Page 14 of Matters of a Duke’s Heart

Dinner the night before had been tensest affair Spencer had ever suffered the displeasure of sitting through.

The dining hall that had brought him so much peace when he had first married Sophia—only to then deliver suffocating grief upon her death—had brought him more surprises.

Awkwardness.

He had suddenly felt incapable of conversing with his wife despite how they had spoken in the Merriweather’s drawing room a few days prior. Seeing her in his home, in Sophia’s former place at the table, had rendered him mostly silent, able to only answer a few words to her incessant questions.

Idly, he had thought how well she might get on with Alexander. The two enjoyed prying.

But now, the following morning, he headed downstairs to prepare in his study for the business he would be conducting that day.

There was a tenant he had to meet just outside of Langdon Village, no more than a half-hour away on horseback. He missed riding his horse, Arion, and the feeling of that would surely chase away the cobwebs of suffocation London wrapped around him.

The suffocation of being a husband again had wrapped around him.

Yet when he jogged down the main staircase, he stopped in his tracks, hearing a voice that was slowly becoming familiar. He followed the sound of Felicity’s voice into the drawing room. On his way, he passed staff rushing to and fro with a frenzy he had not seen in many years.

Curious and agitated, for he hated not knowing what was happening under his own roof, Spencer approached the doorway of the room. Felicity’s back was to him, her arms outstretched.

“I think some more flowers could be displayed here,” she was saying, and Spencer’s brows rose in surprise. He did not make his presence known yet. For some reason, he was just content to simply watch her.

Her hair tumbled down her back, brushing the ribbon sash on her dress. He tracked the length of it before snapping his gaze just past her, forcing his focus away.

“Yes,” she continued. “That is what this place needs. More color, more life. Oh—Mrs. Avery, do you know if Lottie got my request for—”

“For a new rug, Your Grace? Indeed, she did. I believe she sent a footman out to purchase something for you.”

“Ah, I missed the chance to go myself.” Spencer wasn’t certain, but it sounded as though Felicity pouted at that.

“Never to mind, I will go to Langdon Village myself soon enough, I imagine. Now.” She clapped her hands together.

“Curtains. I cannot abide by how beautiful this manor is, yet it is draped in darkness, even in broad daylight! Mrs. Avery, perhaps that could be changed?”

Mrs. Avery stepped into view, carrying an empty vase that Spencer had not ordered to be filled for years. What good were flowers when he felt so much misery, and, quite frankly, did not care to decorate an empty house?

The housekeeper saw him. “I am certain His Grace can give his verdict regarding the curtains being opened.”

“Oh.” He heard a scoff. “No doubt he will opt for the alternative, as I have found it to be so. The duke is ever so moody. Of course he would have his house reflecting such a quality.”

“Is that so?” he asked from the doorway.

Felicity whirled around, her eyes wide, finding him leaning on the doorframe with a raised brow. He folded his arms over his chest, and he swore he saw her eyes track the movement before she smiled brightly at him.

Her smile surprised him enough that he lost his bravado and straightened up. He had not properly seen her smile. She had mustered weak things that appeared more like a grimace, but this was a true grin. A real smile borne from happiness.

Happiness at turning Bluebell Manor upside down.

“Your Grace,” she greeted.

“Duke,” he corrected. “What is going on, Duchess?”

She glanced around. Even Mrs. Avery smiled as somebody passed her a full vase blooming with bluebells.

Spencer’s chest gave a pang at seeing his mother’s favorite flower.

He was used to them outside, unable to avoid the sight of the flowers she had planted years ago, but to see them inside the manor was another thing altogether.

“Well, is it not obvious?” Felicity asked. “This is my home now, too, and there is positively too much darkness. It almost makes one moody. I am changing it.”

He stared back at her. Her smile didn’t even falter once, not like the day before whenever she caught his rejections of conversation or gestures. After a moment, noting his housekeeper’s smile, Spencer found himself stepping further into the room.

“You did not ask me,” he told her.

“I am the mistress of the house.”

“And I am the master of it,” he countered quickly, his voice gruff. He was not displeased, merely caught off guard. He didn’t like things being out of his control. Yet Felicity herself seemed an uncontrollable aspect of his life, and he found himself stepping closer to her.

Around them, the staff began to filter out as if they didn’t want to intrude. Within moments, it was just the two of them in the room. Surprisingly, Felicity’s cheerful mood didn’t dim.

He tracked her green eyes, bright with joy, and one word came to mind that he quickly chased away. Radiant. Had he not truly noticed her beauty the day before, or during their first meeting? Had he really not stopped for it in the Vauxhall Gardens?

No, of course not, for Spencer convinced himself he had stopped looking at such things. Not when he had searched for Sophia in every woman he ever saw following her death.

He looked at another vase being carried in. “Hyacinths,” he noted. “Blue ones.”

“They are my mother’s favorite,” she told him needlessly. “I thought it would bring me comfort to live here if I had reminders of my family.”

Spencer’s jaw worked as he nodded. They were Sophia’s favorite flower. He didn’t grieve Sophia anymore—too much time had passed, and he had long grieved both her life ultimately, as well as the woman he had thought she was.

He more gazed at the flowers in fear, now. What if it provided a bad omen?

“Fine,” he said, even though she had not asked for permission. She gave him a wry smile as though she thought that very thing.

And then she voiced it properly. “As mistress of the manor, I would very much like to keep making these changes to make it more livable. Not just for myself, but also you and Alexander. Will you allow me to? A little boy should not have to live in such darkness.”

Before he could answer, another person on the house’s staff entered, offering up a fabric swatch for her to judge. Felicity grinned, nodding. “That is perfect.”

Spencer watched her, still a bit stunned by her scolding. A little boy should not have to live in such darkness.

He was not sure his chest had ached so terribly in a long, long time. Especially not when he couldn’t take his eyes off his wife, now grinning and chatting with the staff. He had not known her long, but this was a far cry from the sullen look from yesterday.

These changes must happen, he told himself before he could retreat into his usual rejection of anything different or outside of his control. I must be all right with it. I cannot expect my new wife to live in such a dark place, even if it brings me comfort.

Yet a part of him had always longed for light to return to Bluebell Manor; to restore the very life his parents had filled it with. Was Felicity the key to that?

As his new wife turned back to him, questions lingering in her eyes, her gaze fixed him with so much hope he found it unbearable.

Spencer slid his gaze away from her a moment, only to quickly find his attention returning to her pale, pretty face. He didn’t see Sophia as he had the day before; he saw Felicity herself. Green eyes that were widened in plea, and a smile that lingered even when she regarded him.

Who on earth have I married, and what sort of chaos does she intend to bring to my life? He wondered.

Transfixed, he held her gaze.

He couldn’t bring himself to look away, not when he had not seen a woman regard him like this in so long. His chest swelled with it, even as terror burrowed in him, deep and dragging.

“Do as you please,” he finally said, his voice clipped, turning away from her. “All I ask is that you leave my study, the music room, and my own chamber alone.”

“The music r—”

“Enjoy your renovations, Duchess.”

He held her gaze a moment longer, feeling his heart beating too fast, too hard, and he sharply turned away.