Page 1 of Matters of a Duke’s Heart

The crowd that entered into Vauxhall Gardens through Mr. Barrett’s house was a riot of excited chatter and eyes that keenly assessed those around them.

Among the group was Lady Felicity Merriweather, who linked her younger sister’s arm tightly, guiding her through the crush as best she could. The buzz of anticipation and excitement hung heavy in the air, pushing the tide of visitors onwards.

“Heavens, Daphne, you would just have to pick the busiest day.” Felicity and Daphne’s mother, Lady Victoria Merriweather, sent a scathing scowl toward both the sisters.

Lady Merriweather’s pale face was flushed, as Felicity was sure her own was. Although her own was caused by a slight panic at the thick of the crowd, her mother’s was a hot and bothersome flush. Daphne, however, was rosy with pure excitement.

“Mama, if we cannot experience Vauxhall Gardens in such crowds then there is little point in coming at all!” Daphne exclaimed, tugging on Felicity’s arm tighter.

Despite the three years between them, and the thought to attend Vauxhall Gardens being Daphne’s idea initially, Felicity felt herself getting swept up in the joy of it all.

Her sister, only recently debuted at the start of the Season the previous month, looked around as they finally passed through the entryway into the gardens.

The many sections spread out before them, different paths branching off to various attractions. The Grand Walk cut a broad length of pathway right down to the very end, where it intersected with another path. Further, at the far reaches, almost hidden due to the distance, was the Dark Walk.

Felicity hurriedly averted her gaze, knowing the rumors of lovers who had many a rendezvous there.

Even if the concept itself was terribly romantic—and scandalous, she reminded herself—she would never do such a thing. It was not as though she had anyone to attend a romantic rendezvous with, anyway.

The crush of the crowd urged them past the Rotunda and Pillard Saloon, for it was the Orchestra that drew the ton in that late afternoon.

“Stay close to me, Daphne,” Lady Merriweather instructed. “I do not want you flying away in this… this elephant stampede.”

Felicity and Daphne laughed at their mother’s displeasure as they ventured deeper. Around them, music already sounded from the direction of the Orchestra, and the sound of other ladies and families laughing together filtered through the summer day.

Every patch of walkway and grass Felicity could see was packed with people.

She blinked, momentarily distracted by twin butterflies that fluttered around one another, stalling for a moment, simply watching.

She was jostled from behind, and caught herself, glancing back in annoyance.

“Felicity,” her mother snapped. She hurried to catch up with her mother and sister who had found a way through a clearer patch of people. But the more Felicity tried to reach them the more she felt separated.

“Felicity!” Daphne called out.

“Daphne!” Felicity didn’t raise her voice, but her frustration snapped out. How had her arm slipped from Daphne’s? She watched her sister’s blonde ringlets disappear the thicker the crowd grew around her, and Felicity’s heart pounded. She was a stone in the middle of a rushing river current.

She couldn’t be left alone, shouldn’t be alone, and she fought her way to get back to her family. Cursing her sister for insisting they attended the gardens that day, cursing herself for allowing herself to get too excited and distracted, she tried to push through.

“Excuse me,” she said firmly to those in her way, trying to slip around others. “Excuse me—excuse me.”

But nobody parted enough, and the more she looked over heads—somewhat failing, for it seemed every tall, top-hatted patron of every family was suddenly in her way—she couldn’t spot her family anywhere.

“Are you lost, my lady?” A voice came from behind her, and she whirled around, stumbling into somebody else at her back. She felt knocked every which way as she tried to right herself long enough to look at a young lord whom she recognized from Daphne’s debutante ball last month.

“N-no,” she stammered. “Excuse me.”

Felicity tried to duck around more bodies but only found herself shoved aside, lost to the current. Soon, she realized she had surged past the Orchestra, and was ejected from the crush of the crowd near the Octagon Rooms and Center Cross Walk.

Vauxhall Gardens was not an entirely new place to her, but she had visited with her mother on quieter, spring days. This walkway, at least, would lead her back to the entrance. At least she thought.

It was approaching the height of summer, and Mr. Barrett had opened the gardens to celebrate some new addition to his outdoor spectacle. Daphne had spoken about it over breakfast that morning but Felicity couldn’t recall what the addition itself was, her attention too fixed on her newest read.

She lingered on the Center Cross Walk, watching as the river of guests didn’t let up for a moment.

Glancing behind her, she saw the wall of hedges lining the Lover’s Walk ahead. She quickly looked away, noting the other pathway before that. Archways rose over the trees around the garden, indicating a straight path back toward the entrance.

Hurriedly, she went toward those arches.

She continued to curse her lovely, excitable sister in her head over and over.

Daphne had gotten swept up in her debut eagerness, wanting to attend every social event the ton had to offer, but Felicity was into her third Season, and her own elation had flagged a long time ago, replaced by disappointment.

Toying with a lock of her auburn hair to steady her nerves, Felicity sped up, glancing around before she picked up her skirts a little to help hasten herself.

So focused on her panic and need to return, Felicity didn’t realize anybody approached from around the corner as she veered around it.

She smacked right into somebody and cried out in surprise as she stumbled back.

Her breath wheezed out of her as she immediately lifted her gaze.

Her eyes landed on a man perhaps a few years older than her. A lord, if anything was to be guessed by his fine tailcoat and silk, black cravat. Felicity’s hope rose even as no apology was offered.

“Forgive me, my lord,” she said instead. “I did not mean to—to walk in your path.”

She met eyes of pure, icy blue, and she blinked, taken aback. Most men smiled, offered a hand to steady a lady, apologized first out of proprietary, perhaps hoping to earn favor if the lady was pretty and desirable enough. But this lord… he merely looked detached and stoic as he looked down at her.

“It is fine, my lady,” he said, nodding once at her before striding on. “Enjoy the celebration.” Aghast, Felicity wondered if he really wouldn’t apologize for not looking where he was walking, either. The man paused at her staring after him. He frowned but continued on.

“Wait!” Felicity cried out, her hand reaching to stop him from walking away.

Her fingertips improperly grazed his coat cuff, and she cringed, yanking her hand back.

“I apologize again. I—it is just that I do not want to wander the gardens alone. I do not really know my way around. At least not these parts.”

Those hard eyes stared at her from beneath raised brows, as if he did not believe her. Felicity blushed when she realized how it sounded like an attempt for companionship. Despite the lack of feeling in his gaze, his face was otherwise very handsome.

A strong jawline and pronounced cheekbones framed a mouth that was pulled into a grimace. His dark hair curled at his coat collar and was swept from his forehead in a way that made him only more dashing.

Yet it exposed those cold eyes, giving him a stare that was intimidating. Paired with his dark clothing, Felicity tried to keep her wits about her.

“I do not mean it improperly,” she was quick to amend. “I am trying to find my way back to my family, but I do not usually enter the way I did tonight.”

“The Kennington Lane entrance,” he guessed, nodding behind her. “It is relatively new.”

“I believe so,” she said. “My father usually takes me through that way when we are visiting casually. But my mother guided me today through Mr. Barrett’s residence for the celebration.”

The lord hummed at her, his mouth twitching. His eyes swept around them, and she desperately wanted to tell him that she was not the sort of woman to swindle or trap a man. But it was clear he held no trust for anything else.

“Please,” she tried again. “I—I just do not want to be separated and need your help to—”

“No.”

The cold response came bluntly, suddenly, and it caught her off guard. “Sorry?”

“No,” he repeated, his jaw clenched as he stepped back. This time, the distance was too great for her to reach for him. Her hope fell as she looked around, the walls and trees rising too high to see her true way. Felicity’s chest tightened with panic. “Good day, my lady.”

And then the man was gone, striding away with the nonchalance of a man who thought he was too good and too high above to help her.

Dismayed, Felicity watched his retreating figure, finding nobody else walking the pathway.

In the face of the crush through the main walkway the silence was a blessing, but in terms of Felicity quickly finding her way back, it was not.

Making a rough noise of irritation in her throat, she began logically walking in the direction of where the entrance ought to be.

Vauxhall Gardens was expansive, and when it came to the more hidden trails—trails designated for secret lovers and public lovers who simply wanted privacy away from the ton’s gossip mill—Felicity was out of her depth.

Only once did she turn back to seek out the handsome but rude stranger who had dismissed her so abruptly. She couldn’t help but wonder who he was.

I ought to be glad, Felicity thought to herself. Better a rude stranger than a man to take advantage of her while alone. Still, his slight against her had stung.