Page 24 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke (The Unwanted Sisters #3)

Chapter Seventeen

“ S hall I lead you to your bedchamber now, Your Grace?” Mrs. Everly asked.

The housekeeper stood with her hands folded in front of her, a ring of keys dangling from them.

Wilhelmina liked her immediately. She’d met her once before, and the housekeeper always displayed patience and care.

She had been curious about what happened next. The last of the guests had departed, but their well-wishes still rang in her ears. It was not unpleasant, but perhaps more dreamlike, especially now that the halls were quiet.

“I would like that, Mrs. Everly. Thank you,” she replied gratefully, thinking that at that very moment, the older woman was no longer just a housekeeper, but also a gatekeeper to her new life.

She followed the housekeeper up the grand staircase. The tall, mullioned windows opposite the banister distracted her a little. She loved how the sunlight streamed through the glass and hit the stone. The house was old, but it smelled faintly of roses.

She reminded herself to ask Mrs. Everly what was done to make that happen.

Eventually, Mrs. Everly stopped. Wilhelmina’s heart rate quickened as she lifted her head to see a pair of tall brown doors. The housekeeper opened one with a flourish. It was clear that she was proud of the rooms.

“Here are your chambers, Your Grace. They had been carefully prepared and decorated specially for you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Everly.”

Wilhelmina stepped inside, all while holding her breath. She almost gasped, for the place did look like it was specially designed for her, with shades of blue not too different from her eyes, her favorite shade of green, and the hushed browns in the paneling.

The first thing she noticed was the sitting room, comfy and welcoming. By the window, a writing desk with quill and paper waited for her. Her heart hammered in her chest with excitement.

A thoughtful gesture.

The bedchamber itself was spacious, with heavy drapes framing her bed. This time, she didn’t smell roses, but lavender, meant to soothe her to sleep.

Her eyes were eventually drawn to a door standing discreetly to the left. Mrs. Everly immediately noticed.

“That door leads to His Grace’s chambers,” she explained matter-of-factly.

Wilhelmina felt a flush crawl up her neck. She tried her best not to stare too long at the connecting door.

Of course, that was the way with husbands and wives. It was not her first time getting married, after all.

Still, this was different.

With Robert, the rules were clear. Or rather, there weren’t even any rules, because her first husband preferred the company of men. Their marriage was more of a friendship, and it worked well for both of them.

Gerard was harder to read. He didn’t want any more children, but the way he looked at her made her feel…

All right, she wasn’t sure what it was.

Light footsteps approached. Wilhelmina turned to find a young woman around her age.

“This is June. She’s your lady’s maid,” Mrs. Everly announced.

“Nice meeting you, June,” Wilhelmina said with a smile.

The maid’s brown eyes lit up at the greeting. “It’s my pleasure, Your Grace.” She bobbed a quick curtsy. “I’m here to assist you with anything you need. At the moment, if it pleases Your Grace, I could help you change for the tour.”

“Oh, yes. That would be lovely, June,” Wilhelmina replied, trying her best to sound more confident in her new role as a duchess.

The young maid led her into a dressing room where she could have privacy. Her hands were quick and graceful as she loosened Wilhelmina’s wedding gown and helped her into a softer one more suitable for walking.

“Your Grace, do not hesitate to tell me if my work isn’t up to your standards,” June offered softly.

“I believe you know your job better than I do,” Wilhelmina replied lightly.

“I tended to a viscountess before, Your Grace. I learned how to style hair when I was working for her. However, I know that each lady is different. You can tell me your preferences.”

“I will tell you when I need something done in a certain way, then,” Wilhelmina promised.

When Wilhelmina was finally dressed for walking, Mrs. Everly reappeared. “Your Grace, if you are ready, I can now give you a tour of the house.”

“I am ready, Mrs. Everly,” Wilhelmina said, feeling a little excited.

It wasn’t a tour of the forest, like the one she and her siblings had when they were little. Their father loved hunting, and it was simply part of growing up. Still, there was something magical about exploring someone’s history.

Every room held something interesting, and she knew that she would have to visit some of them more often than the rest.

The grand drawing room with its glittering chandeliers was beautiful, and would entice any guest to explore further, but Wilhelmina didn’t think her new husband was the sort who enjoyed playing host. Unbidden, she wondered if his first wife ever did.

From the wide-open spaces, they moved to corridors that might as well have been a maze. The townhouse she and Robert shared was grand, but nothing like this.

“I’ve been with the family for decades. When I first arrived here, I got lost a few times in these corridors,” Mrs. Everly confided. “Then again, I was also nervous and eager to please.”

“Oh, you have a good reason, Mrs. Everly. I may need assistance during my first week or so,” Wilhelmina said, chuckling.

They moved swiftly towards the dining room then.

“This is the dining room—you already know it. However, His Grace may want to eat breakfast with you and Lord Hector in the morning room,” the housekeeper continued.

“I understand,” Wilhelmina murmured.

“You’ve begun without me!” a boyish voice suddenly called out from behind them.

Hector half-skipped, half-jogged down the corridor, all restless limbs and boundless energy, the sort of vitality Wilhelmina could only dream of on such a warm afternoon.

His hair stood on end in wild tufts, his cheeks flushed with exertion, and he grinned as though the very air conspired to amuse him.

“That is quite shameful, Mrs. Everly!” he declared with mock severity.

Wilhelmina turned, startled by the reproach, only to see Mrs. Everly’s fond smile.

“Lord Hector,” the housekeeper chided, with equal measures of affection and reproof.

“I am only seven, Mrs. Everly. You are meant to smile when I catch you at mischief, not scold me.”

The housekeeper arched her eyebrows. “All the same, Lord Hector. Aren’t you expected elsewhere? I thought Miss Elliot was conducting lessons this very hour.”

“Mhm. Perhaps,” Hector admitted, rocking on his heels. “But I suspected you were giving dull descriptions. The Duchess ought to hear the true history of this house.”

Wilhelmina’s breath caught at the words. The Duchess. She had not expected to hear it from his lips so soon. It sounded fitting. Too fitting. And yet…

Was there not a small, shameful corner of her heart that had longed to hear another title from him?

Mama.

She knew better than to expect it, for the child had a mother. Still, the disappointment surprised her with its sharpness.

She disguised it with a small laugh, though the sound felt dangerously indulgent. She was already learning that Hector thrived on encouragement.

“And what true stories must I hear from you, my boy?” she asked, bending a little toward him.

“Perfect!” Hector clapped his hands together.

“Look where we stand. This very hall was once the scene of a despicable disaster. At least, Papa called it despicable. I was racing my hound Leon, and… well, Leon outpaced me, as usual. I tried to gain an advantage by rounding the corner, but I crashed into a cabinet full of porcelain instead. The race ended when everything fell down in a grand smash. I dare say that the cabinet made the louder noise.”

“Ah.” Mrs. Everly tutted, her lips twitching even though she tried to look severe. “That is what we call shameful, My Lord.”

The boy’s delight was so stark that Wilhelmina could not help but be charmed.

He seemed to carry the house’s memories as one might carry marbles in a pocket, turning each over, careless but affectionate.

Already she saw how his stories stitched themselves into her mind; she suspected she would never again pass a corridor without remembering his lively commentary.

Indeed, the house itself seemed to become more than a collection of walls and chambers; it breathed, became a character in its own right, with Hector as its irrepressible narrator.

She could not help but wonder whether his father, if pressed, would share his own tales.

She imagined they would be of a different sort—solemn, controlled, precise.

“Shall we conclude with the gardens, Your Grace?” Mrs. Everly suggested, a note of gentle authority in her voice. “A breath of evening air may prove restorative after so many turns through the house.”

Wilhelmina nodded her head. “Yes. I can imagine one might feel stifled by so many corridors. Yet you have made it more than a house, Mrs. Everly. You and Hector. I thank you for it.”

They stepped outside. The first hints of evening streaked the sky, and the air held that peculiar freshness of the day’s end.

After the heaviness of the halls, the fragrance wrapped around her like a benediction: rose, lavender, orange blossoms, mingling with the sweetness of clipped hedges.

She had expected an ancient estate to smell of dust and damp stone, the mustiness of centuries clinging to its bones.

Instead, it smelled of care, of life within.

Her gaze feasted on the colors—deep crimsons and soft pinks, whites as pure as linen. She drew a breath that trembled in her throat.

“The gardens are beautiful,” she whispered, overcome despite herself.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” Hector agreed with a solemn nod. “Although Papa prefers to hide in his study.”

Wilhelmina smiled faintly. “That is a shame, for he forgoes such beauty.”

“Shame ful ,” Hector corrected with a grin.