Page 24 of Matters of a Duke's Heart
“I think some more flowers could be displayed here,” she was saying, and Spencer’s brows rose in surprise. He did not make his presence known yet. For some reason, he was just content to simply watch her.
Her hair tumbled down her back, brushing the ribbon sash on her dress. He tracked the length of it before snapping his gaze just past her, forcing his focus away.
“Yes,” she continued. “That is what this place needs. More color, more life. Oh—Mrs. Avery, do you know if Lottie got my request for—”
“For a new rug, Your Grace? Indeed, she did. I believe she sent a footman out to purchase something for you.”
“Ah, I missed the chance to go myself.” Spencer wasn’t certain, but it sounded as though Felicity pouted at that. “Never to mind, I will go to Langdon Village myself soon enough, I imagine. Now.” She clapped her hands together. “Curtains. I cannot abide by how beautiful this manor is, yet it is draped in darkness, even in broad daylight! Mrs. Avery, perhaps that could be changed?”
Mrs. Avery stepped into view, carrying an empty vase that Spencer had not ordered to be filled for years. What good were flowers when he felt so much misery, and, quite frankly, did not care to decorate an empty house?
The housekeeper saw him. “I am certain His Grace can give his verdict regarding the curtains being opened.”
“Oh.” He heard a scoff. “No doubt he will opt for the alternative, as I have found it to be so. The duke is ever so moody. Of course he would have his house reflecting such a quality.”
“Is that so?” he asked from the doorway.
Felicity whirled around, her eyes wide, finding him leaning on the doorframe with a raised brow. He folded his arms over hischest, and he swore he saw her eyes track the movement before she smiled brightly at him.
Her smile surprised him enough that he lost his bravado and straightened up. He had not properly seen her smile. She had mustered weak things that appeared more like a grimace, but this was a true grin. A real smile borne from happiness.
Happiness at turning Bluebell Manor upside down.
“Your Grace,” she greeted.
“Duke,” he corrected. “What is going on, Duchess?”
She glanced around. Even Mrs. Avery smiled as somebody passed her a full vase blooming with bluebells. Spencer’s chest gave a pang at seeing his mother’s favorite flower. He was used to them outside, unable to avoid the sight of the flowers she had planted years ago, but to see them inside the manor was another thing altogether.
“Well, is it not obvious?” Felicity asked. “This is my home now, too, and there is positively too much darkness. It almost makes one moody. I am changing it.”
He stared back at her. Her smile didn’t even falter once, not like the day before whenever she caught his rejections of conversation or gestures. After a moment, noting hishousekeeper’s smile, Spencer found himself stepping further into the room.
“You did not ask me,” he told her.
“I am the mistress of the house.”
“And I am the master of it,” he countered quickly, his voice gruff. He was not displeased, merely caught off guard. He didn’t like things being out of his control. Yet Felicity herself seemed an uncontrollable aspect of his life, and he found himself stepping closer to her.
Around them, the staff began to filter out as if they didn’t want to intrude. Within moments, it was just the two of them in the room. Surprisingly, Felicity’s cheerful mood didn’t dim.
He tracked her green eyes, bright with joy, and one word came to mind that he quickly chased away. Radiant. Had he not truly noticed her beauty the day before, or during their first meeting? Had he really not stopped for it in the Vauxhall Gardens?
No, of course not, for Spencer convinced himself he had stopped looking at such things. Not when he had searched for Sophia in every woman he ever saw following her death.
He looked at another vase being carried in. “Hyacinths,” he noted. “Blue ones.”
“They are my mother’s favorite,” she told him needlessly. “I thought it would bring me comfort to live here if I had reminders of my family.”
Spencer’s jaw worked as he nodded. They were Sophia’s favorite flower. He didn’t grieve Sophia anymore—too much time had passed, and he had long grieved both her life ultimately, as well as the woman he had thought she was.
He more gazed at the flowers in fear, now. What if it provided a bad omen?
“Fine,” he said, even though she had not asked for permission. She gave him a wry smile as though she thought that very thing.
And then she voiced it properly. “As mistress of the manor, I would very much like to keep making these changes to make it more livable. Not just for myself, but also you and Alexander. Will you allow me to? A little boy should not have to live in such darkness.”
Before he could answer, another person on the house’s staff entered, offering up a fabric swatch for her to judge. Felicity grinned, nodding. “That is perfect.”
