Page 48 of Matters of a Duke's Heart
Alexander hurried up to his desk, Felicity in tow. Her face was flushed, a laugh lingering at the corners of her mouth, and Spencer braced himself for a terrible report. That he had snuck away from something, that Felicity had been forced to chase Alexander through the house.
But she, too, came up by the desk, and the two parted around each side of it, coming to flank Spencer.
He looked between them suspiciously. “What is going on?”
“Come on, come on!” Alexander urged, tugging on Spencer’s cuff. Not expecting the touch, Spencer jerked from his son’s grip and knocked his hand into an inkwell. He froze, as did Alexander, but the small boy hadn’t realized what he’d done. “Papa, come on!”
Spencer felt a hand on his shoulder, a delicate hand, and instead of jerking away from that too, he relaxed into the touch. It reminded him that he had promised to try to be a father before being a duke. To put love and affection before duty.
“The ink will be cleaned,” she whispered. “But your son has a surprise for you.” Her voice got louder. “Alexander, do tell your father today’s plans!”
“My plans involve letters and work,” he grumbled, hurrying to cover up the report he’d been reading that bore Radcliffe’s name.
“Tonight, perhaps,” Felicity allowed. “But for now we are—”
“Going on a picnic!” Alexander cried. “So you must hurry! The jam and the cream will go cold. Come on, Papa!”
Several days ago, he had indeed discussed a picnic with Felicity, but when nothing got mentioned, he had thought the concept forgotten. Yet now he looked into bright eyes that lit up with joy. Another tug on his sleeve finally got him to stand, to leave hisdesk, and to follow his son out of the study. With a glance behind at Felicity, he got an approving smile.
Alexander bolted from Bluebell Manor at full speed, trusting Spencer and Felicity to follow him, and Spencer actually found himself jogging behind his son. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to laugh, to run, to truly feel free and let go. So he did.
He sped up until he was unintentionally racing Alexander. Together, they cut through the mowed grass, Spencer’s boots helping him fly easily over the terrain, while Alexander furrowed his face and pumped his arms to keep up.
Felicity’s laughter followed them, and Spencer threw a look back at her, only to be tripped by how the sun caught her hair, turning it burnt orange. Her bonnet ribbons snapped in the breeze as she hurried over to where he had fallen.
“I am fine,” he said quickly before she could ask. Heavens, his face burned. “I am most well. There—there was a stone in my path. I was not looking.”
“No, you were admiring Miss Felicity! I saw you turn to her!” Alexander’s cheerful matter-of-fact tone only made Spencer wish for the ground to open beneath him, but he laughed it off and met Felicity’s gaze. It was not quite shy, but he felt embarrassed for being observed so keenly.
“Well,” Felicity said, “perhaps next time you will see how distracted I get when I spy you working at the dinner table. Your focused face is rather handsome.” And before Spencer could truly process her words or respond, she took off running. “Come on, Alexander! Let us find the best spot for a picnic.”
Further behind, the maids carried the basket, but he didn’t want to trouble them all the way into the woods. Delaying his return to his family, Spencer jogged over to the maids to take the blanket and basket, nodding his thanks.
The brief break gave him a chance to recompose himself, trying not to think too hard about the fact that Felicity looked at him secretly as much as he looked at her.
He realized how he had thought of his son and Felicity as his family. The word had jolted through him in his study when Alexander had come to speak with him. He had cringed away from the word; certain it was not meant for men like him.
But Sophia was a ghost in his past, and she had fallen out of love with him long before that fateful night, and Alexander deserved the blaze of fireworks that Felicity was turning out to be. He deserved a mother and father who would dote on him.
He deserved a mother who did not sneak out to spend her hours meeting men, as Sophia had done, leaving Alexander crying andwaiting for her to come home the following morning. Often, she had not.
Spencer’s darker thoughts cleared by the time he made it to the clearing where Felicity and Alexander were. Immediately, Felicity looked at the basket and moved to take it.
“Here,” she said, “how about I set everything up while you spend a moment alone with Alexander? He was telling me how good he is at spotting wildflowers and knowing their properties. Apparently it is the one thing he has been teaching Mr. Hemming, rather than the other way around.”
There was a mischievous look in her eyes at the easy way she had orchestrated for him and Alexander to bond. Spencer looked at Alexander, who gazed back at him hopefully.
It was a hesitant sort of hope. The hope of a boy who had grown used to be turned down with everything he suggested he and Spencer do together.
So he nodded now. “All right,” he said, and then, after a moment, he murmured, “thank you.”
Spencer held his breath as he let his hand brush hers for a moment longer than necessary when he handed over the basket and blanket. In turn, he let his fingertips ghost over her waist as he passed. He didn’t know what possessed him to initiate thecontact, but he felt a pull toward her. He found he didn’t want to ignore it.
Felicity’s soft intake of breath had him stifling his smile as he walked over to Alexander.
“Well, then, what is this I hear about wildflowers and your proficiency for knowing about them?”
“I bet I can guess more wildflowers than you!” Alexander declared. “I already found a small bunch of them. Come on, let me show you!”
