Judith sat back. “Oh, the poor thing. Is he all right?”
Lucy sat there for a moment, the cold water seeping through her layers. She looked down at the mess, but she wasn't thinking about the silk. She was thinking about Brook's eyes. He hadn’t looked like a child wanting to be the center of the room like he always did when he was naughty. He had looked like a child who wanted to disappear. It bothered Lucy, and she wondered if they had made a mistake.
Anthony had been the one to tell her that they needed a mother in the house. She wondered if perhaps... Brook did not feel the same. Now that she thought about it, she had not asked him personally.
“It’s quite all right,” Lucy said, her voice steady despite the shiver starting in her spine. She waved off the approaching servants. “Truly, Your Grace, don’t be furious. It was an accident. He’s just having a difficult evening.”
“His behavior was inexcusable,” Rowan said, his face flushed with rage as he crouched down to her side, watching her wipe her dress with the cloth he handed her.
“He’s a child,” Lucy reminded him gently in a whisper, so only the two of them could hear. “Please let me handle this. I will speak to him after the dinner.”
Rowan shook his head. “No, I will handle it. That boy?—”
“Something is definitely wrong,” Lucy rasped, leaning in further. “Brook may be defiant, but he is never this rude. He adores you. I have never seen him go against your wishes before. Have you?”
Rowan sighed and shook his head again.
“Exactly. Let me talk to him, please,” she pleaded, standing up as the water dripped from her hem. “I’ll just go make myself presentable again. Please, continue with dinner. I won’t be long.”
She didn’t wait for his permission. She draped a discarded shawl over her soaked shoulders to hide the mess and walked out. But she didn’t head for her bedchamber. Once she was out of sight of the dining hall, she turned toward the back stairs, her eyes searching the shadows for a small, frightened boy.
“Brook? Where are you?”
Lucy ignored the icy feeling on her chest and continued her search. She didn’t check the noisy places; she knew Brook better than that. She sought out the quiet, forgotten corners.
“Are you in here?” she asked, pushing a door open. “You need to stop hiding, Brook. Your father might be upset with you, but he won’t punish you.”
Finally, she found him in the old solarium at the end of the east wing, a cozy, glass-walled room filled with dormant ferns and the scent of damp earth. He was curled into a small ball on a stone bench, tucked behind a large terracotta pot as if trying to blend into the shadows. When she walked in, he shrunk even further, hoping that she did not see him.
Lucy didn't rush toward him. She moved slowly, her wet skirts heavy and cold against her legs. She sat down on the far end of the bench, leaving a respectful distance between them. For a long time, neither of them spoke.
“You know,” Lucy began softly, staring out at the silvered garden, “when I was about your age, I was quite the defiant little girl. My mama had a very specific list of books she deemed ‘appropriate’ for me to read. Mostly poetry about flowers and embroidery manuals. But there was one particular book in my papa’s study that I wasn’t allowed to touch. It was a thick, tattered journal of an explorer who had travelled through the deepest jungles.”
Brook didn’t move, but his breathing hitched.
“I was obsessed with it,” Lucy continued, a small smile tugging at her lips as she recollected. “Every time my mother asked me to read my ‘appropriate’ books, I would pretend to obey. But the moment she turned her back, I would sneak that journal away.I would hide in the highest corner of the attic or under my own bed, reading about ancient ruins by candlelight. I was so defiant about it. I felt like that book was the only thing that belonged truly to me.”
She sighed softly. “When my mother finally found out, we argued for a long time. She was furious that I had disobeyed her, and I was just as angry back. I couldn’t understand why she was so insistent on keeping it from me. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t allowed to simply read a book that made me feel alive, rather than the ones she chose for me.”
She turned her head to look toward him. “I felt like she wasn’t seeing me at all. She was only seeing the daughter she wanted me to be.”
Lucy paused. She sat quietly, waiting to see if he would step out from behind the terracotta pot.
“The lesson I eventually learned, Brook, was that my defiance didn’t actually make my mama listen. It just made her close her ears tighter. When I screamed and hid, she only saw a disobedient child, not a girl who loved adventure. I realized that if I wanted her to understand me, I had to show her I was bigger than my temper.”
She turned her gaze toward the terracotta pot where he remained huddled. “I know it feels like the only way to protect your home is to fight everyone who enters it, but being rude to Lady Judith doesn’t tell your papa how you feel. It only makeshim think you’re being difficult for no reason. It drowns out the truth of what’s bothering you.”
There was a long, heavy silence. Then, the sound of fabric scraping against stone echoed through the solarium. Slowly, Brook uncurled himself. He stood up, looking small and shaken, and walked over to the bench. He didn’t say a word as he sat down right beside her, his shoulder brushing against her damp dress.
“I don’t want to be mean,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on his dangling boots.
“Then apologize,” Lucy said to him.
“I don’t want to do that either,” he replied.
Lucy let out a small, weary sigh. “I know you don’t. But sometimes an apology isn’t for the other person; it’s for you. It shows you’re the one in control of your actions, even when you’re angry.”
She shifted on the stone bench to face him more fully. “Forget about Lady Judith for a moment. Forget about the dinner. I want to ask you something, and I want you to be very honest with me. Do you actually want a mama in this house? Not a replacement for your own and not necessarily the lady sitting at that table, but just… a mother?”
