Chapter 4

"Is that flour on your coat, George?" William looked his assistant up and down from behind his work desk. "Were you busy with the ladies in the kitchen?"

George was a short and enigmatic boy, possessing a lot of energy. William never showed it, but he was quite fond of him. The boy was young and prone to getting teased by most members of the staff.

"T-The ladies? No, I-I was talking to the chef," George stammered, fixing his flat cap to hide the flush on his cheeks.

"Was it the maid that left a lipstick stain on your cheek?" William raised an eyebrow, realizing George wasn't aware of it.

The assistant's face flushed darker. "Your G-Grace, the maids often tease me. I went in to talk to the chef, but then I was caught."

William shook his head slowly. "Have you been slacking on the job?"

He was aware George wasn't one to fool around at his job. But even he couldn't help himself from teasing him—the boy would just get flustered so easily.

"No, Your Grace. I wasn't slacking, I promise." George looked wary.

William decided to stop poking fun at him. "It was merely a jest. Now, why are you here?"

"You Grace… might I ask a question? It's on your mother's behalf, of course."

William rolled his eyes. "I suppose I've really scared her this time. Out with it."

"Did something happen at the ball?"

William blinked in surprise. "Whatever do you mean?"

George hummed. "Your mother thinks that you seem a lot more lost in thought."

William nodded seriously and then motioned for him to get closer with a warning look.

"Yes, Your Grace?" George asked.

"Was my tea not supposed to be ready by twelve-thirty? It's twelve forty-five now. Maybe you have started slacking on the job," William whispered sternly.

George bowed so quickly that his hat fell off, and he rushed out of the study. William watched the boy leave as he considered what he had said. The flickering light of the fireplace cast long shadows around his study, a room that used to belong to his father. His mind drifted back again and again to the events of that ball. It had been a few days since Esther had made her bold proposal, yet he couldn't shake the memory away.

You should court me…

Her words echoed in his mind, her voice soft yet filled with determination. It was a statement, not a question—a declaration of intent that had caught him off guard, said with such a rambunctious attitude that it made him want to provoke her more. He remembered holding her waist, and how aroused he felt when she pressed herself against him.

And yet, despite her boldness, there was a vulnerability about her that intrigued him. He could still see the uncertainty in her eyes, the fear of rejection that lingered just beneath the surface. It was a vulnerability that he could relate to, having experienced his fair share of struggles and doubts.

Knowing that work would be difficult to focus on, he decided to leave his office and head outside to clear his head. It seemed to work as the rustling leaves in the garden shooed away any immediate thoughts. As he strolled leisurely, George appeared once more, running towards him and panting heavily.

"Sir, your mother is calling for you."

With his peace abruptly interrupted, William begrudgingly made his way inside the residence and to the parlor, where he found his mother surrounded by other women, sipping tea. They all greeted him with a warm smile that did little to alleviate his growing unease.

"Ah, William, there you are," she gushed. "I was just telling our guests all about your recent accomplishments in Germany."

William forced a polite smile as he replied, "Thank you, Mother. But what did you summon me for?"

Dorothea beamed with pride as she turned to her guests, completely ignoring him. "Isn't he just the picture of nobility?" she exclaimed. "And so accomplished, too! Why, I'm sure any one of you would be lucky to catch his eye."

William shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flicking briefly to the young ladies gathered in the room. "Mother, please," he said, his tone pleading. "Let's not make this about me."

But Dorothea waved off his protests. "Nonsense," she replied. "You're the most eligible bachelor in the county, and it is high time you found a suitable match. Now, why don't you come and greet our guests properly?"

With a resigned sigh, William acquiesced to his mother's wishes and made his way around the room, exchanging pleasantries with each of the young ladies in turn. He didn't smile much, and his replies were short and curt, but it deterred no one from trying to monopolize his attention.

As the evening wore on, he found himself growing increasingly frustrated with the charade that surrounded him. Each new introduction felt like a fresh reminder of the constraints he had. But it was soon over, and William found himself alone with his mother in the parlor, with an aching head and a sour demeanor. The tension in the air was palpable as he turned to her, his expression stern yet controlled.

"Mother," he began, his voice measured but firm. "I must insist that you cease these incessant attempts to arrange a match for me."

His mother's eyes widened in defiance. "I'm only doing what any loving mother would do. I want what's best for you, and finding a suitable match is essential for your future and the future of our family. We need a duchess, and it is your duty!"

William's jaw tightened. "This is my life, and I will not be restrained by your expectations and antiquated notions of duty."

Dorothea's gaze turned sad. "William, please," she implored, "I only want to see you happy and fulfilled. All I need is a reason for you to not lock yourself away in that study. Your father wouldn't want that."

"Enough is enough," he asserted quietly with a pang in his heart. He did not want to think about his father. "I plead with you to stop, or else… I'll be left with no choice but to send you to the countryside to your brother this Season. Maybe some time off will help us both."

Dorothea gasped. "How could you say that to your own mother! The worst thing you could do is keep me away from my own children, and that too after having lost my husband!"

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the parlor, leaving William alone with his thoughts.

As he watched her go, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the pain he had caused her. Though it had been more than a year since his father's passing, bringing it up opened up the wound like it was fresh and new. Deep down, he knew that he had made the right decision—for himself, and for the chance at a future that held the promise of true fulfillment.

William sighed heavily as he sank into his favorite armchair, the weight of his mother's relentless matchmaking efforts bearing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He knew he couldn't continue to endure this constant barrage of suitors and social obligations—it was beginning to take a toll on his work and his sanity.

He needed to get away from the family residence.

* * *

As William entered the gentlemen's club, the air was thick with the scent of tobacco and the murmur of hushed conversations. Amidst the dimly lit ambiance, he spotted his friend Duncan seated at a corner table, a half-empty glass of whiskey in hand as he read a newspaper.

Making his way over, William greeted him with a nod, the lines of fatigue etched on his features alluding to the weight of his responsibilities as a duke.

Duncan looked up from his drink, a knowing glint in his eyes as he acknowledged William's arrival. With a wry smile, he raised his glass in silent salute, the unspoken understanding between old friends hanging in the air.

"I thought I might find you here," William said.

"How did the Duke himself spare time to grace us with his presence here?" Duncan jested.

"Sadly, I find myself in a position I didn't think possible," William answered with an exasperated sigh. "I'm in need of advice. My mother's endeavors are starting to affect my work, and I fear I can't take much more of it."

"I see what it is about," Duncan said, his tone sympathetic. "We'll talk things through. Relax for now."

Relief flooded through William as he agreed to Duncan's suggestion. It had been far too long since he had allowed himself a moment of respite from the pressures of his duties and the demands of high society. Perhaps a night out with his old friend was just what he needed.

As William and Duncan shared drinks in their favorite corner of the club, William couldn't help but bring up the subject that had been weighing heavily on his mind—Esther Arnold.

"Duncan," he began, leaning closer to his friend. "What do you know about Lord Seymour's daughter?"

"Ah, Lady Esther Arnold." Duncan chuckled softly, before taking a sip of his whiskey. "She's quite the character. Embarrassed Lord Montague in front of his business partners with no shame at the ball last week."

"Did she really?" William grinned.

Duncan leaned back in his chair with an amused laugh. "She's not your typical lady, Your Grace. Lady Esther has a bit of a reputation for being rebellious."

"Enlighten me."

"Oh, you know how it is," he said cryptically with a shrug. "She's not one to look or act proper. She's feisty, spirited, and she doesn't take kindly to being told what to do."

William couldn't help but chuckle at that description. "Quite the handful."

"Oh, she certainly is." Duncan nodded. "But despite her… eccentricities, there's no denying that she's got a certain charm about her. She may not be the most polite or feminine of ladies, but she knows how to assert herself, that's for sure."

William mulled over Duncan's words. Esther Arnold was like no one he had ever met before—a woman unafraid to defy convention and march to the beat of her own drum. But with him, she seemed to be different. Nervous, and a little careful.

"Have you ever had the pleasure of meeting her?" he asked.

"Oh, a few times," Duncan replied casually. "Kept me on my toes each time, wondering what scandalous thing would come out of her mouth. I'm surprised she hasn't been ousted because of that sharp tongue."

"And what about her family?" William asked. "Are they aware of her… reputation?"

Duncan shrugged nonchalantly. "Hard to say, though I doubt they're too affected," he admitted. "But from what I've heard, they're a respectable bunch. Her father's a prominent businessman, and her mother's a stickler for tradition. Makes you wonder how Lady Esther turned out the way she did."

The mention of Esther's family only added to the mystery surrounding her. Perhaps William wanted to see her again and learn more about her.

Maybe if he could run his fingers through her locks again and… hold her this time with intention. He was curious to see if he could push past her walls and see what she was hiding under her shameless demeanor.

He had to see her again.