Page 49 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
He knocked on the door. Each rap was sharp and deliberate, betraying none of the urgency burning beneath his composure.
The butler opened the door shortly thereafter, a hint of apprehension crossing his features as he took in Gerard’s stormy expression.
They had expected this. Of course, they had. The hour might have been inappropriate, but Gerard knew the boy was inside, safe with Lady Slyham.
That knowledge did little to temper the fury and worry coiled within him.
He was ushered into the drawing room, his steps heavy and precise, each one echoing slightly against the polished floor.
As the door clicked shut behind him, his eyes found them immediately. Lady Slyham was seated gracefully, calm despite the late hour. Hector sat beside her, small and earnest, as if nothing in the world could rattle him.
Relief battled with frustration in Gerard’s chest. There they were, safe, yet here he stood, late, flustered, and acutely aware of how powerless he felt in that moment against the boy’s independence and Lady Slyham’s steely composure.
“Hector,” he said in a low voice, one that his son was familiar with whenever he was naughty. “Why did you run away, again? Do you really want to lose everyone’s trust? Do you understand that you are disturbingtwohouseholds at this hour?”
Hector’s whole body went rigid, but there was still a quiet defiance there.
Lady Slyham rose before he could answer. “Your Grace, your son is unharmed, as you can see. There was no harm done, and it is no inconvenience to me. This house can be dreary.”
“No harm?” Gerard’s voice rose, sharp and tense. His eyes bored into the woman who had so unsettled him these past weeks. “Noharm? Do you truly believe that, Lady Slyham? If you had not replied to his letter, Hector would never have dared run away the first time. He would never have thought—never haveimagined—that such boldness was permitted!”
“If he is reaching out to a stranger like me, then I wonder,” Lady Slyham retorted, lifting her chin with quiet defiance, “if it is because he does not find the comfort he needs at home.”
Gerard felt a flush rise to his cheeks, anger and indignation knotting in his chest.
How dare she?
“You presume far too much, My Lady,” he ground out. “For someone who spends her days fending off the presumptions of others, you seem most eager to make your own.”
Lady Slyham blinked, unshaken, and tilted her head as if weighing his words.
“Oh, I presume nothing, Your Grace,” she said, her voice laced with restrained fire. “I am merely drawing conclusions from what I have observed in Hector. You may very well be right that I do not know everything about the two of you, but I can tell that he yearns for your attention far more than anyone else’s.”
Gerard thought of why he had been unable to give his son the attention he deserved these past few days, and now the cause was standing right before him.
Perhaps Lady Slyham was right. Perhaps he had pushed Hector toward her, whether intentionally or not.
Hector rose and stepped closer, little fists clenched at his sides.
There had been a time when such gestures would have struck Gerard as endearing. Now, it felt like a warning—his boy was growing too quickly. And perhaps it was his own doing. He had tried so hard not to be like his father, who had ruled the household with an iron fist. Yet, in his fear of repeating the same mistakes, he had swung too far the other way, smothering Hector.
The boy had so few freedoms. He could not ride his pony without Gerard’s or the stable hand’s supervision. Climbing anything was forbidden. Books had become his playground, and reading and writing his companions. It was why he was wise beyond his years, and why his world had shrunk.
“It’s not Lady Slyham’s fault, Papa! You don’t listen to me. You are always occupied with one thing or another and never let me do what I want. She’s the only one who sees that I’m not a little boy anymore and talks to me properly!”
“Hector, enough,” Gerard hissed. Old habits died hard; he still feared losing control of his child. “This behavior is unacceptable. I’m sending you to the country. You need to?—”
“No! I won’t go there!” Hector cried. “If you don’t want me at home, I can stay with Lady Slyham. She’s my friend! My only friend!”
There were no tears in his eyes, yet the raw emotion was unmistakable.
Lady Slyham bent down to smooth his hair, her movements gentle, deliberate.
“Hush now,” she murmured. “Nobody’s sending you anywhere. Feelings are heightened at the moment, but things will be clearer once you’ve both calmed down.”
The tension in Hector’s shoulders melted, and he sagged against her, reaching to hug her as tightly as he could.
Gerard watched them, shocked. He was accustomed to commanding obedience, yet he had never possessed the power to soothe his son as Lady Slyham did.
