Page 39 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
A flurry of pleasantries ensued. Smiles were all out, cheeks aching from effort, teeth grating behind each curt nod. Even the twins stiffened at the subtle way their mother nudged them closer to the Duke.
“You must excuse me, ladies,” the Duke said firmly. “I must pay for my son’s books, and then we must be off.”
“We have other errands!” Hector announced proudly.
“That’s very mature of you,” Lady Grisham praised.
“My governess calls me a young man,” Hector replied with a small smirk.
“You did seem much older,” Wilhelmina murmured, thinking how easily the little boy had wormed himself into her life.
After paying for the books, the Duke and Hector exchanged nods and quietly departed.
Wilhelmina caught a furtive glance from her mother, an unspoken promise that this moment would not go unexamined. A bookshop visit, no matter how mundane, would soon become a matter of inquiry.
“Let’s pay for our books,” she urged Victoria, who had lingered near another shelf. She had left their earlier selection on the counter, along with Victoria’s.
“Oh, of course! I’m done browsing,” Victoria replied, lowering her gaze as she closed her fan slowly, the sparkle in her eyes dimming for just a moment.
“That’s a relief,” Lady Grisham chimed in, her tone probing. “I thought you were planning to use up the allowance for your gowns.”
“I want to,” Victoria muttered, her cheeks coloring slightly.
As the sisters approached the counter, the shopkeeper leaned in, his tone conspiratorial. “Lady Slyham, the Duke of Talleystone has already settled your bill. He said it was his pleasure. Should you wish to add more, you may pay for them separately.”
Wilhelmina’s fingers tightened on her reticule. “Did he now?” she forced out.
“Yes, indeed,” the shopkeeper said dreamily. “Very generous, is it not?”
Victoria’s eyes lit up, and she turned to add another volume, but Wilhelmina caught her arm gently. “Oh no, Vicky. Not this time,” she warned.
Disappointment flashed in Victoria’s eyes, then faded as she accepted her bag of books.
Wilhelmina met her mother’s suspicious gaze.
Had she caught the shopkeeper’s words?
More likely than not.
Wilhelmina had survived the morning without being dragged to a modiste. A small miracle, she thought, glancing down at the smart ensemble she still possessed from when Robert had been alive.
Those clothes, though not the height of fashion, allowed her a measure of dignity and independence. An independence she had learned to cherish after the upheavals of widowhood.
Money was always on her mind. The allowance from the new Earl of Slyham was modest. With no children to inherit and no fortune of her own, she knew her financial security hinged entirely on prudence. Every shilling counted. Every choice, no matter how small, carried weight.
By evening, she was obliged to visit theGazetteer. The familiar, cluttered office smelled faintly of ink and paper, with stacks of correspondence lining the walls and an ever-present tang of beeswax from sealed letters.
She placed a neat pile of envelopes on her publisher’s desk, careful not to scatter the papers like a careless novice.
“These,” she said, slowly lifting the top envelope, “are Lady Silverquill’s replies to the latest letters. She’s been surprisingly amiable as of late, I’m pleased to report.”
“Oh? Has she?” Mr. Finch’s voice carried a hint of curiosity and suspicion that she had come to recognize over many visits.
He adjusted his spectacles over the bridge of his nose and leaned forward, sifting through the stack with careful fingers.
He paused, and Wilhelmina held her breath. He furrowed his brow, his lips pressing together for a moment before he finally looked up. He gave a small, tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“They look excellent, My Lady,” he said, setting the letters aside. “Thankfully, there’s no word from the Duke on my end, and apparently, none on yours either.”
