“Yes,” Selina said simply.
“What if the Duke had dismissed me that very first day?”
“Then you would have returned home angry,” Selina replied. “Wounded. Perhaps, you would have done what any normal lady would do and concentrate on marriage.”
Lucy let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. “I cannot believe this. I actually thought you trusted me. I thought you were the first person who saw my worth. Why do this to me?”
“I am sorry, my child, but I have lived your life. Can you not trust me to make decisions for you?”
“You are just like Mama,” Lucy shot back, the words leaving her before she could soften them.
Selina did not recoil. If anything, her expression gentled, as though Lucy had finally said something true enough to deserve patience.
“Lucy, can you not try to understand me? I have lived this life!” Selina replied.
Lucy rose from her chair, unable to sit still any longer. She paced a short distance then stopped near the window, her arms folding tightly across her chest.
“You sent me here believing I will fail,” she said. “Or that I might succeed and then be forced to choose something I was not prepared for. That is not trust, Aunt Selina. That is a test.”
“It was a chance,” Selina countered quietly. “One you have never allowed yourself before.”
Lucy turned back to her, eyes bright with frustration and something close to fear. “A chance at what? Marriage?” Her laugh was unsteady. “You speak of it as though it is a certainty I am merely delaying, as though my reluctance is childish rather than deliberate.”
Selina leaned back slightly, studying her. “You speak as though I wish to trap you. I do not. I wish to spare you.”
“Spare me from what?”
“From waking one day and realizing that independence, however hard-won, does not shield one from loneliness.”
Lucy flinched though she did not look away.
“You fear that I will be alone,” Lucy replied, her voice rising despite herself. “As though solitude is some failing that must be corrected before it becomes permanent.”
Selina gave a short, incredulous laugh. “You speak as though companionship is an insult.”
“No,” Lucy said quickly. “I speak as though marriage is not the only proof of a life well lived.”
“Yet you want to spend your years arranging other people’s unions,” Selina countered. “Do you imagine yourself exempt from the very thing you insist brings others happiness?”
Lucy faltered, only for a moment, then lifted her chin. “I want to arrange marriages because they matter. Because they shape lives. That does not mean I wish to surrender my own.”
Selina folded her arms. “Or perhaps it means you want to hide behind other people’s futures so long that you no longer know what to do when faced with your own.”
The accusation stung. Lucy turned away, pacing a step before stopping herself, refusing to give her aunt the satisfaction of seeing her unravel. Inside, however, her thoughts refused to stay orderly.
She let out a breath that was more a huff than a sigh. “If you wished me to abandon my work,” she said, turning back sharply, “you will be disappointed to learn that I have done the opposite. Quite thoroughly in fact.”
Selina studied her, measuring. “Oh?”
“Yes,” Lucy went on, the words coming faster now, sharpened by irritation and a need to reclaim ground. “I have succeeded. Entirely. The Duke of Langridge has a prospective bride, one entirely suitable to his station, temperament, and household. Matters have progressed so well that she dined here last evening and will return again.”
That did it. Selina’s composure cracked, just slightly. “You mean to tell me,” she said slowly, “that you have actually found a match for him? Despite everything?”
Lucy lifted her chin. “I have done precisely what I was asked to do. More than that, I have done it well.”
For a fleeting moment, satisfaction warmed her chest. It did not last.
Selina’s surprise faded, and she sat back. “Then I am glad,” she said plainly. “Truly. But I still stand my ground. This is not the path for you.”
