Page 41 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke (The Unwanted Sisters #3)

Chapter Thirty-Two

“ P apa, why won’t you sit beside Her Grace?” Hector asked, wide-eyed.

Gerard appreciated his boy’s efforts to bring them together, but there were things that his young mind still did not understand.

The dining room had been so quiet that the question felt like a knife slicing through thick butter. Meanwhile, Gerard’s knife paused over his plate, as if just as stunned as its owner.

Across the table, Wilhelmina did not lift her head to meet his eyes or even look at him in passing. Her fingers were wrapped around her fork, her movements methodical.

Gerard wondered if she could sense the boy’s distress. Hector’s lower lip was trembling, as if on the verge of tears, but there were no comments from his usually caring stepmother.

Perhaps Wilhelmina had given up on her role.

“Sometimes, we just want to try things. I prefer this seat tonight,” Gerard explained, trying to keep his tone light.

“Remember, Papa was not here much for a while. When you were younger, you even had a different suppertime. We do have to test different solutions before we can decide on the best one. What do you think, Hector?”

“But you were doing so well in your seat,” Hector pointed out, frowning. “You were telling us stories and giving us smiles while you did. Now, you don’t smile anymore. Did we do something wrong, Papa?”

“Hector,” Wilhelmina finally interjected, reaching out to touch the boy’s hand, “remember your manners. You must eat your supper in silence, darling, and wait to be addressed by the adults.”

The boy’s frown deepened, and he let out a little huff. It was clear what he felt about the situation, but he obeyed anyway.

Gerard tried to ignore what was going on. He should let the boy realize that he could not get everything he wanted in life. That was the way of the world.

As days went by, Gerard and Wilhelmina had developed a habit of discussing only the necessary things, such as Hector.

After all, they did have to talk about his nutrition, lessons, and activities.

They had agreed to let Wilhelmina take charge of these things.

Still, their conversations were shrouded in thinly veiled hostility.

One afternoon, Hector seemed bent on taking the matter into his own hands. He ran out of the drawing room and into the corridor, where he must have sensed his father’s and stepmother’s presence.

“You both must see my new fort! It has two towers!” he yelled.

“I would love to see it, dear,” Wilhelmina said with a smile.

In her hands was her embroidery, which Gerard didn’t think she enjoyed doing. But what did he really know?

He watched her from a few feet away, holding a book in his hands. He had no plans to go to the drawing room, but he didn’t have the heart to say no to Hector. Not this time. He’d already broken the boy’s heart too many times.

“Well, are you two coming inside?” Hector asked again, tugging at his father’s sleeve. “The fort is not good unless all of us go.”

“I am coming in,” Wilhelmina cooed, but Gerard could tell that she was only doing it for the boy.

“There you go, Hector. Wilhelmina will be with you. I will join you another time. For now, I am occupied with things of import,” Gerard said.

The words left him sharper than he intended, and the flicker in Hector’s eyes, the slump of his small shoulders, struck Gerard like a lash. He opened his mouth, the beginnings of an apology catching in his throat.

“But this is not the first time you said no. You’re always occupied, Papa,” Hector complained, his voice breaking and his shoulders slumping.

He looked so defeated that Gerard felt a pang of regret. Wilhelmina gave him a blank look, then she grabbed Hector by the shoulders and steered him into the drawing room.

“Let us take a look at this new castle of yours,” she said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

“It’s a fort, Duchess,” he protested weakly, but a smile had somehow crept onto his face.

He was resilient, Gerard’s little boy.

Wilhelmina led him away quietly, and Gerard could not help but feel as though he would miss out on something.

After Hector fell asleep that night, Wilhelmina sat at her writing desk. Her quill hovered over the paper, which was a rare occurrence. Most of the time, it moved easily across paper, translating thoughts that flowed from a busy mind.

Yes, her mind was busy tonight, but not because of creativity. It was because of Gerard. He said he was hoping they could start something m ore, something better than an arrangement, and yet he was the one who immediately gave up on it.

Because of her churning thoughts, she could not even be Lady Silverquill. Tonight, she was Wilhelmina, a woman broken inside.

“I should go to Elizabeth,” she whispered to the room.

She’d been thinking about it. Perhaps she needed her sister’s kindness and some distance from Talleystone.