The Duke’s Forbidden Love

A cold morning was all it took. Deep within the halls of Eastwood, in a room which had once housed lords and aristocrats, the future duke lay contemptuously in his bed. He did not stir, and one could easily assume upon seeing him that he was nothing but a pile of clothes laid out on the burgundy sheets. His breathing was slow and measured, and not even a single hair so much as flickered atop his head. He could hear the voices, loud and damning in the room just beneath his. The current duke of Eastwood did not oft raise his voice, but when he did, his fury was distinguishable. His words, although measured and precise, were meant to hurt and attack, to strip the duchess of her pride and honour. 'I would sooner have a wench in my bed than you,' he spat. 'At least that would mean some relief from your constant moaning and petulance.' His mother's voice could be heard now, softer than his father's but just as spiteful, if not more so. She spoke with the conviction of a woman who had endured years of torment and heartache, and had finally reached the brink of her patience. 'Better men than you have erred in their capacity, my lord,' she said. 'But one distinguishing factor about them is their ability to admit when they are wrong and seek forgiveness. I look at you now, and I see nothing but a pathetic man with so little ambition in life that he would rather be stripped of his honour than do what is right.' 'Do not question my honour, Miranda,' the duke's voice came. 'I am a man above all else, and you will not taint my honour with your wicked words. I may not be the best of men, but everything I have done thus far is to make sure that I do right by my family. And yet you accuse me of such blasphemous acts? How could you be so fiendish?' 'Then do what needs to be done,' she said. 'I will not have a man who does not know his right from his left. You may be the duke, but I know you better than anyone, Micheal. You will not back down from this.' Silence followed, and for a moment James was able to breathe again. More than anything else in his life, he wished that the silence could remain for just a little longer. He wished it would all go away, and that life could go back to the way it was before his father returned. Instead, a single sentence came back. And it cut through him like a blade. His father did not raise his voice. This time, he spoke so calmly that it was almost impossible to hear him. But how such words could hold so much venom was simply beyond him. 'The boy must go,' he said. 'I cannot bear to look at him anymore.' James did not wait to hear the rest of the argument. He fled from his room, his eyes awash with tears. The hallways of his home blurred past as he ran past several servants, ignoring their calls to him. Little lord, they called him. For that was what he was; little and insignificant. He ran out into the garden, into the cold winter morning where the snow had fallen over the grass and painted the landscape in a beautiful white sheet. It's beauty was lost on him as he fell to his knees in despair, his heart squeezing with panic and fear. They were getting rid of him. After only eleven years, they were going to send him away. James felt like screaming in agony. How could they do this to him? Was he not their son? Did they not love him? Or had he become such a burden that they just couldn't stand him anymore? He would never know the answer to that. He could imagine that preparations were already being made to ship him off to some colony in a faraway country. He would never see Eastwood again, the home which he had spent his entire life in. He would never get to ride his filly across the grounds again, or practice his poetry and ballroom dancing in the drawing room with Master Sheibel. James turned around slowly and suddenly. And as he did, someone up in heaven must have been smiling down on him. For in that moment, through his tear stricken eyes and the veil of his despair, through the sorrow which had settled on him so suddenly, a vision came to him. And it was in the form of Lillian Darlington, the one who stole his heart at first sight. And from that day onwards, James Eastwood was never the same again.