Page 57 of Matters of a Duke's Heart
“Spencer, do you truly worry over that?” Her words were not intended to judge, but more curious, and worried in her own way.
Spencer shamefully nodded.
When he had not taken her hand, she reached with it, linking their free hands together. Even then, Felicity set down her wine glass, so Spencer did the same. In the candlelight, she looked stunning.
The golden glow caught her green eyes, highlighting the freckles dusting her cheeks and nose. Heavens, his heart thrummed with everything he felt for her. Everything he was terrified to feel.
“To me, you are not cold,” she said. “Perhaps once, but to me, you have become warmth. You have become the embrace I seek every morning, the face I yearn to see when my eyes open. I do not think you are cold at all. You are changed from the man I met in my father’s drawing room. He was brusque and arrogant, if you do not mind me saying. He was a man I cried over thinking I would never find romance with.”
At that, Spencer looked away in shame, but a hand cupping his jaw pulled his gaze back to hers.
“And now I do not think that,” she whispered. “Now, I have begun to see my life as I always envisioned it. I have a husband who listens to me, who is the most handsome man I know, and I have a young boy in my life who makes no two days the same.” She gave a soft laugh at that. “Spencer, I never believed therumors. I have never once felt unsafe around you, and I would never… seek attention elsewhere, either.”
She grimaced as though the mere thought made her terribly uncomfortable.
“How do you know for certain?” He couldn’t help asking.
Felicity only looked at him as though he was foolish. “Because Lady Sophia does not sound like a lady who was true of heart. I believe I am, and… Spencer, we have a lot in common, and the things we do not we are sharing with one another. You have already given me a life I did not think I could have. The life I held out waiting for.”
With the grip she had on his face, she pulled him toward her. His heart skipped a beat, and he inhaled sharply as Felicity moved closer. Her eyes dropped from his own, to his mouth, and then back again.
“You make me lose my wits,” he laughed under his breath, their faces moving closer. “My composure flies out the window when you are near, Felicity.”
“Good,” she whispered, a blush high on her cheeks, and then her mouth was pressed to his, and every worry in Spencer’s mind silenced completely. Sophia had never kissed him voluntarily after their wedding day. Yet Felicity’s mouth parted beneath hisnow, and she kissed like she might never get the chance to do so again.
Inch by inch, Spencer’s walls crumbled, and he didn’t care to stop them.
He let her take anything and everything he had as he cupped her face in return, the wine and the worries forgotten.
Chapter 19
“I am certain you have a valet to do this for you,” Felicity murmured, her fingers brushing against Spencer’s neck. Despite the protests that she had been making for the last five minutes as she tied Spencer’s navy-colored cravat, she rather enjoyed doing this for him.
Or, rather, she enjoyed how close he stood, and how she could smell the oil that he had washed with earlier.
“I do.” His mouth twitched with a smile. “But why call upon him when I can have my wife help me out and stand so close. Besides, I rather like the view from up here.”
It was true he was quite a bit taller than her. Felicity feigned more protests and mock annoyance, but her act could not be maintained when her hands brushed the warm skin of his neck. She couldn’t help but let her touch trail over his sharp jaw.
“I do not believe that is my cravat,” he teased.
“It is not,” she giggled. “Good observation.”
He sighed, but he was grinning at her. Like this, Felicity felt as though she was dancing on air. With her husband in good spirits, and the attraction between them blooming stronger with every day.
“Will you dance with me tonight at the Farriers’ ball?” Felicity asked quietly, half fearing he would say no out of embarrassment or reluctance. After all, they had not danced together a great deal, and he had already expressed his dislike of it.
Outside of the requirements he would have seen through to court a lady, Spencer had no obligation to dance at a ball.
“Of course I will,” he told her simply, as though the opposite was offensive to even consider. His hand slipped around her waist, and she laughed harder as she tried to keep her grip on his cravat. “I will be honored to show you off.”
She blushed, sliding her hands down from his collar to the lapels on his tailcoat, smoothing it out. Tonight, they were in similar blue colors—with Spencer dressed in navy, and Felicity in a gown she could only think of as being the color of Spencer’s eyes.
Gazing up at him, she dared to land a peck on his mouth. That was a new thing—the easy, casual affection and gestures. She could tell Spencer was not used to it, but he never pushed her away or looked uneasy.
Felicity herself was still adjusting to the fact that they had developed into this sort of level of comfort with one another, that either of them even felt inclined to be close.
“I have been thinking,” she murmured, “one of these days we should go back to the Vauxhall Gardens.”
