Page 22 of Matters of a Duke's Heart
Heavens, Felicity thought, her eyes widening when she saw the size of the estate unfolding before her. Beautiful iron gates fenced in a courtyard. Beyond that, a gorgeous, old manor house lorded over the empty countryside. Langdon village would be somewhere around, but everywhere looked so quiet, so serene.
She was so far from the bustle of London’s city—so far from her sister. From balls and pressure and eyes. There were no judgmental gazes for miles.
The magnitude of it stole her breath away so severely that Felicity still hadn’t found her voice by the time the carriage pulled up outside. A line of staff waited to greet her, and her stomach fluttered with nerves.
She should have been better prepared, but she had never felt so out of her depth.
Who was she to be a duchess?
How had the duke even decided she would be a good one?
Her hands shook. If she’d had the courage to stand up to her mother, if she had begged for as long as she could, to have rejected the duke’s proposal, then she would not have had to deal with any of this. She should have, and her ache for wishing she had done different stabbed her through.
The carriage rolled to a stop, and a footman opened her door. The duke was there in a moment, his hand outstretched for her, even if his focus remained pointedly elsewhere.
She was resigned to her fate, and she had accepted, so she knew she needed to see it through. She had to be braver than she felt.
Feigning confidence, she slipped her hand into her husband’s and let him guide her out. Her nerves fluttered at the thought of meeting Alexander so soon, but she kept her smile faint until she was guided up to the first staff member.
She nodded her head in greeting, as the duke did, and finally, they made it down the line to the housekeeper and butler.
“Duchess, this is Mr. Haversham, Bluebell Manor’s butler, and Mrs. Avery, our housekeeper. She has guarded Bluebell with an iron fist since before I was born.”
The woman did look somewhat aged, with smile lines around her mouth, and gray streaked through her hair.
“Mr. Haversham, Mrs. Avery, this is Her Grace, Felicity Dunne, the Duchess of Langdon. Do see to it that she has anything she requires. Is her lady’s maid ready to begin?”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Avery answered, while Felicity found herself still trying to process hearing her new surname vocalized for the first time. “Lottie is ready for Her Grace.”
Felicity’s head spun. Her Grace.
She kept her smile firm, feeling very out of herself, as she nodded again. “Thank you,” Felicity said, recalling her manners a beat too late. “It is lovely to meet you all.”
The rest of the staff were dismissed, save for the housekeeper, who lingered at a little boy’s side. To Felicity’s surprise, Alexander Dunne didn’t resemble the duke a great deal. His hair was lighter, perhaps inherited from his mother, and his eyes were not the icy blue of his father’s, but a soft brown.
“Alexander,” the duke said, his voice firm and strict, “this is the new Duchess of Langdon, Lady Felicity Dunne.” His words sounded awkward and out of place, as though he didn’t quite know how to introduce her.
Instead of the mischievous boy Felicity had heard about, she faced a boy who didn’t speak. He only peered up at her with soft, curious eyes as he huddled closer to Mrs. Avery.
On his other side, a stern-looking woman clamped a hand on his shoulder, and Felicity had the urge to tell her to remove it.
“This is Miss Nightingale,” the duke further introduced, gesturing at the woman. “Alexander’s governess.”
“It is nice to meet you, Your Grace.” Miss Nightingale dipped into a sharp curtsey. She was rather young for a governess, and even younger to look so stern.
“And yourself,” Felicity murmured. “I have heard you have quite a handful to deal with at times.”
The governess winced, nodding, as she glanced toward Alexander. “He is usually far louder. I am surprised.”
“Well,” Felicity began, softening her voice to address Alexander. “I am certain all these changes are quite overwhelming.” He met her eyes again. “I understand, Alexander. I will be present if you ever wish to speak about anything. I hear you are learning French? Perhaps you can tell me about it when you are ready.”
Alexander looked toward the duke and then nodded at Felicity.
Felicity straightened up, looking at the duke, who merely gazed down at his son, a pained expression on his face. As soon as he caught her looking, he smoothed it back into that stoic, unreadable look.
“See Her Grace settled,” the duke finally said, sighing. Without casting another glance at her, he retreated into the manor. Miss Nightingale ushered Alexander inside, notably going in adifferent direction than the duke, while Mrs. Avery approached Felicity.
“Come,” she offered gently. “I will see you to your chambers.”
