Page 21 of Matters of a Duke’s Heart

“How are your sisters finding their Season so far?” Spencer asked Rupert as they wandered through Langdon Village a week later.

The marquess had joined him in a local inn for a drink, and although Spencer preferred to run his errands alone, he could hardly turn down his friend when Rupert decided to be persuasive. Spencer knew he simply wanted to delve into his married life.

Rupert sighed. “The only reason I could really join you today was because I was visiting Wexley Hall this morning. My mother would not stop insisting that she needs to come to London to oversee the Season herself. I went there directly to appease her. Beatrice, as expected, is still turning down every suitor, but I am keeping tabs on the ones who make her smile before so does so. She wants a husband, but is thinking more of the twins.”

“And they are still terrorizing London’s finest gentlemen?”

“Indeed.” Rupert groaned as they walked through the village square, away from the clerical office Spencer had conducted a meeting in.

One of his tenants needed a loan, and Spencer had wanted to ensure he had the means to fund it and provide a direct stream of income to his tenant until the man was back on his feet.

His father would call him too generous, but Spencer wondered how he could have a flourishing dukedom if he did not ensure his tenants had good lives.

“I do not know what else to do for them,” Rupert continued.

“I have ensured I will only let them marry good men; I have ensured that they will not be isolated upon entering marriage, nor will they ever be alone throughout any of it whatsoever if they do not want to be. I have ensured vetting of each suitor so they will never be married to unkind suitors.”

“They are young, still,” Spencer acknowledged. “Perhaps they are scared at the thought of leading their own households.”

“Perhaps. But how do I take that fear from them?”

“You keep on doing what you are doing and hopefully there will be suitors to further support it.”

Spencer paused. “You are a good brother, Rupert.”

His friend didn’t look at all convinced but said nothing further of the matter. He only nodded as they continued their walk back to Bluebell Manor. Rupert had insisted on a proper meeting with Spencer’s wife, calling it long overdue, but Spencer paused at one shop.

He slowed, ignoring Rupert’s questioning.

“Treat o’ the Land?” he read aloud.

Spencer glanced at his friend, and then back at the candy shop before them. He smiled, imagining buying Alexander a bag of sweet treats, seeing his smile at the unexpected gift. He thought of Felicity, and what treats she might like, and he went to dismiss it altogether.

But then he didn’t.

He waited, mulling it over.

Why didn’t he go in and do what he thought about?

Spencer didn’t give himself a chance to second-guess himself, and strode in, ignoring Rupert’s incredulous laughter until they entered the store and faced the jars and drawers of candy.

As he looked around, he caught sight of Rupert eyeing him.

“Yes?” Spencer prompted.

Slowly, the marquess shook his head. “Nothing… It is just—what have you done with my brooding, grumpy friend, and why are we in a candy shop?”

“I want to buy some treats for my son and my wife,” Spencer said idly, only pausing when Rupert fell silent, and he realized how he sounded. He was already scowling at Rupert as if the marquess could be blamed for Spencer’s words. He quickly turned back to study the jars of colorful sweets.

“My, my, Your Grace.” Rupert laughed quietly. Out of the corner of Spencer’s eye, he saw him nodding. “Oh, you have gone ever so soft, have you not?”

“No,” he answered quickly—too quickly, and Rupert only laughed louder.

“Yes you have! Tell me, what will you buy your duchess? A sweet in the shape of a heart? A pink one, perhaps. Do you recall her favorite color? Her favorite flavor of sweet food?”

“Raspberry,” he answered, once again too quickly, and only startled himself with realizing that he had listened to her mention it once. Yes, yes, he had. It had been over dinner once, back in their first week when she had tried too hard to force conversation.

“I noticed the cook has made a raspberry cake for dessert,” she had said, sounding excited, “I do love raspberry. In fact, it might be my favorite flavor.”

When Spencer finally looked at Rupert again, he found himself pinned beneath impressed scrutiny, and turned away again, scowling.

“For a marriage of convenience only, as you so claim it to be, you are certainly getting closer. And, as I may repeat, softer.”

“I am not soft.” Before Rupert could tease him further, Spencer strode forward to order four bags so he could mix all of them and provide his wife and son something matching.

He thought it might help with the bonding. That was all. It was so they could have something to discuss on their walk through Merriweather Woods.

He swore he did not think of the surprise Felicity might show, or the look on her face as she tasted the sugary treat. He didn’t think of anything except the convenience of such a gesture, as he paid, and finally tugged Rupert from the shop with a grumbled, come on.

But as soon as they left the shop, with Rupert muttering about where his friend had gone, and perhaps a change of character was long overdue, Spencer turned his focus back to the worries that had been on his mind all week.

“Rupert,” he began, and the seriousness of his tone stopped Rupert’s teasing. “Do you recall us discussing Lord Radcliffe?”

At the topic change, Rupert turned more serious as he nodded. “I do indeed.”

“I need a favor from you,” Spencer said.

“He has approached Felicity several times, overstepping greatly, making her feel rather threatened. Now that she is my wife, I believe he has turned his focus to her sister, Lady Daphne Merriweather. I need you to discreetly inquire around London. I wish to know if he has any secrets, anything hidden he would not want word getting out about.”

He bit back his blunter meaning: he did not like the viscount’s seeming obsession with the Merriweather girls.

Something bothered him about it. It did not only seem like social standing, and if it was, it was clear Lord Radcliffe would not give up anytime soon.

With Lady Daphne being unwed, she stood at most risk, but Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about Felicity.

“I will,” Rupert said. He grinned, falling back into easy step with Spencer. “I believe this is where I shall make the most of my excellent connections.”

Spencer nodded. “Yes, do that.”

The two walked further on, heading toward a path that would fork off, one way to Wexley Village, the other to Bluebell Manor, but before they could properly leave the main part of Langdon Village, Spencer stilled.

His eyes narrowed immediately on a woman who approached him, her smirk already fixed in place.

“Well, I never!” she laughed in greeting, her voice carrying even as she moved closer. Lady Helena made her ambling way over, looking shocked. “Look at the two of you out and about on such a fine day. I never thought I would run into you.”

“Lady Helena,” Rupert greeted, bowing briefly, but Spencer didn’t miss the glance he made toward him. “Lovely to see you, as always.”

She barely spared him a smile, her focus on Spencer.

He smiled tightly. “Lady Helena. You say you did not think you would run into us yet… you are in my village.”

“Indeed I am.” She looked around as if shocked. “The Duke of Langdon. It is such a beautiful village. I have had a fondness for it ever since you brought me here. You recall those memories, of course, I am certain.” She gave him a slow, knowing look, urging him to say he did.

Pettily, Spencer answered, “it was long ago. I am a busy man. I have many things to recall.”

Lady Helena looked affronted, her overly nice facade fading for a moment as she frowned, only for her expression to pick back up into something almost pleasant had she not appeared slightly sour by the remark.

“Lord Wexley—”

“Yes,” he said, already knowing what was about to be asked.

“I will be right over here. Do shout for me, Your Grace, if you need it.” He gave a quick, cutting glance back to Lady Helena in silent warning, before he stepped away.

He didn’t go far, pretending to browse the flowers on a florist’s stall.

Lady Helena wasted no time in sidling closer. She linked her arm through Spencer’s. “You always thought I would make an excellent duchess.”

“I do not believe those words ever crossed my lips, Lady Helena,” he answered stoically.

“Well, I deduced them from your actions,” she quipped back.

“A man does not court me for as long as you did without thinking such a thing, surely.” Before he could answer, she continued.

“Then again, you did not court Lady Felicity at all, and see where that has gotten you. Do you regret your choice, Your Grace? Do you see now how I would have made a far better duchess than the one you have given the title to? Lady Felicity is…” She paused, feigning delicate thinking.

“Well, there are terrible names for what she may be called, but I will refrain from saying them out of respect.”

“Respect,” Spencer laughed. “Lady Helena, we both know that you would not hold back out of respect.”

“No, but I will out of pride,” she shot back. “I was supposed to have all of this. This beautiful, quaint village, and Bluebell Manor. I was supposed to be the Duchess of Langdon everybody wished to meet. You took that away from me.”

Spencer could not endure hearing any of her tantrum for much longer, and he stopped short, cutting into her path. “Lady Helena, we both know you wanted the duchy, and only that. Let neither of us pretend that you wanted me.”

“Yes I—”

“Lady Helena,” he said quietly, watching the fight leave her eyes at his tone. “I do not appreciate how you speak about my wife. You will pay her the respect she garners or you will not speak of her at all. You will stay away from me, and from her.”

Lady Helena gaped at him, her eyes shining with tears he did not quite believe in.

Rupert had already mentioned how Lady Helena had already set her sights on a marquess of the neighboring village to his own.

Spencer was not heartless, not as much as he wished to think, but he was not a fool, either.

“Spencer,” she whispered, familiar and hurt, and he felt a stab of guilt, but tampered it down. “You cannot feel for her the way you once cared for me. We had something special.”

Spencer’s eyes narrowed, a cold reservation settling into his heart at the false claim.

“That is not the case, Lady Helena. We had a brief courtship, and I admit I continued it for longer than I ought. But I never would have married you. I enjoyed your company, and I got selfish with how readily you gave it, but I never promised you marriage.”

“I—”

“It sounds as though you are done here.” Rupert’s voice gave Spencer a much-needed reprieve, and he gave his friend a relieved glance at the interruption.

“We are,” he confirmed.

“Then let us depart.” He nodded to Lady Helena, who still floundered. “Enjoy your afternoon, Lady Helena.”

Spencer said nothing else, and Lady Helena offered no further words. Those eyes he had once thought were pretty, that had held his own in a way he had once needed after Sophia’s death, only blinked in affront.

He walked away and tried to calm his anger down. How dare she speak of his wife in such ways.

“It seems Lady Helena is attempting to sink claws into the duchess,” Rupert noted as they headed to the end of the path where their horses were tethered and they’d part ways. “You ought to tell her. If your duchess has an enemy, she deserves to know.”

Spencer shook his head, embarrassed. “No. No, I do not wish to discuss Lady Helena with her. She does not need to know. Our courtship was barely anything, at least not what Lady Helena is attempting to make it sound like.”

Rupert only shot him an incredulous look. “While I agree it was brief, and that you did not make her any promises, Lady Helena could become a threat.”

But Spencer was already shaking his head again. “No. Besides, it is not as though my wife and I love one another. She will not have a need to feel threatened. The duchy is hers legally; I would not take it from her. We have a marriage of convenience only, but she is benefiting greatly from it.”

He didn’t like his friend’s silence, and he chewed his lip, fighting the urge to rush Rupert’s words. No doubt they brewed.

But when Rupert next spoke, it surprised Spencer. He had expected resistance to his decision not to speak of Lady Helena, but instead his friend surprised him. “Are you quite certain it is only convenience?”

Spencer drew up short. “Excuse me?”

“All I am saying is that you are dancing with her voluntarily, pulling her from other gentlemen, buying her treats, recalling her favorite things …” Rupert glanced at him. “At the last ball you could not keep your eyes off her for very long.”

“Nonsense,” Spencer snapped, untethering his horse, eager to leave this conversation and the village itself. “It is only a marriage—”

“Of convenience, yes, but what if—”

“Do not be ridiculous. There is no what if.” Spencer glared at his friend. “Do have a safe journey back to Wexley, Rupert.”

Annoyed, he mounted Arion, and tore off down the country road, suddenly nervous at seeing Felicity. Could Rupert be right? Was he starting to truly take more notice of Felicity in a way that insinuated he cared? Was he…

Was he truly warming to her?

He had wished to tell her she was not merely an ornament as she had angrily protested, but he had not given himself a chance to correct her on what she was in his life. On how the one time, after a bad argument, she had not dined with him, and he had not stopped watching the door.

He had begun to peer into the library when he passed, wondering if she would be in there. And how he waited for her to return safely from the walks she had begun to take around the grounds, with or without Alexander.

Spencer clenched his jaw as he rode.

When had he started to truly care for Felicity?