His gaze settled back on Lady Tabitha, deep in conversation with her father. She wore a gorgeous satin gown of deep rose, with a scooped bodice and charming puffed sleeves. Hudson didn’t recognize the dress. He wondered if she’d had it made for the occasion, or if it was something she had worn to countless soirées and dinner parties. He had seen this coiffure before. It always looked touchably soft. God help him, everything about her always looked touchably soft.
Hudson spent far too much time thinking about Lady Tabitha.
They were only six years apart, but an entire world stretched between them. Ironic that a viscount a generation and a half her senior made a “good” match, whereas the mere idea of Lady Tabitha casting her gaze at a man closer to her age but beneath her station would have had everyone in the room objecting.
Not that there were many people in the room. Hudson and Lady Tabitha. Her father, and his physician. A footman for the wheeled chair. The bride’s lady’s maid, Mary Frances. The priest. All in all, a sparse turnout for an allegedly happy occasion.
None of the witnesses were smiling. One would be forgiven for thinking they’d come to a funeral, not a wedding. Even the priest looked stoic.
Lady Tabitha glanced over her shoulder in Hudson’s direction. He froze, his gaze caught in hers. Her pale face looked terrified, but determined. She murmured something to her father, then plodded up the aisle to join Hudson at the altar.
“Any idea where my groom is?” she asked quietly.
“He’s here,” Hudson assured her.
The viscount was definitely… somewhere. If this was a ballroom, Hudson’s money would be on a gaming room of some type. But this was a church. Perhaps Lord Oldfield was off sampling the communion wine.
Lady Tabitha herself looked as though a slug or two of brandy wouldn’t go amiss. In fact, she looked as though she were one loud noise away from turning on her heels and fleeing the chapel altogether. Hudson’s heart ached for her. He wished he could throw her over his shoulder and escape into the sunset with her, never to be heard from again.
Such a silly thought. He would never get to touch her at all, much less manhandle her like a sack of potatoes. Theirs was not a romance, no matter what Hudson’s private thoughts might wish. For the past decade, he’d watched her from afar and pined desperately. And for a few days in Marrywell, he spent an unprecedented amount of time with Lady Tabitha… falling even harder for her than before. All of which was good practice for the upcoming decades of watching after her from under the same roof.
Minus the pining. Once she spoke her vows to his employer, Hudson would not entertain lustful thoughts about another man’s wife. Or at least try not to. He would protect her with his life, and nothing more.
Which meant he was down to scant minutes left to cram in all the last remaining lustful thoughts he could think.
“Perhaps it won’t be as bad as you fear,” he murmured.
Her startled gaze snapped to his. “You think I fear this marriage?”
“You look like you want to vomit,” he admitted.
“I do want to vomit.” She made a face. “I just hoped it didn’t show.”
“I’m not certain anyone else has noticed,” he offered.
“Except for you, the man who notices everything?”
Everything about her, anyway. “Jitters are normal. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Take Oldfield’s place?” she muttered.
Hudson’s heart stopped, then fluttered against his rib cage. “What did you just say?”
“Nothing. Of course I’ll marry the man my father has chosen for me. Betrothal is a time-honored tradition that stretches back for centuries. Only a fool would lament the loss of a love match that never existed.”
The entire practice made Hudson livid. “Grieving a loss is never foolish.”
“What about attending a matchmaking festival when I’m already betrothed? That’s foolish.”
He shook his head. “Being somewhere that makes you happy is always time well spent.”
“What about pledging myself to someone who has no wish to make me happy?”
Hudson closed his mouth.
Her lips pursed with self-deprecation. “You can’t answer that without losing your post, so I’ll answer for both of us. Willfully sublimating my own peace and joy in the name of fulfilling someone else’s desires is—”
“Noble,” he said firmly. At least, Hudson hoped it was.
