Page 64 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
“Mhm. I must say it depends on me. There is always something interesting to discover in every piece of writing. In fact, I believe my problem is that I want to craft excellent responses. Afterall, I’ve felt the same way as the ladies who wrote me all those letters. They think they have no freedom to do as they wish.”
Hector gave her an even more curious look, and she wondered if she had given him the wrong answer. She might feel trapped, but she still made decisions. She married his father.
It was a calculated risk.
“What do you think they should do?” she prodded.
“I think they should build a pillow fort, where they can hide from those who make them do things they don’t like,” Hector replied solemnly.
She burst out laughing, imagining the little boy hiding from his father behind pillows right on his bed.
“Why do I have the feeling that it’s a strategy you have already tried, Hector? Perhaps you are right about that.”
“Of course, I am!”
However, the idea of pillow forts turned into something else in the afternoon. They piled blankets and cushions in the sitting room. This fort was for battle, though, and Hector played general.
Wilhelmina spotted someone passing by the open door while she was playing with him on all fours.
Seeing the tall, broad-shouldered figure, there could be no doubt about who it was. Gerard merely looked in for a few seconds, his face completely impassive, and moved on without saying anything.
Wilhelmina scrambled into a sitting position, her face flushed, not even certain if she should have been embarrassed or if her husband even cared.
She and Hector had created daily rituals. During the morning, she would write while Hector sat next to her or even on her lap. He claimed that he was helping by reading some of the letters and providing advice.
A seven-year-old solving adult problems. Imagine that!
In the afternoon, they would spend time walking around the house. There was a lot of play involved as well, and Wilhelmina was grateful that she was still young enough to keep up with the boy’s boundless energy.
Sometimes, Gerard would watch them with his jaw clenched, but he would say nothing. There were moments when he lingered, making her think that he wanted to join them, but he always walked away.
However, a child was a child. Hector had his naughty moments. There was a time when he refused to see his tutor. He barricaded himself with toys in his nursery. His father had entered the room, his face thunderous with anger, but Wilhelmina was already there, trying to talk sense into the boy.
“You’re upset because you don’t feel in control,” she murmured, “and I understand. I used to feel that way whenever my older sisters and brother made decisions on my behalf. My father and mother were even worse, but that is a different story. Your father is much nicer than they are.”
“Did you ever feel in control?” Hector asked.
“Yes, I did feel in control when I learned some things that my siblings didn’t know how to do or didn’t like to do. I learned that I enjoy writing, and I used to write stories about them. Maybe you can surprise your tutor with something?”
“That’s a great idea!” Hector gushed, before bolting out of his room in search of his tutor.
Wilhelmina lingered in the doorway, her lips curved in quiet pride, when the floor creaked softly at her side and Gerard’s tall shadow stretched across the threshold beside hers.
“You did a good job,” he commented after they’d closed the door behind them and moved down the corridor.
“He’s a child who obeys better when he’s treated like an equal,” she explained. “And I believe you weren’t much different as a child, Duke.”
She looked up at him questioningly.
If they had to live like this for the rest of their lives, they might as well be friends. It had worked with her and Robert, even though he left her too early.
Gerard sighed. “I suppose I had a stubborn streak, but my father was much stricter than I ever dreamed I could be.”
Wilhelmina smiled at that. His response was more than what she’d expected.
“I’d very much like to know more about that stubborn streak, husband,” she replied teasingly.
The corner of his mouth twitched, “Perhaps one day, wife.”
