Elijah Eldridge was the new Duke of Norfolk, well.. Not quite. He'd stepped into his title a year prior. He certainly had yet to get used to his inheritance, or as others may put it: His birthright. But he certainly wasn’t new to most of the ton’s standards.

The last thing Elijah had ever wished for was to finally, officially become his father.

He loathed that man, and he was thankful the heavens had finally decided to grace Elijah and the, now, dowager duchess with the late duke's inevitable death. But now that he was gone, Elijah stepped into his position, into the light that forever put him in his father’s shadow.

He was now ‘Your Grace’ rather than a simple, ‘My Lord.’ Elijah had his fathers land and every last one of his titles, they’d officially become his; he was no longer using the Earl of Surrey as a courtesy title, he is the Earl of Surrey now. The minute that his father had died it became staggeringly true: 

Elijah was truly his father’s son. Not only by name now, but by everything that might matter. Everything that did matter..

Like his father he too would destroy any happiness, any joy his future wife would hope for in her life, he too would be alone in this world.

He too would never be loved. It was unfathomable how impossible it would be for someone to love him when he was exactly who his father had been.

Elijah came from a long line of unhappy dukes with unhappy duchesses, it was simply the Eldridge way. Unhappiness and an inability to love was their curse. They would all share the same fate, they would all simply marry to complete one goal: To continue the Eldridge line; by any means possible.

To most that was forcing marriage upon the first impressionable young lady. To others that was matches made on paper, matches made for business.

Love was simply a foreign concept. And for all the duchesses who wished for agreeable marriages, simple happiness or even love, it was something they'd never experience.

Elijah knew of duty, he was a gentleman. Or he prided himself as one, he was neither rouge nor rake; he was simply a gentleman with honor. And if that signified anything then most could agree he would never marry, or rather he shouldn’t.

And he certainly would never love.

Elijah was not a man who would love. He was simply incapable of it; he was an Eldridge after all. 

Elijah dreaded the day he would finally have to succumb to his duty, he would postpone it as long as necessary but the day would come. And that day haunted him, he’d found himself laid awake at night in agony thinking of such a thing. He’d consistently lost sleep over it.

His mother held a strong belief he would find love such as she had, long before she'd met his father. 

He did not agree.

He would never find such a thing. He was his father, and his father was him. How would he be any different than the man he shared everything down to his deep eye colour with?

How could he be any different?

He actively avoided the London season despite her every disapproval. She demanded he at least try, and he’d wished, every time she badgered him, to remind her that they could not be any different. She had simply been forced to marry into the family, whilst he was born into it. Born into a role that demanded much more from him than her, born into a name that cursed him to live and die as the previous Dukes.

Not to mention he absolutely detested the season in every way. He hated watching debutantes fall into this ritual of trying to please gentlemen, and he pitied the wallflowers; he knew what it was like to sit at the edge of society, unable to join in. At times he did feel oddly grateful he wouldn't have to fall into this ridiculous dance good society was so fond of. Even if he was so unlucky to have been born as an Eldridge.

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Even if he had to live for his title and his name, even if he would marry through papers, through business and through duty. At the very least he couldn't be expected to partake in the season.

His purpose was to be an Eldridge and to die as one. One such as his father:

Incapable of love and with an unhappy wife, living amongst empty halls. Damned to continue the dreadful Eldridge cycle.

It was what he was born for, and it was what he lived for.

***

Theodosia Milnes lived for love.

She had been engulfed in love from the moment she was born, she grew up loved by her family and grew up loving them. Love was as much a part of her as her very bones. But there was another form of love she desired other than familial:

Romantic.

She longed for romance, the moment she’d entered good society three years prior she made it her goal to fall hard and deep into a romance that swept her off her feet and made her question her sensibility.

She wished to share what her parents did.

She blamed her strong belief of love for the reasoning behind her continued presence on the marriage mart despite her debut being three long years prior.

Three years that the ton never let her forget. She was quite famous. Mama’s always warned their daughters to not end up such as her, and often warned them how nonsensical she was to want love.

(As if love was truly such a modern concept..)

She’d always thought about her first season, it had been one of joy despite her average amount of suitors. She quite enjoyed a dance, and danced she had in her first season. Her fourth could be all the more different, suitors avoided her as if she were the plague thus making it impossible to dance like any other young lady. She heard what they’d said about her, she wasn’t deaf after all. She knew not one gentleman believed her worth their time, love was such a bizarre concept to them. 

She was often regarded as a spinster, a soon to be old maid who would never marry and would always bring shame to her family. She was not so old she would never wed.

Was she?

Many thought her dreams of love to be foolish as it was, her age was a whole other concept for them. She knew that London often talked about her behind her back, as if love was such an unbelievable concept a lady such as herself, at such a ripe age might wish for. Maybe they were right, perhaps she should’ve latched on to the least combatable man that came her way to save herself and her family from an impending ruin and maybe her window to do so was shut to never be opened again.

Or maybe this season would be her luckiest yet.

Who was she kidding, she would spend this season just like the last; Alone, with only the suitors who desired her family’s fortune appearing. They’d be offering courtship and a life of misery only to make the season all the more dreadful. She couldn't help that no man had truly ever captured her eye, nor enraptured her soul.

 She did find lemonade to be good company compared to the suitors she'd encountered. If you wished to ever find her she was more times than not stuck next to the furthest lemonade table in the corner of the room during any and all soirees and balls held during the season. 

When she fell in love she would feel as if the world might open up and swallow her whole.

She knew it would be a feeling like no other. A feeling she would latch onto and never let go, so if she ever found herself in love she knew it would truly be a wonderful thing, a feeling, a moment that she would never forget. And he would feel the same.

They’d feel as if they were the only people in every room they occupied together, he would know her mind and she would know his.

It could be no less. She did not wish to settle.

She did not wish for a loveless marriage one made for duty or responsibility. She knew what she desired, knew what kept her afloat in the dreary London season:

Love.

And she would not–She would NEVER settle for anything but.

Love was all she knew, and love was all she wanted.