Ambrose paused, giving it some thought. He knew his mother wouldn't let the question go unanswered, and truthfully, he hadn't spent much time considering the exact reasons why Lady Eugenia hadn't held his interest. After a moment, he sighed. "She's too... plain. She didn't hold my interest."
"Too plain?" Edith echoed, genuinely stunned. "Lady Eugenia is such a lady—graceful, beautiful, accomplished. What more could you possibly want in a wife?"
Ambrose met his mother's gaze evenly, his expression unreadable. "Ideally? Not to marry at all."
Edith blinked, momentarily thrown by his bluntness. "Ambrose, that's... that's not an option. You are the Duke. The estate needs an heir, and you know your responsibilities better than anyone. Youmustmarry."
Ambrose sighed heavily, already tired of this familiar conversation. But Edith, undeterred, pressed again, "But if you had to... what would you look for? What is it that you truly want, if not someone like Lady Eugenia?"
Ambrose fell silent, thinking over her words. It wasn't a question he had asked himself before, not seriously, at least. He had spent so long avoiding the idea of marriage that he'd never really considered what would compel him to make that choice.
Finally, after a long pause, he said, "Someone who challenges me."
"Challenges you?" she repeated, frowning slightly. "Ambrose, marriage is not a competition. You need a wife who will support you, not someone who will argue with you."
"No, Mother. I don't mean arguments for the sake of arguments. I mean someone who doesn't just fade into the background. Someone who keeps me on my toes, who... who won't just agree with me for the sake of it."
As the words left his mouth, an unbidden image flickered in his mind—Daphne. He chided himself internally, shaking off the thought.
It irritated him that she was the first person who came to mind, but there it was.
Edith's frown deepened as she tried to comprehend her son's unusual requirements. "Someone who challenges you..." she mused. "Well, then. What about the other ladies? Surely one of them must have caught your eye."
"Mother," he groaned. "Do we really have to do this? Why must you be so intent on this?"
A look of sadness crossed his mother's face. "I just do not understand your resistance to marriage. Is it something I've done? Did I raise you to think love wasn't important?"
"No, Mother. This has nothing to do with you," his tone was softer this time.
"Then what is it?" Edith pressed, "You've never given me a proper answer."
Ambrose hesitated. He didn't like these conversations, didn't like being prodded about his personal decisions. But he could see the genuine concern in his mother's eyes, and it was hard to brush it off entirely.
"Mother..."
"I just... I want you to be happy, Ambrose," she said quietly.
"I am happy," he insisted. "If you stop insisting for me to marry, perhaps you would be able to see it for yourself."
"Youbelievethat you are happy as you are, yes. But if you had a companion, this happiness of yours would be tenfold," she nodded. "I know what it's like to love someone. To have a partner who understands you, who stands by your side through everything. Your father... he was my rock. I was happiest when I was with him."
Ambrose froze at the mention of his father. He did not speak about him much ever since his demise.
Neither did his mother. It wasn't often that she talked about him in such personal terms. "I know you miss him," Ambrose said softly.
"He would have wanted this for you," she continued.
"It's not that I don't believe in love, mother," he said, his voice quieter now. "But not everyone is meant to have what you had with Father."
"Oh, what we had was truly special," her eyes lit up slightly. "We were a love match. The first day that I met your father, I knew that he was the man I was going to marry."
Ambrose racked his brain for if he ever felt that way for someone in his life. No, he had never even come close. It appeared such a foreign concept to him. If anything, he had thought how much hedid notwish to marry someone when he first met them.
"I am afraid that I cannot imagine that," he replied, folding his arms out in front of him.
"You can, my dear," she admitted. "A love like that is out there for you, and I am confident that you shall find it."
Ambrose chose not to respond. But that did not deter his mother from going on.
