Hudson grimaced, for he was certain that she was about to suggest that he seek out his stepmother and try and make amends. Was that not what people did in these situations? Wasn’t that the social expectation? Hudson would not do it! Even if it meant fighting with his wife, he would not give his stepmother the pleasure.
“What?” he asked carefully.
“We must leave at once,” she said rightly, followed by a single nod. “Perhaps if we go out the back way, we will not risk running into her.”
Hudson frowned and leaned back. “Really? You...you do not think I should seek her out and make amends?”
She snorted. “If what you have told me is even half true, then I do not see the point. Besides...” She grinned. “I prefer you as company when your stepmother is not involved because to be perfectly honest with you,Your Grace...” She winked. “You are a rotten sort when she is about, and I would rather avoid the hassle.”
Hudson did not know what to say.
A part of him thought to thank her, for that felt right. Another part thought to pull her into a hug, a rare thing for him, but it seemed like the correct move. And another part... just stared at her, a smile on his lips, disbelief in his eyes, unable to fathom that Florentia, his wife, would be so understanding. Not judgmental. Not mocking. Thoughtful in ways that he would have believed impossible.
“Thank you,” he said softly, meaning it.
“Hudson, by now I would hope that you would know that your best interests are mine also. We are married, after all. And that makes us a team.”
“A team...” He said the word as if he had never heard it.
“Yes.” She reached out and took his hand. “A team.” She squeezed it and smiled, and Hudson found himself smiling back as a warmth spread through his arm and touched his heart. “Now, shall we go? Unless you wish to stay.”
“No,” he said, still smiling at her, squeezing her hand back. “Let us leave. And quickly.”
They did just that, together, and Hudson would not have had it any other way.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Something had changed between Hudson and Florentia. It was a change that Hudson had been feeling for a while now, subtle at first, now staring him in the face so that it was next to impossible to pretend it did not exist.
“Did you enjoy yourself this evening?” he asked his wife as they traveled home together in the carriage.He did his best not to stare at her, or at least, not to make it obvious that he was doing so.
“I did, thank you,” she said with a simple smile. “And you?”
Did I enjoy myself? Once, the mere suggestion that I might have enjoyed myself at a ball would have been laughable. Now, to lie and say otherwise feels wrong.
“Yes,” he said truthfully. “I very much did. Thank you.”
“Do not thank me,” she laughed. “I did not do anything.”
“You and I both know that is not true,” Hudson countered. “If not for you, tonight would have been a most tiresome event.”
“If not for me, you would not have gone in the first place.”
“It is a good thing that I enjoyed myself then, is it not? Otherwise, I would have had you to blame.”
“Blame me still,” she responded coyly. “But because you had such a good time, I will assume that is what you are blaming me for. Either way, I’ll happily take it.”
Changes were occurring between Hudson and his wife. A closeness growing between them. Confusing still, as they were new to him and thus he had little to no experience with such things. But they did not scare him either. Having spent his entire life alone, and happy for it, now was the first time that he could honestly say that he was glad to find himself in the company of another.
How had this happened? More importantly,whyhad this happened? A part of it was his desire to create a companionable marriage, having felt guilty for the way he had been treating his wife. But a companionable marriage could have meant any one of a dozen things, and it did not suggest at all that he would find himself coveting these moments spent alone with his wife. This was something else entirely.
The silence between them grew steadily, and in it, Hudson found that he was still staring at his wife. Admiring her was perhaps a better way to say it.
“What are you looking at?” Florentia asked him suddenly.
“Hmm?”
“You are looking at me strangely. Is there something on my face?”
