Page 28 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
The private room smelled faintly of tobacco and old leather, but the quiet suited Gerard’s racing mind. Both men seemed to carry a residual charge from the evening’s events, though for very different reasons.
“So,” Samuel began, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he leaned back in his chair. “How riveting was your chat with Lady Slyham? Worth half of London whispering about you, I presume.”
Gerard’s jaw tightened. “We discussed music,” he said flatly, his eyes narrowing.
“Music, is it?” Samuel’s lips curled into a wide grin. “Curious. Because from where I sat, it seemed the subject had a way of making a man appear as though he wished to devour the lady seated beside him.”
“You see too much,” Gerard scoffed. “You always see too much. The conversation was perfectly innocent.”
“Better to see too much than too little, my friend,” Samuel countered, slowly swirling the brandy in his glass.
Gerard leaned back, his gaze distant. “Lady Slyham is a widow,” he said deliberately.
And yet Samuel seemed to catch the question in his tone.
His eyebrow rose. “Yes. And not one with a… pristine reputation, from what I hear. Her late husband was well-liked. Charming, even. And yet other ladies seem to resent her. Perhaps it’s because she captured him in a way none of them could. Are you interested in Lady Slyham?”
“Of course not,” Gerard huffed, though the edge of irritation could not entirely mask something darker beneath. “Widows are off-limits. They carry burdens that I will not inherit. Not that I am in any mind to remarry, for love or otherwise.”
Samuel leaned forward, suddenly looking serious. “You speak as if the past has taught you caution, yet the facts remain. You were far more attentive to her than to any other lady in the room tonight. Perhaps you are denying more than just interest.”
Gerard’s hand tightened around his glass. “I am not,” he said curtly.
And yet, as he spoke, the lie rang faintly in the air between them.
The truth was stubborn, clinging. He had felt it—an unfamiliar stir of fascination, an unexpected pull to a widow, to such a feisty woman.
Samuel’s grin returned, slow and knowing. “Ah. Denial. That, my friend, is always the first sign that a man has met his match.”
Gerard made a sound that was closer to a growl than a laugh, and he drained the remaining brandy in his glass. “Match or not, I am done with all of that. Never again.”
Samuel’s eyes sparkled, and he leaned back to study him. “We will see, Your Grace. We will see. The heart is seldom obedient, no matter how many rules the mind imposes.”
Gerard said nothing, but the slight unease in his chest betrayed him. Samuel’s words, always sly, had a way of skimming the truth from his carefully guarded thoughts.
He would not admit it aloud, but Lady Slyham had left an impression.
One he could not easily shake.
Chapter Seven
“—and then she said, ‘My Lord, if you believe this is your best idea for a proposal, I will have to decline on behalf of all the women in England!’”
Victoria’s words rang across Hyde Park, unapologetically loud, drawing glances from a few passersby.
Wilhelmina had long grown used to her sister’s boisterous nature, but even so, it never failed to unsettle her.
Victoria strutted ahead with careless confidence, her arms swinging, her laughter bright and daring.
Walking beside them, Daniel choked on his laughter, while Wilhelmina allowed herself a quiet grin.
The joke wasn’t particularly funny, but Victoria’s unrestrained energy made it so. Even Daphne had to cover her mouth, though a small giggle escaped despite her efforts.
“Victoria,” Lady Grisham warned, fanning herself with exaggerated urgency, “you are far too loud. Everyone is staring, and that is not proper, especially for a young lady awaiting a proposal.”
“Why shouldn’t I talk about a true story like that failed proposal?” Victoria asked, feigning innocence.
“You just admitted it was true.” Lady Grisham sniffed as if she had smelled something foul. “It is not your story to tell. Best keep it quiet.”
