Duke Leonard's POV
In the dining room of Haldfast Manor, I sat at the head of the table, and my breakfast was untouched. My mother, Angela, had invited a few of her closest friends for a morning gathering, a tradition they'd upheld for years.
Today, however, the conversation had taken a turn for the worse. Adana, a woman known for her flamboyant pronouncements and personality, gushed about my handsomeness, "Your grace," she declared, "you're simply the most handsome Duke in all of England! I can only imagine how stunning your children would be!"
Costa, a woman with a sharper wit, chimed in, "Handsome children require good genes on both sides, wouldn't you agree your grace? A handsome Duke like you wouldn't guarantee much if his wife looked like… well, Mirabeth over there."
Laughter spread around the table excluding me. I was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Meanwhile, Mirabeth, the object of Costa's cruel jab, forced a tight smile.
Sofia, another guest of my mother's decided it was time to make her exit. "Well, Angela," she said, rising from her chair, "I best be going. My daughter and her darling children are arriving today, and I wouldn't miss it for the world."
Mirabeth added, "Oh, Sofia, you must leave. Children are… a whirlwind of delightful chaos."
As soon as Sofia took her leave, Adana wasted no time. "Angela," she pressed, "when are we going to get some grandchildren around here?"
My mother's face was filled with embarrassment. Despite that, Costa continued, "Time isn't getting any younger, Angela. Remember dear Lady Kara? Such a shame she went so quickly. At least she got to hold her grandchildren before it was too late."
"Excuse me, ladies," my mother said curtly, rising from her seat. She shot a pointed look at me and I immediately understood. "Leonard, would you mind joining me in the study for a moment?"
The other ladies exchanged glances. "Seems we've struck a nerve," Adana remarked with a smirk.
I followed my mother through the grand hallway, my brow was furrowed in annoyance. We reached my study, a room adorned with rich mahogany furniture and leather-bound books.
"Honestly, Leonard," Angela exclaimed, "those women! Can't they see they're making things worse?"
"They mean well, Mother," I replied, trying to maintain calm.
"Well, their 'well-meaning' intentions are suffocating!" she declared, pacing across the rug. "Marriage, children – must that be the only conversation they're capable of?"
I understood her frustration. The constant pressure from both society and her peers was relentless. Finding a wife wasn't just about love or companionship; it was a duty, a burden I had to bear for the sake of the Haldfast legacy.
"Mother," I ventured, "I thought we'd already discussed this. Finding the right woman…"
"Is apparently taking an eternity, Leonard," she interrupted, her voice sharp. "You're not getting any younger, and frankly, neither am I. It's time you settled down, found a suitable wife, and started a family."
"Look, I'm willing to go to extraordinary lengths here. I'll throw a ball, invite every eligible young lady within a hundred miles. We'll find you a suitable bride, someone who fulfills all the requirements."
"Suitable wife," I said, the words didn't sit right with me in my head. "Is that all there is to it? Just another social climb?"
"Don't be selfish, Leonard!" she snapped, her voice was sharp. "Think about your father's legacy. You're the firstborn, the Duke. It's your duty to produce an heir, to secure the future of Haldfast Manor."
"Wasn't that why Beatrice got married last fall?" I pointed out.
"A woman cannot inherit the Duchy, Leonard," she stated firmly. That's simply the way things are."
"Maybe it's time the rule book was changed," I argued, frustration boiling over.
"Absolutely not!" she exclaimed.. "This is tradition, Leonard! You can't just throw it aside because it doesn't suit your… whims! You wouldn't…"
"Wouldn't what?" I challenged. "Wouldn't forfeit the title? Because believe me, Mother, the thought has crossed my mind."
"Why does everyone insist on pushing me into this role?" I demanded, my voice was hoarse. "What if I don't want the title? What if I don't want to be married?"
Her eyes widened, and her composure cracked for the first time. "Why on earth would you… Leonard, this is madness!"
"Is it any madder than how I feel?" I retorted, my voice rising in frustration. "Don't you ever wonder why I haven't settled down? Why I can barely stand the thought of marriage?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.
"You wouldn't understand," I said. "The pressure only makes it worse. The demands, the expectations… they cripple me."
"Leonard, this is bigger than you!" she insisted.
"Then why do I feel so incomplete?" I whispered, the words coming out before I could stop them. "Every night, it's like I'm… running mad. There's a memory, a fragment of something just out of reach, and it torments me."
I saw understating on her face, "You need to see me at night, Mother," I continued. "That's when it's the worst. The feeling…"
"The curse," she murmured, the word barely a whisper.
I met her gaze, "It's damaging me, Mother," I confessed, I felt relieved finally acknowledging the truth. "If I ever get married… have children…"
My voice trailed off.
She rushed forward, holding me in a tight embrace. "It'll be alright, Leonard," she soothed me. "We'll find a way. We always do."
Shortly, I and my mother got back to the dining room to the rejoin the ladies. And with a tight forced smile, my mother said, "As we were ladies."
The next day, the morning air was blissful. It carried a faint scent of freshly baked bread as I entered the grand hall. My advisor, Harold, stood waiting for me, with a sad expression etched on his face.
"Good morning, Your Grace," he bowed. "I trust you slept well?"
"Uneventfully," I replied, my mind still swirling from the events of yesterday. "What's on the agenda for today, Harold?"
"Today," he announced, consulting a small scroll, "you have a visit scheduled to the bakery on Bury Street. Mr. Abernathy, the esteemed baker, sadly passed away yesterday."
Immediately, I was filled with sympathy. Mr. Abernathy's bread was a staple in the manor, and his warm smile was a familiar sight in the market square.
"Condolences are in order, then," I muttered. "What should I say? I confess, eloquence isn't exactly my forte."
Harold chuckled. "No need to worry, Your Grace. A simple expression of sympathy will suffice. Something like, 'My deepest condolences on the loss of Mr. Abernathy,' or 'He will be greatly missed.'"
I nodded. Public pronouncements weren't my strong suit, but even I could manage that. "Excellent. Is Mother joining me?"
"Unfortunately, the Duchess has several pressing matters to attend to," Harold explained. "However, she insists you have a proper escort. Captain Davies and his guard detail will accompany you."
"Mother's being overly cautious," I grumbled. "The streets of Bamford aren't exactly crawling with brigands."
"With all due respect, Your Grace," Harold said carefully, "the commoners can be… a bit… boisterous at times. Especially when they've lost a beloved member of their community."
The thought of facing all those tearful bakers wasn't exactly appealing. "Fine," I agreed, throwing up my hands in mock surrender. "Get Davies and his men prepped then. Let's get this over with."
News of my visit spread like wildfire through Bamford. By the time my carriage rolled into Bury Street, a sizeable crowd had gathered. Whispers erupted as I stepped down, Captain Davies and his guards flanking me like a stoic wall.
Heads turned as I passed, I could hear murmurs over the crowd. "There he is, the Duke himself!" "Look at that fine horse!" "Wonder what brings him to our humble town?"
I offered a small smile and a polite wave. Their attention was both unsettling and strangely exhilarating. Today, I wasn't just Leonard Haldfast, the Duke burdened by a curse. Today, I was a symbol of authority, a beacon of hope, and perhaps, just perhaps, a leader who could earn the respect and affection of his people.