Page 13 of Matters of a Duke's Heart
“Four days,” she repeated. “In four days, Your Grace, you wish to turn my life around. That is hardly enough time, whether your intentions are good or not regarding my reputation. It might save me from the current rumors, but there will be other speculations.”
“And I will handle it.”
The sharp, confident declaration clearly wooed her mother, for she pressed a hand to her clavicle, her mouth parting as she gazed on at the duke. Perhaps this was really what she wanted for Felicity: a man to handle things for her. What of Felicity’s own wants?
“We ought to give you a moment to speak alone,” Felicity’s mother suggested. “Your lady’s maid shall be just outside the door. It will be left open.”
Felicity didn’t even have a moment to be insulted at the precaution. As if she would ever venture into such questionable moments with a man she did not know, and one as rude as this stranger.
Once the drawing room left only the two of them, Felicity did not quite know how to break the silence. The clock against the wall tick, tick, ticked away, counting the seconds. How many more of those did she have in the remaining days before…
Heavens, she thought, unable to even ponder the word wedding.
It was another counted minute before the duke spoke up. “I see you made it home that night.”
Felicity cut an insulted glare in his direction. “Without any gratitude to yourself, Your Grace, yes, I did. In fact, I found my way before the fireworks even began.”
“Good,” he answered, his voice low as he hovered near the doorway, still. Felicity remained seated on the pale blue settee. “I trust you did not further throw yourself in the direction of any other men. If you did, I must know, should any man might come to claim your hand in the name of scandal ahead of the wedding ceremony.”
Felicity scoffed, turning her face away from him. But her mother’s warnings of being a proper lady lingered. That morning, she had reminded her that if she did not give a man a chance how would she ever know if he was her love match?
This cold, brusque stranger was definitely not that. Yet Felicity turned her attention back to him all the same.
How does one know if there is love to be found in a match?
She searched his eyes, so icy it almost chilled her. He held such an unreadable expression. “Forgive me for the way I threw my hand out to get your attention. I… I was desperate and admittedly afraid. There was a great crush of people at the entrance of Vauxhall Gardens, and I got separated from my family. Lady Daphne, my sister, has recently debuted. She was ever so excited about the event that evening, so I did not want her to worry about my absence when she should have been dancing. Other than that, I was… well, I admit I was rather worried about being caught alone. I thought you could help me. Now I know who you are, I might suggest it would have been nice to know that the very rumored Duke of Langdon was a helpful, generous man who helped a lost lady.”
His gaze had fixed on the window of the drawing room over her head but it now slid back to her. “You were truly lost?”
“Truly,” she answered, narrowing her eyes. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but why are you questioning it?”
He looked away, a muscle in his cheek fluttering as he worked through words before he finally answered. “Many ladies, or their mamas, or perhaps both in tandem, enjoy tricking influential men into marriage by arranging a scandalous scene to be caught in.” He sighed, lifting a hand to his dark hair as if to brush it back before lowering his hand. “I apologize, my lady. I see now you did not mean to cause anything of the sort. However, I was not to know your genuine character. I am a cautious man.”
“You wish to marry me in four days,” she replied, almost too curtly. “That does not seem like caution.”
“It appears impulsiveness has been a fault of mine as of late.” He let out a dry laugh, one that she didn’t understand, but she had to wonder if he referred to his walking away from her.
The duke hesitated, his eyes darting to the space next to her on the settee. The stiffness in his body was almost unbearable.
We are to be wed, Felicity thought. Yet he can barely relax.
And because she realized that they would share far more than a room’s space, she discreetly shifted aside to allow more room on the settee next to her without offering the seat directly. He took it, gratefully inclining his head as he seemed to shed some formal proprietary.
“Allow me to speak frankly, Lady Felicity,” he offered.
“Heavens, right now I would be most grateful,” she almost muttered.
“My request for a quick engagement is not one of caution, you are right. It is one of… I do not like to say desperation but I suppose that is what it is. It is one of resignation, perhaps. Youmay have heard around the ton that I have a son, Alexander. He is seven years old, bore from my late wife, Lady Sophia Dunne. Formerly Harrington. Alexander needs a mother. To be frank, that is why I need to marry. He is… free-spirited, I shall say, and I do not have the things he requires to be patient and kind. I do not have the time nor the qualities as I believe you do. I have heard good things about you, Lady Felicity. When the ton speak of you, it is highly and kindly.”
Felicity blinked, trying to process his words. She had indeed heard rumors of the duke’s son, but when there was so much hearsay it was hard to know the truth from fabrication.
“So I am not only to be wed in four days, and not only to become a duchess,” she said slowly, “not only to give up my hope of a love match, but also to immediately become a mother?”
“Only a maternal figure,” he corrected. “I will not have Alexander call you any motherly titles until both of you are ready. I will not force you into any role you cannot or wish not to have.”
“Yet you are, in a way.” Felicity’s chest grew tight, and she pushed down her emotions, focused only on how to be the perfect lady her mother had taught her to be. “And even if it is not immediate, I know that our marriage is simply the gateway into motherhood.”
With a wince, the duke asked, “is that not always assumed when matches are made, regardless?”
