Page 60 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
Every room held something interesting, and she knew that she would have to visit some of them more often than the rest.
The grand drawing room with its glittering chandeliers was beautiful, and would entice any guest to explore further, but Wilhelmina didn’t think her new husband was the sort who enjoyed playing host. Unbidden, she wondered if his first wife ever did.
From the wide-open spaces, they moved to corridors that might as well have been a maze. The townhouse she and Robert shared was grand, but nothing like this.
“I’ve been with the family for decades. When I first arrived here, I got lost a few times in these corridors,” Mrs. Everly confided. “Then again, I was also nervous and eager to please.”
“Oh, you have a good reason, Mrs. Everly. I may need assistance during my first week or so,” Wilhelmina said, chuckling.
They moved swiftly towards the dining room then.
“This is the dining room—you already know it. However, His Grace may want to eat breakfast with you and Lord Hector in the morning room,” the housekeeper continued.
“I understand,” Wilhelmina murmured.
“You’ve begun without me!” a boyish voice suddenly called out from behind them.
Hector half-skipped, half-jogged down the corridor, all restless limbs and boundless energy, the sort of vitality Wilhelmina could only dream of on such a warm afternoon. His hair stood on end in wild tufts, his cheeks flushed with exertion, and he grinned as though the very air conspired to amuse him.
“That is quite shameful, Mrs. Everly!” he declared with mock severity.
Wilhelmina turned, startled by the reproach, only to see Mrs. Everly’s fond smile.
“Lord Hector,” the housekeeper chided, with equal measures of affection and reproof.
“I am only seven, Mrs. Everly. You are meant to smile when I catch you at mischief, not scold me.”
The housekeeper arched her eyebrows. “All the same, Lord Hector. Aren’t you expected elsewhere? I thought Miss Elliot was conducting lessons this very hour.”
“Mhm. Perhaps,” Hector admitted, rocking on his heels. “But I suspected you were giving dull descriptions. The Duchess ought to hear the true history of this house.”
Wilhelmina’s breath caught at the words.The Duchess.She had not expected to hear it from his lips so soon. It sounded fitting. Too fitting. And yet…
Was there not a small, shameful corner of her heart that had longed to hear another title from him?
Mama.
She knew better than to expect it, for the child had a mother. Still, the disappointment surprised her with its sharpness.
She disguised it with a small laugh, though the sound felt dangerously indulgent. She was already learning that Hector thrived on encouragement.
“And what true stories must I hear from you, my boy?” she asked, bending a little toward him.
“Perfect!” Hector clapped his hands together. “Look where we stand. This very hall was once the scene of a despicable disaster. At least, Papa called it despicable. I was racing my hound Leon, and… well, Leon outpaced me, as usual. I tried to gain an advantage by rounding the corner, but I crashed into a cabinet full of porcelain instead. The race ended when everything fell down in a grand smash. I dare say that the cabinet made the louder noise.”
“Ah.” Mrs. Everly tutted, her lips twitching even though she tried to look severe. “That is what we call shameful, My Lord.”
The boy’s delight was so stark that Wilhelmina could not help but be charmed. He seemed to carry the house’s memories as one might carry marbles in a pocket, turning each over, careless but affectionate. Already she saw how his stories stitched themselves into her mind; she suspected she would never again pass a corridor without remembering his lively commentary.
Indeed, the house itself seemed to become more than a collection of walls and chambers; it breathed, became a character in its own right, with Hector as its irrepressible narrator. She could not help but wonder whether his father, if pressed, would share his own tales. She imagined they would be of a different sort—solemn, controlled, precise.
“Shall we conclude with the gardens, Your Grace?” Mrs. Everly suggested, a note of gentle authority in her voice. “A breath ofevening air may prove restorative after so many turns through the house.”
Wilhelmina nodded her head. “Yes. I can imagine one might feel stifled by so many corridors. Yet you have made it more than a house, Mrs. Everly. You and Hector. I thank you for it.”
They stepped outside. The first hints of evening streaked the sky, and the air held that peculiar freshness of the day’s end.
After the heaviness of the halls, the fragrance wrapped around her like a benediction: rose, lavender, orange blossoms, mingling with the sweetness of clipped hedges. She had expected an ancient estate to smell of dust and damp stone, the mustiness of centuries clinging to its bones. Instead, it smelled of care, oflifewithin.
