Page 54 of A Widow for the Beastly Duke

His movements were fluid and practiced, revealing years of discipline.

Tristan mimicked the position, his small frame tense with concentration, his tongue caught between his teeth in determination.

Emma felt her heart melt. “You look so adorable, Tristan!” She cupped her hands over her mouth as she yelled to him, and he immediately bristled.

When he turned around, his cheeks were an adorable bright shade of red.

“Mama!” He stomped his foot, embarrassment threading into the words as his eyes flicked to the Duke, who was watching them silently. “I am not adorable! I am a man, you see!”

Emma’s eyebrows flew high on her forehead. “Oh.”

Ah, she saw how it was. Now that he’d found a mentor in the Duke of Westmere, her boy no longer appreciated being babied in front of the older man.

“Then… you look so manly!” she yelled back, and he groaned.

“Do not say anything!” he harrumphed and turned back to focus on his target, his cheeks still bright red.

“Relax your shoulders,” Victor instructed, adjusting the boy’s posture with surprisingly gentle hands. “Now, hold the bow like this.”

Emma watched, her apprehension slowly giving way to fascination at the Duke’s patience. The fearsome Beast of Westmere, rumored to have frightened servants into fainting with a mere glance, was now kneeling beside her son, carefully guiding his small hands into position with a focused attention she found unexpectedly… attractive.

Oh no.You are the Dowager Countess of Cuthbert, for goodness’ sake! Comport yourself as such.

Yes, it was better to focus her attention on the matters in front of her now—namely, her son and his stubborn insistence on handling a sharp weapon.

With her heart in her throat, Emma watched as Tristan’s first arrow flew wildly, missing the target entirely and landing in the grass with a soft thud that elicited a groan of disappointment from him.

“I’m terrible at this,” he declared, his shoulders slumping dramatically.

Emma leaned forward on the bench, concern etched on the lines of her body. She wanted very much to go to him and comfort him, but she had an inkling that such an action would simply irk her son, who was quite eager to prove just how manly he was.

Fortunately enough, the Duke took on the task of comforting the boy in the ‘manly’ way, albeit in a much gruffer manner than other men would.

“Nonsense,” Victor replied matter-of-factly, his tone blunt as a bludgeon. “No one hits their mark on the first try. Again.”

Three more attempts yielded similar results, but her boy’s determination didn’t waver, his little face set in lines of fierce concentration that made her heart swell with maternal pride. On the fifth try, his arrow caught the very edge of the target with a satisfying thunk.

“I did it!” he shouted, jumping up and down, his dark curls bouncing with each leap.

Victor placed a hand briefly on the boy’s shoulder—a gesture so small yet so startling in its significance that Emma felt her breath catch.

“Well done,” he said simply, but the approval in his deep voice was unmistakable.

Tristan beamed with such pure joy that Emma felt tears prick her eyes. How long had it been since she’d seen her son so utterly delighted? Lord Cuthbert had rarely offered praise, considering it a weakness to acknowledge achievement rather than demand more.

After a few more successful shots, each one bringing Tristan’s arrow closer to the center, Victor turned toward Emma. “Perhaps the Dowager Countess would like to try?”

His invitation carried a subtle note of challenge, just like the previous lesson—one that set her nerves alight.

Why did he keep pushing and pushing her? And why did she want oh-so-much to push back just as hard? If not more.

No.Remember propriety.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly,” Emma said as demurely as she could, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from her dress. “I believe you know that archery isn’t considered an appropriate pastime for ladies.”

Victor’s mouth curved slightly, a ghost of a smile that transformed his severe features. “And who decided that particular nonsense?”

It did sound rather odd coming from her, didn’t it? For a woman who’d created a society in defiance of patriarchal expectations, she was leaning into one such expectation now, was she not? And what did it say about the Duke that he was willing to throw high society and all its rules out the window?

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