Page 58 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
It was then that her mother glided toward her, her skirts rustling, her face pinched with displeasure.
“The whole affair is too quick, daughter. Or should I say,Your Grace?” Lady Grisham’s voice rang out loudly. “Even widows ought to have a proper courtship. A season at the very least, so that everyone can observe the progress. Marrying with such haste will trigger rumors. And rumors, you can be sure, will not be kind.”
Her mother’s indignation swelled so loudly that Wilhelmina scarcely needed to answer. Indeed, it hardly mattered what she said. She had long since learned that her mother’s disapproval was inexhaustible and would burn itself out, whether met with argument or silence.
So she chose silence. She let the torrent pass, her countenance calm, though her pulse quickened beneath the weight of her mother’s words.
A gentle touch on her elbow rescued her from the storm. She turned and found Marianne and Elizabeth standing beside her, their faces full of concern. Their expressions touched her in a way that her mother’s scolding never could.
“How are you, really?” Elizabeth asked softly, her eyes searching Wilhelmina’s face with sisterly earnestness. “I feel like Daniel and Lady Grisham’s… inputs must have rattled you, if at least a little.”
“I am fine. And I somewhat expected those,” Wilhelmina replied with a small shrug, attempting nonchalance. “This marriage is not what many imagine. It is not…” She lowered her voice. “It is not a love match. It is for Hector’s sake. He is such a dear boy. I like him very much. He reminds me of Victoria.”
As if summoned by his name, Hector’s laughter rang out across the room, bright and unrestrained. He stood with Victoria, the two of them deep in animated conversation, their hands flying as they recounted stories, each trying to outshine the other.
Wilhelmina’s lips curled into a smile. The plan was working. The boy was happy. And upon seeing his joy, she felt a measure of satisfaction that steadied her.
“He is spirited, yes,” Elizabeth whispered, her gaze warm on Hector. “He will need your guidance, Mina. I remember what it was like when Victoria was his age. She was a handful.”
“Tell me about it,” Marianne muttered, no doubt recalling the infamous occasion when Victoria had slipped away to watch the hunt, where she had first met Dominic, her husband.
For a while, the three sisters watched the younger ones with a wistful silence, as though looking back on their lost girlhood.
“Oh,” Marianne murmured, tilting her head. “Are you quite certain of your arrangement? One may begin with duty, yes, but friendship sometimes grows into more. And Mina, shouldn’t you call him by his name now? He is your husband.”
In fact, the Duke’s name hovered on the tip of Wilhelmina’s tongue. She recalled, with sudden clarity, the moments after he had proposed to her. He had told her quite directly that she must use his given name. He had asked for hers in return.
It was a curious kind of intimacy, that simple exchange, and yet it was all they had allowed themselves.
Beyond that, little had been spoken about what their days might hold. Their union was never meant to be more than a shield: protection for her from dwindling prospects, and a mother figure for Hector. That had been the deal.
And yet…
“We will speak of it soon,” Wilhelmina replied. “He is a reasonable man. I expect he will wish to lay out the details of our life together.”
Elizabeth bit her lip, hesitation plain in her eyes. “What about children of your own?” she whispered, almost scandalized by the notion.
“Not everyone desires offspring, Lizzie,” Wilhelmina said firmly.
But even as the reassurance left her lips, it rang hollow in her ears.
The conversation dwindled, and Wilhelmina allowed herself to be drawn toward Hector’s and Victoria’s laughter once more. Yet this time, her gaze landed on another figure.
The Duke was standing at a distance, watching his son with quiet intensity. His eyes flashed with unmistakable pride. The sight of his warmth and devotion focused fully on the boy struck her unexpectedly.
And before she could check herself, a strange longing welled up within her—that one day, her husband might look upon her with the same light in his eyes, and more.
Chapter Seventeen
“Shall I lead you to your bedchamber now, Your Grace?” Mrs. Everly asked.
The housekeeper stood with her hands folded in front of her, a ring of keys dangling from them.
Wilhelmina liked her immediately. She’d met her once before, and the housekeeper always displayed patience and care.
She had been curious about what happened next. The last of the guests had departed, but their well-wishes still rang in her ears. It was not unpleasant, but perhaps more dreamlike, especially now that the halls were quiet.
“I would like that, Mrs. Everly. Thank you,” she replied gratefully, thinking that at that very moment, the older woman was no longer just a housekeeper, but also a gatekeeper to her new life.
