Page 26 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
Gerard felt a spark of interest. Clearly, she was testing him.
But to what end?
“I have, My Lady,” he replied, his voice low. “Wilberg is perfectly capable, but his compositions can be… indulgent. They linger on melancholy until it becomes almost deliberate. A kind of sorrow that feels manufactured, rather than felt.”
Lady Slyham arched an eyebrow, her skepticism faint but unmistakable. “So you prefer cheerful music?”
Gerard’s lips curved, almost imperceptibly. “Not necessarily cheerful. I admire sincerity. Whether the music soars or mourns, it must be genuine. Anything else feels hollow. Pandering to taste rather than truth.”
Their eyes met, a spark of recognition passing silently between them. There was something in her gaze—an intelligence, a challenge—that made him unusually at ease.
For the first time that evening, he felt no need to pretend. The bustle of the room faded around them, leaving only their quiet scrutiny of one another.
“Mhm,” she murmured, an enigmatic smile on her lips. “Then sincerity is a virtue you value not only in music, but also in… most things, Your Grace?”
“Above most,” he admitted without hesitation, letting the words linger between them.
Lady Slyham opened her mouth, then closed it, as if weighing her next words.
But before she could speak, their host stepped forward, clapping his hands to draw attention. He gestured grandly, directing the assembled guests toward a section of the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “some guests have departed early, but for those who remain, we have prepared a special performance for the most avid music enthusiasts. Please, find your seats. The special performance will begin shortly.”
Guests shifted and murmured, filling the remaining chairs. Gerard, scanning the room, realized with a faint start that the seat beside him was vacant.
Until the woman whose presence had already unsettled him in the most compelling way approached.
Lady Slyham slid gracefully into the seat beside him. She offered a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that seemed equal parts challenge and invitation.
“You know,” she said softly, just for him, “if you are going to criticize music so thoroughly, I might start to worry that nothing pleases you at all.”
“Perhaps,” he muttered under his breath, “nothing pleases me as much as a person who doesn’t pander.”
Her lips curved. “I should warn you, Your Grace,” she whispered, “I do not pander either.”
“Then we may be in dangerous agreement,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on hers as the musicians tuned their instruments.
The music began, and Gerard found himself unexpectedly captivated. The quartet played with precision and warmth; Lord Edgecomb had not exaggerated.
Lady Slyham, seated beside him, was entirely absorbed in the music, though not with the rigid poise of a lady trained for display. One elbow rested lightly on the armrest, her fingers drumming almost imperceptibly on the wood, and her shoulders hunched in a way that suggested thoughtfulness rather than formality.
Gerard studied her profile, noting her slightly untamed hairline, the faint crease of concentration between her eyebrows, and felt a rare stir of intrigue.
She was younger and far more striking than he had imagined Lady Silverquill to be, yet it was not conventional beauty that drew him in; it was the unusual, arresting way she seemed engrossed in the music, untouched by Society’s expectations.
She caught him staring. Instead of the flirty or amused look he might have expected, her gaze sharpened into a glare. Then, to his further astonishment, she leaned slightly closer.
“Do not even think of courting either of my sisters,” she warned, her voice low and firm. “They are still very young. Andoff-limits.”
Gerard’s eyes flicked to the stage, though damned if he could retain any details of the performance. His focus was elsewhere.
“You presume a great deal, My Lady,” he murmured. “I am quite aware your mother is far more invested in arranging matches than the young ladies themselves. And, if I recall, your column gave me a surprising number of… options.”
“Good,” she said, softening slightly. “I will do everything I can to keep you away from them.”
“And what, pray tell, do you mean by that, Lady Slyham?” he asked. “You are meant to assist me in finding a match—surelyyou do not think I would target your sisters? I have no such inclination.”
She allowed herself a small smirk. “I cannot imagine either of them with someone so rigid and… unyielding.”
