Page 21 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke (The Unwanted Sisters #3)

Chapter Fifteen

“ I beg your pardon?” she sputtered, her voice a little hoarse.

Gerard hadn’t meant to propose like that, but the words just spilled out of him.

Lady Slyham’s eyes widened before she blinked once. Twice. Was it horror that he saw in them?

“Marry me,” he repeated.

This time, he did it slowly, as if that was the only way she could understand him.

Lady Slyham laughed. Not only did she laugh incredulously, but she shook her head as if banishing the thought. She retreated further, her face contorting.

“That’s not a way to avoid a scolding, Your Grace. Now, I know why our dear Hector is the way he is—running toward someone else after being scolded. But he is a child, and you…” She faltered, her eyes widening with shock and anger.

“I am serious, Lady Slyham. I wouldn’t just say those words,” he insisted, trying to tamp down his irritation.

He didn’t like that his mood was quickly darkening. He needed to be gentler, the way she had been with his son. But he had not even uttered those words to Pamela, his first wife. That had been an arranged marriage. He was only nineteen. Too young. Too much under his father’s thumb.

“I can tell you are serious, as you always are,” Lady Slyham retorted. “Somehow, that makes it a lot worse. You actually believe this is a good idea.”

Gerard exhaled sharply. “You and my son have somehow formed a bond that I can no longer ignore. It isn’t easy for him to find someone who can truly be good for him.”

He paused, studying her. She was listening, but there was suspicion in her eyes. At least, she was hearing him.

“I know you would be a steady, calming presence for him. And I… I would see to it that you are cared for in return. Widows, especially young ones without children, do not often?—”

“Enjoy much favor?” she cut in, narrowing her eyes at him.

Gerard stiffened at her words.

“It is practical… and contractual,” she said, equal parts praise and reproach.

It struck him as perfectly Lady Silverquill. Even in discussing what he hoped would be a future together, she remained clever, challenging, and entirely unwilling to surrender control.

“I am not trying to insult you,” he replied swiftly, as though to prevent any misunderstanding.

“That is the last thing I would do. I am only attempting to secure your agreement to the arrangement. I am no man of flowery sentiment, but I know I can provide for you. You would have a decent station and financial security.”

“Still,” she said, shaking her head, “you have a remarkable talent for making it sound as though you’re hiring a governess who merely happens to wear finer gowns.”

Gerard’s gaze remained steady on her. “Despite Hector’s skill at evading her, Miss Elliot remains his governess.

My son struggles to form connections, and you…

Like I’ve said before, he has a great affection for you,” he said evenly.

“Had I desired another governess, I would have hired one. But that is not the matter here. I want you to be my wife and Hector’s stepmother. ”

Wilhelmina had to admit that his words made her breath catch. She knew, of course, that he could not possibly understand the real reason behind her reaction, and perhaps that was for the best. Still, she chastised herself for being so easily flustered.

The Duke had been brisk, unyielding, and perfectly pragmatic, as though he were offering a lease rather than a marriage.

A widow and a widower entering a union for practicality rather than affection?

She had once lived that life; her first marriage had been convenient, yet not altogether loveless. Though it was devoid of romantic love.

And yet here she was once again, caught at the intersection of duty and desire.

“Your proposal is indeed… tempting, Your Grace,” she said carefully, folding her arms across her chest as though to shield herself. “If this is your way of proposing a marriage of convenience, then I can understand the coldness.”

The Duke did not flinch. He opened his mouth, then closed it, as though realizing the folly of speaking too freely.

Wilhelmina felt a similar stir inside her.

She would not yet reveal that she was not unfamiliar with marriages of convenience.

True, her first marriage had lacked passion, but it had not been without its small joys: the thrill of keeping a private camaraderie, a secret only she and her late husband shared.

“Then again,” she added softly, “I was married before. I did not expect to marry again.”

The Duke’s gaze was steady, unwavering. “I know this marriage will not be the same,” he said evenly, “but it will benefit us both.”

Wilhelmina’s chest tightened at his words. Practicality, protection, benefit—those were the terms he offered. And yet, for reasons she could not entirely explain, they carried a weight far heavier than the cold pragmatism he intended.

“I guess it won’t be the same,” she murmured.

“Affection can grow, Lady Slyham. At least, I can reassure you that respect already exists between us.”

Respect .

Wilhelmina thought about her difficult situation.

How hard could another marriage be? It would be harder to remain a widow, constantly scrutinized and judged, and perhaps pursued by lecherous married men.

At least, the Duke knew what it was like to be married before. It might not be the same as her marriage to Robert, but a loss was a loss. The Duke knew what loss was like.

Perhaps she could ignore the coldness of their marriage as soon as she fully accepted how beneficial it would be for her financially. She would be taken care of, not a constant pariah and not a burden to her sisters.

That was enough for her. Her position as Lady Silverquill was already in danger of fading into oblivion.

When she blinked, she saw Hector standing beside the Duke. The memory of his tight hug, the soft plea in his voice, rose unbidden in her mind. He had allowed her into his small world so completely, so effortlessly.

Perhaps this would not be a cold marriage. The Duke might not love her, but he loved his son, and she was already learning to care for the boy.

Her defenses, the careful walls she had built around herself, wavered.

“The Gazetteer is not doing as well as it used to,” she admitted, her voice lower. She disliked revealing that, but it was necessary. Any arrangement between them required trust, and trust required honesty. “My allowance doesn’t cover much.”

The Duke simply regarded her. There was no pity in his expression, but understanding, tempered with patience. He inclined his head slightly, silently giving her permission to continue.

“Not only that,” she went on. “I’ve grown fond of Hector. I have no children of my own, and I never imagined that I would want any. Yet he entered my life so easily… so seamlessly.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” the Duke said, his voice softer now.

Wilhelmina hesitated briefly before adding, “However, I have one condition. I must continue writing as Lady Silverquill.”

The Duke’s eyebrows rose, perhaps surprised that she would insist on maintaining her work even with the promise of financial security and status.

“If I agree to that,” he asked carefully, “will you be discreet?”

Wilhelmina leveled him with a sharp look.

Of course she would. Who did he think she was? She was not foolish or careless.

“Your Grace,” she replied, her tone firm but not unkind, “I am quite discreet. When your son first met me, I had been writing the column for six months. People scarcely noticed, except to criticize. I doubt any of the ton would believe me capable of such work.”

For a fleeting moment, the Duke’s expression softened, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Wilhelmina dared to hope that he was beginning to see her differently. Not as a mere necessity or convenience, but as an equal, capable of thought, feeling, and subtle wit.

“Very well, then,” he conceded after taking a deep breath.

“Keep working on your column. However, you must be careful, because I don’t want my wife’s name to be fodder for gossip.

It’s not just about my reputation, but also yours.

I can’t imagine how people will react when they meet Lady Silverquill in real life. ”

He was right. Wilhelmina could not imagine a life where everyone knew what she did for a living, not when she knew their deepest, rawest thoughts.

“Agreed,” she said softly.

She felt somewhat triumphant that she would be getting the financial and societal security she needed, and also keep the job that made her feel independent.

Then, she thought of something else.

She had not thought about it for a long time, but it just came to her. She tried to stand straight, not moving, lest her trembling fingers would betray her.

“D-Do you want more children?” she asked tentatively.

It startled her that she had to ask. Yes, it would be a marriage of convenience, but usually, lords were eager to produce heirs and spares.

From the look on the Duke’s face, he seemed equally surprised. However, unlike her, he showed no signs of hesitation, no flicker of uncertainty. Instead, he regarded her with a calm certainty that made her pause.

“I already have an heir, Lady Slyham. I just need him to grow into a man worthy of the title.”

Silence followed his declaration.

Wilhelmina let the words settle around them, weighing each one carefully.

On one hand, she realized she would not be forced into childbirth. She would not be forced to sleep beside a man who sought only heirs and spares. Even Robert had not demanded that. On the other hand, it confirmed a quiet, almost shocking finality: she would never have a child.

Ever.

She reminded herself that she had never truly considered it, never thought she would want one. She had long ago given up on love. Robert had been a companion, a friend, and nothing more.