Page 26 of A Widow for the Beastly Duke

Victor felt his jaw clench at the unwelcome reminder of how Society viewed him—and by extension, how the boy might perceive him. He was aware that his worries ran counter to the boy’s earlier interactions with him, but he could not shake them still.

“I have no desire to scare the child,” he finally said. “He shouldn’t end up breaking his neck trying to impress men who hardly deserve the effort.”

Victor shifted his position within the hunting party, keeping a careful distance behind Tristan but remaining close enough to step in if things took a turn for the worse.

The rest of the group had started to move ahead, their focus on the dogs that had picked up a scent and were leading the chase with growing excitement.

Lord Griggs and his more seasoned companions, including Lord Sidney, had already rounded a bend in the woodland path, leaving Tristan to struggle in their wake, determination battling with rising anxiety on his youthful face.

“You seem ready to rush to the boy’s aid,” Nathaniel remarked, his voice low enough for only Victor to hear. “Quite noble of you, but you and I know the real reason you care for him.”

“I do not know what you mean,” Victor replied gruffly, narrowing his eyes at him warningly. “I merely do not tolerate negligence,” he continued, his gaze on the boy as he skirted a particularly rough patch on the path. “Lord Sidney seems to have left his nephew to brave the path alone.”

The filth of a man.

“Sounds a bit familiar, doesn’t it?” Nathaniel said. “Although that particular young man had some advantages that the heir of Cuthbert doesn’t.”

Victor stayed silent, but he could feel the tension in his jaw as he absorbed Nathaniel’s pointed remark. The similarities were clear, even if he wanted to ignore them.

A young boy desperately trying to prove himself in a man’s world. A child yearning for validation from those least likely to give it.

The hunting horn blared once more, its sharp sound resonating through the trees.

Up ahead, Tristan’s horse grew more restless with excitement, tossing its head and resisting the bit while the boy fought to keep it steady.

“This isn’t going to end well,” Victor muttered, his grip on the reins tightening instinctively.

* * *

Lady Pembrooke called out to Emma, her voice laced with a hint of annoyance, “Your turn, Lady Cuthbert.”

Though she said nothing more, her gaze suggested that she thought Emma’s mind was elsewhere.

Emma started as she realized the other ladies had been waiting for her to take her shot. She’d been staring off at the tree line where the hunting party had disappeared.

“Forgive me,” she said, forcing a smile as she positioned herself to hit the ball. “My mind is a bit… elsewhere this morning.”

Her mallet connected with the ball, sending it rolling across the lawn, but it missed the wicket entirely.

“Oh dear,” Lady Harwick said, her tone a little too sympathetic. “How unfortunate. You might do better if you focused on the game rather than… letting your mind wanderelsewhere.”

Emma decided that it was not worth answering. She merely stepped back to allow the next player to take their shot.

Annabelle moved in to take her turn. “I find it rather funny that you would think to offer such advice, when your own efforts with your mallet have yielded next to naught, Lady Harwick,” she said.

Lady Harwick let out a gasp of affront.

“Emma’s attention is focused on her son,” Annabelle added. Then, with a playful glint in her eyes, she leaned closer to Emma so her words didn’t carry over the wind. “And perhaps a certain… duke who rode out with the hunting party.”

Oh, how Emma regretted ever telling Annabelle about her run-ins with the Duke of Westmere.

Now, it seemed she would not hear the last of it.

“Don’t be absurd,” she said, her tone curt. “My only concern is Tristan.”

Annabelle’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh, of course. The Duke of Westmere is naught but a mere passing thought. No, he barely warrants a thought, I reckon.”

Emma’s cheeks flushed. “You’re being ridiculous,” she gritted out, her eyes darting around to make sure no one was eavesdropping—and caught the eye of Lady Cecilia, daughter of the bothersome Lady Harwick, watching them both.

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