Page 20 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke (The Unwanted Sisters #3)

Chapter Fourteen

G erard arrived at Lady Slyham’s townhouse, his jaw set, every muscle taut with contained frustration. His thoughts churned with a simmering anger that no amount of reason could fully douse.

Did it have to come to this again? Must he chase his son like some hapless fool every time Hector’s curiosity or stubbornness led him astray?

He knocked on the door. Each rap was sharp and deliberate, betraying none of the urgency burning beneath his composure.

The butler opened the door shortly thereafter, a hint of apprehension crossing his features as he took in Gerard’s stormy expression.

They had expected this. Of course, they had. The hour might have been inappropriate, but Gerard knew the boy was inside, safe with Lady Slyham.

That knowledge did little to temper the fury and worry coiled within him.

He was ushered into the drawing room, his steps heavy and precise, each one echoing slightly against the polished floor.

As the door clicked shut behind him, his eyes found them immediately. Lady Slyham was seated gracefully, calm despite the late hour. Hector sat beside her, small and earnest, as if nothing in the world could rattle him.

Relief battled with frustration in Gerard’s chest. There they were, safe, yet here he stood, late, flustered, and acutely aware of how powerless he felt in that moment against the boy’s independence and Lady Slyham’s steely composure.

“Hector,” he said in a low voice, one that his son was familiar with whenever he was naughty. “Why did you run away, again? Do you really want to lose everyone’s trust? Do you understand that you are disturbing two households at this hour?”

Hector’s whole body went rigid, but there was still a quiet defiance there.

Lady Slyham rose before he could answer. “Your Grace, your son is unharmed, as you can see. There was no harm done, and it is no inconvenience to me. This house can be dreary.”

“No harm?” Gerard’s voice rose, sharp and tense.

His eyes bored into the woman who had so unsettled him these past weeks.

“No harm? Do you truly believe that, Lady Slyham? If you had not replied to his letter, Hector would never have dared run away the first time. He would never have thought—never have imagined —that such boldness was permitted!”

“If he is reaching out to a stranger like me, then I wonder,” Lady Slyham retorted, lifting her chin with quiet defiance, “if it is because he does not find the comfort he needs at home.”

Gerard felt a flush rise to his cheeks, anger and indignation knotting in his chest.

How dare she?

“You presume far too much, My Lady,” he ground out. “For someone who spends her days fending off the presumptions of others, you seem most eager to make your own.”

Lady Slyham blinked, unshaken, and tilted her head as if weighing his words.

“Oh, I presume nothing, Your Grace,” she said, her voice laced with restrained fire.

“I am merely drawing conclusions from what I have observed in Hector. You may very well be right that I do not know everything about the two of you, but I can tell that he yearns for your attention far more than anyone else’s. ”

Gerard thought of why he had been unable to give his son the attention he deserved these past few days, and now the cause was standing right before him.

Perhaps Lady Slyham was right. Perhaps he had pushed Hector toward her, whether intentionally or not.

Hector rose and stepped closer, little fists clenched at his sides.

There had been a time when such gestures would have struck Gerard as endearing.

Now, it felt like a warning—his boy was growing too quickly.

And perhaps it was his own doing. He had tried so hard not to be like his father, who had ruled the household with an iron fist. Yet, in his fear of repeating the same mistakes, he had swung too far the other way, smothering Hector.

The boy had so few freedoms. He could not ride his pony without Gerard’s or the stable hand’s supervision. Climbing anything was forbidden. Books had become his playground, and reading and writing his companions. It was why he was wise beyond his years, and why his world had shrunk.

“It’s not Lady Slyham’s fault, Papa! You don’t listen to me. You are always occupied with one thing or another and never let me do what I want. She’s the only one who sees that I’m not a little boy anymore and talks to me properly!”

“Hector, enough,” Gerard hissed. Old habits died hard; he still feared losing control of his child. “This behavior is unacceptable. I’m sending you to the country. You need to?—”

“No! I won’t go there!” Hector cried. “If you don’t want me at home, I can stay with Lady Slyham. She’s my friend! My only friend!”

There were no tears in his eyes, yet the raw emotion was unmistakable.

Lady Slyham bent down to smooth his hair, her movements gentle, deliberate.

“Hush now,” she murmured. “Nobody’s sending you anywhere. Feelings are heightened at the moment, but things will be clearer once you’ve both calmed down.”

The tension in Hector’s shoulders melted, and he sagged against her, reaching to hug her as tightly as he could.

Gerard watched them, shocked. He was accustomed to commanding obedience, yet he had never possessed the power to soothe his son as Lady Slyham did.

Hector, so often resistant to everyone, even his governess, had yielded easily to her. And Lady Slyham, who otherwise kept her distance from much of the ton, had received him with warmth and tenderness.

The scene unsettled Gerard as much as it moved him.

A thought took root in his mind, uneasy yet insistent: Hector needed someone steady, someone wise and compassionate like Lady Slyham in his life.

“Come over here, Hector,” Gerard ordered, trying to soften his voice but keep it firm, though he always had trouble finding that balance.

“Why? I’m not going to our country home, Papa!” Hector protested, his eyebrows knitted together. He looked afraid and a little suspicious. “I’m staying with Lady Slyham. You heard me!”

“All right, then,” Gerard said slowly. “I need to speak with Lady Slyham for a moment. Just a moment.”

Hector’s lips parted, a small frown tugging at the corners, and his eyes flicked nervously between his father and Lady Slyham. He shifted from one foot to another, his fingers twisting the hem of his sleeve, as if bracing himself for something he didn’t yet understand.

Lady Slyham cut through the silence, her voice soft but firm. “My maid, Grace, can show you to the kitchen. I’m certain Cook is still awake, knowing we have a young gentleman to feed.”

She gave the bell pull a gentle tug, the action almost casual but deliberate.

“I’m not hungry, Lady Slyham,” Hector replied.

It was not merely a statement, but a small act of protest.

Gerard’s chest tightened at the sound; he hadn’t been sure if Hector had eaten dinner, much to his shame. His governess might have urged him to finish, but whether he actually had was another matter entirely.

“Well,” Lady Slyham said, unwavering, “you are still getting some milk, young man. It is not only nourishment, but also comfort. Cook has been trying some new recipes for her biscuits. You must tell me later if they are any good. From what I know of my younger sisters, children are often the best judges.”

A maid, who Gerard assumed was Grace, appeared quietly in the doorway, and Lady Slyham whispered a few instructions to her. Hector glanced at her, then at Gerard with bright, curious eyes, before allowing her to lead him away.

The door clicked softly behind them, leaving Gerard staring at it.

Lady Slyham stepped back, her gaze turning to him. The subtle movement, the distance she put between them, made his chest tighten.

That could not be a good sign.

Still, she did not look angry, but concerned. “Your Grace, your son is still very young, even if he is a brilliant boy who can express himself better than some adults do. You can’t keep speaking to him in such?—”

“Marry me.”