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.
