Page 52 of A Virgin for the Forbidden Duke

“I cannot marry a man who was born a commoner,” she finally confessed, her words hanging heavily in the air.

Agnes felt a pang of guilt, knowing she was fabricating reasons to push Matthew away.

Matthew’s eyes widened, disbelief etched on his face. “Agnes, you cannot be serious. You know my background should not define our connection.”

Tears threatened to betray Agnes’s facade as she maintained a determined expression. “I’ve realized that the Earl of Egerton is the perfect match for me. Our families are compatible, and he offers the stability I need. I hope you understand.”

Matthew’s confusion turned into frustration, his voice rising. “This is absurd! You’re pushing me away because of societal expectations. Agnes, you’re breaking my heart.”

Agnes felt her heartbreak at Matthew’s words. Torn between her genuine feelings for Matthew and the duty ingrained in her, she struggled to keep her composure. Deep down, she wished he would see through her act, that he would discern the pain hidden behind her words.

But Matthew, hurt and angered, refused to back down. “If this is truly what you want, Miss Agnes, then so be it. But you know I care for you, so know that you’re sacrificing something real for the sake of appearances.”

As their voices echoed in the night, Agnes felt the weight of her decision settling upon her. She had hoped that by pushing Matthew away, he would come to resent her and move on, sparing him the potential consequences of her family’s secrets.

As Matthew turned away, his footsteps echoed a painful departure. “Never bother me again,” he declared, the words cutting through the stillness of the garden.

Agnes, left alone in the moonlit solitude, felt the finality of his command settling upon her like a heavy shroud. Yet, as he stormed away, leaving her alone in the moonlit garden, she couldn’t shake the ache in her heart. Duty had won over love, but the sacrifice left her grappling with the profound emptiness of a choice that felt far from right.

Agnes crumpled to the ground, the soft grass beneath her doing little to cushion the weight of her grief. The moonlight, once a gentle observer of lovers’ trysts, now bore witness to the shattering of her heart.

I’m sorry.

Tears streamed down her face, each droplet a testament to the pain of love forsaken. The silent garden echoed with the cadence of her sobs, a mournful melody in the otherwise still night. The cool breeze whispered through the leaves, a haunting accompaniment to her anguish.

In that moonlit solitude, she wept for the love she had cast aside, for the connection severed in the name of duty. The air, heavy with the scent of blooming flowers, seemed to carry the weight of her sorrow.

CHAPTER18

One foot in front of the other. Slowly. Steady, Agnes reminded herself.

The clock had long struck two a.m., and the moon cast an ethereal glow over the cobbled streets as Agnes walked home, almost lifeless. Tears, silent witnesses to the turmoil within, stained her cheeks, glistening under the faint streetlights. The night, which had promised so much, now wrapped her in a shroud of despair.

How had the day turned out so bad?

It was meant to be the day of joy, the day when Matthew would officially declare his intentions. But instead, it turned out to be the worst day of her life. The bitter taste of disappointment lingered, mixed with the salty residue of tears.

As Agnes walked, her pace slow and weary, the carriage that trailed behind mirrored the worried pace of her own heart. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. She woke up that morning with anticipation, the promise of a courtship, of love.

However, she had to be harsh. Her heart ached as she remembered the look on Matthew’s face when she told him they could not be together. The words had escaped her lips, slicing through the tender emotions that had blossomed between them. She hurt him, and she hurt herself.

She knew, deep down, that her decision was the right one—a tragic necessity. And so, she pushed him away, severed the connection before it could deepen. It was an act of love, wrapped in the agony of sacrifice.

It was a beautiful thing, but it hurt so much.

Agnes replayed the moments with Matthew in her mind, each one a dagger in her already aching heart. She saw the hurt in his eyes, the confusion that clouded the vibrant emotions that once danced there. The pain etched on his face mirrored her own, and with every step home, she questioned if she had made the right choice.

Why? Why did things have to be like this? She had ruined her own love.

The night was a cloak of shadows, muffling her sobs and echoing her desolation. She longed for solace, for a respite from the haunting memories of a day gone wrong.

The manor loomed ahead, grand and imposing, a stark contrast to the vulnerability she felt inside. And as she approached, the carriage pulled up beside her, a silent acknowledgment of her need for support. Agnes climbed in, feeling the weight of the night settle on her shoulders. The manor’s gates opened ahead of her, shutting out the world, and she was left alone with the echoes of a love that might never be.

She had ruined everything.

The grand gates of the manor closed behind her, revealing the imposing silhouette of her family home. Agnes, still reeling from the emotional turmoil, entered the familiar grounds as the front doors creaked open.

The soft glow of the hallway lights spilled into the courtyard, casting a pallid radiance over her haggard figure. Before she could take another step, her mother, a tempest of worry and anger, charged out of the mansion.

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