Page 32 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke (The Unwanted Sisters #3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

“ S mile, Duchess,” Gerard murmured, offering his arm. “Your family has long deemed me a grump or a snob. Let us not give them further cause to believe it.”

Wilhelmina blinked in surprise at her husband’s unusually lighthearted manner tonight. He seemed almost… approachable. Or was he merely wary of inviting another round of teasing?

“I am smiling,” she countered incredulously. “Can you not tell? Perhaps you should smile. You’re the one who seems afraid of being called a grump.”

He chuckled at that—a low, restrained sound that struck her as oddly pleasant, like spiced milk with a hint of nutmeg.

“Am I?” he purred as he leaned slightly closer.

His lips hovered so near hers that she could feel the warmth of his breath.

“I am smiling. It would be a shame if my wife were the only one who failed to notice. Were you not watching me rather closely tonight, wife? Will you at least declare to them that your husband looks handsome and that you adore him?”

Wilhelmina’s lips parted in surprise at his teasing. She let out a laugh, a genuine, bright sound, wondering if Hector had finally softened his father. But of course, her laughter carried further than she had intended. It immediately drew her brother’s attention.

She groaned inwardly. While she genuinely enjoyed seeing Daniel at these gatherings, he had a knack for appearing at the most awkward moments. And this—her fleeting intimacy with Gerard—was apparently one of them.

“Ah. I’m glad that both of you are smiling! There must be something that has put you in such a good mood,” Daniel remarked, tilting his head as if he were carefully inspecting them. “There’s something… different tonight, isn’t there? His Grace is not being quite the grump?”

“Aside from the fact that your sister is consistently punctual, Lord Grisham?” Gerard drawled, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Aside from that,” Daniel said, nodding. “I cannot put my finger on it, but something has changed. His Grace seems… lighter, somehow.”

Wilhelmina laughed again, a full, boisterous sound that drew the attention of those nearby. Her twin sisters, as if waiting for their cue, hurried over with bright smiles and greeted them with curtsies.

“Apologies,” she snickered, trying to compose herself. “I did not intend to laugh so loudly. Daniel, His Grace is indeed in a most agreeable mood tonight. I cannot say why, but it is a rare and welcome change.”

“Oh, some people simply do not know how to have fun, Mina,” Victoria said with a dramatic sigh. “It is fortunate you laughed like that. I now have an excuse to leave Lord Percival, who is dreadfully dull.”

Daniel rubbed his chin as if considering her remark. “Considering he is younger than me, I dare say he is even duller than I expected.”

“I am glad you see it that way, big brother,” Victoria quipped, smiling triumphantly. “We must save Daphne from some of these lords. She behaves as if she likes them all.”

“I am only being polite, Vicky!” Daphne protested. “None of them has given me reason to be cruel. I simply cannot treat them badly.”

“Did I say treat them badly?” Victoria huffed, exasperated. “I only meant that you are far too agreeable. They may mistake your kindness for encouragement.”

Wilhelmina felt a rare sense of ease settle over her. Her siblings bickered lightly as always, but it was pleasant, familiar. And Gerard stood near, watching with a calm attentiveness that made her pulse flutter.

Tonight, at least, he seemed almost… amiable. She allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief.

Then, as though on cue, Lady Farnmont approached.

“No wonder the new Duchess behaves despicably. Her whole family is just the same.” Her voice wasn’t particularly loud, but she did not whisper either.

“That little wit—” Victoria hissed.

Wilhelmina placed her hand on her sister’s arm in gentle warning. Thankfully, Victoria paused, but then she groaned.

Her family knew that she was now a duchess and should not be involved in any more public altercations.

“Duke, may I be excused? I will be back soon,” Wilhelmina whispered.

“Certainly, Duchess,” Gerard murmured, but his eyes were wary.

Wilhelmina took the time to walk to the adjoining parlor. She didn’t want her family and her husband to see her breathing erratically. It seemed that Lady Farnmont had decided to double down on her efforts to humiliate her.

The air in the room smelled of roses and lavender, scents that normally calmed her easily. Alas, it did not work this time. The brave and outspoken Wilhelmina seemed to have been replaced by someone more fearful.

Eventually, the source of her anxiety found her again.

“Well, I seem to have found the jolly widow,” Lady Farnmont cooed. “Oh, you don’t look so happy now, Your Grace. But I must say, you’ve done so well for yourself.”

“Lady Farnmont.”

“You have always been deemed one of the most clever and accomplished young women of our time, Your Grace,” Lady Farnmont continued, her smile sharp, her eyes flicking over Wilhelmina with thinly veiled scrutiny.

“Yet I cannot help but wonder if it is true. You know how fast gossip spreads. Lord Slyham has been dead for only a year, and already you have found a new husband. One would scarcely imagine you took time to mourn. Why, you did not even feign reluctance in the pursuit of another husband. You attended social events and even abandoned your mourning attire.”

The words felt like a slap to the face, but Wilhelmina didn’t say anything. She remembered Gerard’s warning not to cause any more scandal.

“You cared little for Lord Slyham,” Lady Farnmont goaded, her voice dripping with malice.

“You have no right—” Wilhelmina’s voice trembled with indignation. “You have no notion—no inkling —of what I endured when I lost Robert!”

“Lord Slyham was a saint,” Lady Farnmont sniffed, as though appalled by the world itself. “I do not understand why he chose you. I have every right to speak thusly. How can you presume to honor his memory while warming another man’s bed so soon after his death?”

“Do not dare speak so of my husband or my marriage.” Wilhelmina’s warning was sharp. “You have no idea what our life was like.”

Her nails dug into her palms, her knuckles white. Her shoulders shook with barely restrained fury, and her chest rose and fell as though each breath was a battle. She could feel herself on the verge of shouting, of shattering the stillness around her.

Lady Farnmont opened her mouth to speak, undeterred. “Oh, please, drop the noble act. I can see the little harlot you?—”

Suddenly, a voice cut through the air like a blade. “ Enough .”

Wilhelmina knew who it was before she turned.

Of course, it was him . Gerard.

The night had begun with laughter and ease, but she was painfully familiar with the icy edge in his voice.

But this was different. He did not merely look cold or detached. He was a storm contained, quiet fury smoldering in his eyes as they narrowed on Lady Farnmont. Each step he took toward her seemed to command the room into stillness.

Wilhelmina had no idea how much she needed his presence until his hand pressed firmly against the small of her back, steadying her trembling frame.

“Your Grace,” Lady Farnmont stammered, bobbing a curtsy.

All her haughty talk about Robert’s place in Wilhelmina’s life seemed to vanish. Her disdain was now directed solely at Wilhelmina, but Gerard’s presence made it clear that her insolence ended here.

“Know this, Lady Farnmont,” he began, his voice dangerously low.

“My wife owes you no explanation. She does not answer to your gossip, nor will she justify the way she grieves. Her previous marriage is none of your business, and the way she honors her late husband’s memory is hers alone.

If you do not respect that, you will answer to me . ”

Lady Farnmont shrank back, her arrogance doused by the quiet authority Gerard exuded.

“Apologize to the Duchess of Talleystone—your superior. Now ,” he commanded, every syllable precise, leaving no room for negotiation.

The apology that followed was hurried and insincere, but it was delivered nonetheless. Lady Farnmont retreated quickly, leaving a fragile silence in her wake.

Gerard’s gaze never wavered from Wilhelmina’s, his hand still firm on her back, as if anchoring her to the present.

“Do you want to stay here?” he asked, his voice softer now, but still carrying the weight of command.

Wilhelmina shook her head, her throat tight with unshed tears. Speaking would shatter the fragile composure she had held onto.

Robert had been her shield, and she still mourned him quietly, in ways the world would never understand.

“We are leaving, then,” Gerard declared.

There was no harshness in it—only certainty, protection, and the subtle warmth that came when he alone made the decision.

Wilhelmina followed him without a word. Deep down, she was relieved. She wanted to go home. She wanted to escape the scrutiny, the gossip, and the weight of expectation.

And with Gerard at her side, she knew she was shielded from it all.

Another quiet carriage ride. This time, though, there was no awkwardness. Wilhelmina was still recovering from the encounter with Lady Farnmont. Her nerves were still frayed. She was angry and anxious, and simply a bundle of conflicting emotions.

At home, in the drawing room, Gerard sat near the dying fire and asked, “Are you all right, Duchess?”

A sudden wave of sadness washed over her. This was her second marriage, and his too. Their circumstances were different, though. She had married her best friend to save him from a terrible fate. As for Gerard… she had never asked.

“I… I just loathe how she assumed what Robert and I had,” she said, her voice breaking. “Robert was not just my husband; he was also my friend. He understood me. I’ve never known anyone with the compassion he had.”

Gerard merely listened to her, his brow furrowed in thought.

“I loathe,” she continued, “that they question my grief, as though I’m disrespecting him. I would never do that. I did not leave my house for six months after he died, mourning him. I still do. However, I needed to leave the house and make money to survive.”

Gerard leaned toward her as if he wanted to hear more. “I promise you this, Wilhelmina: I cannot change how Lady Farnmont and the ton think of you. Cruelty is simply ingrained in them. However, I will not let them or anyone else dishonor you, your late husband, or your marriage to him again.”

“I doubt that Lady Farnmont would ever dishonor Robert,” she sniffed, blinking back tears. “I think she might have loved my husband.”

Gerard’s lips pressed into a thin line. His face darkened, but he didn’t say anything.

“I-I am so sorry. I’ve been talking about my dead husband too much. You are now my husband. Besides, Robert had never cared for Lady Farnmont.”

“You were confident as to where his affections lay?” he asked.

“Yes, I was, and still am,” she replied firmly, walking toward where he was seated.

She met his eyes, and for a suspended moment, it was as if words weren’t necessary. They only spoke through the magnetic pull between them.

But then something inside her snapped. She didn’t think, didn’t calculate; she just acted.

Her hands gripped his lapels, pulling him to her, and she kissed him. Fiercely . She wedged her knee between his thighs.

She had waited for him to open the door between them, both the literal and metaphorical one. His walls. His shield. And she had never known the watchword. But now it didn’t matter. Desperation and longing eclipsed caution.

Gerard kissed her back with equal fervor. She let out a soft moan, a triumph of need and relief, as he pulled her down onto his lap. His arms enveloped her, strong and unyielding, drawing her close until her breasts pressed against his chest.

This closeness, this heat, was what she had wanted for days, though she had never allowed herself to admit it.

When they finally parted, gasping and flushed, their heavy-lidded eyes met, and the world seemed to narrow to the fierce, intoxicating intensity of their stare. Wilhelmina could still feel him everywhere, and a slow, dizzying thrill rushed through her.

“Wilhelmina,” he murmured, cupping her cheeks and pressing his forehead against hers. “I am not a man who enjoys being second to anyone. Not in my home, and not in a woman’s heart.”

She knew what he meant, and she wished she could tell him everything about Robert. But now wasn’t the time.

“Then be the first,” she whispered.

Her words echoed around them.

Gerard studied her, as if he were looking for any signs of hesitation. But she was ready. She wanted this. She had felt so lonely when he had avoided her.

Finally, he kissed her again, this time savoring her with his tongue and lips, while his hands slid down to her waist and squeezed.

“Are you certain?” he murmured, his lips brushing hers.

Wilhelmina hesitated, her throat tight, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his coat. She wanted to say yes, to surrender entirely to the heat between them, but a flicker of doubt lingered—a quiet warning she couldn’t ignore.

“I… I am,” she whispered, though the words felt heavy, almost foreign on her tongue.

Gerard’s eyebrows rose slightly, curiosity and concern flickering across his face.

“You hesitate,” he noted softly, cupping her jaw and tilting her face so she couldn’t look away. “You may tell me anything, wife. You know that.”

Her lips parted, a small shiver running down her spine at the warmth in his gaze. She drew in a shaky breath, gathering courage from the strength radiating from him.

“There is… something you must know,” she breathed.

He stroked her jaw, ever attentive, patient. “What is it? Tell me.”

She swallowed hard, searching his eyes for judgment, only to find steady reassurance. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

“I… I’m a virgin,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.