Page 33 of Matters of a Duke’s Heart

“I am certain you have a valet to do this for you,” Felicity murmured, her fingers brushing against Spencer’s neck. Despite the protests that she had been making for the last five minutes as she tied Spencer’s navy-colored cravat, she rather enjoyed doing this for him.

Or, rather, she enjoyed how close he stood, and how she could smell the oil that he had washed with earlier.

“I do.” His mouth twitched with a smile. “But why call upon him when I can have my wife help me out and stand so close. Besides, I rather like the view from up here.”

It was true he was quite a bit taller than her. Felicity feigned more protests and mock annoyance, but her act could not be maintained when her hands brushed the warm skin of his neck. She couldn’t help but let her touch trail over his sharp jaw.

“I do not believe that is my cravat,” he teased.

“It is not,” she giggled. “Good observation.”

He sighed, but he was grinning at her. Like this, Felicity felt as though she was dancing on air. With her husband in good spirits, and the attraction between them blooming stronger with every day.

“Will you dance with me tonight at the Farriers’ ball?” Felicity asked quietly, half fearing he would say no out of embarrassment or reluctance. After all, they had not danced together a great deal, and he had already expressed his dislike of it.

Outside of the requirements he would have seen through to court a lady, Spencer had no obligation to dance at a ball.

“Of course I will,” he told her simply, as though the opposite was offensive to even consider. His hand slipped around her waist, and she laughed harder as she tried to keep her grip on his cravat. “I will be honored to show you off.”

She blushed, sliding her hands down from his collar to the lapels on his tailcoat, smoothing it out. Tonight, they were in similar blue colors—with Spencer dressed in navy, and Felicity in a gown she could only think of as being the color of Spencer’s eyes.

Gazing up at him, she dared to land a peck on his mouth. That was a new thing—the easy, casual affection and gestures. She could tell Spencer was not used to it, but he never pushed her away or looked uneasy.

Felicity herself was still adjusting to the fact that they had developed into this sort of level of comfort with one another, that either of them even felt inclined to be close.

“I have been thinking,” she murmured, “one of these days we should go back to the Vauxhall Gardens.”

“Really?” He arched a brow.

“Hmm. I do believe I met a very rude duke while lost there. Perhaps he might like to take me for a turn around the Lovers’ Walk to rectify his old mistake.”

“Ah, I see.” His grin broadened, going along with her teasing. “I did not know you were interested in such scandalous places. I do hope we are not caught walking alone.”

Felicity only laughed harder and let him catch her properly around the waist. Against her cheek, he murmured, “I would love to take you back there. This time, I will not walk away.”

“I do hope not,” she grumbled. “You were ever so rude.”

“I looked for you afterwards. When the crowd gathered at the Orchestra, I searched for you.”

“Did you need to absolve your guilt that your dismissal had not caused me to get lost or captured or—worse, death?” She feigned a terrible gasp.

“Heavens, you ought to stop reading your fiction books, Felicity.” Spencer grimaced, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I fear you are becoming too dramatic.”

“I believe I learned it from our meeting with Lord Wexley yesterday. You respond very well to his sarcasm, so I thought I ought to try it.”

“Hmm.” Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “I know it was a mistake letting the two of you meet.”

Felicity only giggled again and pulled away, fixing her necklace and ensuring her gloves were secured around her elbows. “I have heard that Lord Wexley intends on asking Daphne for a dance tonight.”

Something about her light-hearted comment had Spencer straightening sharply and looking at her. But whatever concerned him about the comment was gone, composure replacing it.

“What is it?” She pressed.

“Nothing,” he answered too quickly. “I just… I did not think you would support the match.”

“I support anything that gives my sister happiness. She confessed to me that Lord Radcliffe is still lingering around her at times, and Lord Wexley seems like a very capable man. I am certain he can look out for her whenever I cannot.”

Spencer paused, frowning. “Felicity, do you ever wish to move to London more permanently? I know you like it out here, but if you ever wanted to be closer to Lady Daphne we can relocate.”

Felicity shook her head and smoothed down her skirts.

“Daphne has her life, as I have mine. I want to be there for her during her engagement when it happens, with whomever it happens with, but… ah, as selfish as it might sound, I waited a long time to escape the ton, and my mother’s slightly overburdening ways.

I adore her—I adore my whole family, really—but sometimes the fact that I am far away makes me feel as though I am finally in control of my own life. I am not boxed by their expectation.”

The nod Spencer gave her in response came paired with a secret smile as he moved closer. From behind, he embraced her, and she swore she felt the barest brush of his lips just below her earlobe. It sent a shiver through her, and she leaned back against him.

“It also helps to be far away so that we are not forced into propriety every moment we leave the house.” He gave a quiet laugh, and Felicity spun in his arms.

“Considering you are a man who holds himself so highly in terms of being proper, I am surprised you would make such a comment.”

“Something has changed within my heart,” he confessed. “I find myself unable to stop thinking of kissing you every moment I see you.”

The admission came as a surprise, even now, even when they had spent the last week or so growing ever closer.

Their breakfast on the terrace became an almost-daily routine, looking out over Langdon Village in the distance, and dinner with Alexander had become permanently engraved in their evening as well.

Felicity finally knew where she fit within this house, with Spencer and Alexander, and she could not be happier.

“So then you must do it,” she challenged. “Kiss me every moment you see me.”

“I shall,” he murmured, and then did exactly that.

He kissed her so breathlessly that Felicity thought back to the decision she had made that morning.

She felt ready to take their marriage further.

She knew it had stopped being a marriage of convenience a while ago, had developed into more, and she ached with a new desire she had not felt before.

After the Farriers’ ball, she had every intention of asking him to come to her room through the night so they might lie as husband and wife did.

***

The Farriers were a newlywed earl and countess who were hosting their first ball as a married couple. Felicity and Spencer walked in, arm-in-arm, and were immediately distracted by Lord Wexley.

“Well, look at the two of you!” he called out, spreading his arms as if to embrace them both.

Felicity felt too awkward to hug back, and Spencer simply glowered at his friend.

Lord Wexley cleared his throat, averting his gaze.

“Anyway,” he looked at Felicity. “Your Grace, you look as beautiful as ever,” he said then turned to Spencer.

“And you Your Grace, appear very brooding, very intense, but there is this lovely little glimmer in your eye. Dare I say it is love?”

“Dare you walk away instead?” Spencer countered, but Felicity laughed at the sour expression on his face as he tried not to laugh at himself. Lord Wexley only dismissed his comment and signaled for a waiter to bring over enough wine for them all.

“A toast—to finally seeing such a stunning couple look happy,” he offered. “And for the duchess, for bringing my friend out of hiding after many years.”

Reluctantly, Spencer clinked his glass against the two of theirs, and they all drank.

“Your Grace, I wanted to formally ask if it would be most uncomfortable for you if I asked Lady Daphne to dance.”

Felicity smiled. “I am certain she will be delighted and accept, so I have no qualms. As I told His Grace, as long as my sister is happy then I am happy for her.”

Lord Wexley’s face brightened. “Excellent. I might have to steal her from Lord Graham, I hear.”

“Ah, well…” Felicity covered her mouth. “I should not really say, but between you and I, my sister fears Lord Graham has a wandering eye, and I do believe it is breaking her connection a little with him, so it should not be a hard feat for you to whisk her away from him.”

With a satisfied grin, Lord Wexley gave her a nod of thanks and sauntered off. Before she could turn around toward Spencer, he filled her vision, already offering his hand. “I do believe I promised my wife a dance.”

“Ah, it is a promise now?” Felicity teased. “It is not simply expected.”

“With us? Nothing is to be expected.” Spencer winked at her in such a way that her legs weakened and her stomach swooped pleasantly as he guided her to the dancefloor.

Felicity tried not to notice who was around them, who watched, though when she did she found herself only faced with happy smiles rather than the usual gossip and whispers.

Spencer took her hand and pulled her close to him as he dipped her into the start of a waltz.

They found their footing with one another, and Felicity thought about how far she had come from being the lady who pretended to have an injured ankle to avoid dancing, to now gliding over the dancefloor in front of the ton, in the arms of her husband.