“Why do you even care?” he asked aloud, torn between the yearning of his heart and the weight of his responsibilities.
But the Duke knew the answer all too well. He had developed feelings for Deborah. Somehow, his irritation towards her had transformed into feelings of affection, and he could no longer ignore the fire that she had ignited in his heart.
His mind began to wander, and he started to imagine what it would have been like if it were Deborah that had accompanied him on the dance floor instead of Joanna tonight.
For one thing, he knew that he would have no trouble making conversation. Deborah got on his nerves, true, but there was never a dull moment when she was around.
“But she is not fit to be a duchess,” he reminded himself, feeling a hint of sadness tug at his heart.
He couldn’t imagine her as his wife. After this, she was far too free-spirited and opinionated to be a proper lady. But there was something about her that excited him, and it was hard to let go of that feeling.
Feeling more conflicted than he ever had, the Duke knew that he could not allow himself to be swayed by his fleeting desires. After all, duty came before desire, and that was what he had believed to be true all his life.
His duty lay in securing a match that aligned with the qualities suited to a duchess. Love, as beguiling as it may be, could not be his guide in this situation.
With a heavy heart, the Duke finally made up his mind. He had to suppress his feelings for Deborah and convince himself that Joanna was the right woman for him.
But as the sound of Deborah’s laughter replayed in his mind, he knew that this was going to be a hard task.
* * *
Deborah walked around the room, bored already. She had danced with a most suitable gentleman, but after a while, it had become clear to her that their conversation was not going anywhere.
It was clear that most men demanded a match that was agreeable—by society’s standards, that is—perfectly poised and without opinions of their own.
The moment that Deborah had mentioned that she wished to be a writer, the gentleman had chuckled at her ambitions.
“Did you find something funny about what I said, My Lord?” she had asked him, appalled by his crass reaction.
“I believe that there are several other hobbies you can take on instead,” he had replied, as though he had been bestowing some great ancient wisdom upon her.
“Pray tell, what do you believe these hobbies ought to be?” Deborah had asked, knowing that his answer would disappoint her but overcome with a sense of morbid curiosity.
“Embroidery is a useful pastime,” he had replied.
“Embroidery? But what if I have no interest in stitching clothes? Does that not count for anything?”
“You are still young and therefore your interests can still be shaped into more useful ones. Embroidery would be most suited to a young woman like you, as it is a quiet activity you can do that produces a useful output,” he had argued.
“And do you not think that writing produces a useful output?” Deborah had challenged, fully prepared to defend herself.
“Let us not delude ourselves with lofty ideals. I am sure that you believe you have interesting things to say, but in all earnestness, who is going to read it?”
Deborah’s mouth had hung open in shock when she had heard that. After that, the two had not exchanged another word, and Deborah had escaped from his sight as soon as the dance had ended.
It was moments like this when Deborah missed having the comfort of a mother. She often wondered what her mother would have to say once she saw her all grown up.
Would she encourage her writing dreams? Would she be a listening ear when Deborah felt frustrated after her interactions with the men around her?
A cloud of sadness overcame Deborah, and she decided that she needed a moment alone to herself. Without drawing too much attention to herself, she began to climb up the steps of Hopestyn Estate, hoping to go up to the balcony to have a moment alone with her thoughts.
But just when she thought she was in the clear, Emma’s voice called out for her.
“Deborah.” Emma jogged up to meet her pace. She had a warm smile on her face. “I hope you are enjoying yourself. I was wondering where you had disappeared to.”
“Oh,” Deborah sighed. “I was just stepping outside on the balcony.”
“May I join you?” Emma asked. She looked so excited that Deborah did not have the heart to turn her down.
