Page 48 of A Widow for the Beastly Duke

When he finally turned to face her, his eyes widened fractionally and dropped to her bare arms, before quickly returning to her face. A hint of color touched his cheeks.

Emma flushed, suddenly acutely aware of her state of undress. While the sleeveless dress was perfectly acceptable for working alone in the heat, it was decidedly improper for receiving visitors—particularlymalevisitors. She hastily reached for a shawl draped over a nearby chair, wrapping it around her shoulders despite the stifling temperature.

The Duke cleared his throat. “I’ve come to make an offer.”

“What offer?”

“I am going to be your son’s instructor from now on.”

“I beg your pardon?” Emma stared at him in bewilderment.

“Riding, archery, history, chess.” He enumerated these subjects with crisp precision. “Young Tristan shows aptitude, but his current education is… inadequate.”

Emma narrowed her eyes, her suspicion flaring. “What on earth are you talking about? I’m not letting my son anywhere near you.”

“He’s already been near me,” Victor replied calmly. “Twice, in fact, since our encounter at the lake. Quite determined to befriend my dog, it seems.”

“What?” Emma’s protective instincts surged, hot and immediate. “How?—”

Victor raised a hand, cutting her off. “Spare your breath, Lady Cuthbert. Your son seems determined to visit my estate and spend time with Argus, regardless of any prohibitions. Would you prefer he continues to sneak around in secret, or would you rather be present to supervise these interactions?”

The question hung in the air between them. Emma swallowed hard, tamping down her initial fury with effort.

He was right—if Tristan had already gone there twice without her knowledge, he would likely do it again. Her son had a stubborn streak that matched her own.

“The boy is curious,” Victor continued, his deep voice surprisingly gentle. “It’s natural at his age. I have noticed that his riding form is poor—dangerously so. I can correct that.” He took a step closer. “Three sessions weekly at Westmere. You will, of course, be present throughout.”

Emma lifted her chin. “My son already has a tutor.”

“Yes, I am aware.” His lip curled slightly. “I’m familiar with his methods. Ineffective at best, dangerous at worst. Dismiss him.”

“You presume a great deal, Your Grace,” Emma said stiffly, sheer affront lacing her words. “What makes you think I’ll allow my son anywhere near you?”

Victor took another step forward, close enough now that she could see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes. “Has the child been in any danger in my presence?”

Emma bristled but knew she was rather unable to make that accusation against him.

Finally, she simply said, “I cannot trust you.”

“A sentiment I can accept,” he replied with surprising equanimity. “Which is precisely why you will be present at all times, as will members of my staff.”

“Why?” Emma asked, her curiosity slipping in her voice despite herself. “Why are you doing this?”

She watched as the Duke’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking along its sharp line. “Because the boy deserves it.”

Something in his tone—a rawness that was quickly concealed—made her resistance waver.

Yet, she hesitated. “You sound noble, Your Grace, but I am not convinced.”

The Duke took another step closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. “I do not know what I have done to warrant this fear, Lady Cuthbert.”

Emma huffed out a breath. “Are you truly saying that, Your Grace?”

“Well, as far as I know, I have been quite civil with you. Why do you listen to rumors instead of seeing what’s in front of you?”

“You were seen beating Lord Hastings bloody,” Emma countered, but with less conviction than before.

The Duke scoffed. “The ton fabricates all manner of tales about you as well, doesn’t it? The scandalous Lady Cuthbert, poisoning the minds of respectable dowagers and wayward spinsters. Should I believe every whisper?”

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