Page 32 of Matters of a Duke's Heart
“Nothing,” she was quick to say. “It is just that I am surprised you even wished to dance with me.”
Guilt speared through Spencer, and he thought about looking away in shame, but forced himself to keep his eyes on her. “You are my wife. As you said earlier, this is our first, public appearance. We ought to maintain that appearance.”
“Is that the only reason?”
Her question seemed hesitant, as if she didn’t quite know why she wanted to ask it, or if she was afraid of the answer.
Spencer swallowed his truth of no and cut a curt nod at her. More guilt spread through him when he thought of how poorly he must have treated her, how neglectful his attention must have been, for her to be so surprised.
He averted his gaze but soon found it returning to his wife as she peered at him curiously. Around them, the music built, and Spencer couldn’t ignore the warmth of her body beneath the material of her gown. She felt…
Right was the word he would admit to if he could, but he refused to.
For how could she feel right in his arms when everything was a matter of convenience between the two of them? Their arrangement was based on mutual agreement and advantage.
He had saved her from failed Seasons, and she had saved him from fathering Alexander alone. Already, she had taught him some imperative lessons about how to speak with his son.
Suddenly, he asked, “If you had so many suitors, why did you reject them all?”
Felicity blinked, again surprised at his question, then dropped her gaze. After a moment, her confession came: “I wished for romance, and none of them inspired such desire in me.”
Spencer despised himself so much for a moment that he stopped their dance short, right in the middle of the dancefloor.
You have taken that away from her, too. She should have rejected you, but she was forced into this. You have deprived her of a love match. He had never let himself acknowledge such a thing before, but now it was unavoidable.
Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow as if she was aware of what was being admitted between the lines.
You have not inspired romance in me, either.
Spencer’s breathing turned heavy as he pulled away from her. “I—Excuse me a moment.”
“Spencer,” she pleaded, but he was already moving, off the dancefloor, away from her, away from the guilt of what he hadpushed her into for his own selfish gain. His breaths came too hard to control them for a moment.
He ignored Rupert calling out to him, as well as the attempted snatch of attention another few ladies made as he passed them by. Spencer kept his head ducked, his thoughts swirling with Felicity.
The lady he had met alone on the Grand South Walk and had looked for after regretting not giving into her plea for help.
The lady he had met in the drawing room officially, proposing to her too quickly and regretting not giving her more time; and now his wife, forcing her into this life when her life before marriage had brought disappointment.
Forgive me, Felicity, he thought, struggling with his own turmoil. Will I always be chased by regret when it comes to you, haunted by choices I should have made better?
Spencer was only stopped—and quite forcibly so—when a brunette stepped into his path. Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes widening.
His mouth parted. For a second, he stared at a ghost, a woman who looked so much like his late wife that his mind was devoid of thought. But then he blinked, and that smug smile lifted, and he knew it was ever so different from Sophia’s.
Quickly composing himself, Spencer tugged on his tailcoat. “Lady Helena,” he greeted the woman.
She moved closer, looping her arm through his on the outskirts of the dancefloor. Spencer cringed, but could not pull away, not with the iron grip she had on him. “Your Grace,” she purred. “I am surprised it has taken us this long to bump into one another. Then again, you were on your honeymoon, were you not?”
Her words were loaded, and Spencer avoided looking at her head-on.
“Yes,” he answered.
“How strange to hear,” she mused. “Especially from a man who ended our courtship on the claim that he did not ever want to marry again.” Her laugh was too hard, too fake, and it grated through Spencer. He had once enjoyed her company—at first, at least—and she had been a breath of fresh air after Sophia’s constant absence. He had felt important with Lady Helena after so long. When he said nothing, she pushed. “I cannot believe you married, Spencer.”
“Yes,” he acknowledged. “Well, it was for the good of my son. He is important to me, as you well know.”
“For the good of your son,” Lady Helena repeated, clipped. “I see. And was that not me? From what I recall, I was for the good of your own gain.”
