Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
“We will have to have you and Her Grace around for supper,” Lord Bartholemew continued, now gripping Hudson by the arm as if to try and keep a hold of his attention. “Emily has complained recently of boredom, and I know she and your young wife will have much to bond over.”
“Perhaps a promenade this coming week?” Lord Heatherington agreed, taking Hudson by the other arm. “Weather pending, of course. But Diana and I go almost every weekend, and we would love to have you.”
“Count me in,” added Lord Stirling. “It sounds like a time not to be missed!
To this, and to every other suggestion and invitation and insistence given, Hudson said nothing.
He stood in silence, arms folded, expression bored, doing what he could to pretend that he was anywhere else, other than engaged in middling palaver with a group of men he did not know nearly as well as they seemed to think.
I suppose this is the irony, isn’t it? I married so that my peers would think me normal and a man not to be avoided, and I am now cursed with their attention because that is exactly what has happened.
Hudson needed an escape, and quickly. So desperate was he that he was about to opt for blunt rudeness, seeing as he cared little for what these men thought and knew their type well enough to know that regardless of what he said, they would still hound him incessantly.
It was just then, as he opened his mouth to excuse himself, that he spied a most unexpected sight. His own wife, making a beeline toward him, a look on her face that was hard to read but had Hudson feeling somewhat concerned.
Was it so strange that even though today was his own wedding day, and even though it had been two weeks since his engagement, that Hudson hardly thought about his wife?
Oh sure, he had wondered briefly if this marriage might be bearable and not at all unpleasant—and he had considered whether he had been too hasty in its organization and if his new wife was the right choice—but he had been so busy with his businesses and the sudden influx of their success that he hadn’t unpacked it nearly as much as he really should have.
He supposed this was because he wasn’t marrying for reasons some might consider normal.
His businesses were what he cared about, his name and reputation especially.
That was what had taken up most of his time, and already he could say without fear of being proven a fool that he had made the right decision.
Now that he was married, however, and with his wife coming at him as she was, Hudson realized suddenly how underprepared he was. And if there was one thing Hudson hated, it was being caught off guard.
“Excuse me, gentleman,” she said as she stuck herself between the men who had surrounded him. “But might I borrow my husband for a moment?”
“Oh! Your Grace, of course,” Lord Stirling said, quick to step out of the way.
“Never mind us,” Lord Bartholemew smiled. “This is your day.”
“Please, please,” Lord Featherstone insisted. “Although you owe my wife and me a promenade. Do not think we will forget!” he tittered.
She barely paid the men any mind, reaching between them and linking her arm in Hudson’s. The coolness of the extraction, and the sheer determined force of it, almost made him smile. I could not have done it any better myself.
“I am sorry about that,” she said once they were free from the throng. They walked slowly together through the room, and Hudson had the distinct impression she was purposefully leading him away from the other guests. “But it looked to my eye as though you needed saving.”
“Not at all,” Hudson said. “Although I do appreciate it.”
“You are most welcome.” His wife smiled to herself, seemingly pleased. “I take it that I didn’t miss anything? They weren’t speaking ill of me, I hope.”
“It was droll in the most literal of senses,” Hudson sighed. “In fact, I was preparing to remove myself just as you appeared.”
“Oh...” She hesitated, then tittered. “Perhaps I should not have bothered saving you? I made it too easy on you.”
“I would have been fine,” Hudson said simply. “I do not require saving where they are concerned.”
“Ah. That is...” She frowned and he felt her stiffen. “That is good to know.”
Hudson knew he was not what most would call an expert at social interactions.
Having grown up caring little for what others thought of him, he’d never aspired to be liked or loved as many others did—his brother, for example.
For that reason, he was often slow in reading cues, and almost always said the wrong thing.
In most instances, this did not bother him. He was a duke, after all. And he had other matters to concern himself with, beyond what people thought of him. But he sensed that he had upset his wife just now, as her efforts to help him were thoughtful, and she clearly wished for him to realize it.
If she was anyone else, he might not have cared.
But this was the woman with whom he would be spending the rest of his life, and while he didn’t expect much from this marriage, it would not be the worst thing if they enjoyed one another’s company.
After bearing witness to the travesty that was his father’s marriage to Florentia, he would have liked to avoid that at the very least.
“I do appreciate it, however,” he said. “Thank you.”
To this, his wife smiled. “You are most welcome.”
They had reached the back corner of the room, away from the guests. Most in the room watched them curiously, but none dared to approach. It was as if they were seeing for themselves what this marriage really was, and Hudson understood well enough that it was a test he needed to pass.
“So...” He started awkwardly. “How was the ceremony for you?”
“It was lovely, thank you,” she said. “Did you enjoy it also?”
“It was adequate,” he said shortly. She frowned at the response, and he quickly added, “I am pleased that this arrangement has gone so smoothly, however. And...” He considered his answer, feeling her eyes on him, filled with hope and desperation. “And might I say, you look very pretty.”
She frowned at the compliment, as if she didn’t believe him. “As do you.”
He leaned back. “Excuse me.”
“You look pretty,” she said. “Perhaps not as pretty as me, but that is to be expected.”
“I...” Hudson blinked in confusion. “I do not... I was not trying to look pretty.”
“I am joking, Your Grace.” She reached out and rested a hand on his forearm. “Just a joke.”
“Oh...” He eyed the hand on his arm, wondering now why his body had begun to tingle. “Very, ah...very funny.”
She rolled her eyes at him, and he sensed that she was making fun. About to ask what amused her so, her hand squeezed firmly, he felt a pulse rush through him, and then she turned slightly and indicated across the room.
“What do you think?” she asked. “Shall we make this official?”
“Official?” Hudson looked to see what she was indicating. “What do you mean?”
“A dance, of course,” she chuckled. “I assume you know how?”
Of course Hudson knew how to dance. He had been taught how from a young age, the steps drilled into him as if preparing him for war. The problem, frustratingly, was that he was not very good at it. He was not graceful. He was not fluent. And he never danced unless he absolutely had no choice.
Not that he was going to admit these things. Already, he got the distinct impression that he had lost ground with his wife, and he’d be darned if he admitted defeat right now.
“I would enjoy that very much,” he said, cocking his arm for her to link. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” she said with a grin, linking her arm through his and allowing him to lead her across the room to where others were already dancing.
Hudson eyed his wife as they walked together. She was smiling to herself, her delight apparent. At least she doesn’t hate me. I suppose that is something to be happy about.
He would be lying if he said that he didn’t find her attractive.
In fact, Hudson’s immediate attraction to his wife had very nearly convinced him that he shouldn’t marry her.
When he had first seen her appear at the top of those steps, his breath had left his body in a way it never had before, and he’d had to concentrate specifically on not gaping.
Today too, when she had presented herself at the end of the aisle, dressed in yellow, glowing from the morning sun which shone from behind her.
She was angelic, a true beauty beyond his wildest dreams. Hudson’s heart had begun to race, thoughts which he had never had before pushed to the fore of his mind, and it was all he could do not to stare.
This marriage was not typical. He did not want it in the first place. And the last thing he needed was to be attracted to his own wife! It was a business venture, he reminded himself, looking ahead now because he’d found himself staring again. I must treat it as professional and nothing more.
“I take it that you are leading?” she asked as they took their place on the dance floor.
“What? Of course I am.”
“Just checking,” she winked as she stepped into him.
Again, Hudson frowned as he took his wife, his right hand placed firmly around hers, his left on her waist. Their bodies were close; he could feel her warm breath on the nape of his neck. It was distracting and Hudson forced himself to look past her.
As they began to move to the rhythm of the music, Hudson concentrated on his footwork. Absolute focus was needed to—
“I confess, I am surprised,” his wife said.
“Excuse me?”
“You are a better dancer than I thought.” She was grinning again.
“Why would you think otherwise?”
“You just do not seem the type,” she said, smiling as if at an inside joke which only she understood.
He frowned but said nothing, again focusing on his footwork.
She was different. That was immediately apparent.
Even when they’d first met, he had sensed an oddity in her which he’d been drawn to for reasons he did not understand.
The way she spoke up to her parents. How bold she was when she asked him about his motives.
It should have angered him, to be spoken to like that. Only for some reason, it didn’t.
Soon, Hudson found his confidence, relaxing slightly as the two waltzed together.
He could feel people watching him, whispers being had behind hands, but he did not care.
He dared to meet his wife’s eyes, his stomach knotting to see her smiling.
Dammit, he might have even said he was glad that she was enjoying herself.
“Careful now,” she said when she caught him watching her.
“What?”
“If I did not know any better, I might say that you are having a good time.”
“Is that so wrong?”
“I did not think you had it in you.”
He scoffed. “You presume too much.”
“Surely, you cannot blame me? Everything I know about you I have had to learn second hand.”
“And what have you learned?”
“Oh...” Her eyes flashed menace. “I do not think you would like what I have been told.”
“Is that so...?” He felt a pang of anger, hating that he was being spoken about so freely by others.
“However, I am willing to have my mind changed. I am rather nice like that. And something tells me that most of the rumors are either unfounded or highly exaggerated.”
“Is that what you think?”
“It is what I hope,” she said with a sense of earnestness. “And rumors tend to lead to assumptions. For example, based on what I know of you, I had just assumed you would be a horrible dancer. How wrong I was.” She winked.
It was taking him longer than he was proud to admit, but Hudson was beginning to understand that his wife was not mocking him. At least not in the sense that he should be upset. If anything, it seemed that she was playing with him, trying to coax out a side of him that he rarely showed.
Her jovial nature, and her tendency toward humor, reminded him a little of his brother, Elias. He often did the same when Hudson was in one of his moods, and only he had ever been able to get away with it.
In this instance... despite himself... Hudson found himself smiling.
“There it is,” she said quickly. “I was beginning to wonder.”
“Wonder what?”
“If you were capable of such a thing. Smiling, that is.”
It was all in good fun, Hudson knew. And it should not have affected him the way it did.
But Hudson was the way he was for a reason, having been raised to believe that emotions and humor and even untamed happiness were weaknesses.
He never begrudged his brother for acting this way, but Hudson had long since learned that you could not be a successful businessman who others feared and be well liked. The two simply did not coexist.
Despite himself, and despite how much he was enjoying the banter, Hudson’s face dropped suddenly, and his expression darkened.
“You would do well to remember that I do not appreciate being made fun of.”
She frowned, half-smiling, as if looking for the joke. “I was not...I did not mean—it was just a joke.”
“A joke I do not appreciate.”
“I...” She bit her lip, looking away with embarrassment. “I am sorry, Your Grace. It will not happen again.”
Ordinarily, Hudson would not care if he hurt another’s feelings. And he certainly would not care if he upset someone. But in this instance, the look of hurt on his wife’s face stabbed him in the chest as if a knife had been plunged into his heart, and he very nearly apologized.
Instead of that, however, Hudson ended the waltz early.
“Thank you for the dance,” he said stiffly, taking a step back and offering a short bow. “It was enjoyable.” And then, before she had a chance to respond, he turned and walked away.
What was that? The guilt. The pain felt at hurting her feelings. I should not care but for some reason I do. Suddenly, this marriage is feeling more dangerous than I could have imagined.
This was supposed to be a marriage of convenience. A business transaction and nothing more. But what had just happened...no, no, that was far too close. That, whatever it was, could not happen again. If it did, this marriage might become very complicated indeed, and Hudson hated complicated.