Page 55 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke (The Unwanted Sisters #3)

“ I …” the uncle stammered. “You wish to wed Georgina?”

“Yes,” Lysander responded. “She’s in a bind. Her ruin is certain once this scandal hits the papers. I don’t have time to chase a wife, but I will need one. This agreement benefits us both. It’s practical. It’s necessary.”

The man thought about it for a second. “And you are…?”

“Lysander Cunningham, Duke of Windermere.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Your Grace,” he bowed. “My name is Francis Walford, Earl of Ridgewell.”

“Then we are in agreement, Lord Ridgewell?” Lysander asked.

Lord Ridgewell looked from the Duke to his niece and beckoned for her to join them. “Yes, of course, Your Grace. I may warn you, though, that my niece has a mind of her own.” He shot Lady Georgina a glare. “But perhaps you’ve already witnessed that.”

Georgina approached them tentatively, her eyes shifting between Lysander and her uncle. Her tattered dress dripped as she stood before them, and the shawl her sister had given her was already damp.

“Do you understand what will happen to you now?” Lord Ridgewell asked.

Georgina pursed her lips together, her demeanor far quieter than when her ex-groom had been present.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she told her uncle. “I just couldn’t wed him, Uncle Francis.”

“And you thought running away was the best solution?” Ridgewell gritted his teeth.

Lady Georgina looked him in the eyes. “Yes, because I knew you’d force me to wed him no matter what I told you.”

Lord Ridgewell stiffened.

“Your reputation will suffer,” he said. “ Our reputation will suffer.”

“If you had been open to listening to reason, you’d be thanking me for not associating him with our name,” she whispered.

Lysander raised an eyebrow. From the gravity of her voice and from her former fiancé’s behavior, he could sense the hidden meaning behind her words.

What had Lord Abbington done to make her run?

“His Grace, the Duke of Windermere, has asked for your hand in marriage,” Ridgewell told her.

Georgina’s head snapped to Lysander. “Why?”

“Because it is the simplest solution to both of our problems,” Lysander replied.

The three women quickly ran over to Georgina. The oldest of the three who had given Georgina the shawl spoke up. “Georgina has a right to speak for herself, no matter what anyone thinks of her. She should not be forced to wed if she does not wish to do so.”

Ridgewell sneered. “Your Grace, allow me to present the family.” He gestured first to the woman who’d given Georgina the shawl and then to the man beside her.

Lysander noted the similarity in their features to Georgina’s, the woman’s calm composure, and the man’s tall, solid frame.

“The Duchess and Duke of Blackmoor. The Duchess is Georgina’s eldest sister. ”

Then Ridgewell indicated another couple: a woman with much lighter hair standing close to a man whose steady presence was unmistakable. “The Marchioness and Marquess of Browning. The Marchioness is the second sister.”

Finally, he nodded toward the youngest of the three women, who shared the golden hair of the Marchioness but with clearer eyes, and her husband, who was a tall man with a beard. “And the Duchess and Duke of Nightfell. The Duchess is the final sister, right before Georgina.”

“Good day to all of you,” Lysander bowed at them, wishing to conclude the pleasantries once and for all.

The group regarded him warily, which didn’t offend him. On the contrary, it was expected for the pack to be protective of its youngest.

“Georgina?” Lord Ridgewell prompted.

She turned to Lysander. “Your Grace… you don’t have to do this out of some sense of misguided duty.”

Lysander met her gaze steadily. “Duty isn’t something I question or hesitate over. It’s the only path I follow. This is not about doubt or sentiment; it’s what must be done.”

“You didn’t have to jump into the lake after me, but you did.”

“Yes, I did.”

She blinked, almost taken aback by how quickly he’d responded.

Lysander studied her carefully. The way she watched him—wary, guarded. She was grateful, no doubt, for the life he’d saved. But gratitude didn’t mean trust. They barely knew each other.

“You know why this must happen,” he said quietly, breaking the silence between them. “Marriage will save both our reputations. It is not about us.”

She met his eyes. “You pulled me from the lake,” she said softly. “For that, I’m thankful. But… marrying a stranger just to silence gossip? That’s a dangerous gamble.”

Lysander shrugged, his voice steady, almost cold. “It’s our duty and what is necessary for peers like us.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Is duty all that matters? Because the last time I accepted a proposal out of duty, it didn’t turn out so well.”

He took a step closer, the faintest hint of something, perhaps challenge, perhaps invitation, lingering beneath his words. “I won’t give you a reason to run, my lady.”

They held each other’s gaze, the charged silence between them thicker than the humid summer air. A spark ignited in that moment—quiet, dangerous, and undeniable.

Before either could say more, Lord Ridgewell’s voice cut through, low and urgent. “Georgina, this is a convenient solution. You’d be wise to accept.”

Lady Georgina glanced at her uncle, her eyes narrowed and full of apprehension. Then, she straightened herself.

“If— if I agree to marry you, I would like to make a request. There’s a maid of mine whom I would like to bring with me.”

“You can hire whoever you like for all I care,” Lysander responded nonchalantly.

An extra maid was the least of his worries.

A flicker of relief passed through her features. Was this maid of hers really all that important?

The crowd was still gathered, but they weren’t as vocal now that the excitement had ended, and the people were talking more quietly.

“So, it’ll be a marriage of convenience?” Georgina asked.

“What else could it be?” Lysander responded.

“Very well,” she said, “I accept your offer. For the benefit of us both.”

“At last!” Lord Ridgewell exclaimed in relief.

The Duchess of Nightfell suddenly grabbed Georgina’s arm and pulled her aside. Lysander could hear her whispering to Georgina.

“Are you sure about this?”

“No, but it has to be done,” Lady Georgina whispered back.

The Duchess held her sister’s arm for a long time before she nodded and released her.

Georgina returned to her waiting uncle. She sighed. “I will do it.”

Lord Ridgewell let out another sigh of relief.

Lysander turned to address Georgina. “I shall obtain a special license and take care of all the preparations, and we shall be married within the week.” He looked Georgina up and down. “I am also buying you a new wedding gown. Show up at the altar this time.”

Although her chin tilted upwards, she nodded.

He turned to Thomas, “Let’s go.”

The wedding had been a quiet affair, lacking even the customary wedding breakfast, a fact that brought Georgina quiet relief. She had little appetite for the empty rituals of the ton .

She hadn’t known what to expect from the day, but now that it was behind her, it felt strangely anticlimactic.

Except for the kiss.

Their lips had met briefly, a fleeting touch that left her wanting more. As they stepped outside the church to the murmurs of well-wishers, all she could think of was when she might feel that warmth again.

The moment slipped away as her family appeared, one after another. Despite the short notice and recent scandal, many had turned out, and her heart swelled with gratitude.

Juliana and Vincent were first, followed by Ava and Oliver, then Emily and Ambrose. Her friends, Isabella and Beatrice, stood nearby with their father and stepmother.

And finally, her uncle approached.

“My dear Georgina,” Francis said quietly, taking her hand and pressing a brief, formal kiss to it. “All my nieces are finally married. It’s… something I hadn’t expected to feel relief over.”

She met his gaze, choosing her words carefully. “I’m sorry for how difficult this all was.”

He gave a slow, deliberate shake of his head. “It was more trying than I anticipated, yes. But I was confident that you would marry well—despite everything.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” she said, her voice steady. “I’m aware you did what you thought best.”

Once they had said goodbye to Georgina’s family, it was time to bid farewell to the Duke’s guests. He had only invited Thomas, the Marquess of Southfold, and some of his staff.

Were those the only people I had in my life until now?

Thomas approached Lysander with a knowing smile and clasped his hand firmly.

“Well done, old chap. I dare say the competition has now been lowered considerably.” He turned to Georgina with a playful bow.

“Your Grace, congratulations to you as well. I hope your first night as Duke and Duchess is as memorable as your first meeting. But with considerably less water.”

“Thomas,” Lysander hissed.

Thomas chuckled. “I was only ensuring the proper spirit of celebration.”

Lysander shot his friend a look, then turned back to Georgina. “Shall we? Our carriage awaits.”

Georgina slipped her arm through his, still digesting the reality of her new title and the uncertain days ahead.

He helped her into the carriage and followed, settling beside her.

Georgina gazed out the window, catching the last glimpses of her sisters waving farewell. They looked radiant—each happily married, each in love. She knew they wished the same for her, but her marriage was different—one born of necessity, not passion.

As the church faded from view, Georgina leaned back and exhaled softly. She glanced sideways at the Duke, examining the unreadable calm on his face. His expression was distant, aloof, as if the weight of the day hadn’t touched him at all.

A tightness gripped her chest. She was sitting across from a stranger. A stranger she’d have to share a life with.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Georgina offered her new husband her best smile.

“Hmm,” he grunted.

“And it was a wonderful service, don’t you think?”

“I’d rather you got to the point, Duchess,” Lysander responded.

Georgina folded her arms across her chest. “I am asking you innocent questions. Why are you being rude?”

“Because I have no time for pleasantries. If you have something to say, then simply say it.”

Oh, he is impossible. How can I possibly carry on a conversation with this man?

And yet, a part of her reminded her that she had to remain in his good graces to keep Dottie around.

“I only want to thank you again for saving my life. And for offering to marry me. Not every man would do that. Few people would dive into the water as quickly as you did.”

He said nothing, and the silence stretched between them.

She studied him closely—the tall, broad-shouldered man with jet-black hair and an immaculately kept beard, his sharp blue eyes cool and unreadable against his tanned skin.

Despite his strong presence, there was no warmth in his gaze, no hint of the feelings she hoped to find, only an unyielding reserve.

“You’re not much for conversation, are you?” she asked.

“Not unless it’s necessary.”

“So, we won’t talk about anything unless there is something soothing or a point to the conversation?”

“What do you want me to say?” Lysander asked, finally turning to face her. “Should I talk about how nice the weather is when it’s clear the weather is nice? Should I agree with a sentiment just for the point of agreeing?”

“Well, isn’t that how people get to know each other?” Georgina challenged.

“By comparing thoughts on the warmth of a day or the color of a flower? I don’t think so.”

“Are you this cold about everything?” Georgina scoffed.

Lysander didn’t rise to the bait. “Not cold. Pragmatic.”

His curt response only caused her blood to course through her body more quickly, and not in a pleasant way. She shifted herself on the coach bench to be closer to him, hoping that might improve matters.

“There’s far more to life than pragmatism.”

“Is there?”

“Of course,” she gushed. “Tell me. What do you enjoy?”

“What difference does it make?”

“It makes a world of difference. I am your wife now, and you are my husband. We should get to know each other.”

The Duke let out a sigh, and that was welcome because it showed he had some emotion.

“Three months,” the Duke said as he looked back out of the window.

“What?”

“We’ll live together for three months. Attend events together for three months. That should be enough to quiet the ton ’s tongues. After that, we go our separate ways.”

Georgina blinked, stunned by his detached manner. This was the man who had saved her from drowning—and ruin—and yet, he was cold… almost like Lord Abbington.

“Oh,” Georgina said. “I thought… I guess I didn’t know what I thought.”

“That’s not to your liking? Shall we annul the marriage, and you can take your chances with society?”

“No,” Georgina retorted. “No, I know you have done me an enormous favor. I’ll do whatever is required.”

Georgina joined her husband in staring out the window, marveling at how quickly she went from runaway bride to a convenient Duchess.