Page 64 of Matters of a Duke's Heart
She truly thought he wanted her to be Sophia or Helena.
Had he made her feel so insignificant? They had both agreed to a marriage of convenience, and he had thought they had both begun to see it differently. Why was she still so insistent that he had not?
“Papa?”
So lost in his thoughts, he had not heard the study door opening. Tiredly, Spencer looked up to find Alexander shuffling into the room, dragging his feet.
“What is it?”
“I cannot find Miss Felicity anywhere.” Alexander took his place on the chair he had begun to occupy when he visited Spencer in the study. “She promised to teach me translations for wildflowers in the woods. I heard shouting earlier, like when you and Mama used to shout. And then—and then Mama was gone, and she did not like me at all. Does Miss Felicity not like me?”
Spencer struggled to breathe around all the tension and emotion in his chest. It lodged in his ribcage like a physical ache, a fist he could not push off. It all built up: he had failed his son, failed his wife, failed his late wife. Felicity was right. He was a cowardly fool. He had just begun to bridge the distance between himself and Alexander, and now he could only greet him with silence.
After a minute, Alexander did not retreat as he used to.
Instead, he dropped from the chair and came to Spencer’s side. Unexpectedly, he hugged Spencer, and it was only then did he realize he had tears in his eyes. Clinging onto his son, Spencer hugged Alexander right back.
“It is hard to explain,” he whispered, “but Miss Felicity likes you very much, Alexander. She is not like your mama.”
“I hope not,” Alexander mumbled. “I really like her, Papa.”
“I know,” he said. “Me too.”
Chapter 21
“As happy as I am to see you, I am not quite happy of the reason.”
Felicity gazed out from where she was buried in her pillow at her sister’s concerned face.
Bundled in her bedsheets was not the proudest place to fall apart, but she had let herself weep there before her marriage to Spencer; it only seemed apt that she let herself break there during it, too.
“I think we ought to just focus on being back together,” Felicity said, but she couldn’t keep the pain out of her voice.
“Mama is not focusing on that.”
“Mama loves us but cannot ever help focusing on the eyes of the ton.” Her mutter came miserably as she swirled her finger in circles on the pillow. “It is all anyone seems to care about.”
“Felicity,” Daphne murmured, reaching to place her hand on Felicity’s. “You know Mama is already doing damage control. She is stated that if His Grace does not turn up to the ball tonightthen we can claim he is ailed with a minor illness. She is insisting you return in the morning to Bluebell Manor.”
Felicity buried her face in the pillow, wanting everything to go away. She had missed her sister, but she was tired of problems and fixing and answering and doing what was expected versus what she wanted to do.
“I will not return,” she said.
“You cannot stay away from your husband,” Daphne reminded her delicately.
“Then I shall stay in the townhouse.”
“Felicity—”
“No, Daphne,” she groaned. “I am tired. I am hurt, and I want to cry until I am empty, and then I want to sleep. And if Mama is indeed ordering me to attend this infernal ball, then I need my strength.” She flinched as her sister winced. “I am sorry. I do not mean to sound so terrible.”
“Do not worry,” she said quickly, standing up from where she had perched on the end of Felicity’s bed. “I will leave you to rest and will come back to wake you to prepare. Just do not throw a cushion at me.”
“That was one time! And I had experienced my first glass of wine too eagerly.”
Daphne gave a soft laugh, and soon Felicity was left to cry alone in her room, back where she had started her marriage to Spencer.
Her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces, thinking of how anything he could have told her before would have been better than the proprietary insistence. With the way she felt, she didn’t care who saw, or who judged.
