Page 77 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke
They had supper in the drawing room that night. It was informal and utterly strange for Gerard to approve such a setting. However, he thought that it would benefit his son.
Hector was ecstatic, but Gerard had reminded him that it might not happen again. Or if it did, it would be a rare occasion.
“Help you with what?” Gerard asked, his eyebrow raised.
“I thought it would be most agreeable to take him out for a proper evening,” Wilhelmina replied. “He may be only seven, but he possesses an intelligence beyond most children of his age.”
“He is indeed clever,” Gerard agreed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Though I fear we are biased judges.” He arched an eyebrow. “Even so, a child is not meant to be out and about at such hours.”
“I understand your concern, Duke,” Wilhelmina said softly. “Yet I do believe he would immensely enjoy the theater. I have heard that a new production ofThe Tempestis to open shortly. Such an experience could prove most stimulating for his already vivid imagination.”
Gerard frowned, stepping closer. “He may give the impression of maturity, or even a certain naïveté beyond his years, but he is still a child. The performance will run late. And don’t you think Shakespeare too intricate for one so young?”
“He need not comprehend it fully,” Wilhelmina answered, rising and smoothing the folds of her gown. “It would be enough if he feels the wonder as the actors bring the tale to life. He need not grasp every phrase to enjoy the performance. More than that, it would give him a moment of pure delight with his father. Something to remember long after the play has ended.”
Gerard crossed his arms over his chest. “It will disrupt his routine.”
“Routine is a comfort, yes,” Wilhelmina conceded, stepping closer. “But even the most diligent of scholars requires a bit of inspiration. Hector has applied himself with such care to his studies today. An evening out would not disrupt his routine, but grant him a rare pleasure. Naturally, it would be a singular treat, not a recurring indulgence, or else the magic might lose its effect.”
Gerard met her gaze and saw only sincerity there. She was not seeking her own amusement, but Hector’s. She could have summoned him to accompany her, and he would have done so willingly, for it would have been expected of him as her husband. He ought to be grateful that she so naturally included Hector in her plans.
He considered it carefully. What harm could there be? A child might grow excited and restless, perhaps struggling to sleep afterward, but such bouts were hardly confined to evenings out. At home, Hector often tumbled into fits of energy just as fervently.
“Very well,” Gerard said at last. “We shall attend a single performance together. You will see to it that he remains attentive and decorous. I would not have the actors conclude that they had bored us.”
“Aye, captain,” Wilhelmina drawled, her eyes alight with amusement.
They went as soon asThe Tempestopened for its first night. Hector was bouncing in his seat when their carriage rolled to a halt in front of the theater.
“Will there be pirates, Papa?” Hector asked as Gerard helped him down.
“Not quite,” Wilhelmina replied. “But it will happen at sea. You see, there’s a shipwreck, magic, and spirits. Don’t you think that makes the play more interesting?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically, and the three of them filed inside. They could feel the excitement of everyone else.
The interior glowed golden, and voices murmured with wonder. Hector’s eyes were wide, taking in everything.
Gerard was quiet, but he had to admit that he felt a thrill at being in the theater with his son. He would like to share the wonderful experience of a story coming to life with him. He kept on glancing at his son to make certain he was still there, and at Wilhelmina, who wore a soft blue gown.
His eyes lingered on her. She glowed under the theater lights, but perhaps it was her smile that made her look radiant.
In their seats, they waited with bated breath. Then, the curtain rose to a raging storm. Wilhelmina had to steady Hector, who leaned far forward in his excitement. Gerard was surprised he didn’t squeal, but the boy’s mouth was open throughout the scene at sea. Hector took in everything: the swaying ship, the actors’ loud voices, and the startling clap of thunder.
Yet, from time to time, it was Wilhelmina who caught Gerard’s attention. Even as Ariel sang beautifully and Prospero spoke with much feeling, she accepted questions from Hector and patiently answered them.
Gerard placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. It was his own way of saying, I’m here, I’m right here.
By the time the actors gave their final bows, Hector was already yawning. In the carriage, he slumped on Wilhelmina’s lap, fast asleep, lulled by the rumbling of the wheels.
“I didn’t expect him to finish the whole play,” she admitted, gently stroking his hair.
“You were right about the play,” Gerard said softly. “He truly enjoyed it.”
How else could he describe it? His son had been wide-eyed and gaping at the stage. If Hector could climb up to join the actors, he would have.
“Did you?” Wilhelmina asked, looking at him in the semi-darkness.
“Yes,” he replied, after a pause. “I’ve forgotten how plays can make one feel alive.”
