Page 28 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke (The Unwanted Sisters #3)
Chapter Twenty
“ G ood heavens.”
Wilhelmina woke up feeling like her head would explode.
Her mouth was dry like desert sand, not that she had been near anything like it. The sun streaming through the hastily drawn curtains assaulted her eyes. She groaned aloud and rolled over on the bed, hoping that would be enough to wake her up completely.
Memories of what happened the night before came crashing down on her.
“No! No!” she groaned.
Her maid entered as swiftly and quietly as a mouse, bearing a small tray with a steaming cup and a covered dish.
“His Grace asked me to bring these to you, Your Grace,” she said softly, not meeting Wilhelmina’s bleary gaze. “He said they should make you feel better.”
“Did he now?” Wilhelmina asked, feeling doubly ashamed.
How many of the servants knew about what she’d done last night? What happened to Mrs. Everly?
“How thoughtful,” she mumbled.
She took the cup and dish, anyway, knowing that she definitely needed them. There was no immediate cure for mortification, though. She could still feel it for the rest of the morning. She didn’t think she could face her husband today.
A month had passed after the wedding.
Wilhelmina could not believe it. Somehow, the awkward meals were only made better by Hector’s presence. She loved spending time with the boy. This time, there was the added benefit of being able to avoid her husband.
Then came their first invitation to a ball as a married couple.
“This is our first public appearance together as man and wife,” Gerard declared, calm and collected as always.
It annoyed Wilhelmina that he could be like this while her palms were sweating.
“Are you nervous?”
“Me? No. Not at all,” she lied, even as she glared at him.
They walked side by side. She was grateful that he never once took her hand, not like how Robert used to do. Or else he would have discovered that her palms were clammy. And yet she felt a pang of disappointment in her chest.
Gerard was cold, and he would always be.
Her frown turned into a smile when she heard what could only be inappropriate squealing. Sure enough, her sisters came barreling at her, unheeding of the guests watching them with clear distaste.
“We missed you, Mina!” Daphne cried, hugging her tightly just like she used to when they were much younger.
“How do we actually miss her when we live in the same city?” Victoria asked.
“You don’t miss me, then?” Wilhelmina teased.
“Of course I miss you! I always do!” Victoria replied, looking affronted.
Daniel joined them, much to Wilhelmina’s delight.
“Good heavens, Sister,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I had to wonder if my eyes were deceiving me when I saw you arrive at the ball on time. What must His Grace have done to accomplish such a feat?”
“I am not always late, Daniel!” Wilhelmina protested, although deep down she was relieved to have some lighthearted interaction that didn’t involve a child of seven.
Hector was a little sweetheart, though. He made life at Talleystone much more manageable. There was always something to do.
“You are,” Daniel affirmed. “Even Lady Grisham had some difficulty making you get ready on time. How you escaped punishment from her still evades me.”
“I’ve heard whispers of the Duchess’s tendencies,” Gerard admitted, trying to stifle a smile. “However, tonight, she was already dressed before I even had my coat on.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed at Gerard momentarily, but after one glance at his sister, his features softened. “That is indeed some progress. Robert always spoiled her a little. He let her take her time.”
“Robert took his time, as well,” Wilhelmina said wistfully.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gerard narrow his eyes at her, his jaw ticking.
“Well, it looks like she did her best to be the perfect wife tonight, Your Grace,” Daniel commented, his eyes fixating on the Duke, assessing.
“Her efforts are always appreciated,” Gerard assured her brother, whose face seemed to soften only a little.
As Wilhelmina turned to her right, she spotted her mother.
Lady Grisham was as graceful as always, swanning instead of merely walking toward them. She eyed Wilhelmina up and down, her lips curling in distaste.
“So, daughter,” she asked, her tone as sharp as ever, “how have you been managing your new duties? Or have you spent the past month redecorating your bedchambers and the library instead?”
Wilhelmina stiffened at the question. There was a bit of truth in her mother’s words, and guilt crept unbidden from somewhere deep inside her.
Perhaps she was not fit to be a duchess, after all.
She opened her mouth, feeling a retort rising, ready to defend herself. Her lips quivered with the effort to hold it back.
Before she could speak, Gerard stepped smoothly to her side.
“Good evening to you as well, Lady Grisham,” he greeted, his voice calm but edged with authority.
“My wife has performed her duties admirably, if you must know. And allow me to remind you that she no longer answers to you, for she is now a married woman once more. She also outranks you, so you’d better address her accordingly when in public. ”
Lady Grisham’s lips pressed together into a thin line.
Wilhelmina watched her carefully, noting the way her mother’s eyes flashed with anger and reluctant acknowledgment. She said nothing, but the tightness around her eyes betrayed the effort it took to bite back words that might have scorched the air.
Her chest swelled with a quiet, fierce satisfaction. She had expected nothing. Yet, here was her husband, standing beside her, defending her without hesitation, without wavering.
The realization made her pulse quicken. At that moment, she felt protected, acknowledged, and, surprisingly, empowered.
Gerard had not only shielded her from her mother’s cutting remark, but had done so with a grace and decisiveness that left her grateful, her heart stirred in ways she had not anticipated.
The waltz began, and Gerard held out his hand. Wilhelmina froze for a fraction of a second, surprise flashing across her features.
The Duke of Talleystone—her husband—was asking her to dance? Surely something was amiss. Perhaps he wished to make a point, and she could help him with that.
As they glided toward the center of the ballroom, she felt the familiar prick of stares. Whispers rose almost immediately, some curious, others judging.
She should have been accustomed to this, having spent years branded as a shrew, and then, after Robert’s death, as a widow of interest and intrigue.
But tonight… tonight felt different.
The weight of scrutiny pressed heavier, sharper. Gerard, however, seemed impervious. A duke of his stature never needed to concern himself with idle gossip, and Wilhelmina reminded herself that she had once thought the same. Once, when she was younger, braver, and far less cautious.
“You’re… quite something,” Gerard remarked, almost sounding amused. “A rare occurrence, supposedly.”
Supposedly .
He knew her well enough to understand how she conducted herself with family, staff, and Society. And yet, with him, everything felt slightly askew. She found herself measuring her words and gestures, as if even the wrong pause could betray her true self.
“Everyone is staring,” she whispered, her voice barely carrying above the music.
“Let them,” he said indulgently, his hand firm on her waist. “I must admit, I’m glad I’ve seen you less demure, or I might have begun to wonder who you truly are. Remember that night you thought the bottles of wine were nothing but lemonade or tea?”
Her eyes widened in shock. No , he couldn’t remember that.
But of course, he did. He recalled a night she had long tried to erase from her memory, a night she had hoped would vanish without a trace.
A warm blush crept up her chest, spread to her throat, then flared across her cheeks.
“Don’t you dare speak of that now,” she warned, though her voice was soft, and her body moved with his effortlessly, caught in the rhythm of the waltz.
“Has anyone ever told you that your blush suits you well?” he murmured close to her ear, his breath warming her skin. “Though, I confess, I prefer it when it is for me alone.”
A shiver ran down her spine, equal parts exasperation and delight.
The ballroom faded around her, leaving only the music, his hand on her waist, and the steady, intoxicating press of his body against hers.
But the music ended far too soon, and eventually Gerard pulled her off the dance floor, guiding her back into the ogling crowd.
The chandeliers glinted above, reflecting a thousand curious eyes, yet all Wilhelmina could focus on was the press of bodies and the inevitable intrusion of Society’s prying tongues.
“Oh my, Your Graces,” came a sickly-sweet voice from behind, rising above the chatter and clinking of glasses.
Of course. The Viscountess Farnmont had to be here.
Wilhelmina exhaled slowly, trying to steel herself as Gerard led her to face the interlopers. Lord Farnmont lingered at his wife’s side, a shadow of obedience, as if he existed only to mirror her motions.
“Lord Farnmont. Lady Farnmont. This is my wife, the Duchess of Talleystone. Duchess, I believe you’re acquainted with the Viscount Farnmont and his wife,” Gerard said briskly.
Wilhelmina curtseyed politely, striving to hide the twitch of her lips. “Good evening to you both.”
Lady Farnmont’s smile was too sweet, too calculated.
“It is quite something, isn’t it, how quickly one can recover from tragedy?
I dare say, you hardly seem… burdened by it at all, Your Grace.
Some might call that fortitude. Others might wonder…
” she trailed off, letting the insinuation hang in the air.
Wilhelmina’s hands remained folded at her waist, and she kept her voice light. “I am pleased to be in good spirits, Lady Farnmont. One must carry oneself well in Society, as I’m sure you understand.”