Page 5 of Matters of a Duke’s Heart

“Enter,” Spencer called out when a knock sounded on his study door. He glanced up from the ledgers he had been poring over for the past hour, pointedly trying to ignore the list that lingered on the corner of his desk.

The door opened quietly, and Rupert walked in, his expression expectant.

“You are late,” Spencer muttered before his friend could say anything.

“I am not,” Rupert argued before glancing at his pocket watch. “Perhaps I am, in fact.”

Punctuality didn’t usually bother Spencer, not at least when it came to his closest—and, really, only

friend—but he had called Rupert there on the matter of the list. Trying to avoid thinking about it for longer than necessary only worked him up more.

“I assume you’re summoning me here means one of two things.

” Rupert’s mouth twitched with amusement as he further came into the study.

“There is excellent brandy to be shared, or that you have chosen a wife. One might hope it is to do with both of those things, and the excellent brandy may toast the decision.”

Spencer sighed, flicking a resigned look at his friend. After a moment, he huffed a laugh and nodded to the bar set up beneath the window.

“You may help yourself.” He gestured at the unopened bottle on top of the bar cabinet. “But I have

also made my choice. I am going with the eldest Merriweather girl. I have even gone ahead and set up a meeting with Lord Merriweather for this afternoon.”

“Has he expressed any feelings on the matter?”

Spencer looked up sharply. What is that supposed to mean? He was not brave enough to ask the question aloud, for he knew exactly what Rupert did mean, and he realized he didn’t want to cause an argument.

What does Lord Merriweather think of his daughter marrying a murderer? That was what Rupert meant. Not that Rupert himself thought it, but he was considering the fact that the ton did.

Everybody did, and the knowledge dragged Spencer’s patient mood further and further down. As if assessing the look on Spencer’s face, Rupert offered him the drink he had just poured, wincing.

“I did not mean to cause offense,” Rupert finally said, sighing, as he poured a second drink, and took the seat on the other side of Spencer’s desk.

“You did not,” Spencer answered, his throat tight as he fixed his stare to the study window instead of his friend’s knowing expression.

“You are only asking what nobody else will. Undoubtedly, gossip is already spreading through. The Merriweathers might not align themselves with my ruined name, and I have to be prepared for that.” He let out a dry laugh.

“It is funny, is it not? They love to gossip or speak about how, finally, the notorious Duke of Langdon is looking for a bride, and yet they both hope and dread that it is them.”

“Not all the mamas,” Rupert pointed out with a smirk. “I hear Lady Merriweather is rather excited about your intentions, and she might not even yet know you have chosen her eldest.”

Spencer gave that some thought. “True. Speaking of the eldest, I do not think I have seen her. I know their names, of course, but not more than that. I have not really been part of society long enough to know them, and I believe that when Lady Felicity Merriweather made her debut while I was in mourning for Sophia, still, and then did not really reenter again.”

Rupert nodded thoughtfully before sipping his wine. “The youngest Merriweather girl and Georgina are friends. Georgina often has plenty of good things to say about the family, and I have visited them often myself when the two have had some tea afternoons. Lady Felicity is beautiful.”

His eyes carefully watched Spencer for a reaction, and Spencer fought not to give him the satisfaction.

“She does not need to be,” he answered.

“She is proper,” Rupert added. “And most well-liked, but I have heard, during my afternoons in the gentleman’s club, that she is… stubborn. That is the best way people have described her.”

That caught Spencer’s attention. “Stubborn?”

“Indeed. She is into her third Season now because she is quite picky with her suitors, and although she dances with any that Lady Merriweather points out, Lady Felicity only ends up cutting their visits short when she has their attention once again outside of a dance.”

Spencer didn’t know if that intrigued him more or made him think there were more barriers in place. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I want a simple, efficient solution. I do not want a problem.”

“Spencer, Lady Felicity was the top of my list for a reason. Beyond the stubbornness, she is impressive and interesting. Do not be put off by simple rumors, and, in turn, hope that she is not, either. You know better than anybody there is little stock to be taken in what strangers say about others.”

The look Rupert gave him was utterly scolding. A muscle in Spencer’s cheek worked as he nodded.

“Fine,” he conceded. “I have already chosen her, regardless.”

“Good,” his friend agreed, and then Rupert’s hesitation turned pointed. “I wonder if word has reached Lady Helena.”

Spencer scoffed, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand.

He turned his attention to his drinking, distractedly taking a sip.

“I do not care. I ended our brief…” He struggled to name it.

It was never really a courtship, for Spencer did not let himself get so deeply involved, but he had to recognize they had been greater than simply acquaintances.

“I endured her,” he finally corrected, getting a small smile from Rupert.

“But while she was arguably duchess material with her proprietary and ambition, she would not have made a good wife, nor a good mother. She is quite awful, and rather selfish.” He gave a sharp shake of his head.

“When I do not want anything to do with the ton, I could not a handle a wife who only thinks of the ton.”

“It is good that you ended it weeks ago, then,” Rupert said. “That way you will not be caught up in any further questioning about being available enough to wed.”

“And Lady Helena was rather loud about the ending of our arrangement.” His eyes shuttered closed for a moment as he recalled the devastation and anger on Lady Helena’s face, marring her pale features. How could you? She had hissed. I was to be your duchess.

And, as Spencer had callously protested, he had not promised her anything—not his dukedom, nor his eternity.

He’d spent so long poring over Rupert’s list. His first marriage had been arranged, but this time he had needed to think about it more strategically. Alexander needed a good maternal figure, and Spencer…

Well, Spencer did not know what he needed, but he was certain it was not a wife.

So, for now, he focused on his son’s wellbeing.

***

The Earl of Merriweather’s townhouse was nestled in among a line of fine residences, the white exterior filled with blooming lavender and lilies that poured out of window baskets to line the front walkway.

The gate creaked open as Spencer entered, casting a glance at the windows. Through one of the higher up windows, he noticed movement—a person that vanished almost as soon as he glanced up.

“Hm.” He sighed and continued onward to the front door, where, after he knocked, he was greeted by a lined-faced butler. “I am here to meet with Lord Merriweather.”

“Of course, Your Grace. This way please.”

Spencer was led into the entrance hall where a high ceiling arched over him, the windows providing so much light he almost wondered what it felt like to have such a thing: a family home that did not have dark pasts or secrets, so much happiness that the home itself seemed to attract the light.

In comparison to the relative curtained shadows of Langdon House, Spencer was envious.

He took a step forward, and he swore he felt the rush of a small toddler, but he knew it was only his mind imagining how, once upon a time, light had washed through the hallways of his home.

Alexander’s laughter echoed in his mind, followed by a frustrated sigh. Why can he not simply let me go? Sophia had muttered.

You are his mother, and he misses you, Spencer had told her countless times. Of course he will try to play with you to keep your attention.

His wife had only rolled her eyes.

In another life, she would not have done that. In another life, she may have softened at his reminder, turned back to Alexander, and scooped up their son lovingly and promised her loyalty to Spencer and him.

Darkly, Spencer rid himself of those thoughts as he walked further down the hallway to a study. Entering, he saw the earl sitting at his desk, his eyes cast downward onto his work. The Earl immediately glanced up, a bright, warm smile breaking out over his face.

“Your Grace,” Lord Merriweather called out cheerfully, rising from his desk. “Thank you for meeting me. The circumstances are most joyous, no?”

“Joyous,” Spencer echoed, nodding grimly. “Yes, I do believe so.”

“Can I pour you a drink?” The earl gestured over to the bar set up adjacent to his desk, much like Spencer’s own. Notably, it had more bottles than Spencer’s. “After all, we may have something to toast very shortly.”

“Indeed, we might,” Spencer agreed, attempting to smile. Lord Merriweather stood to pour them a drink each from a glass of expensive wine. If Spencer was truly going to commit to marriage then that also meant committing to properly reentering society and making good connections and alliances.

The Merriweathers were a good family, and it would do Spencer well to align himself with them and earn their favor. A duke he may be, but even dukes needed connections.

The ton could still make or break his reputation if he remained isolated.