Page 35 of Matters of a Duke's Heart
Daphne nudged her. “Oh, Felicity. Do not frown, so! I am perfectly happy, and you are settled. Besides, it was not as though you were short on choices.” She gave her sister a stern, knowing look.
Felicity noticed a streak of movement from the corner of her eye. Her husband had returned to the dining table once more, his eyes immediately seeking her out. She turned away quickly, only to find Daphne’s brow pulled together.
“You are settled, are you not? You are happy with your duke?”
Your duke.
He hardly was Felicity’s duke, at least not behind closed doors. Felicity swallowed and mustered a smile. “Indeed. Yes, of coursewe are. And you are quite right, I did have many choices, but I am as stubborn as our father when it comes to finding what I want.”
“And have you?” Her sister looked so hopeful it hurt.
The further lie tumbled from Felicity’s lips easily. “Yes.”
I ache for everything my marriage hasn’t given me. I ache for love and romance as I have always done. I ache for the brief moments Spencer looks at me as though I matter, and I hurt for the ones where he never looks at me at all.
“I have found all I wanted,” Felicity reiterated before nodding to the table. “We ought to return, but Daphne—please stay safe and avoid Lord Radcliffe at all costs. Inform one of your other suitors just in case, yes? There is something about him that I do not trust.”
Daphne nodded, and, together, they returned to the dining hall.
Felicity took her seat next to Spencer once more, the two of them sharing an uneasy glance. Around them, the next course was finally being served, but she noticed how he barely ate.
Halfway through, after the most unbearable silence, he leaned close to her. “For what it is worth, Felicity, you are no mere ornament in my life.”
She tried to file such a thing away, tried to find the compliment in it, but only her bitterness rose. “Then why do you treat me as such?”
“You are a mother figure to my son,” he told her insistently. “I do not know how else to be around you.”
“Therefore, I am ornament. A thing to display in public, and discard once we are home.” She looked away from him, stared down at her meal, felt the tension coming off him, before deciding she could not stay there a moment longer. Her gown felt constricting, the room was too stuffy, and she craved fresh air. “I must—I must go.”
“Where are—”
“Away from you.” She meant it as a snap, but her voice cracked as she rushed from her chair, her upset getting the better of her. It is fine, Felicity told herself as she sought a place to clear her head. I am fine. This does not bother me. It cannot bother me, for I cannot be aching for the duke’s attention. I do not even know why I would bother with wanting it.
Chiding herself under her breath, Felicity ducked onto a terrace where steps led down into the garden, shadowed by overhangs of other balconies and pillars. Candlelight flickered in windows, while the garden was not very lit up at all.
Felicity found a secluded pathway not too deep within the gardens, but far enough away from the house that she felt the distance do what she needed it to. However, right as she slowed to a stop, bracing herself on the edge of a small, stone bird bath to lean her face toward the bubbling of water coming from the center, she heard footsteps scuffing the pebbled path.
Her eyes closed in exasperation.
Of course he has followed me.
“You do not need to follow me out here to ensure propriety and bring me back to the party, Spencer,” she sighed. Using his Christian name still felt wrong, but she kept hold of the allowance as a sort of rebellion that she was insistent they would grow closer. “I will only be a mo—”
But then the footsteps moved too quickly, a stumble, and Felicity lifted her head, frowning. The man she faced wasn’t her husband. Lord Radcliffe stood before her instead. Strands of his pale hair had come loose from its hold, framing his face messily as he staggered closer.
His eyes could scarcely focus on her, and Felicity tensed, already moving away from the bird bath.
“Lord Radcliffe,” she greeted, trying to remain polite. “It is—it is lovely to see you again.”
The viscount only gave her a slack grin, and she realized the scent coming off him was brandy, ever so strong. Her stomach clenched as she took another step back.
He noticed that one. “Oh, Duchess of Langdon,” he sneered, face wrinkling. “I loathe to call you that. I may only be a lowly viscount in comparison to your shining knight, but I could have given you a great deal more than he already has. You were supposed to be mine.”
Horrified by how he spoke to her, Felicity tried to discreetly look for an easy way out. Her heart pounded, her hands trembling as she tucked them behind her back. “Lord Radcliffe, it appears you have drunk too much—”
“Do not tell me,” he spat, surging closer. She moved back hastily, sidestepping him. He was faster, but the drink made him clumsier, and she escaped his reaching grasp. “My standing in society remains impeccable, Lady Felicity. I would have given you as many riches as he can. But you never looked twice at me unless you had to. Poor Lady Felicity with the sore ankle, dancing the night away with every other suitor. Does it please you to have so many men approach you every time you are in society? Does it make you feel good to know you are married, and therefore unavailable?”
Fear crept up her throat. “Come, my lord, we ought to go back inside. I can get you a drink of water, and we can discuss—”
