Page 6 of An Unwanted Widow for the Duke (The Unwanted Sisters #3)

Chapter Four

“ D o you have any idea what might have befallen you?” Gerard demanded, striding toward his son with long, furious steps.

Fear and anxiety had given way to anger, hot and wild. He hurled questions at the strange woman but scarcely paused for her answers, his attention focused on Hector.

The Duke of Talleystone was never disordered. He prided himself on knowing what must come first, second, and last.

Yet, at that moment, order meant nothing.

He dropped to one knee before his son. Though he knew the governess and housekeeper had likely examined the child, his hands moved over Hector’s small frame, searching for any signs of harm.

The boy whimpered softly.

“Are you hurt, son? Speak to me,” Gerard urged, his voice unsteady despite himself.

“I am well, Papa,” Hector mumbled, his eyes bright with delight at seeing his father. “I am neither hurt nor frightened.”

“Then you must explain yourself.” Gerard drew back slightly, though he remained kneeling.

With a restless gesture, he tugged his jacket into place.

“After the incident at the party—and after the letter—you vanish? What were you doing? You knew you were confined to the house and could only leave with my permission.”

Before Hector could answer, the woman stepped forward with unexpected poise. Only then did Gerard look at her— truly look at her.

What was a lady doing with his son?

Her hair was a soft, light brown, catching almost golden tones as it moved, and her eyes were a startling, crystalline blue.

“Pardon me, Your Grace,” she spoke calmly after curtsying, “I encountered your son nearby and thought it best to see him safely home. He asked that I bring him directly to you.”

Gerard could see that she was outwardly composed, but her hands trembled a little. Her eyes darted toward the exit.

She doesn’t want to be here.

“Is that so?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her as he rose from the floor.

He turned to his son for confirmation.

“Yes, Papa! Lady Slyham found me on the street. I know you said I must not trust strangers, but we were close by, and I knew the way. Besides, she looked most agreeable. You will see—she is clever in many subjects and an excellent conversationalist,” Hector declared, his voice filled with admiration as he gave the lady a conspiratorial wink.

She merely blinked at him, caught off guard by his earnestness.

Gerard observed the exchange closely. Hector seemed entirely at ease with this Lady Slyham.

That in itself was intriguing.

Lady Slyham was not the sort of person he would have expected to bring his son home. Another nobleman, an elderly matron, perhaps even an officer of the watch, yes.

But a young lady? That was unusual.

Lady Slyham looked younger than him by a good decade. She was beautiful, though not in an ostentatious way. No jewels, no rouge, no fripperies; her beauty lay in simplicity. The gown she wore was plain, its colors somber, almost funereal.

Is she in mourning?

Gerard drew a long breath, then let it out slowly, striving for composure. The past few hours had shaken his equilibrium, but in truth, his entire life had been a long exercise in restraint. Hector was his only light, and tonight that light had very nearly been extinguished.

“Everyone out of the drawing room. I would like to speak with Lady Slyham. Alone.”

The governess approached Hector, putting her arms around him. “Come along, My Lord.”

“But Papa! Do I need to leave like everyone else?” he wailed.

“Now.”

Hector sighed heavily, pouting at his father. He shuffled on his feet, but decided that there was no chance of getting what he wanted.

Finally, he turned to Lady Slyham and gave her another wink. “Good luck.”

“Thank you. I probably need it,” she muttered.

Soon, Gerard and the lady were left alone. He turned toward her, holding her in his steady, silent gaze. She did not flinch nor avert her eyes. Instead, with unhurried composure, she took off her gloves and folded them neatly between her hands.

“Lady Slyham,” she said at last, inclining her head. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Your Grace. Lord Hector informed me that his father is the Duke of Talleystone.”

Gerard’s eyebrows rose. It was uncommon for him to encounter a lady who did not already know him by sight or reputation.

Was she feigning ignorance, or had she truly lived so quietly?

“Lady Slyham,” he repeated slowly. “That is your name?”

“It is, Your Grace,” she replied with calm assurance.

He strode toward her, intent on drawing out the truth. His son had vanished, only to reappear at her side. The story did not ring true, and the beautiful woman before him might very well be the key.

“So, you merely happened to be where my son was? You saw him wandering the streets?”

“Indeed, Your Grace. I was on horseback,” she replied, her composure rousing his suspicion further.

“And you chose to escort him here rather than alert a constable?” he pressed, stopping scarcely a foot away.

She did not shrink back. “I considered it the most efficient course, Your Grace. The boy was unharmed, and I was the first to question him as to how he came there.” Her voice was steady, almost too steady.

Gerard’s eyebrow arched. Too smooth by half.

“You appear remarkably calm for one who has been harboring my son,” he ground out, his pulse hammering at his throat.

“That is far too strong a word. I did not harbor your son,” she protested, her eyes flashing.

Ah. There is spirit beneath the placid exterior.

“Then you were trespassing on my estate?” he demanded.

“I was not!” She lifted her chin. “If you find my presence so unwelcome, consider how it would have looked had I abandoned your son at your gate, instead of ensuring he was safely within, with his governess and the staff to receive him.”

Her temper flickered, though Gerard thought it the sort of flame long kept under lock.

Who exactly is this woman? Is she even an actual lady?

“I’m going to give you one more chance, Lady Slyham, or whoever you are,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

Her nostrils flared, but she held her tongue.

“Your tale is dubious at best. Am I to believe you were simply riding by and, by chance, encountered my son? I scoured the streets of Mayfair and found nothing. Yet you …” He leaned closer. “You appeared with him.”

“Believe what you will, Your Grace. The truth remains unchanged,” she returned, stubbornly folding her arms across her chest.

The movement drew his gaze despite himself.

The dark fabric of her gown traced her gentle curves, modest yet undeniably elegant.

His eyes traced the line of her neck, the slope of her shoulders, the subtle swell beneath her bodice.

There was an unexpected heat in his chest, a flicker of desire he hadn’t anticipated.

Focus, Talleystone .

“The Gazetteer ,” he said suddenly, watching for her reaction.

She blinked, too swiftly. “Pardon?”

“I traced the hackney driver my son deceived. Hector told him he must bring things to my office. Of course, the man remembered—a boy of seven hiring his own conveyance is not easily forgotten. But the driver also recalled a woman. Older than you. She pressed the fare into his hand. I had expected her to stand before me now.”

Lady Slyham fell silent. Mute, perhaps, but obstinate still, her gaze locked on his without wavering.

“So,” Gerard concluded, his voice hard, “you are no innocent passerby, as you claimed. You lied. Either you are from the Gazetteer , or you are in league with those who are.”

“Your Grace, please spare the Gazetteer ,” Lady Slyham said, her voice steady but laced with emotion.

“Your son came of his own accord. The employees had no idea he would arrive, nor had they written the letter in the column. I give you my word that none of them is to blame. People should not suffer for a little boy’s adventure, nor do I blame Lord Hector.

For him, it was an opportunity to explore.

I imagine you must have felt the same curiosity as a child. ”

Gerard’s eyes roamed over her, noting the fire that tempered her plea.

Then, a sudden realization dawned on him.

“You are not denying that you work for the Gazetteer ,” he said, his voice controlled but sharp. “You defend them with all the force you possess. You are Lady Silverquill, are you not? It is why my son insisted I speak with you. It is why he claimed you converse about anything with such ease.”

Lady Slyham—or Lady Silverquill, whoever she truly was—blinked once. Then, in an instant, the spark in her eyes returned, fiery and unyielding.

“I am not Lady Silverquill,” she declared firmly. “I am only defending those who work for the Gazetteer . A child came to them. They should not be punished for that. No one came to take Lord Hector from his home.”

“Yet, Lady Slyham—or Silverquill—you speak as she does. Precise, impertinent, unapologetic…”

She inclined her head with faint amusement. “I suppose that is meant as a compliment. I shall accept it as such.”

“It is not a compliment,” he said, his gaze narrowing.

“Truly, Your Grace?” she pressed, stepping closer, daring him. “But if you have read her column enough to recognize her style, then you have read more than a few of her pieces.”

Gerard felt heat rise to his cheeks. Lady Silverquill had always irritated him, meddling in matters of a child’s curiosity. Yet the woman standing here before him exuded the same intelligence and boldness he had imagined behind the pen.

“I did read some of your works, Lady Silverquill,” he admitted. “Would I be a fool not to? My life has been dissected on paper, in black and white, and now that column needs regulation.”

“Oh? Was it the piece that led some members of the ton to believe you had neglected your son?” she asked, polite yet probing. “After all, why was he?—”

“Enough,” Gerard cut in, his voice hardening.

Silence fell. Only the ticking of the grandfather clock marked time, its steady rhythm grounding him.