Deborah raised her eyebrow at him. “Just yesterday, you called her boring.”
“Well, I had not gotten the opportunity to spend time with her then.” He shrugged. “When the four of you decided to disappear on that walk earlier today, I was left with Lady Joanna, and the two of us had a chance to talk on our way back to the estate.”
“Is that so?” Deborah’s curiosity was piqued. “What is she like? Do you see her and the Duke being a good match?”
“I cannot tell you the answer to the second question,” Nicholas admitted. “But as for the first, she is very different from you, that is for one.”
“Is that a good kind of different?” Deborah asked. “Or a bad kind?”
“Just different.” Nicholas shrugged. “I cannot possibly tell you what kind it is.”
“Well, thank you,” she said sarcastically, “that does not help me one bit.”
“Do not overthink your feelings too much,” Nicholas said to her, “Just let your heart guide you.”
“But how am I…”
Before she could even complete her sentence, Nicholas had already exited the balcony, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Deborah did not know what to do. What did following her heart even mean? Her heart only confused her. She wanted to argue with the Duke, and yet kiss him at the same time.
But then, she remembered what Nicholas had said to her before, that the opposite of love is indifference. And that was certainly not the case when it came to the Duke. So, it must be something else.
Deborah was not ready to admit to herself that it was love just yet. But the butterflies in her stomach, when she thought about their kiss, said otherwise.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Deborah could hardly focus on anything that morning. She paced around the pebbled paths of the garden in Hopestyn Estate, hoping to clear her mind.
But as if her mind was a broken clock, it refused to budge, and she replayed the conversation she had with Nicholas the night before.
Had he been correct in his assumption that she was in denial about her feelings towards the Duke? From the corner of her eye, she saw Nicholas sitting together with Peter and Emma in the garden. The group was enjoying a cup of tea over a conversation, unbeknownst to the crisis that Deborah was going through.
“My dear, you’ve been pacing for the better part of the last hour,” Peter said to her, bringing her attention back to the present moment. “Surely, your feet must be tired by now.”
“Your brother is right,” Emma added, a warm smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “The ball is tonight, and you must preserve your energy for a night full of dancing. I suggest you join us for a cup of tea.”
Deborah pressed her lips together in a thin line. She looked around anxiously, wondering if the Duke was to join them for tea this afternoon.
“What’s the matter?” Peter asked, noticing her anxious glances. “Are you looking for someone?”
She sighed in resignation, finally taking a seat next to them. “Oh, well, I was just wondering where Grandmother is. She quite enjoys a cup of tea in the garden,” she lied.
‘Oh, Lady Shalrow went to visit the orchards with my mother this morning,” Emma said.
“The two of them finally seem to be getting along,” Nicholas chimed in, amused. “In fact, I would venture as far to say that they are the best of friends.”
“While I was worried about them not liking each other in the beginning, I believe that they are a perfect match for each other now,” Peter remarked.
“How so?” Deborah asked, her curiosity piqued.
“Well, for one thing, Her Grace loves to tell stories to anyone who volunteers to listen,” Peter said. “It just so happens that often, she repeats the same story multiple times without knowing any wiser.”
A small chuckle escaped Deborah’s lips. “Then Grandmother is perhaps the perfect match for her.”
“Indeed, she is,” Peter replied. “Whenever Her Grace repeats an old story, Grandmother has already forgotten that she has heard it before.”
The four of them shared a laugh, and then Emma poured out a cup of tea for Deborah to drink.
