Page 78 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke

“I know,” Wilhelmina replied softly, a shadow of sadness flickering in her gaze.

Both sisters understood how tightly they clung to one another—tighter than most siblings would—because of the weight their father forced upon them.

“Good night. I’m going to my room now,” Marianne said, rising from Wilhelmina’s bed.

Wilhelmina raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile teasing her lips.

“Yes, I’ll be resting now,” Marianne answered firmly.

Almost immediately, she knew the lie she’d told. Instead of heading to her room, she slipped quietly down the hall to the drawing room.

She didn’t mind the dimness; it suited her need for solitude and reflection better than any lamp or book.

Pouring herself a glass of brandy, she stood by the hearth, letting the warmth seep into her chilled fingers.

Her mind churned relentlessly. The west wing haunted her thoughts—the portrait, the boy in the navy waistcoat. He looked so small, so young, so achingly sad.

And the way Dominic had stared at it…

She had thought herself the only broken one in this marriage. But were his fractures deeper than hers?

A grand house. A title. The fact that he was a man in a world that favored his sex seemed to mean little to someone who bore the scars of a lonely childhood.

Was he loved?

At least she had the ghost of her mother’s love, and the faint memory of her father before he changed. Her younger siblings could say no such thing.

What if Dominic was like them?

Was he in his room now—or worse, wandering alone in the cold silence of the west wing?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“How is Elizabeth?” Marianne asked, her voice gentle but firm.

She needed answers. One missed weekend was understandable. Two missed weekends felt like something else entirely.

The second day of the sisters’ visit was quieter, more subdued. Marianne had resolved to take control this time—no more whispered games or secret meetings that kept them apart. As the eldest, it was her place to steer things, to bring some order amid the uncertainty.

When her twin sisters busied themselves with inspecting the toys and books she had brought, she’d found a moment alone with Wilhelmina in the drawing room.

Wilhelmina hesitated, her brow furrowed. “It’s not so much what Elizabeth is doing or not doing. Father’s been pressuring her… hard. He keeps saying it’s her third Season and still, noengagement. ‘If a spinster like your sister can find a duke,’ he told her, ‘then so can you’.” Her voice was low, a mix of frustration and sorrow. “But no suitor has made any serious calls.”

“That’s awful,” Marianne muttered, feeling a sharp sting of guilt. “It’s not Elizabeth’s fault. She’s beautiful. More than that, she has a good heart. Matches aren’t just about appearances. There has to be something else. A connection, or?—”

“A business arrangement?” Wilhelmina interrupted, a knowing glint in her eyes.

Marianne scoffed softly. “I suppose so. That’s what the thing is between me and the Duke. But it’s not easy to find someone as… stable as His Grace.”

“His Grace?” Wilhelmina raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Don’t you call him by his name now?”

Marianne shrugged, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “It’s complicated. I still can’t quite believe I’m a duchess. He was born into the title—his father’s only heir. And ours isn’t a love match either…” she trailed off, unsure how to explain the strange mix of duty and distance that defined her marriage.

Wilhelmina’s expression softened with sympathy. “No matter what Victoria says, His Grace seems like a good man. Just… sullen, maybe. But from what we saw yesterday?—”

“Oh, so you noticed?”

“Yes. The way he looked at the portrait… So sad. You should try to comfort him,” Wilhelmina teased, nudging her lightly.