Page 37 of Matters of a Duke's Heart
His father would call him too generous, but Spencer wondered how he could have a flourishing dukedom if he did not ensure his tenants had good lives.
“I do not know what else to do for them,” Rupert continued. “I have ensured I will only let them marry good men; I have ensured that they will not be isolated upon entering marriage, nor will they ever be alone throughout any of it whatsoever if they do not want to be. I have ensured vetting of each suitor so they will never be married to unkind suitors.”
“They are young, still,” Spencer acknowledged. “Perhaps they are scared at the thought of leading their own households.”
“Perhaps. But how do I take that fear from them?”
“You keep on doing what you are doing and hopefully there will be suitors to further support it.”
Spencer paused. “You are a good brother, Rupert.”
His friend didn’t look at all convinced but said nothing further of the matter. He only nodded as they continued their walk back to Bluebell Manor. Rupert had insisted on a proper meeting with Spencer’s wife, calling it long overdue, but Spencer paused at one shop.
He slowed, ignoring Rupert’s questioning.
“Treat o’ the Land?” he read aloud.
Spencer glanced at his friend, and then back at the candy shop before them. He smiled, imagining buying Alexander a bag of sweet treats, seeing his smile at the unexpected gift. He thought of Felicity, and what treats she might like, and he went to dismiss it altogether.
But then he didn’t.
He waited, mulling it over.
Why didn’t he go in and do what he thought about?
Spencer didn’t give himself a chance to second-guess himself, and strode in, ignoring Rupert’s incredulous laughter until they entered the store and faced the jars and drawers of candy.
As he looked around, he caught sight of Rupert eyeing him.
“Yes?” Spencer prompted.
Slowly, the marquess shook his head. “Nothing… It is just—what have you done with my brooding, grumpy friend, and why are we in a candy shop?”
“I want to buy some treats for my son and my wife,” Spencer said idly, only pausing when Rupert fell silent, and he realized how he sounded. He was already scowling at Rupert as if the marquess could be blamed for Spencer’s words. He quickly turned back to study the jars of colorful sweets.
“My, my, Your Grace.” Rupert laughed quietly. Out of the corner of Spencer’s eye, he saw him nodding. “Oh, you have gone ever so soft, have you not?”
“No,” he answered quickly—too quickly, and Rupert only laughed louder.
“Yes you have! Tell me, what will you buy your duchess? A sweet in the shape of a heart? A pink one, perhaps. Do you recall her favorite color? Her favorite flavor of sweet food?”
“Raspberry,” he answered, once again too quickly, and only startled himself with realizing that he had listened to her mention it once. Yes, yes, he had. It had been over dinner once, back in their first week when she had tried too hard to force conversation.
“I noticed the cook has made a raspberry cake for dessert,” she had said, sounding excited, “I do love raspberry. In fact, it might be my favorite flavor.”
When Spencer finally looked at Rupert again, he found himself pinned beneath impressed scrutiny, and turned away again, scowling.
“For a marriage of convenience only, as you so claim it to be, you are certainly getting closer. And, as I may repeat, softer.”
“I am not soft.” Before Rupert could tease him further, Spencer strode forward to order four bags so he could mix all of them and provide his wife and son something matching.
He thought it might help with the bonding. That was all. It was so they could have something to discuss on their walk through Merriweather Woods.
He swore he did not think of the surprise Felicity might show, or the look on her face as she tasted the sugary treat. He didn’t think of anything except the convenience of such a gesture, as he paid, and finally tugged Rupert from the shop with a grumbled, come on.
But as soon as they left the shop, with Rupert muttering about where his friend had gone, and perhaps a change of characterwas long overdue, Spencer turned his focus back to the worries that had been on his mind all week.
“Rupert,” he began, and the seriousness of his tone stopped Rupert’s teasing. “Do you recall us discussing Lord Radcliffe?”
