Page 53 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
“Is-Is something the matter, Your Grace?” she stammered, her fingers tightening on the edge of her chair.
The Duke didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze lingered, slow and deliberate, and she felt a flush creep up her neck.
“I have not seen your hair loose like this before,” he noted, his voice rougher than before.
Her breath hitched. She had not expected the timbre of his voice to tug at her in such a way.
“Well,” she replied, trying to sound dismissive, though her cheeks betrayed her, “you are in my house at this hour. Obviously, I cannot parade around in my robe outside. People are already scandalized by my very presence. Imagine how they’d react if my hair were not pulled into a prim chignon.”
The Duke stepped closer. Just a few paces, but each one made the air between them crackle with tension.
Wilhelmina did not feel suffocated. She felt… noticed.Seen.
His eyes traced the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck, the fall of her hair. His gaze, so intent, made her chest tighten.
“Do you think,” he murmured, almost to himself, “that you know the effect you have on others, Lady Slyham?”
Her heart skipped a beat. She wanted to step back, to remind herself that this was the man proposing a marriage of convenience, her future husband in every sense but desire, but her feet were rooted to the floor.
Her breath hitched. “What… what do you mean by that?” she asked quietly.
His gaze held hers steadily. “You have a way of… being,” he said carefully, as if weighing each word. “A way that makes it impossible not to notice you. Not just your presence, but also your mind, your thoughts, the way you carry yourself. Even when I try to focus elsewhere, you linger in my mind.”
Her fingers tightened around the hem of her robe. “Lingering… how?”
He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, though the distance remained. “Like a question I cannot answer. Like a thought that will not leave me. You draw my attention, My Lady, whether I wish it or not. And it is… unsettling to admit that.”
She swallowed, heat rising to her cheeks. “I… I am not accustomed to this,” she whispered. “No one has ever… looked at me this way.”
“No one?” He tilted his head, his eyes darkening in a way that made her heart stutter. “Not ever your first husband?”
She straightened, realizing that she could give away Robert’s secret any moment.
“Robert was… different,” she offered, careful not to reveal too much.
“So am I,” the Duke said, slow and deliberate, and the air between them seemed to thrum. “Know this, Lady Slyham: I will be a husband in every sense of the word, even if our marriage is one of convenience. I will see to your comfort, your safety, and your place in my household. I will make sure that no one undermines you or makes you feel small while you live under my roof.”
Wilhelmina felt a different heat rise in her cheeks at his words.
His proximity, the steel in his voice, it was… unnerving, yet impossible to ignore.
“I will provide stability, security, a home where you are respected and where Hector is loved,” he continued, stepping close enough that she could feel the faint warmth radiating fromhim. “But… I will not tolerate anyone taking liberties with what is mine. With what I—whatwe—care about.”
Her pulse thudded in her ears. She could see it in his eyes now, the flicker of something sharp, protective, almost feral in its intensity.
He tilted his head slightly, studying her reaction, and before either of them realized it, the distance between them had shrunk.
“And I mean it all,” he added, his voice dropping further, “I intend to keep you safe, My Lady. No one will touch you. Not unless they seek their ruin.”
Her lips parted before she could stop herself. “Your Grace…”
“Call me Gerard,” he said, his breath brushing her cheek.
She could feel the warmth emanating from him; it contrasted sharply with the cool air of the room.
She shivered, though not from the cold. “I…”
He leaned in just enough that she could see the faint tension in his jaw, the way his eyes lingered on her lips.
