Page 38 of Matters of a Duke’s Heart

Two days passed in wretched silence. Spencer did not tear his gaze from his wife’s pale face, and even when he slept it was only when his body shut down into fits of restless slumber.

In his dreams, he saw Felicity fall from the balcony. He had chased her through that infernally crowded ballroom at her mother’s ball, slowed down by comments from surprised guests who had been told, for some reason, that he was not due to attend.

Spencer had ignored them all to launch himself toward Lord Radcliffe, who Spencer had approached in time to see him knock Felicity aside. Rupert had come thundering up the staircase of the balcony, sweeping Daphne into an easy, strong embrace, but Felicity had already fallen.

Spencer had shouted for her, his arm outstretched as she fell in a flutter of skirts and waves of her hair splayed out. When she had hit the ground, her eyes had been closed, and Spencer had feared the worst, diving down the stairs to drop to her side.

He had carried her upstairs himself, ranting like a lunatic for a physician immediately.

He flexed his fingers now, the bruises still there from where he had punched Lord Radcliffe, threatening him to never, ever go near his wife or extended family again.

Leaning in close, Spencer had warned him that he knew of his debtors, and should Radcliffe ever lift a finger or accusation or advance against the Merriweathers, Spencer would happily use his connections to set his debtors onto him, and they often only hunted men down with one way of delivering a message.

But now, he had been in Merriweather House for two days, pouring out everything he had not said to Felicity when he should have. He told her she was the perfect duchess, that she was not just a name on a list—that she had become much more than that.

And then those words had dared slip past his lips: I love you.

He wanted to tell Felicity when she was awake. He knew he was ready for it.

His eyes tracked her face, so he saw the first flutter of her eyelashes, the first crease of her forehead as she began to slowly awaken.

A soft groan escaped his wife, and Spencer could not move fast enough to take her hand. “Felicity?”

Her body stiffened, and his stomach dropped.

“Spencer?” Heavens, her voice was terribly hoarse.

Panicking, he reached for the jug of water he refreshed every day in case she needed it.

He poured her a glass, and as her eyes fully opened, baring those spring-green eyes, Spencer wondered how he had ever let her walk of out Bluebell Manor’s door.

“You are awake,” he breathed.

“I feel like I have fallen from a very great height,” she mumbled, lifting a hand to her head. She winced as she touched the bruise there.

“You hit your head on the balcony pillar as you fell.” Spencer frowned. “How are you feeling?”

“Foggy,” she answered. “But all right. I… my vision is not what it should be. It is all very blurry.”

“That could be the head wound. The physician reported that while you sustained a sprained ankle and bruised tailbone from your fall, the blow to your head was what made you unconscious for two days—”

“Two days?” she cried out.

Spencer nodded grimly. “You should have heard your sister. I have never heard such an outburst from such a small lady. I do believe she scared off the physician.”

Spencer couldn’t help noticing how Felicity wouldn’t properly look at him, not even when she took the glass of water he offered.

“Daphne is well,” he quickly assured her. “And I… got into an altercation with Lord Radcliffe.” He offered her his bruised knuckles. “I have ordered the wretched man from town entirely, threatened with his debtors. Did you know he was in a lot of debt and had his eye on your sister’s dowry?”

She shook her head and winced. “No, but I guessed as much.” After a moment she added, “Thank you.”

“You do not have to thank me.”

Finally, her gaze lifted to him. Her slender neck bobbed with a swallow. “And what of Lady Helena?”

Spencer frowned. “What… of her?”

“It does not matter,” she said quickly.

“I believe it does,” he insisted. “Felicity, I do not care about Lady Helena. I do not care about the infernal eyes of the ton, or what they think. What I should have said to you that morning is do not leave. I should have begged you to stay, no matter what. I—I turned down your advance the night prior—”

“Please, do not,” she whispered, her eyes closing. “I do not have the strength right now.”

He nodded. “Of course. I apologize. But—Felicity, I must tell you something.” He moved closer to her side, gathering her hand in his.

“I love you. I love you, and I have been terrified to say it for every reason you already know, but mostly I am afraid to say it because I do not know yet how to be half the man you deserve to be married to. I want you—I want you in every conceivable way, and I want my entire life with you. I understand if that is no longer what you want, and it will break my heart to find a resolution for that, but I will do it if it means you are happier living without me than with me. I could never force you to stay, but I must ask you to…”

He couldn’t understand why Felicity looked so distressed, what stopped her from believing his confession, but he pushed all that aside.

He moved back, giving her space. “You do not have to say anything,” he told her.

“But I wished to say that. I would like to take you home, if that is all right with you. We can speak there, and you can rest, and… well, there is a little boy there who is desperate to see you again.”

He gave Felicity a soft smile, and he sighed happily at how she hesitantly returned it. Nodding, Felicity agreed. Spencer went to say more, but the door opened with a sudden bang, and they were interrupted by a very loud, very tearful Daphne.

“You are awake!”

Closely following was Rupert, and Spencer frowned, looking between the two.

Yet his focus couldn’t stay on the couple for very long, not when Felicity smiled at her sister, and Spencer truly realized: he would grant her anything that brought her happiness, even if it meant her happiness did not involve him.

***

Later that evening, Spencer brought Felicity into the drawing room at Bluebell Manor.

Setting her down gingerly on the settee, he assessed her ankle for any extreme pain.

When she only shook her head to tell him nothing had changed, he stepped back.

The concern still hadn’t lifted from her face, and her silence in the carriage had been near excruciating, but he knew he had hurt her.

Just because she was back home with him did not mean she wasn’t still hurting.

The tension between them was fractured by a high squeal as Alexander thundered into the room.

“I knew it!” he cried. “I knew you would not leave us!”

He launched himself at her, throwing his arms around Felicity’s shoulders. “Of course I would not leave you.”

But something crossed her face—an anguish Spencer could not understand, and he hurriedly ushered Alexander back away. “Miss Felicity needs some space so she can get stronger to continue your woodland walks, all right?”

“Of course! Please rest good, Miss Felicity.”

“I will,” she promised, laughing. “How about you learn something in French and recite it to me when I am better? I will be ever so impressed.”

Alexander nodded eagerly before dashing off, already shouting to Miss Nightingale. It left Spencer and Felicity alone in the drawing room, and Spencer suddenly didn’t know how to approach the distance he sensed between them.

“Felicity—”

“Spencer—”

They stopped after speaking at the same time. Spencer shook his head and let out a soft laugh. “You first.”

“I must leave,” she blurted out. “For good, I mean.”

And Spencer’s heart crashed to the floor so hard he was certain he should have heard it . “What?”

“I cannot be his mother. I know that now, and I cannot be your wife. Not when you do not—not when you do not feel for me how I feel for you.”

“Felicity, I—whatever do you mean?”

He dropped to the settee to sit beside her. Her hands fidgeted on her lap, and he grasped them. For a second, she looked ready to pull away, but she let him hold her.

“You are my wife,” he murmured, reminding her. “And I swore a vow to you to take care of you, and I will.”

“Is that all it is?” she whispered. “I am merely a vow?”

“Heavens, no. No, that is not what I mean. A part of me feels as though I did not choose those vows, but if you were to ask me to retake them tomorrow, I would out of choice. I needed a mother for Alexander, yes, and I knew I could not remain unmarried forever. You were a name on the list, but I picked you for a reason. I love you, Felicity, and it has been a rocky journey to discover such a thing, I cannot ever deny that, but… my love is strong. It has been reluctant, and I think that only makes it stronger.”

Her eyes were ever so beautiful, ever so wide, and Spencer cupped her face, drawing her close.

“I cannot undo the damage I caused by not telling you about Lady Helena.

I kept dismissing her as a threat when I should not have.

Rupert has been telling me to tell you about her, and I have brushed it off.

We were on shaky foundations at times, and I did not want to make it worse.

I never believed Lady Helena could be a true threat to us.

I would not cause you worry when I truly, truly believed there was nothing to worry about.

I was wrong, I know that, and I can only apologize to you for the rest of my life.

“We were not explicit lovers in the way she may have said. I did not court her officially, nor did I promise her my duchy. I made it clear that I did not want her as my duchess. Weeks before we even met at the Vauxhall Gardens, I had walked away from Lady Helena of my own will.”

“She told me that you said she reminded you of Lady Sophia.”

“I cannot deny that I did while under the influence of wine,” he admitted shamefully.

“But I came to realize that was why I had to walk away. Because of that. I think she took it as a compliment. I told her that the day I made my choice to walk away, but I did not for another short while. Felicity, you have completed my life in infinite ways. I did not even realize it was fractured until you entered it. And you have completed Alexander’s life, too. ”

Felicity frowned. “I… I was certain I heard you confessing to Lady Helena. You were in the music room with her, and you were saying she was taken from a list of names, that the music room was where Lady Sophia sat and that was why renovations could not be done there—that… that you were holding onto memories of your late wife.”

“I have never said any of that to her,” he promised. “And she most certainly has never been in my music room. The only person I have said anything of this sort to is you while you were unconscious. I fear, Felicity, if you do not think me crass to suggest this, that you were dreaming.”

At once, her face flushed a deep pink. “I cannot have dreamt that.”

“Not my confession, that was true,” he said.

“But that was to you. You are my perfect duchess, and you have brought laughter and love back into these hallways and my heart. I had locked it, Felicity, this silly little beating chamber I once had no use for. Now, I see its use. It is to love you, to honor every romantic notion you have garnered from your books. I love you—I love you now, and I shall love you in months and years to come. You, Alexander, and I. We are our own family, if that is still what you want.”

Felicity could only gaze at him, and he saw how she still wrestled with her thoughts, with trying to untangle everything, but he watched as a slow, embarrassed smile crept onto her face.

“I really dreamed it?”

“I fear so.”

“You do not love Lady Helena?”

“No,” he said. “Definitely not. I love you, Felicity Dunne, formerly Merriweather.” He grinned at her. “I do adore your former family name.”

Felicity let out a soft laugh as she tugged him close.

“I love you, Spencer Dunne, always Dunne.” He laughed quietly under his breath.

“And you must forgive me while I take my time to process all of this, but I only wanted to leave under the thought that you could not love me in the same way I love you. I feared I would have to give all of this up.”

“You will never have to give anything up,” he promised. “But do say that again.”

“What?”

“That you love me.”

His smile was playful as Felicity pushed him back, her laughter the sweetest sound he had heard in days. But then she was pulling him back to her, cupping his face, leaning in to kiss him.

Right before her mouth met his, she murmured, “I love you, Spencer.”