Page 30 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke (The Unwanted Sisters #3)

Chapter Twenty-One

“ H igher! It must look like a real fort. It must be tall, and the guards will not let anyone in unless they know the watchword,” Hector declared with the gravity of a commander.

Rainy days were often dreary in Talleystone House. The world outside lay muted, the sky heavy with gray, and the gardens draped in pale green gloom. Yet, in the house, life had taken on a brightness that Gerard could not deny.

His son seemed happier of late. He could see it in the sparkle in Hector’s eyes, in the way his laughter rang more freely. The boy thrived beneath Wilhelmina’s attention. She gave him her time and patience as if they were inexhaustible.

Gerard stood in the doorway, careful not to disturb them. Hector was perched precariously on a chair, attempting to fasten another blanket to the growing structure. The fort was sprawling already—pillows stacked, chairs draped with sheets to form walls and gates.

Every instinct urged him to move forward, to lift his son down from the unsteady structure before he fell. The boy was all he had, and though his sternness often looked like displeasure, it was only ever born of fear that some harm might befall him.

But then his gaze wandered, and everything in him stilled.

Wilhelmina was crouched beside the chair, her gown tugged this way and that as she helped smooth a blanket across the top. Lavender fabric clung to her figure in a way that made his blood simmer.

He knew all too well what lay beneath that gown.

The memory of her body beneath his hands, the sound of her gasps in the library, the way she had shattered against him… all returned with ruthless clarity.

He clenched his jaw, fighting the rush of desire. It was madness to be stirred so easily by a single glimpse, but he could not deny it.

He had only allowed himself to pleasure her that night. Something deep inside had urged him to stop there, to draw a line.

The fire between them had been unlike anything he had ever known—raw, urgent, all-consuming—and he sensed how dangerously close it had come to overwhelming him. Passion like that was not easily contained, and he could not afford to lose control. Not in the house, not with her, not ever.

If he let it go unchecked, he risked crossing boundaries he had spent a lifetime maintaining, and for what? Desire, or whatever it was that pulled him toward Wilhelmina, couldn’t justify recklessness.

“What is the watchword, My Lord?” Wilhelmina asked, her tone conspiratorial, her cheeks pink from the effort of stretching the fabric into place.

“It should be dragon fire ,” Hector whispered solemnly.

Gerard smothered a laugh. Of course, it would be related to dragons. His son’s imagination was boundless.

“Don’t tell Papa about it!” the boy added quickly.

“Oh, you can trust me, My Lord,” Wilhelmina assured, her eyes bright with mischief. “My lips are sealed.”

Gerard should have entered then. He had come for a purpose: Hector’s Latin lessons needed addressing. The boy had been restless with his tutor again. But all thought of lessons flew out of his mind as he lingered in the shadows.

Hector’s face shone with excitement, wholly absorbed in his fort. Wilhelmina’s laughter mingled with his, unrestrained, warm, filling the room like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. A strand of her hair had slipped loose from its pins, brushing against her cheek as she tipped her head back.

She was utterly unguarded, and the sight of her struck him more deeply than it should.

The memory of her against him returned unbidden. How she had clung to him. How she had responded. The echo of it burned in his veins, dangerous, intoxicating.

He knew better than to step closer. Distance was the only safeguard.

Alas, Hector’s eyes, wide and bright, flicked to the doorway, catching him in the act. “Papa! You can’t come inside unless you can guess the watchword!”

Gerard tried not to smile. He arched an eyebrow and asked, ‘What would happen if I tried to enter your fort without the watchword?”

“Ooooh. Didn’t you hear?” Hector gasped, peeking through blankets. “You’ll be eaten by dragons!”

Wilhelmina turned to him, her lips twitching. “Lord Hector has made his rules clear, Duke. Only those who can say the watchword may be admitted.”

Duke .

In the library, she’d called him by his name. He had thought about it over and over. Had that been passion for him or only for the moment?

Not again. Never.

“Mhm. Perhaps I should guess so I may be granted entrance,” he said thoughtfully, entering the room, but stopping a foot away from the fort’s entrance. “Might it be… hippogriff ?”

“No!” Hector burst into laughter.

“Thunderbolt, then?”

“Nooo!”

Again, Gerard heard his son’s hysterical laughter, and his heart softened, as though it had been frozen and a sun ray was finally thawing it.

He turned to Wilhelmina briefly. “What about dragon fire ?”

“Who told you that?” Hector demanded, pushing his head between the makeshift gates.

“Oh, I have my ways, Sir,” Gerard replied solemnly, bowing his head.

“You may then enter, Duke.” Wilhelmina made a face of mock defeat. “Please follow the rules within. If you are not certain, please ask the lord of the domain.”

Gerard played along, crouching down so that he could breach the gates. Hector, who must have forgotten that he was the lord of the fort, jumped into his father’s lap. Gerard embraced him instinctively. Wilhelmina shifted to make room for them.

“What is the fort for, My Lord?” Gerard asked.

“It can be for anything I deem important,” Hector declared, puffing out his chest. “It can be used to defend the kingdom, trade, or even answer Lady Silverquill’s letters.”

“And nap,” Wilhelmina added with a grin.

Gerard arched an eyebrow. “Lady Silverquill? Are we now corresponding as Lady Silverquill, as well, My Lord?”

Wilhelmina chuckled, the sound warming the air around him. “He wanted to respond to some letters. The young lord thought it proper, but he insisted on protecting his identity within the fort.”

Gerard almost smiled.

Wilhelmina leaned over to smooth the draped blanket into place. “We might add some books, Hector. Robert always liked surrounding himself with volumes when he worked. He said they kept him company, even when he was alone.”

The name fell into the room like a stone in water. Gerard went still.

“Who is Robert?” Hector asked, wide-eyed.

Wilhelmina’s smile softened as she touched the boy’s hair. “He was my first husband, dearest. You never knew him.”

“Oh.” Hector considered this gravely. “Does it make you sad to talk about him?”

“A little,” Wilhelmina admitted quietly. “But it is all right. He was part of my life, and I remember him fondly.”

The sweetness of the moment pressed in on Gerard until he could hardly draw breath. Her tone and expression were tender, softened by memory.

Not for him, but for Robert.

His chest constricted. Warmth turned to ice.

“Apologies,” he said abruptly. “I must leave.”

Wilhelmina looked up, startled, her lips parting with curiosity, but he had already risen to his feet. Hector slid off his lap as he stepped back through the gate of blankets, his movements jerky with restraint.

In another breath, he was out of the room, striding away before he could betray the ache beneath his ribs.

This was all his fault. He had married a woman whose heart still carried another man’s memory, just as his first wife’s heart had belonged to someone else. His first marriage had ended in tragedy.

He would not compete with a ghost.

Wilhelmina had scarcely seen Gerard since that night. There were evenings when she wondered if she should simply knock on his door, or even push it open, but each time she caught herself.

No, that would be presumptuous. He had reverted to his cold reserve, and she would not risk intruding.

And yet he lingered in her mind as she watched Hector play. The fort he had built with blankets and chairs seemed to tempt his father, but Gerard had retreated as if he were reminded of the rules he had set for himself.

Perhaps he, too, feared overstepping.

“Was Papa angry that I helped you with Lady Silverquill’s letters?” Hector asked innocently.

“No, my dear,” Wilhelmina replied gently. “Didn’t you notice that he came to your fort? He even tried his best to guess the watchword.”

She felt the subtle weight of his presence in the house, though he remained distant. He had pleased his son today, and he had pleased her once, yet the distance he now maintained gnawed at her.

Was it because of Robert?

She had mentioned her late husband to Hector in passing while arranging the books, hoping to enrich the game.

Perhaps Gerard’s sudden coldness was caused by that.

But then again, he had never once brought up Robert on the night he had touched her intimately.

That alone suggested her late husband’s memory could not be the sole cause.

For a few minutes, the fort was still. Hector abandoned climbing chairs and tables and turned to reading and writing.

“I read two of the letters written to Lady Silverquill, Your Grace. I like those stories best. So, I wrote back to them,” he announced proudly.

Wilhelmina’s heart warmed. She guided him gently through his errors, and he absorbed her corrections with eagerness.

“I’ll submit your work. Well done, Hector,” she praised, and he nodded enthusiastically.

It was not false encouragement, for she genuinely believed in his talent. Even Mr. Finch seemed pleased with the boy’s efforts. When his letter was finally published, it became clear that his contribution had been a success.

Mr. Finch sent Wilhelmina an extra copy along with a note that said:

It seems the change in Lady Silverquill’s style has paid off. Our readership has increased; many have found the new style refreshing. They are eager for more. –Finch

Wilhelmina smiled. She cut out Hector’s response from the copy and, with careful hands, slipped quietly into Gerard’s study. She left it on his desk, hoping he would see it. He might not speak to her directly, but she knew he would want to witness what his son had accomplished.

However, as she returned to the fort, a flicker of doubt lingered in her mind.

Perhaps she should never have mentioned Robert to Hector at all. But if that were the only reason for Gerard’s reserve, then it didn’t fully explain his current distance.

Some other part of him, a part she could not yet reach, remained closed off, and she had no idea how to open it.