“I am talking about a solution,” Lucy corrected him, her voice unwavering. “You need a duchess who won’t terrorize your children, do you not? I need a position that allows me to maintain my agency while securing my future. This arrangement will also please my aunt,” she said, glancing back at Selina whose jaw was dropped. “We are both practical people, Rowan. We have already proven that we can navigate a crisis together.”
There was a cacophony of voices erupting in her mind, a frantic chorus of her own principles screaming in protest, asking what she was doing. This went against everything she believed in. Everything she had wanted for herself. She wanted to be thewoman who brokered freedom for others, yet she had just walked willingly into a gilded cage.
But then, her gaze drifted to the doorway where Brook had stood, bruised and trembling, and the logic of her heart began to drown out the logic of her head. She couldn’t leave those boys, not now that she knew the troubles they were facing alone. If she accepted this, she could protect them as they grew. For Rowan, the arrangement was practically perfect in its coldness. They were already comfortable with each other in a professional capacity; they understood the language of contracts and expectations.
She wouldn’t have to pretend to be a blushing bride or a doting wife. She would continue her matchmaking, and since Rowan already had his heirs, there was no biological pressure, though a small, unbidden thought whispered that they might still have to share a bed to maintain the facade for the Ton. She pushed that thought away, focusing instead on the practical beauty of it all. As long as they adhered to the terms of their deal, she could be a mother to the boys and a partner to the Duke without losing the woman she had worked so hard to become.
It was a gamble, a dangerous, dizzying risk, but as she looked at the shattered crystal on the floor, she realized she had already stopped being a spectator in this family’s life. She was part of the foundation now.
Rowan stopped pacing and turned to face her, his silhouette framed by the late afternoon light. “You realize what you are suggesting? I told you from the beginning, I am not lookingfor a grand romance. I am not looking for a woman to occupy my heart. I need a marriage of convenience, purely functional, purely for the sake of the estate and the boys. It would be a cold life for a woman like you.”
“It would not.” Lucy didn’t flinch. She leaned back against the mahogany table, her hands gripping the edge to hide their slight tremble. “Even better,” she said, her voice dropping to a cool, professional tone that masked the thunderous pounding of her heart. “A marriage of convenience is exactly what I am proposing. No emotions, no unrealistic expectations. I will provide the stability this house lacks, and in return, I get the protection of your title and the freedom to pursue my own career. We would be a team, Rowan. Nothing more, nothing less.”
She looked him directly in the eye, her gaze a challenge. “You wouldn’t have to worry about me falling in love with you, and I wouldn’t have to worry about you trying to control me. It is the most honest proposal you are ever likely to receive.”
Rowan stared at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. Beside them, Selina held her breath, her eyes darting between the two of them like a spectator at a high-stakes duel.
Finally, Rowan took a step toward her. He didn’t stop until he was mere inches away, his presence overwhelming. He reached out, his hand hovering near her face for a heartbeat before his fingers closed firmly around the back of a nearby chair.
“You are certain, Lucy? Once the papers are signed, there is no turning back. You will be the Duchess of Langridge. My Duchess.”
“I am certain,” Lucy whispered back, though the air in her lungs felt thin. “Do we have a deal?”
Rowan inhaled sharply and nodded. “We have a deal, Lucy Crampton.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Ishould like a candlelit supper after the ceremony,” Selina was saying, seated comfortably near the fire as if the matter had been settled. “Not too ostentatious, of course. A duke’s wedding must appear effortless. Roses will do nicely. White, perhaps, with a little greenery to soften the severity. Nothing funereal because I know you. One must never look mournful on one’s wedding night, don’t you think?”
Lucy did not answer.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her gloves still on, hands folded in her lap, almost as if they belonged to someone else. The room was perfectly familiar, yet she felt like she was seeing it through glass. Selina’s voice floated toward her, skimming the surface of her thoughts without touching them.
“We shall need to speak to the modiste at once,” Selina continued. “A duke’s bride must not look as though she has dressed herself in haste. Something elegant, certainly, but notsevere. You won’t be entering a convent, my dear. You are marrying. Oh, you’ll be a duchess, my dear, can you believe it?”
Marrying.
The word did not strike Lucy with the shock she expected. It did not ring or echo. It settled insistently, like it had been waiting for her all along. She lowered her gaze to her hands again. They were steady. That, too, seemed wrong.
Only a day ago, she had been so certain of herself. Certain of the lines she would not cross. Certain of the life she intended to lead. She had said, more times than she could count, that marriage was not for her. She had meant it. Not with bitterness, not with any secret longing she refused to admit, but with the resolve of a woman who knew the path she wanted for herself. She would not become a woman who chose security over herself. She would not wake one morning to find her life arranged by someone else’s needs.
She had been proud of that certainty.
Selina rose and crossed the room, pausing near the wardrobe as she surveyed Lucy with satisfaction. “You look pale,” she observed. “Well, it is to be expected. An engagement does that to a lady. Everything at once, all the possibilities rushing in. One feels quite undone for a moment.”
Lucy almost laughed at that. Almost.
Undone implied chaos. This was something else entirely. This was the unnerving calm that followed a decision made too easily.
Selina resumed speaking, her voice quickening. “We must, of course, consider your parents. They will need to be informed at once. It would not do for them to hear it from some acquaintance in London who read it in the paper.”
That reached her at last.
Lucy looked up. “My parents,” she repeated, the words tasting strange.
“Yes, my love,” Selina said briskly. “A duke’s proposal is not a thing one conceals, even if one wishes to.”
“We need not trouble them just yet,” Lucy said suddenly. “Don’t you think?”
