“But I cannot understand it. Why would the Duke do that? It is so sudden.”
The carriage wheels rattled against the cobblestones of the driveway, a rhythmic, jarring sound that felt like it was tearing a path through Lucy’s very soul. She kept her head turned toward the window, her breath fogging the glass as the silhouette of Langridge Hall grew smaller in the distance.
The image of Anthony, Brook, and Daniel burned into her mind like a brand. They had gathered on the front steps, Anthony standing with a stoic, rigid pride that mirrored his father, Daniel waving a hand half-heartedly before dropping it in confusion, and Brook. It was Brook’s face that haunted her most. He hadn’t moved at all, his eyes wide and brimming with a betrayal he was too young to voice. He had finally trusted someone, and now, that someone was rolling away in a black carriage.
Lucy bit her lip so hard she tasted copper, fighting the hot prickle of tears that threatened to spill over. She was a professional. She was a woman of logic. But as the iron gates of the estate swung shut behind them, the hollow ache in her chest felt less like a metaphor and more like a physical wound.
“He was totally content with the idea of marriage,” Selina continued. She adjusted her traveling cloak, her brow furrowed in genuine distress. “One moment, you were negotiating the terms of the marriage, and the next, he is handing you a purse of gold and showing us the door. What happened last night, Lucy?”
Lucy didn’t turn around. She couldn’t. If she met her aunt’s eyes, the fragile wall she had built around her emotions would crumble entirely.
“He changed his mind, Aunt,” Lucy whispered, her voice sounding thin and brittle even to her own ears. “He realized that a marriage of convenience was a mistake. He decided he was better off alone.”
“Nonsense,” Selina huffed, leaning forward. “A man doesn't look at a woman the way he looked at you, like a drowning man looks at a life raft, by the way, and then simply decide he’s ‘better off alone.’ Did you argue? Did you say something to bruise that immense ducal ego of his?”
“Aunt, don’t say that. He did not look at me in any sort of way. Perhaps, he was desperate for a mother to look after his children, and so he was nice to me, but he is allowed to change his mind,” Lucy replied, her fingers clenching. “He’ll be fine.”
The silence that followed was even more painful than the questions. Lucy could feel Selina’s gaze lingering on her, full of a pity that Lucy absolutely could not stomach.
She was going back to her life in London, where she was the mistress of her own fate. So why did it feel like she was leaving the only thing that actually mattered behind in the dust of the carriage wheels? Every mile they traveled felt like a heavy stone being added to the weight in her chest, and for the first time in her life, Lucy Crampton had no idea how to fix the mess she had made.
“You think you are being strong, Lucy,” Selina said softly, her voice barely audible over the rumbling wheels. “You think that by choosing your work and your independence, you are winning. But I have seen that look in a mirror before, and it doesn’t lead to victory. It leads to a very quiet house.”
“Aunt Selina, he ended the engagement, not me,” Lucy said, her voice quivering as she turned to look at her then. “Why must you always blame me?”
“I am not a child, Lucy Crampton. I know you, and I know how terribly your demeanor changed in the last few days,” Selina challenged, a sad smile touching her lips. “I never told you the full truth of why I never married, did I? People assume I am a spinster by circumstance or that I was too choosy. The truth is, I let the love of my life walk out of my life, just like you did. I let him marry a woman who was ‘suitable’ because I was too proud to admit that my heart was no longer my own. I thought I was protecting my dignity, but all I was doing was building a prison.”
Lucy's breath hitched, and she looked away again.
“I refused to marry anyone else after that,” Selina continued, her gaze drifting to the passing trees. “I couldn’t bring myself to give a shadow of a heart to a man who deserved the whole thing. So, I became a matchmaker. I spent my life ensuring others didn’t make my mistakes, hoping that by vicariously finding love for others, I could fill the void I created for myself. But a deal is a deal, Lucy, and a life lived in service of other people’s happiness is a lonely one when you’re the only one returning to an empty bed.”
She moved from where she sat and inched closer to Lucy. “This is not the same thing. You aren’t losing a chance to a rival; you are throwing it away with your own two hands. You are making a mistake by refusing this, not because you lack independence but because you are terrified that being loved will make you weak. It won’t. It will make you invincible.”
Lucy shut her eyes, the lump in her throat making it impossible to speak. The carriage lurched as they hit a rut in the road, mirroring the violent jolt of her own heart.
“You have the boys’ love,” Selina whispered. “Those boys really care about you. Don’t end up like me, Lucy. Don’t spend the next thirty years wondering what might have happened if you had just been brave enough to be vulnerable and demand something that you want.”
The words hung in the air, a mirror held up to Lucy’s future that she was forced to look into. She saw herself in Selina, thesame wit, the same protective layer of professionalism, the same hollow space where a family was supposed to be. For the first time, the independence she had worn like armor felt less like a shield and more like a shroud.
“Leaving those boys...” Lucy started, her breath hitching, and it caused Selina’s expression soften with deep empathy. “It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, Aunt Selina. Harder than convincing you to let me learn matchmaking. Harder than talking to my mother about my needs. It felt like I was leaving pieces of myself scattered on the driveway of Langridge Hall.”
“I need to think,” Lucy continued, her jaw setting. “I cannot go back to your estate, Aunt Selina. Not yet, not like this. I don’t think I can endure the journey. I’ll lose my mind before I find my heart. I need to think, and my family estate is much closer.”
She leaned forward, rapping her knuckles sharply against the front wall of the carriage. The small wooden panel slid open, revealing the driver’s face.
“Change course please,” Lucy asked. “We aren’t going to the Mullens’ estate anymore. Head for the Hemroad estate.”
“Your Grace? The soup is cold,” Higgins said softly. “The kitchen is asking if they should keep the roast on the spit.”
The grandfather clock in the dining hall ticked with the precision of a hammer against an anvil. Each beat echoed through the vast, empty room, mocking the man sat at the head of a table set for four. For nearly an hour, Rowan had stared at the flickering candlelight, watching the wax drip and pool, much like the slow, agonizing dissolve of his own composure.
He had cleared his schedule. He had pushed aside the mountains of estate ledgers and the urgent correspondence from London. He had intended to be the father they needed, to prove that he could be enough for them, but the house had never felt more like a tomb.
Since the moment Lucy’s carriage disappeared around the bend of the driveway, his sons had become ghosts. They didn’t play, they didn’t throw tantrums, and they didn’t speak. They simply... vanished. They moved through the halls like shadows, slipping into rooms the moment they heard his footsteps approaching. When he did catch a glimpse of them, the look in their eyes wasn’t anger; it was a cold, hollow disappointment that cut deeper than any blade.
“Your Grace?” Higgins repeated.
Rowan snapped his eyes open. His butler, Higgins, stood by the sideboard, waiting for him to respond.
