Deborah’s mouth turned into the shape of an O. “Surely that cannot be true? As a duke, he is expected to marry someday. How is he going to get to that milestone without believing in love?”
“You answered the question yourself.” Emma smiled knowingly. “He approaches love the same way he approaches other things in his life. That is to say, as a duke and not as Henry, the person behind the title.”
Deborah’s gaze was distant as she reflected on the matter.
“Love as a duty,” she repeated absentmindedly. “The idea sounds as interesting as watching a cloud go by in the sky.”
“But he needn’t worry too much,” Emma admitted. “Our mother has already found him a dutiful wife.”
The words pierced through Deborah’s chest, causing her a newfound discomfort that she did not know she could feel up until this very moment.
“Oh,” Deborah said after a moment. “He is already spoken for? I was not aware.”
“It is not official yet,” Emma replied, oblivious to her friend’s reaction. “But our mother is quite fond of her, and I am sure that he will accept her based on that alone. They have not met yet, but she has been invited to the estate. In fact, I believe that she should be arriving tomorrow.”
Deborah felt her stomach drop at the news. She could not pinpoint the exact reason why, but she knew that the news of a potential wife for the Duke was unwelcome in her eyes.
“Oh, right,” she mumbled. “I can only hope that he is not as competitive with her about everything.”
Emma laughed in jest. “Oh, who’s to say? Perhaps she will be the one that finally changes his mind and he becomes besotted with her, truly in love.”
Deborah did not like the sound of that. But instead of dwelling on it, she changed the topic.
CHAPTERELEVEN
“For heaven’s sake, Deborah,” Tabitha grumbled groggily, “will you please stop tossing and turning and let me sleep? It is very late.”
Deborah shrugged. She had been trying to fall asleep for the last hour but had no success. As a last resort, she had come to her grandmother’s bedroom, hoping that the familiarity of having her close would aid her in her efforts to sleep. But alas, it was of no use.
“Is it my fault that I am here in a strange bed that is not my own?” she quipped back.
“Maybe not, but it is certainly not my fault either,” her grandmother replied. “Now, please, let me get some rest, and you as well.”
“I am sorry, Grandmother. I just feel restless, is all.”
“Close your eyes,” the older lady advised. “Sleep will come to you soon.”
Deborah sighed, waiting for her grandmother to drift back to sleep and then slipping out of bed.
She had given up on the prospect of restful sleep for the night. Every time she tried, her eyes fluttered open after a moment.
Deborah was not a stranger to having trouble sleeping at night. She had often found herself in the same situation back at home. But back home, she would find comfort in the pages of a good book to keep her company until she was tired enough to fall asleep.
She wondered if she could do the same tonight.
Sneaking one final glance at her sleeping grandmother, Deborah put on her slippers and slowly tiptoed out of the room.
Surely, it wouldn’t hurt anyone if she paid a visit to the library. After all, most people would be asleep by this hour. Not everyone shared the same sleep troubles as her.
Careful not to make any noise, Deborah made her way down the hallway and entered the dimly lit library.
Between the towering shelves filled with books, she found herself immediately feeling at home. She inhaled the familiar scent of aged paper, walking further into the room before stopping dead in her tracks.
A shadowy figure sitting by one of the windows with a small lamp in front of him caught her eyes.
Deborah’s heart raced as a flicker of alarm coursed through her veins. Instinctively, she tried to retreat, but it was too late. Her shuffling had already caught the attention of the figure in front of her.
“Lady Deborah?” a familiar voice asked.
