said, “I am offering it all, in a fashion, to those who can use it. It is the first time in a long while I have settled upon something, a thing I can call mine, if only in purpose. I will not stay away from it. Not from… this calling, this work… this…” Her voice faltered, and then she smiled faintly, resolutely. “I want to stick to it. To see it through.”
Rowan exhaled slowly, his mind a tangle of admiration and unease. He did not answer her at once. He studied her profile as they moved together, the cadence of the dance steady, almost deceptive in its calm. Her certainty rang too polished, too practiced, as though she had rehearsed it until doubt no longer dared interrupt.
At last, he spoke quietly. “Forgive me if I presume, Lucy,” he said, his voice low enough that only she might hear. “But have you ever considered that this vocation of yours may not be service alone?”
