Page 45 of Matters of a Duke's Heart
Instead, Spencer nodded again, and said, “I will approach Miss Felicity about sharing dinnertimes.”
And the light that broke over his son’s face cleaved Spencer in half with emotion he didn’t expect.
Soon, Alexander scrambled off the desk, retiring to his bed, and Spencer looked at the report he had been working on. Work could wait. Instead, he let his mind wander as he began to plan.
Chapter 15
Felicity had spent the last three days in a terrible mood, one that she wasn’t familiar with feeling. She had never felt so down, or hopeless, and had buried herself in books so much that she had already gone through three of them.
With each one, she cried harder, avoided the husband that shouted at his son, shouted at Felicity for doing what he had brought her into the marriage to do, and she had let her heart break.
“Romance is nothing, anyway,” she whispered to herself now. “Plenty of marriages exist without it.”
And yet…
Yet she had dreamed for so long, and she wasn’t as fine with a lack of romance as much as she had thought she could be. Something about being in Bluebell Manor had been loosening her up, letting her find comfort in relaxing, in releasing the stiffness of being the perfect ton lady her mother wanted.
But between Lord Radcliffe, the confrontation with Spencer over her previous suitors’ attention, his very veiled accusations about that attention, and the hot-and-cold way he treated her, Felicity had found her feet.
As usual, she opened her bedroom door on the fourth morning to go to the music room’s terrace, but when she was there, she found her usual table already set up and occupied.
Felicity stopped still in the center of the room. The French doors were flung open, allowing open passage onto the terrace.
Spencer had his back to her, and she watched how the morning sun caught the black strands of his hair, turning them an inky blue. Surprise swept through her as she stepped closer to him, her guard up.
“Good morning,” she said quietly, looking at him as she took the seat opposite him. The seat that overlooked Merriweather Woods and the expanse of countryside spreading out for miles.
From up there, she could see the wooden boundaries of Spencer’s land, and she marveled at just how much he owned.
His eyes flicked up to her. There was nothing hard in them as she had expected, nothing angry or annoyed, so she forced her own tone to soften.
“Good morning,” he replied. “You do realize there is a perfectly good breakfast hall downstairs.”
“I do,” she said. “But normally it has you dining in it.”
He showed a brief second of offense at her abruptness before composing himself. “Very well.” He paused, and she thought his agreement would make him leave. She couldn’t decide if she’d prefer that or not. Out here, she spoke with him on her terms, forcing him to finally come to her.
Maybe part of her had just been hoping he would seek her out in this demanding way.
Did it show impatience for her behavior, or a genuine desire to finally break the silence that had blanketed their marriage?
“How have your days been?” he asked her stiffly. Surprising her further, he pulled her teacup toward him and poured her a serving. After a moment, he dropped two sugar cubes into it. His eyes met hers, sending a spark through her that she wasn’t at all ready to feel.
He had remembered the amount she liked.
Ducking his head, he pushed the cup back to her and started on his own.
“Quiet,” she answered. “I have read a lot.”
“Anything interesting?”
“To me, yes. To you, I do highly doubt it.”
Spencer’s mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile, but it wouldn’t quite form. “I see. Do challenge me, then.”
Felicity assessed him as he poured his own tea. He stirred in one sugar cube, before hesitating and then added another. He sipped it, and grimaced.
“Heavens, you like your tea sweet.”
