Page 7 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
Wilhelmina laughed aloud. “And what did you tell him? Don’t say you remained silent, I won’t believe it.”
“I told him I’d rather read scandalous French novels than listen to him prattle on about Latin grammar and trade policy.”
Daniel nearly choked on his tea. “You didn’t.”
“I did! He looked so sour, I was tempted to send him to the refreshments table to ensure we’d all get our share of lemonade.”
“You’re dreadful!” Daphne cried, though she was clearly stifling a smile. “We’ll never be invited back.”
“But that’s the plan,” Victoria said sweetly. “You see, Daph, we’re tryingnotto get invited.”
The realization struck her twin, and for a moment, Wilhelmina could see it land. Victoria wasn’t going to be forced into marriage. She’d make sure of it.
“You’re all ridiculous,” Wilhelmina huffed, half-laughing.
“We missed this,” Daniel said softly, and the table grew quiet.
“I missed you, too,” Wilhelmina said.
“Weren’t you the one gallivanting around the Continent?” Daphne asked her brother. “You didn’t even know when, or if, you’d return.”
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you all.”
“Oh, speaking of absences,” Daphne added casually, though her expression softened. “Marianne sends her love.”
The mention of their eldest sister brought a quiet hush to the table. Marianne had long been their protector, the one who stood between them and their father’s anger. Now, happily married to the Duke of Oakmere, she had stepped away from London’s bustle to raise her family in peace.
“She wanted to come,” Elizabeth said. “But the twins are still so small.”
“Martin and John,” Wilhelmina murmured. “When I first heard of them, I could hardly believe it. It’s strange to think that Diana has two little brothers now.”
“She does.” Elizabeth smiled.
“Is she happy?” Wilhelmina asked softly.
“We know she is,” Daphne answered. “She’s exhausted but content.”
“She deserves that,” Wilhelmina whispered.
She meant it. But beneath the surface, an ache stirred. She was happy for Marianne, but it left her wondering…
When would it be her turn?
She and Robert had married for convenience, and though affection and companionship had grown between them, they had agreed not to bring children into the world. It had felt wise at the time. Safe.
Now, it felt like something was lost.
She shook the thought away.
The conversation flowed again, the comfort of her siblings slowly dulling the edge of grief. With them, she could pretend—for a little while—that she was just a girl.
That there had been no Robert to lose. No Lady Farnmont. No whispers.
Just laughter, and warmth, and home.
Gerard was still in his study. The oil lamp on his desk hissed softly, its flame flickering in the quiet. The window stood open, letting in the cool night air. Before him lay piles of papers awaiting his signature. It was late, but he disliked retiring with work unfinished.
His life was devoted to legacy, and legacy demanded discipline.
