Page 1 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
Chapter One
“Oh, Your Grace,” cooed the irritating Miss Henrietta Sedgewick, a young blonde woman with wide eyes and a disappointingly predictable agenda. “I always tell my friends that an invitation to Branmere House is worth everything. It’s divine! You must have hired several people to care for the gardens. Do you oversee the work yourself?”
“No,” Gerard Langmirth, the Duke of Talleystone, replied.
“And your dear son! Lord Hector must be a bright boy! I’ve heard from some friends that he’s quite an artist for his age.”
“Hmm.”
Gerard could not understand why women still made an effort to catch his attention. He’d been widowed for six years now, but his energy was mostly focused on his son.
Marriage? He’d already failed at his first one. He didn’t like to dwell on things he did badly at.
It was a beautiful day, the sun beating down on the manicured lawns of Branmere House. The place somehow smelled of lemon cakes and wild roses, instead of grief and stone. Guests were streaming in with grins on their faces. Some were already playing a friendly game of Pall Mall.
For Gerard, the gathering was merely for the sake of meeting with his business partners, some of whom came with their wives and some with their daughters. These men would have thought the whole afternoon a successful enterprise, but Gerard had never been like most men.
He stood near the rose arbor, straight and stiff. He surveyed everyone with a visible disdain that hosts should not be wearing. However, he knew why several giggling debutantes and ladies on their second or third Seasons were walking back and forth in front of him.
Their laughter was too bright. Their fans were colorful and fluttering, as if they were part of some dance. Miss Sedgewick, on his side, didn’t even bother to be subtle. Even the way she leaned in was conspiratorial, as if the two of them were sharing a secret.
But there was none.
It was also a relief that her father stood only a couple of feet away from her, for she would have to maintain decorum.
“It must be quite lonely, though, Your Grace, to live in such a great house. The nights must be so quiet,” she added softly, her voice lowering at the last word.
It was too much. If she were his sister, he would have advised her to cease her attempts. Now, Gerard could not help but raise an eyebrow.
“Your Grace, I dare say,” she continued boldly, lowering her voice further, “some members of the ton had been speculating about certain bachelors in need of companionship. I didn’t know that there were such a number of lonely men, when many young women remain unmarried. I wonder if you’ve read Lady Silverquill’s column as of late. There was one letter that caught my eye.”
“Henrietta,” Lord Ripton, her father, hissed before turning to Gerard. “She means no harm, Talleystone.” He gave him an enthusiastic clap on the back, to which Gerard glared. “We merely believe that men like you should not be alone forever.”
A few more guests crowded Gerard, much to his dismay. They might have been eavesdropping all along, and somehow the mention of Lady Silverquill’s name had prompted a few to join in the conversation.
“The letter was quite charming,” Lady Matilda, the daughter of another business associate, chimed in. “Men are often not expected to express themselves, but that letter proves us all wrong.”
“Such sensitivity from such a young boy,” a third lady whispered, looking like she would swoon anytime.
“Now, perhaps His Grace would believe what I had been saying all along,” Miss Sedgewick said smugly.
“We seem to have focused on this Lady Silverquill,” Gerard commented coldly. “What do you all think are the merits of such a column?”
The young ladies chuckled nervously. They retreated a few steps, glancing at each other as if wondering which one had done something wrong.
At that very moment, Samuel Wenman, the Marquess of Berkhead, sauntered over.
About time. Gerard was getting swarmed by business partners, who were not really concentrating on business, and their daughters, who were looking for good matches.
He would not tolerate such matchmaking schemes.
Samuel grinned like a wolf about to attack the hens, but he was harmless. Very much so.
“Ah, I strut and sparkle like a peacock, while you just glower, and still the ladies flock to you. Come, my darlings, let’s get some air. His Grace is starting to look a touch bilious. Jealousy has never suited his complexion.”
“Samuel,” Gerard warned, glaring at his friend.
“He’s not nearly as fearsome as he pretends,” Samuel told the young ladies. “Quite the opposite. He can be positively charming. Why, see the way his eyebrows are conspiring in the middle of his forehead? That’s his expression of pure delight.”
