Page 25 of Matters of a Duke's Heart
Spencer watched her, still a bit stunned by her scolding. A little boy should not have to live in such darkness.
He was not sure his chest had ached so terribly in a long, long time. Especially not when he couldn’t take his eyes off his wife, now grinning and chatting with the staff. He had not known her long, but this was a far cry from the sullen look from yesterday.
These changes must happen, he told himself before he could retreat into his usual rejection of anything different or outside of his control. I must be all right with it. I cannot expect my new wife to live in such a dark place, even if it brings me comfort.
Yet a part of him had always longed for light to return to Bluebell Manor; to restore the very life his parents had filled it with. Was Felicity the key to that?
As his new wife turned back to him, questions lingering in her eyes, her gaze fixed him with so much hope he found it unbearable.
Spencer slid his gaze away from her a moment, only to quickly find his attention returning to her pale, pretty face. He didn’t see Sophia as he had the day before; he saw Felicity herself. Green eyes that were widened in plea, and a smile that lingered even when she regarded him.
Who on earth have I married, and what sort of chaos does she intend to bring to my life? He wondered.
Transfixed, he held her gaze.
He couldn’t bring himself to look away, not when he had not seen a woman regard him like this in so long. His chest swelled with it, even as terror burrowed in him, deep and dragging.
“Do as you please,” he finally said, his voice clipped, turning away from her. “All I ask is that you leave my study, the music room, and my own chamber alone.”
“The music r—”
“Enjoy your renovations, Duchess.”
He held her gaze a moment longer, feeling his heart beating too fast, too hard, and he sharply turned away.
Chapter 9
Felicity spent the next several days busying herself. Bluebell Manor was an endless labyrinth of staircases, hallways that seemed to go on forever, and hidden terraces and gardens.
From her window, she had spotted a rose garden that was separated from a pond area and a fountain by a door that seemed to extend into a neighboring room, but she couldn’t work it out.
Perhaps the library would lead her out there.
It seemed like a terribly romantic thing: emerging from a haven of books into a rose garden, only to find oneself near a bubbling pond. As much as she felt rather rude thinking it, it seemed a strange feature of the estate for the duke to maintain being there.
He looked like the sort of man who would have taken such a thing away.
A thought rose to her mind: was it the former duchess’s garden? Perhaps it had been added to the estate by the duke’s mother. Had any of them been romantic people, delighting in such things?
Over her first days at Bluebell Manor, she kept an eye on that rose garden, hoping to spot the duke. She told herself it was only to solve the mystery: did he like it, keeping it for himself because he wanted to, or was it some sort of homage to his past? Perhaps it was that he had simply forgotten about it.
So far, she assumed it was the latter for she hadn’t seen him out there.
As she had explored, she had processed her decision to marry the Duke of Langdon. Looking out at the gloomy manor had struck something in her—redecorating had brought purpose. As she had gone around each room, plucking the darker elements away and replacing them, Felicity had begun to do that with herself.
This was her life now; it wouldn’t be changed, and she had come to the realization that if she didn’t embrace it she would become like one of the manor’s gloomy rooms: miserable, shadowed, and in desperate need of life.
She was a duchess now. Felicity had yearned for love, and she could still tuck that yearning away, but for now she had a beautiful home, a way to explore and walk through the gardens of the manor, and a library to read away any hours that brought too-heavy thoughts.
Stealing past the duke’s study, she found it empty. Her time at the manor had brought her a tidbit of knowledge: if he was not in his study or the drawing room then he was out on business.
Their honeymoon was not really that at all, at least not like other ladies had whispered in the ton. He had never approached her room at night, either, a thing Felicity was relieved for. Despite awkward dinners and conversations that she never really found solid ground within, her heart hammered in fear whenever she retired.
The duke did not want to be in the same room as her for longer than necessary. To think he might want her intimately was another thing entirely. Besides, he had his heir and had promised Felicity there would be no requirement for children.
She had to believe that.
Her assurance of being safe at Bluebell Manor grew with each day until she stopped being startled whenever she found the duke close by.
