Page 13 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
“No, Lord Hector. He won’t listen to Lady Silverquill because her letter humiliated him in front of the ton. However, he might listen to Lady Slyham,”—she pointed at herself—“for she has not wronged him.”
Not yet, at least.
Wilhelmina had no idea what Hector’s father was like.
The boy drew in a deep breath, his eyebrows knitting together as though he were weighing something far greater than his years. Then, with the gravity of a little gentleman, he gave a solemn nod.
“I promise not to tell anyone about your secret, My Lady,” he said politely, making her smile.
At that moment, what felt like half the staff came rushing in. Leading the small commotion were two women—one younger,one older—whose expressions hovered somewhere between panic and relief.
Wilhelmina guessed, with some certainty, that they were the governess and the housekeeper.
“My Lord!” they cried in unison, rushing forward to gather the boy in their arms.
“Thank heavens you’re home! We were worried sick!” the housekeeper continued.
Wilhelmina chuckled softly, watching the fussing and gentle scolding unfold. The scene lingered for some moments until their eyes landed on her. They stiffened instantly.
“Oh! We’re terribly sorry, My Lady,” the housekeeper said quickly, bowing her head in apology. “We did not see you there.”
“I understand,” Wilhelmina replied. “Lord Hector is your priority.”
The butler returned with a tea tray piled with pastries, cheeses, sweet cakes, and other things that she had to squint to identify.
“Pray forgive the humble spread, My Lady,” he said with solemnity. “We were not prepared for visitors at this hour and had to hastily gather what we could.”
This is a humble spread?
Her lips twitched, and she nodded once. “It should suffice, thank you.”
“Mr. Elton, have you alerted His Grace?” the housekeeper asked.
“Yes, Mrs. Everly,” the butler replied with a slight bow. “He is on his way. It would be best to give Her Ladyship some privacy before his arrival. His Grace has been quite anxious, having searched all over Mayfair for Lord Hector.”
Wilhelmina’s smile faltered, her heart pounding fiercely in her chest. A sharp reply to an adult’s letter was one thing, but this was altogether a different thing.
It wasn’t the Duke who had written to her, but his son, and now the boy had vanished for hours. She could already picture the Duke’s furious glare, ready to reprimand her for setting the city ablaze with his search.
She squared her shoulders, steeling herself for the storm to come. The Duke’s weariness and anger stirred a memory of her father’s temper—a warning that this confrontation would be far from pleasant.
“Papa is coming. Please, talk to Papa, My Lady,” Hector pleaded, clutching at Wilhelmina’s skirts so suddenly that she started.
“Lord Hector, do give Her Ladyship some space,” the governess urged gently, trying to coax the boy back.
“Tell them you need to speak with Papa about—” Hector began again, but Wilhelmina shot him a pleading look.
Mr. Finch’s earlier warning echoed in her mind. She was no coward, yet she understood all too well how this would appear to the Duke. Her carefully guarded secret was in the hands of a child who might unknowingly wield it to his advantage. Hector was sweet, but he was still very young.
Suddenly, the loud thud of approaching footsteps shattered the moment.
There he was. Tall, formidable, and undeniably regal. Wilhelmina had never met him in person, but she had no doubt about who this man was.
The Duke of Talleystone.
Fury blazed in his eyes as they locked onto her.
“Who are you?” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. “And what are you doing with my son?”
