“If that’s what he wishes, then so be it. I am certain I am not the type suited to be a duchess, so perhaps it is better that he marries someone like Lady Joanna instead,” Deborah said. “Tomorrow, I will return home.”
“Returning home may give you some space from Henry, but you cannot run away from your feelings. If you do not express them now, they will forever remain inside you,” Emma warned.
“I do not wish to talk about this anymore,” Deborah said firmly.
Thankfully, Emma did not push her further.
Silence hung between the two ladies, and Deborah let out a deep sigh. “There is something else that I had been meaning to tell you.”
“Pray, Deborah, what is it?”
“I am glad that we got to spend some time together these last few days. After the wedding, I intend to leave our town and make my home in Scotland, on one of our estates there.”
Emma gasped, her concern evident on her face. “Scotland? Will you move there all on your own?”
“I will not be on my own. Grandmother expressed interest in moving there once, and I am certain that she will be happy to make the move with me.”
Emma’s brows furrowed, and a look of panic crossed her face as she realized that Deborah was, indeed, quite serious about her decision. “I see,” she said, trying to remain calm, although her expression betrayed her. “And what do you intend to do once you are in Scotland?”
“I intend to use my time there to focus on my writing. I am sure the picturesque landscapes and majestic mountains will provide me with ample inspiration,” Deborah explained with a smile.
But even as she said the words out loud, it seemed that she was trying to convince herself more than Emma.
“Forgive me for prying,” Emma started, her tone measured. “But I am still quite shocked that you have decided to take such a big decision. Surely, writing cannot be your only motivation.”
“You are correct. I believe that I will find some peace when I am there. My heart is too restless here.” Deborah’s gaze turned inwards. “I cannot stand to see His Grace fall in love with Lady Joanna and remain helpless about it. I need some distance from it all to gather some clarity back into my life.”
Emma reached out and clasped Deborah’s hand in hers. “I had no idea that you had been suffering like this. If you are willing to do something as serious as moving away, then your feelings must be real.”
Deborah stayed silent. She knew Emma was right.
“However, if you believe that this is the right path for you, I shall support you. After all, you know yourself better than anyone else.”
Deborah smiled, happy that Emma understood without judgment. The two women embraced in a moment of shared compassion, and Deborah felt lucky that she had Emma in her life. Confessing her feelings in front of her had made her feel much more lighthearted than before.
So, this is what it must feel like to have a sister.
Deborah realized that this was something that she had been missing out on in her life all along. There was a world of a difference between speaking about her feelings with her brothers, compared to Emma. Emma understood her perspective as a woman more, and in a way, that was comforting for her.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
The ball had ended, and calm had been restored in Hopestyn Estate. Everyone had retired to their bedchambers, eager to get a good night’s sleep after a tiring night of socializing and dancing.
But despite the mellow atmosphere, the Duke of Hopestyn had a storm brewing inside his heart.
With the intention of calming himself down, he retreated to his study to acquaint himself with a dear old friend of his—amber Scotch.
He had hoped that the drink would help distract him from the tug of war that played out in his heart between duty and love. But as he retreated to the solitude of his study with nothing but a glass and bottle of scotch in front of him, his plan seemed to not work as well as intended.
Henry was still occupied with thoughts of Deborah. He had lost count of how many times he had replayed the moment of her dancing with Lord Macaulay in his head. The sound of her laughter was etched into the walls of his brain, repeating itself mockingly as if to remind him that it had not been him who had made her laugh.
She is not interested in me, he reminded himself gently as he took another sip of the amber liquid in his glass.
If she was, then she would have said so.
Despite his rationalization, he couldn’t help but conjure up alternative scenarios in his head.
What if she changes her mind?
