Lucy felt like a thief who had been caught red-handed.
“Did you find out who it was?” asked Lucy, and Theodore nodded his head.
“I did. Plenty times,” Theodore noticed how Lucy gulped down the nervousness that had bubbled up her throat. Her face looked anxious. “Was the poem for me, Lady Lucy?”
Hearing this, Lucy cleared her throat, “Why do you ask the question if you already know the answer to it?”
“Because it would be troublesome if I assumed something to be something else,” said Theodore, not moving front or back from where he stood.
It was clear as the sky in the night that Theodore was speaking about her, and Lucy said, “I should probably go back to my room.”
Before she could leave, Theodore stopped her, “Wait.” And she turned around, wondering what he wanted to tell her.
Lucy saw Theodore making his way to her, and he caught hold of her hand. Bending down, he dropped a kiss on her hand in the same way as the other gentlemen in the ball, and he said, “It was an utter pleasure to dance with you. Thank you, Lady Lucy.”
She wore no gloves like she had worn while attending the ball, and her heart trembled, feeling Theodore’s lips on her skin. There was a softness in there, but there was also a certain firmness that could steal anyone’s heart, and if Lucy’s heart hadn’t stolen yet, it did now.
“Same here. Goodnight, Theodore,” she wished him, and like the girl who ran at the strike of the clock in a storybook, Lucy was quick to run down the stairs and the corridors to go back to her room.
When Lucy had exited through the door to go to her room, Theodore looked down at his hand that had held her a few minutes ago. As if he could still feel the softness, his thumb rubbed against his fingers, and he looked back at the entrance of the door.
While Lucy was hurrying to her room with her beating heart, her mother, Lady Samara, had woken up and had stepped out of the room, and she saw Lucy roaming outside her room in the middle of the night. She followed her daughter to her room, and when Lucy stepped inside, she barged in.
“Mother?” Lucy was surprised that her mother was awake at this hour of the night.
Lady Samara furrowed her eyebrows, and she questioned her daughter, “Where were you?!”
“I was out walking in the corridors. Why?”
“At this hour of the night!?!” her mother looked suspiciously and then crossed her arms. “Haven’t we already spoken about this that you shall not roam outside your room in the middle of the night.”
“I wasn’t able to fall asleep, mother. I thought if I took a walk it would help me-“
“Enough with the reasons!” Lady Samara was not pleased with her daughter’s behaviour, and it wasn’t because it was Lucy’s fault. It was Rosamund who had put those doubts in her head, and she was not able to sit still. Taking a deep breath, she smiled at her daughter, turning Lucy confused. “Come let’s sit and talk, Lucy.”
Lady Samara caught hold of Lucy’s hand and pulled her to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Are you not able to fall asleep too, mother?” Lucy asked her mother and her mother offered her a warm smile.
“I just have a lot of things to worry about, dear. Your father is not listening to your grandmother or to my words. I worry something bad is going to happen,” confessed Lady Samara.
Lucy turned her body, and she placed her hand on her mother’s hand, “Don’t worry, mother. Nothing bad will ever happen.” She knew her mother didn’t like Calhoun for her own reasons, but in her opinion, he was a good person, and Lucy decided to keep that bit in her mind. “Father must be feeling pressured because of the letters he has been receiving from different Kings and Queens.”
Lady Samara nodded her head, “Yes, that’s true. Very true indeed,” the woman muttered under her breath. “It’s come to a state where your father wants to continue his rule because it is rightfully his to begin with. But with everything going on, your grandmother wants to place your cousin Markus on the throne as he is blood.”
Her mother continued to speak, but Lucy’s thoughts went to what her grandmother had spoken about Calhoun’s mother. With how her mother addressed Calhoun’s mother, Lucy could only believe that her mother knew nothing about it.
“You will help me and your father with it, won’t you dear?” asked her mother, and Lucy broke out of her thought.
Lucy furrowed her eyebrows, “Help?”
“Yes,” her mother nodded her head. This time Lady Samara placed her hand on her daughter’s hand, and she offered Lucy the warmest smile she could muster before saying, “This is why it is important that you marry one of the suitors. Once you are married and give birth to a male child, everything will come back to the way it is supposed to be.”
Hearing this, Lucy’s heart stumbled down, and she stared at her mother.
“I did not like any of the suitors, mother,” confessed Lucy. She didn’t like any of them because she was falling in love with someone she was not supposed to be falling for and didn’t know what other obstacles she would have to face in the future.
“What do you mean by that? They were all excellent men who are not only capable but also influential,” her mother frowned, not understanding what happened to her daughter. “Tell me the truth, Lucy. Whom did you write that poem for? Is there something I should know?”
The way her mother looked at her right now, Lucy was quick to shake her head, “No, mother.”
“That’s good,” Lady Samara placed her hand on Lucy’s head. “You should know how important you are to us and to this land. You will help your father and me, isn’t that wonderful?”
When her mother stood up, Lucy hoped her mother would kiss her forehead or hug her, but her mother did nothing as such.
