Page 3 of A Duke Under Her Spell
“Yes, I would be ever so relieved to see you settled in a good marriage before I depart this earth. At least then I would be assured that you were being looked after. We all need a companion in life, Felix. I had your father. Lady Cordelia Weatherton would be the perfect wife for a nobleman of your standing. The Weatherton family are of a strong and ancient bloodline.”
“Mother, I have no interest at all in marriage, ancient bloodline or otherwise. My primary concern right now is your return to good health. Naught else matters to me. There is plenty of time for such frivolous matters as marriage later.”
“Marriage is not frivolous, Felix. It is absolutely necessary for a man of your station, as you well know.”
“Yes, Mother, I am aware.”
“Do you not wish to see me happy in my last days?” The Dowager Duchess asked, her beautiful green eyes, a mirror of his own, turning sad and troubled.
“Of course, I do.” Felix frowned at such a question.
“Then marry.” Her eyes pleaded for him to take her request seriously.
Closing his eyes, he pressed his fingers to his temple. “I will consider your request to court Lady Cordelia Weatherton, but I cannot make any promises as to marriage.”
“That is all I ask, my son, is that you make the attempt.”
Felix nodded, then bent down to kiss her forehead. The Dowager Duchess looked so pale as she lay among the long dark curling tendrils of her hair and the stark white of the bed linens. He traced the tired drawn features of her face, remembering a time when she had been healthy, her cheeks full and rosy. Looking at his mother was like looking at his own reflection, only in the feminine. Felix had gotten his tall height and muscular build from his father, but his looks and coloring were all his mother.
“I will leave you to rest for now, but later we should go and sit in the gardens together. The roses are in full bloom and are lovelier than ever this season. A more beautiful collection I have yet to see.” He praised his mother’s gardening endeavors in hopes that it might inspire her to continue fighting the good fight. She had been an avid gardener before the mysterious illness had robbed her of such joys. “I will have the men move your chaise lounge out onto the grounds for luncheon.”
“That would be lovely indeed, my dear. Thank you,” the Dowager Duchess agreed. “Until then I believe I will take your advice and rest.”
Felix nodded his approval, bowed over her hand in affectionate respect, then left the room. Leaving the manor house, he strolled down to the stables, had his horse saddled, then rode out into the forest. He was in desperate need of exercise to clear his head.Lady Cordelia Weatherton…he shook his head in displeasure. He had danced with her at the last ball of the Season, and since then his mother had desired their pairing.
It wasn’t that Lady Cordelia was unattractive, in fact she was quite pretty with her golden blonde curls and cornflower blue eyes, but she was not very bright or kind. Unlike most men of the age, Felix preferred his female companions to be intelligent. He supposed he had been spoiled for all other women by the fact that his mother, and her mother before her, had been of decidedly superior intellect. His father had adored them for it, and so too did Felix.
When the Duke had died, he had left an enormous hole in their lives, but Felix and his mother had banded together to survive the loss. He could not imagine surviving her death as well.
I do so long to see her happy and contented, but must it be with the Weathertons?
The Weathertons were a snobbish bunch, not unlike most others of their station. Lady Cordelia’s brother, Bernard Weatherton, the Earl of Bredon, was the head of the family after the death of their father the year before.I suppose if I am to do as Mother has asked, I will need to invite them over for tea or luncheon.He despised such social niceties with people of his own class, finding the working classes so much more interesting. Most people of his own station bored him.
Felix’s thoughts turned back to more pressing matters. He rode for a time, thinking of what possible methods of treatment he might have overlooked or had been missed. He thought of taking his mother out of England and traveling the world to consult the various medical practitioners in the East, but he was not at all certain that her health would permit such strenuous activity as travel. It was more likely that she would not survive the journey than it was that they would find a cure.
Returning to the stables, he was met by his favorite groom, Oliver Singer. “Did you have a pleasant ride, Your Grace?” Oliver inquired, taking the horse’s reins so that his master might dismount.
“As pleasant as can be expected, given the circumstances,” Felix answered, beating the dust from his clothing.
“How is Her Grace, if you don’t mind me asking?” Oliver led the horse into one of the stalls, unsaddled it, and began brushing it down.
Felix sighed and took a seat on the edge of a wooden trough. “It is not at all good, Oliver. There is a strong possibility that if we do not find a cure, and soon, the Dowager Duchess will not live to see Christmastide.”
“Say it isn’t so, Your Grace,” Oliver stopped brushing mid stroke, his face drawn in lines of concern.
“It is, I am afraid. I wish it were not, but we are running out of time.”
“The doctors…” Oliver began, but was cut short by a shake of Felix’s head.
“Nay, the doctors know nothing of what plagues her. They offer no hope.”
“’Tis sorrowed I am to hear it, Your Grace. Her Grace has been nothing but kindness itself to me since I was but a lad. We are all quite fond of her in the servants’ quarters.”
“As she is fond of all of you,” Felix answered with a smile. He couldn’t count the number of times that he had caught his mother spoiling the servants’ children with some treat or another.
“Please pass along our sincerest regards and let Her Grace know that we will be praying for her.”
“I will, Oliver. Thank you.”
