Page 63 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
Chapter Eighteen
“Is he coming or not?”
Wilhelmina was whispering to herself like a fool.
Instead of burrowing beneath the covers at this hour as she was used to, she sat on the edge of the four-poster bed, taking in her new room.
It was a room that other young women could only dream of, with its rich velvet drapery and the intricate carvings on the marble fireplace and the wood under the bed.
At the moment, though, she could not appreciate the beauty because her throat felt tight, as if she were suffocating. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, as she preferred it when at home, even though her lady’s maid had offered to braid it.
“Not for tonight,” she had said softly.
The maid’s answering blush indicated that she thought her mistress liked her hair loose, especially for her wedding night.
Wilhelmina hadn’t really thought about that, but now it was all she could think about.
Shouldn’t Gerard be knocking any minute now?
While she and Robert had never consummated their marriage, she wasn’t naive. She knew that even in a marriage of convenience, the husband would expect to bed his wife.
Even if Gerard had said he didn’t want any more children, he was still a man.
Wilhelmina felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew, in theory, what was meant to happen on a wedding night. Her mother had told her it was something to endure, nothing more. And endurance was a skill she had cultivated well enough.
But the books she had once smuggled into her room—scandalous volumes passed among curious girls—promised something different. Those pages spoke of pleasure, even bliss. She did not know which to believe. Perhaps it all depended on the man.
Would Gerard be rough, impatient? Would he treat it as a duty, impersonal and cold, as her mother claimed all men did? Or would he care?
Wilhelmina let out a dry laugh at the thought, but then quickly pressed a hand to her lips, startled by her own foolishness.
The house grew still as the hours ticked by. At first, she listened for footsteps, doors closing, the shuffle of servants. But one by one, the sounds faded until silence reigned.
By midnight, it was clear that Gerard was not coming.
She released a breath she had not realized she had been holding, a sharp exhale that carried both relief and disappointment. The two feelings twisted together until she could no longer tell them apart.
What was wrong with her?
Gerard had told her plainly that he did not want another child. He already had Hector.
“Marriage of convenience,” she whispered to the dark, her smile slanting wryly. “Convenient, indeed.”
She slipped beneath the blankets, letting her hair fan across the pillow as she once had as a girl.
Sleep did not come easily. When it did, her dreams were restless, tangled things, full of questions with no answers.
When morning came, she woke up to find her lady’s maid preparing a fresh gown for her. She remembered how no midnight visitor came to her bedchambers.
It confused her. She didn’t quite know how to react to that.
But there were so many things to do at Talleystone House, and she was now officially the stepmother of a child with boundless energy. Even as she sometimes hid in the sitting room to write her Lady Silverquill column, Hector would be there. He would want to know everything she was doing.
“What are you doing?” he asked, pushing the door open without so much as a knock.
“Well, dear Hector, I am trying to write,” she replied, her back straight and her quill poised. “But I am apparently not doing so well. You’ve caught me.”
“Why are you having trouble with your writing? Is it boring?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting together in curiosity as he peered behind her back.
