Page 45 of A Virgin for the Forbidden Duke

At that vulnerable moment, Agnes confronted the harsh truth that societal norms could be as much an enemy as an ally.

The dichotomy between personal desires and familial duty became painfully evident. She yearned for a life beyond the confinements of expectations, a life where her heart could follow its own rhythm.

As her sobs subsided, Agnes remained on the floor, the emotional storm leaving her drained yet strangely liberated. The door, still closed, stood as a silent witness to the tumultuous battle within her soul.

“Miss Agnes, it’s all right. Everything will be fine.”

Agnes found herself cradled in the supportive embrace of Peggy. Peggy’s presence, like a comforting balm, offered solace to Agnes as she was lifted off the cold floor.

The silent journey to Agnes’s room unfolded like a sanctuary, away from the prying eyes and stifling atmosphere. Peggy, ever perceptive, carefully tended to Agnes’s bleeding hand, a tangible symbol of the inner struggle that had manifested in the physical realm.

As Agnes rested on her bed, the weight of her conflicting emotions pressed down on her chest.

In Peggy’s presence, she found a confidante who didn’t judge or demand adherence to societal norms. It was a fleeting moment of respite, a pause in the ongoing battle between Agnes’s heart and the expectations imposed on her.

Agnes’s thoughts swirled like leaves caught in an emotional tempest. She pondered the cost of her desires and the toll it might take on her family’s reputation. The liberating surge of emotions clashed with the reality of the world outside her haven.

As Peggy bandaged her wounded hand, Agnes couldn’t help but appreciate the simplicity of their connection.

At that shared moment, as Peggy tended to her wounds, Agnes silently vowed to navigate the turbulent waters ahead, seeking a path where her heart could find its rhythm without completely abandoning the duty that tethered her to familial expectations.

As Peggy tidied up the bandaging materials, she cast a compassionate look at Agnes. “You want to talk about it, Miss Agnes?”

Agnes hesitated, then nodded. Peggy had been a confidante for years, a trusted companion in both joy and sorrow.

With a sigh, Agnes began to unravel the intricacies of her heart.

“Peggy,” she started. “There’s this man, Matthew. Our encounters are like stolen moments in a world of our own. His words, they’re like a melody that resonates in my soul. But Mother… Mother can’t fathom the connection we share. She’s insistent on this path of duty, a path that stifles the very essence of who I am.”

Peggy listened attentively, her eyes reflecting understanding. “Love has its twists and turns, Miss Agnes. It’s a dance between the heart and the expectations of the world. Tell me more about this Matthew.”

Agnes continued, painting a vivid picture of moonlit gardens, secret libraries, stolen glances, and clandestine kisses. She conveyed the depth of their connection, the laughter shared in hidden corners, and the longing that intertwined with every stolen moment.

“Peggy, it’s as if there are two worlds pulling me in opposite directions. My heart longs for Matthew, for a connection beyond societal norms. Yet, Mother …”

Peggy listened attentively, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Love, Miss Agnes, is a tricky business. But you must follow your heart, find a way to bridge those worlds without losing yourself completely.”

Agnes appreciated Peggy’s wisdom, the simplicity of her advice providing a momentary respite from the storm raging within.

CHAPTER16

Matthew stood before the mirror in his chamber the next day, contemplating the two gloves he held in his hands.

His brows furrowed in concentration as he turned to Gabriel, his ever-present valet. “Gabriel, which one do you think complements my ensemble better? Satin or cotton?”

Before Gabriel could offer his opinion, the chamber door swung open without warning, and Matthew turned to the door in shock, only to sigh when he saw who it was.

In marched Letitia, all smiles, and their mother, looking like she’d had a bit too much to drink.

Matthew’s gaze shifted from the gloves to the intruders, and he couldn’t suppress a playful grin. “A bit of privacy, please? I’m not ready to showcase my dazzling appearance just yet.”

Letitia, undeterred, crossed her arms. “Oh, come now, dear brother. We’ve seen you in various states of undress since we were children. What’s a little more?”

Their mother chuckled. “Indeed, Matthew. There’s no need to be bashful in your own abode.” She sashayed over to her son and palmed his cheek, tears in her eyes as she spoke. “You have grown so well, my son. You look just like your father, too. Handsome and dashing.”

Matthew sighed in mock exasperation and leaned to kiss his mother’s hair. “You two will be the death of me,” he teased, a smile lingering on his lips. “At least, show some decency and knock next time. Mother, it’s ten in the morning. I told the maid to keep the drinks away from you every morning. Don’t tell me you’ve bullied her into taking it.”

Nancy scoffed and playfully slapped her son’s arm. “Of course not. This is my home, and no one can keep anything from me,” she said in a playful, haughty voice.

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