Page 32 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
“You move through the corridor like a phantom,” she commented softly, without turning to him.
“While you vanished like one,” he retorted. “I wasn’t certain if you wanted to meet me, or if you really needed time on your own.”
Lady Slyham finally turned to him. A nearby wall sconce illuminated her face. “Why did you follow me, Your Grace? Did you suspect any of the things you mentioned?”
“I saw you flee without your sister. Why would you walk here on your own? Why did they let you?”
“I told them I won’t be long,” she said, stepping back.
Gerard responded by stepping forward. He didn’t say anything, just watched her. He wondered why he was compelled to follow a woman who had given him so much trouble recently.
“How did it go with the ladies at the musicale?” she asked.
“It was tedious,” he replied, frowning.
“Mhm,” she murmured, rubbing her chin with her thumb and forefinger. “If I knew any better, Lady Silverquill would suggest throwing your own event. Something large. That way, you can excuse yourself from anyone you dislike—claim pressing duties. What do you think?”
Gerard groaned. He had hosted an event not long ago. Young ladies had found ways to hover near him. Not for him, certainly. None of them truly cared.
“Alargerevent,” Lady Slyham added, almost reading his mind.
“That sounds like a circle of hell,” he muttered. “Hosting more people.”
“Remember why we’re discussing this,” she said. “It’s for Hector. He wants you to try.”
“Fine,” he sighed, resigned. “For Hector’s sake.”
“Fantastic! Lady Silverquill would be thrilled to write glowing remarks about you, should a correspondent mention it.”
“Don’t you dare do that,” he warned. “I already attract the wrong kind of attention.”
“Very well,” she conceded. “How about a garden party, larger than usual? Don’t limit it to business associates and their families. Your grounds are expansive enough that it won’t feel crowded. And if you wish to escape…” She paused, her lips twitching. “You could always inspect a hedge or trim a bush.”
“I do not trim bushes, Lady Slyham,” he said firmly.
“Then make a list of reasons to escape.”
“Do you really think that will work?”
“You can certainly try.”
“That is not how I plan to spend my days—coming up with ways to escape.”
“But that is precisely what you have been doing all along,” she countered. “It seems that company makes you deeply uncomfortable.”
“Do I look uncomfortable now?” he asked, stepping closer.
They stood only inches apart. Gerard could feel her warmth, smell the faint scent of her perfume.
“I… I am not certain,” Lady Slyham stammered.
Her eyes flicked to his mouth. He did the same, captivated by her lips—soft, pink, impossibly inviting.
For a suspended moment, the world around them disappeared. Then?—
Footsteps. Quick, light, purposeful.
Lady Slyham’s eyes widened, a hint of panic flashing in them. Gerard schooled his features into calm.
