Page 6 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
“That’s not what I asked,” Elizabeth said gently.
“I’m fine, Lizzie,” Wilhelmina replied, reaching for her sister’s hand with a faint smile. “Truly. You must believe me.”
“You do know it’s all right to grieve still? That your pain is real and valid?”
“Yes,” Wilhelmina uttered, her voice low. “He was my husband. And more than that, he was my best friend. Aside from you and the girls, of course.”
Though the words were clipped, a smile touched her lips. Thoughts of Robert often did that, though they carried bitterness too.
She had loved him. She still did. And she had never stopped wondering why someone would want him dead.
Elizabeth looked as if she wanted to say more, to pry deeper, but stopped herself.
Perhaps everyone in the family had noticed Wilhelmina wasn’t grieving in the way Society expected her to. Perhaps Lady Farnmont’s barbs weren’t so far from the truth.
Perhaps they were all beginning to suspect that she was not simply mourning a man, but preparing to fight back against a world that had never made room for women like her.
Suddenly, the door to the teashop banged open. This time, it wasn’t a hush that followed, but a ripple of energy that burst down the aisles and straight to their table.
“Mina!” a voice cried.
Victoria—one of Wilhelmina’s younger twin sisters—came bounding through the room, her dark blonde curls flying andher cheeks flushed with excitement. She had always been the tempest in their family.
Wilhelmina barely had time to blink before she was wrapped in a fierce hug.
“Calm yourself, Vicky,” Elizabeth chided, tapping the empty seat beside her.
Panting slightly from the run, Victoria only tightened her hold. “I missed you! I have so many stories bursting inside of me!”
“My little storm,” Wilhelmina murmured fondly, though a pang hit her chest as she realized that Victoria, just eighteen, was now of an age to be ushered toward marriage.
As if to restore balance to her twin’s whirlwind, Daphne entered the teashop with quiet poise, her walk deliberate, her chin high, her gloved hands folded. The picture of composed elegance.
“You weren’t supposed to run indoors,” she said, her tone soft but chastising.
“You’re only cross because you lost the race from the carriage,” Victoria replied triumphantly, grinning. “And you always lose.”
“I wasn’t racing you,” Daphne insisted as she took the seat beside Wilhelmina, folding her arms with delicate precision.
Just as conversation began to bubble again, a male voice broke through with dry amusement. “So, this is where the noise is coming from. I swear I could hear Victoria from outside.”
Wilhelmina turned to see her half-brother, Daniel, sauntering toward them with a crooked smile.
“You’ve just gathered us all here, Mina,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “We’ve missed you.”
“Sit with us, then.” Wilhelmina rose to embrace him. “Let me collect you, too.”
As their table filled with chatter and laughter, Wilhelmina felt a warmth spread through her chest. Surrounded by her siblings, she began to feel more like herself again—less a grieving widow and more simply Mina.
“You’ve missed so much, Mina!” Victoria exclaimed.
“She was in mourning,” Daphne reminded, her voice edged with disapproval.
“Well, I’d hoped she’d join us at the last dinner party Mother hosted,” Victoria continued, undeterred. “There was this lord with a ridiculous name. What was it again, Daphne? Something Tree-whatever?”
“Trevelyan,” Daphne answered, sipping her tea delicately.
“He was horrid,” Victoria declared. “He lectured me on what ladies should and shouldn’t read. Imagine! I never even asked for his opinion. Apparently, novels rot the brain, but I suspect he was speaking from experience.”
