Page 48 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke (The Unwanted Sisters #3)
FIVE MONTHS LATER
“ N o shouting the lines,” Wilhelmina whispered, leaning close so her mouth brushed against Hector’s ear. “You can mouth them if you like.”
“I’m mouthing!” Hector shot back, bouncing in his seat with glee.
Wilhelmina chuckled softly, resisting the urge to correct him. He looked so utterly delighted, eyes bright and sparkling, cheeks flushed with excitement. She couldn’t bring herself to take that joy away.
Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur, Hector whispered, “See? Not a sound coming from me.”
“You said ‘not a sound’ a few times,” Gerard drawled, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow, teasing. Hector considered the problem carefully, then clamped his mouth shut, pantomiming zipping it closed.
Wilhelmina tried to stifle her laughter, her hand pressed over her lips.
Gerard’s hand found hers on Hector’s seat, warm and steady, thumb tracing a gentle line across her knuckles.
Even as the actors moved across the stage in a whirlwind of magic and tempest, that small, quiet connection grounded her.
“Oooh! I know what’s going to happen!” Hector whispered, his voice full of eager anticipation. “It’s when the ship tilts!”
Gerard shifted, withdrawing his hand and leaning back, mock stern. “Sit back, my boy. We should not spoil the play for everyone.”
For the rest of the performance, Hector sat rigid, vibrating with anticipation, mouthing his lines with precision. He knew Prospero’s opening speech by heart, and each phrase carried the thrill of mastery.
Wilhelmina’s eyes lingered on him more than the stage, marveling at how absorbed he was, at the wonder etched on his face.
Occasionally, she stole glances at Gerard. He was stern, yes, but with Hector, every line of his body softened. He was gentleness itself, a protective harbor.
When the curtain fell and applause thundered through the theater, Hector leapt to his feet, clapping louder than anyone else. Wilhelmina caught the indulgent smiles of the other patrons, who, for a brief moment, delighted in the smallest audience member’s joy.
“I hope we can watch it again tomorrow! Next week?” Hector pleaded, eyes wide and earnest. “I almost had Miranda’s speech perfect, except the very end.”
Wilhelmina smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He knew exactly how to tug at her heart. Gerard’s amused glance reminded her that Hector had mastered the art of getting his way without ever raising his voice.
“I believe you’ve recited most of the lines to the footmen,” Gerard teased, drawing a scowl from Hector.
“I only recited the shorter ones, Papa!” Hector protested, arms crossed, chin high.
“We have dinner to attend, darling,” Wilhelmina said, bending to straighten his cravat. “Aunt Marianne has some sumptuous treats waiting for you. Then we shall talk of another theater visit. What do you think?”
“Oh! We must hurry!” Hector cried, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Gerard’s mouth twitched, suppressing a laugh, as the three of them made their way toward Marianne’s house.
“You’re late,” Marianne greeted them, though her warm smile erased any admonition.
She pulled Wilhelmina into a tight embrace, and something in that simple, familial gesture made her eyes sting with tears.
“But you do look rather radiant, Mina,” her eldest sister added.
“Radiant?” Victoria echoed, skipping forward. Her gaze lingered knowingly on Wilhelmina, raising an eyebrow. “She must be keeping a secret. Perhaps that is the cause of such brilliance.”
Daphne leaned forward, whispering gently, “You look happy.”
“I am famished,” Alasdair declared. “We can write a sonnet later, Lass, but for now—food!”
Hector beamed, delighted by the laughter and warmth around him. Wilhelmina felt a surge of contentment, seeing him at ease among her family. A fleeting thought of her mother crossed her mind, quickly banished.
“I can recite my speech from The Tempest during dinner!” Hector offered eagerly.
“After dinner,” Gerard said firmly, placing a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder.
The family settled around the table. Wilhelmina found herself seated between Gerard and Victoria. She exhaled, feeling a rare sense of ease. Conversation flowed naturally across the table, laughter and gentle ribbing mingling with the clatter of cutlery.
Daphne coaxed Hector into sampling asparagus, which he promptly declared “awful,” prompting another round of laughter.
On Gerard’s other side sat Daniel. Wilhelmina was happy to see them conversing with each other more easily. Alasdair and Dominic also seemed to have welcomed their new brother-in-law.
Daphne had joined the children at the small table, and she coaxed Hector into trying some asparagus. “Try some. It’s good for you.”
“That looks awful, Aunt Daphne.”
Wilhelmina could not help but chuckle. Hector liked most vegetables, but he absolutely hated asparagus.
As a lull descended, Wilhelmina stood, clearing her throat. The family turned toward her expectantly. Gerard raised an eyebrow, curious, but patient.
“I have an announcement,” she began, keeping her voice light.
The room stilled, all eyes on her.
“I’ve been keeping a secret from all of you—a professional one.”
“There you go!” Victoria crowed. “I knew it! Marianne said you looked radiant, and I suspected something big!”
Wilhelmina smiled, letting the warmth of her family’s curiosity wash over her. “I am Lady Silverquill.”
Gasps and murmurs rippled around the table. Marianne’s hand flew to her mouth, Daniel’s brow rose in impressed acknowledgment, Alasdair clapped and guffawed, Elizabeth giggled at her husband, and Dominic merely nodded, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Aye! We have a famous ‘un right here in the family. You did well, lass!”
“Who else could have written something like Lady Silverquill’s column?” Daphne asked, looking unruffled.
Wilhelmina should not have been surprised, for Daphne had always been in control of her emotions, but she didn’t know that her sister could be this calm.
“But I knew that first, Daphne!” Victoria complained, poking her twin’s arm. “You owe me a shilling.”
“There was no wager, sister,” Daphne drawled, a smug smile on her face.
“I know you are a very intelligent woman, sister,” Daniel said, “but I must say that you are more resourceful than I have ever given you credit for.”
Wilhelmina sat down, happy that her family accepted who she was without judgment or denial. Marianne might not have said something, but her smile spoke volumes. Elizabeth raised her glass in a toast, which she mirrored.
As for Gerard, he didn’t have to say anything. His eyes lit up with pride.
“They may have always known,” he whispered.
Wilhelmina chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief.
“Dominic and I love your column, Lady Silverquill,” Marianne said. “I wish there will be more issues. It is refreshing to see you put some people in their place while helping others.”
“I almost suspected it was her,” Dominic admitted. “But I suppose wit does run in the family.”
“It didn’t start with wit,” Wilhelmina explained sadly. “I became Lady Silverquill out of necessity. Dowagers do not receive generous allowances, and I was afraid things would take a turn for the worse if Robert’s heir finds a wife.”
“You could’ve always come to us,” Marianne said with a gentle frown.
Wilhelmina nodded, “I know. But I wanted to do it on my own. To make something of myself.”
Daniel snorted. “Are you surprised? She’s been saying that she’s wanted to ‘make something of herself’ since she could read.”
Wilhelmina sent him a warm glance.
“Proud of you,” Daniel mouthed as he raised his glass at her.
Elizabeth made a sympathetic sound. “By the way, I heard that Lady Farnmont left England in disgrace,” she said quietly. “The ton is now pretending that she never existed.”
“Cowards,” Daniel grunted.
“That’s the ton for you,” Marianne scoffed. “It’s astounding how they used to shun us and now consider us their betters.”
“Yes. They can’t do anything to you now,” Wilhelmina murmured.
Dessert followed. Everyone was quiet for a while, savoring the company of family and friends. Small talk was exchanged between seatmates. Wilhelmina knew that she had to make her next announcement. However, she had to steady her breathing first.
“We have one more announcement,” Gerard declared, standing up this time.
“Oh, is it another charity auction?” Marianne asked.
Wilhelmina shook her head, a grin breaking across her face. “No. It is not that. We have a baby on the way.”
A hush fell over the table. And then, the eruption of joy: congratulations, laughter, claps, and embraces. Victoria thumped the table, Alasdair hugged Gerard, and Hector flung himself into Wilhelmina’s arms, squealing with delight.
“To new beginnings!” Daniel toasted, lifting his glass. The rest echoed in hearty agreement. Hector nestled against Wilhelmina, whispering, “Can I teach the baby speeches from The Tempest ?”
“Only the good bits,” she whispered, stroking his hair.
That was good enough for the boy. He retreated to his table, muttering about becoming a big brother.
Soon, their carriage was rumbling through quiet streets once more. It was time to go home.
Wilhelmina, Gerard, and Hector were still basking in the happy news.
“You were very brave today,” Hector praised, sounding like a grown man. “You told them you are Lady Silverquill. You told them about the baby.”
“It’s easier to be brave when you know you are loved,” Wilhelmina said, stroking his hair. “It’s also easier to do it with family and friends.”
By the time they reached Talleystone House, Hector was already asleep. Gerard lifted him carefully and carried him to his room before tucking him into his bed.
In Wilhelmina’s room, they changed into their nightclothes. She could only brush her hair a little; she had a magnificent but tiring day.
“Hector was right. You were brave today,” Gerard said, voice low, rough with emotion. “You glowed—in the theater, at your sister’s house… everywhere.”