What if she decides that it is Lord Macaulay whom she really wants?
The thought sent a shudder down his spine, and the taste of regret filled his mouth.
Was Deborah slipping out of reach? The question itself was absurd, since the two of them had never been in a courtship, to begin with.
Time and time again, he had to keep reminding himself that it was Joanna who deserved the place in his heart that he had reserved for Deborah.
The Duke closed his eyes, not wanting to deal with his conflicted feelings any longer. But even then, there was no escaping Deborah. Memories of stolen glances and shared conversation flickered like candle flames, refusing to be extinguished.
Joanna is the right woman for me.
Marrying Joanna would mean that he would fulfil his duty of choosing a suitable wife. His mother would be happy, and in time, Joanna would give him an offspring to carry on his legacy. That was how he had always imagined his life to look like. Until, of course, he had met Deborah on that fateful night in the garden.
Everything about their connection was wrong. They had kissed each other even before they had gotten to know one another. Surely, someone of his stature had no business being with a woman like that.
And yet, despite all the reasons he tried to come up with to convince his heart that Deborah was not right for him, his stubborn heart held its ground.
Finishing yet another glass, the Duke leaned back into his chair, drumming his fingers along the side of it in an unsteady rhythm. The drink was beginning to do its job now, and he felt less inhibited than before.
But it did nothing to quiet down his thoughts about Deborah. If anything, it only served to amplify them.
His gaze settled on a portrait of his late father, his stern expression seeming indifferent to his internal conflict. He realized that he longed for his wisdom at this moment, wondering what he would say to him if he were here.
Should he do what was expected of him and marry Joanna? Or should he take a gamble and pursue Deborah, even though he didn’t even know if she shared his feelings towards her?
He looked at the portrait of his late father, silently seeking an answer.
“Henry!”
Hearing his name, combined with the sound of the door creaking open, made him jump up, feeling spooked as though it was his father who had called out to him.
But as he turned to look at the door, it was only his uncle, Lord Jonathan.
“I happened upon your study, in search of a late-night drink. But it seems that you are already here. Do you mind if I join you?”
The Duke looked at his uncle, and then back at his glass, which seemed to beckon him to fill it back up again. He realized that he preferred company over the constant noise in his own mind.
“Of course.”
Lord Jonathan let out a delighted chuckle as he quickly made himself at home on the seat in front of the Duke. Reaching out to pour himself a drink, he paused when he noticed the solemn expression that clouded the Duke’s face.
“You appear quite melancholic,” Lord Jonathan noted, his excitement now replaced with worry. “Is everything all right with you?”
Henry pressed his lips together in a tight line before giving his shoulders a slight shrug. “Perhaps I have had better days.”
It was not like the Duke to share his innermost thoughts with anyone. Usually, he kept his troubles to himself. Perhaps it was the effect of the drink that was making him more open to speak about his feelings.
“Well, it is a great thing that I stumbled over here tonight, then.” Lord Jonathan nodded, filling his glass to the brim. “We can discuss what ails you, man to man.”
“I am not quite sure if I have the words to describe my affliction.”
“Speak freely, my dear boy,” Lord Jonathan encouraged. “After all, we are family.”
Under the dim light of the study, combined with the moonlight pouring in through the window, Henry noticed for the first time the lines etched on his uncle’s face. They spoke of a lifetime of experience, as he was many years his senior.
“Perhaps I can frame it better as a question,” the Duke said, swallowing another gulp of his drink. “Have you ever fallen in love before, Uncle Jonathan?”
The corners of Lord Jonathan’s lips tugged into a wistful smile.
