Page 110 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
“He’ll look for you,” he said, his voice thick with desire.
He rolled his hips against her once more, deliberately pressing against that bundle of nerves that needed attention. It was her turn to groan.
“We have time,” she promised, more to herself than to him.
She tapped his back in reassurance, loving the hard muscles there.
“Tonight,” he vowed.
Her eyes darkened, and she nodded.
They hurriedly rose and put the rest of their clothes back on as they heard Hector’s footsteps approach the door.
“Tonight,” she echoed.
Epilogue
FIVE MONTHS LATER
“No shouting the lines,” Wilhelmina whispered, leaning close so her mouth brushed against Hector’s ear. “You can mouth them if you like.”
“I’m mouthing!” Hector shot back, bouncing in his seat with glee.
Wilhelmina chuckled softly, resisting the urge to correct him. He looked so utterly delighted, eyes bright and sparkling, cheeks flushed with excitement. She couldn’t bring herself to take that joy away.
Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur, Hector whispered, “See? Not a sound coming from me.”
“You said ‘not a sound’ a few times,” Gerard drawled, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow, teasing. Hector considered the problem carefully, then clamped his mouth shut, pantomiming zipping it closed.
Wilhelmina tried to stifle her laughter, her hand pressed over her lips. Gerard’s hand found hers on Hector’s seat, warm and steady, thumb tracing a gentle line across her knuckles. Even as the actors moved across the stage in a whirlwind of magic and tempest, that small, quiet connection grounded her.
“Oooh! I know what’s going to happen!” Hector whispered, his voice full of eager anticipation. “It’s when the ship tilts!”
Gerard shifted, withdrawing his hand and leaning back, mock stern. “Sit back, my boy. We should not spoil the play for everyone.”
For the rest of the performance, Hector sat rigid, vibrating with anticipation, mouthing his lines with precision. He knew Prospero’s opening speech by heart, and each phrase carried the thrill of mastery.
Wilhelmina’s eyes lingered on him more than the stage, marveling at how absorbed he was, at the wonder etched on his face.
Occasionally, she stole glances at Gerard. He was stern, yes, but with Hector, every line of his body softened. He was gentleness itself, a protective harbor.
When the curtain fell and applause thundered through the theater, Hector leapt to his feet, clapping louder than anyone else. Wilhelmina caught the indulgent smiles of the other patrons, who, for a brief moment, delighted in the smallest audience member’s joy.
“I hope we can watch it again tomorrow! Next week?” Hector pleaded, eyes wide and earnest. “I almost had Miranda’s speech perfect, except the very end.”
Wilhelmina smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He knew exactly how to tug at her heart. Gerard’s amused glance reminded her that Hector had mastered the art of getting his way without ever raising his voice.
“I believe you’ve recited most of the lines to the footmen,” Gerard teased, drawing a scowl from Hector.
“I only recited the shorter ones, Papa!” Hector protested, arms crossed, chin high.
“We have dinner to attend, darling,” Wilhelmina said, bending to straighten his cravat. “Aunt Marianne has some sumptuous treats waiting for you. Then we shall talk of another theater visit. What do you think?”
“Oh! We must hurry!” Hector cried, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Gerard’s mouth twitched, suppressing a laugh, as the three of them made their way toward Marianne’s house.
“You’re late,” Marianne greeted them, though her warm smile erased any admonition.
