Page 20 of Matters of a Duke’s Heart

“You are a mother figure to my son,” he told her insistently. “I do not know how else to be around you.”

“Therefore, I am ornament. A thing to display in public, and discard once we are home.” She looked away from him, stared down at her meal, felt the tension coming off him, before deciding she could not stay there a moment longer.

Her gown felt constricting, the room was too stuffy, and she craved fresh air. “I must—I must go.”

“Where are—”

“Away from you.” She meant it as a snap, but her voice cracked as she rushed from her chair, her upset getting the better of her.

It is fine, Felicity told herself as she sought a place to clear her head.

I am fine. This does not bother me. It cannot bother me, for I cannot be aching for the duke’s attention.

I do not even know why I would bother with wanting it.

Chiding herself under her breath, Felicity ducked onto a terrace where steps led down into the garden, shadowed by overhangs of other balconies and pillars. Candlelight flickered in windows, while the garden was not very lit up at all.

Felicity found a secluded pathway not too deep within the gardens, but far enough away from the house that she felt the distance do what she needed it to.

However, right as she slowed to a stop, bracing herself on the edge of a small, stone bird bath to lean her face toward the bubbling of water coming from the center, she heard footsteps scuffing the pebbled path.

Her eyes closed in exasperation.

Of course he has followed me.

“You do not need to follow me out here to ensure propriety and bring me back to the party, Spencer,” she sighed. Using his Christian name still felt wrong, but she kept hold of the allowance as a sort of rebellion that she was insistent they would grow closer. “I will only be a mo—”

But then the footsteps moved too quickly, a stumble, and Felicity lifted her head, frowning. The man she faced wasn’t her husband. Lord Radcliffe stood before her instead. Strands of his pale hair had come loose from its hold, framing his face messily as he staggered closer.

His eyes could scarcely focus on her, and Felicity tensed, already moving away from the bird bath.

“Lord Radcliffe,” she greeted, trying to remain polite. “It is—it is lovely to see you again.”

The viscount only gave her a slack grin, and she realized the scent coming off him was brandy, ever so strong. Her stomach clenched as she took another step back.

He noticed that one. “Oh, Duchess of Langdon,” he sneered, face wrinkling. “I loathe to call you that. I may only be a lowly viscount in comparison to your shining knight, but I could have given you a great deal more than he already has. You were supposed to be mine.”

Horrified by how he spoke to her, Felicity tried to discreetly look for an easy way out. Her heart pounded, her hands trembling as she tucked them behind her back. “Lord Radcliffe, it appears you have drunk too much—”

“Do not tell me,” he spat, surging closer.

She moved back hastily, sidestepping him.

He was faster, but the drink made him clumsier, and she escaped his reaching grasp.

“My standing in society remains impeccable, Lady Felicity. I would have given you as many riches as he can. But you never looked twice at me unless you had to. Poor Lady Felicity with the sore ankle, dancing the night away with every other suitor. Does it please you to have so many men approach you every time you are in society? Does it make you feel good to know you are married, and therefore unavailable?”

Fear crept up her throat. “Come, my lord, we ought to go back inside. I can get you a drink of water, and we can discuss—”

“I am done talking,” he raved. “I am done attempting to reason with you! We had a very good thing, Lady Felicity. I was in love with you!”

That declaration startled her enough that she stopped looking for an exit and turned a glare on him, her fear turning to anger.

“Well, do you know what I am done with, Lord Radcliffe? I am done with arrogant men like yourself dictating my life. I am my own woman, and I chose to marry the duke. I am a duchess now, and you will not speak to me so rudely. You will remain at a safe distance from me from here on out—me, and my sister.”

“Your sister?” His lip curled. “Heavens, she bores me. She is merely just another pretty face in the crowd.”

“She is the most precious woman you could have ever hoped to marry, and you are not worth her interest,” she spat.

“I will not be bothered by you again, Lord Radcliffe, and you will find yourself in receipt of a very strongly-worded written threat from both His Grace and myself. I might be married, but you still ought to not corner a woman alone in an unfamiliar place, especially not while intoxicated.”

She glared down at him, shaking her head, and used his stunned moment at being scolded to escape. She ran from the gardens, momentarily grieving the escape from the dinner party she had sought, and hurried up the steps.

The terrace was too inviting to leave, yet Felicity quickly made her way back toward the sound of the party—only to crash right into another body. This time, hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her immediately, and a protest was on Felicity’s lips until she looked up.

Her breath caught at how near Spencer was to her. His face was pulled in concern.

“Are you—”

His question cut off as his gaze flicked behind her. Felicity heard Lord Radcliffe’s drunken mutterings before she turned to see him. Instinct drove her to press closer to Spencer’s side, only to be tugged aside so he could step in front of her.

“My lady,” he said, proper in public, “we are leaving.” He didn’t look away from Lord Radcliffe, his expression thunderous. Anxiety wound through Felicity. She nodded, although she feared how he would react once they were in the carriage. “Say your goodbyes.”

***

Spencer didn’t speak a word to her until the carriage door was closed and they pulled away from the townhouse, back to Bluebell Manor.

But all he said was her name, and Felicity spilled her own answer.

“I did not know he had followed me from the gardens,” she said quickly, ashamed of what her husband would think.

From his tight jaw to the anger that hadn’t dissipated in his eyes, noticed by her by the flash of streetlight at they passed, she didn’t know what was going through his head.

“I—I promise you it was nothing sordid, nothing indecent, Spencer, I—”

“Stop,” he said quietly.

Felicity stilled. Slowly, he turned to set that angry gaze on her. In such lighting, the coldness of his eyes looked far chillier, and she found herself shivering. Both at the temperature and his intensity.

“Stop,” he repeated. “I do not think it was anything improper. I—I saw how he wanted to dance with you a second time at the ball the other day.”

“Yes, and he had pursued me before that, but I always tried to avoid him. I am tired of his advances. He pursued me through my last Season, too, and is very upset at our marriage. I have absolutely no feelings for him. All I see him as is a suitor my mother liked on notoriety, but I always found him too aggressive. In the gardens, he was rude, and he was drunk, and I put him in his place. Now I’m worried he has set his sights on my sister. ”

Spencer looked as though he worked through many thoughts that she knew he wouldn’t share, so she only waited with slow, heavy breaths.

Finally, he spoke. “I believe you,” he muttered. Then his voice grew firmer as he declared, “You do not need to worry about Radcliffe. I will handle him. Both you and Lady Daphne will be safe.” His eyes caught hers, trapping her in a spell that had her stomach swooping.

Her heart swelled as she nodded. “Thank you.” Her voice was soft, surprised at what he offered. There was still tension to his face, but she realized his anger was not aimed at her but at Lord Radcliffe.

“You do not need to thank me.” The gruff mutter made her smile as she turned her face away. Their earlier argument had been forgotten, and she wondered: a man who didn’t care much for an ornament wouldn’t care if it was handled carelessly.

He would keep it safe.

I might be an ornament, she thought, but perhaps I am becoming one he likes.