Page 40 of Matters of a Duke's Heart
“Well.” Mr. Hemming looked between the two of them before nodding sharply. “If Her Grace insists.”
“She does!” Alexander cheered enthusiastically. “Arm-rev-war, Mr. Hemming!”
Felicity held back her giggle at his mispronunciation of au revoir, knowing now was not the moment to correct him, not when he beamed so brightly, likely at remembering the phrase in the first place.
Mr. Hemming quickly packed his things, dismissed kindly, and Felicity led Alexander to the stables. After the dinner party a while back, her nerves had been on edge regarding Lord Radcliffe, especially when Daphne had reported that he had tried to intercept her trip to the theater with Lord Graham, and then again when they promenaded. Spencer had already assured her he had men he could send to look over her sister, but Daphne had declined politely.
Now, as the two of them rode out toward the endless fields of Bluebell Manor, Felicity marveled at how well Alexander handled the reins of his small pony. She herself had been assigned with a mare named Elizabeth.
“You ride well,” she noted as they trotted around a curve, keeping the pace steady. The curved path led them further from the manor, but Felicity was sure to never let it go out of her sight.
“My mama died, and after she did, Papa made sure I grew up understanding horses. He wanted to make sure I knew to ride them well.”
Felicity frowned, unsure where the two linked, but didn’t push further. She only gave him an unsteady smile that she hoped looked more assuring.
She expected more silence as they rode, or perhaps for him to share his new favorite line of a poem as he had sometimes done, but instead, Alexander spoke more about his mother.
“I do not think Mama liked me,” he admitted, his small hands clutching the reins of his horse.
“Whyever do you think that, for I am certain it is not the case at all.”
Alexander shrugged for a moment before continuing. “I never really saw her. She always left the manor, left Papa and me. I did not really know her, and my papa hated her, too. I heard him say so to Lord Wexley.”
His words were stilted, as if he struggled to recall everything he wanted to speak about.
“I do not remember a lot about her,” he confessed. “Papa says that is a good thing, but he never speaks about her, either. He told Mrs. Avery that my mama should have been better to me.” Alexander lifted his eyes to her, full of sorrow and confusion, before he looked away again. “I do not think I miss her. At least, not with you here, anyway. I like you, Miss Felicity.”
Although the title wasn’t right for her, Felicity had heard him use it several times and it pleased her to know he had called her something just for her, something that felt right in his heart.
He was not pushing Mama onto her, and although she was beginning to care for the small boy, she knew she could not yet be his mother in the true word.
“And I like you, Alexander,” she answered gently.
Together, they rode on with Alexander finally turning his attention to the subjects she had expected. He asked her for more clarification on some numbers and names of food so he might impress his father at dinner next time. He declared that he thought he was ready to start having dinners with them routinely soon.
“Dinnertime is sacred,” he told her quietly as they finished up their ride, dismounted, and walked back toward the house. “That is the only time I really see Papa.”
Felicity missed her step she was so saddened by his declaration, but she quickly recovered when she saw a figure in the doorway to the school room. The very empty school room when she knew, deep down, it ought to have been otherwise.
All words died on Felicity’s tongue as she beheld her husband’s hard glare. In his hands were small paper bags that she tried to put the attention on.
“Papa,” Alexander spoke first, getting ahead of her. “Papa, we rode! We rode together!”
Spencer took a moment to look from Felicity to Alexander, and she swore she saw a flicker of pain across his face before it shut down. Felicity hurried to grasp Alexander, feeling fiercely protective of him against her husband’s mood. Had she caused it?
“I think your father is a little upset right now, Alexander,” she whispered. “How about you go on upstairs to your room and wait for me to call you back down?”
“But I think Papa has sweets,” he insisted.
“And I am certain you may have them later,” she assured him. “Go on, now.”
Alexander looked up at her, and then at Spencer, before his shoulders slumped. “Papa is always upset.” With that, he stormed off, throwing the parchment of paper he had taken with him on the ride to write down the words Felicity had helped him remember to present to his father.
Spencer looked at it, but Felicity scooped it up first, tucking it behind her back.
“You are… gentle with him,” Spencer said, his voice strained. There was a vacant look in his eyes as he gazed out at her.
She nodded. “It is not hard to be.”
