A Rose for the Duke
Lady Eleanor had spent most of her life within the walls of Ashcombe Manor. She knew every corridor every echoing chamber and every secret hiding place in the vast estate. Yet despite the grandeur around her, she felt trapped, as if her life was dictated by society rules rather than her own desires.
One afternoon in the rose garden, while examining a newly bloomed crimson flower, she encountered a man whose presence made her heart skip. He was tall with dark hair and piercing eyes that seemed to see everything, yet respect the space around him.
You have an eye for beauty he said softly, startling her.
Eleanor curtsied, startled by his presence and the unexpected attention. I suppose one must notice beauty when it surrounds them she replied.
He introduced himself as the Duke of Ravenswood, visiting his neighboring estates to inspect matters of land and politics. Unlike the other nobles she had met, he spoke with genuine interest rather than a desire to impress. Eleanor found herself drawn to his calm demeanor, the slight smile that hinted at wit, and the way he listened as if every word mattered.
Over the next few weeks, chance encounters in the garden and corridors became more frequent. They exchanged small talk, discussions about books, poetry, and matters of the world beyond Ashcombe Manor. Eleanor discovered that the Duke had a depth of character rare in their social circle. He respected her mind, her thoughts, and even the occasional witty remark she dared to make.
As spring unfolded, so did their friendship. Stolen glances during formal dinners, shared walks under blossoming trees, and quiet conversations in the library began to build an unspoken connection. Eleanor felt a flutter she could not name, a warmth when the Duke looked her way, and a longing that grew every time he departed.
One evening, beneath a canopy of roses, the Duke spoke earnestly. Lady Eleanor, I have admired your intelligence, your grace, and your courage. I do not wish to impose upon your life, yet I find myself wishing to share my days with you.
Eleanor felt her heart swell. She had longed for freedom but also for companionship, and perhaps this man could be both a partner and an ally in her pursuit of life beyond rules.
I have admired you as well he continued, your strength and kindness. If you would allow me, I wish to court you properly, with sincerity and respect.
Tears threatened to spill from Eleanor eyes. I would like that she whispered.
Weeks turned into months, and the courtship blossomed. They met for secret rides through the countryside, whispered conversations beneath the stars, and quiet evenings by the fire. Each moment strengthened their bond, a love nurtured by respect and admiration rather than haste or passion alone.
When the Duke finally asked for her hand in marriage, Eleanor did not hesitate. Their union was celebrated with joy and reverence, a match forged not merely by social expectation but by hearts and minds entwined.
Years later, Eleanor would walk in the rose garden with her children, sharing stories of how love grew beneath petals and whispers. And the Duke, always beside her, would smile, knowing that the most beautiful blooms were not just in the garden, but in the life they built together.