“I must return you to your future husband,” he told her firmly.
“You will,” she promised him. “One week from today.”
He glanced over his shoulders. “Where is your maid?”
“I left Mary Frances at the chapel.”
“I know, but… You don’t have any chaperone?”
“How could I? I didn’t want anyone to be dismissed from their post.”
“Didn’t want…” He groaned. “You need a keeper, Lady Tabitha.”
She beamed at him. “You can be my keeper, Mr. Snowfeather. All week long.”
“Stop calling me Mr. Snowfeather! I have not agreed to this scheme.”
“Nor have you thrown me over your shoulder and marched off, as you threatened.”
“And which is no doubt the wisest avenue.”
“Why be wise?” she asked with surprising earnestness. “I have done everything I was supposed to do for twenty-two years. And what has it got me? A groom I don’t want. Er, no offense.”
Hudson shrugged. “I don’t wish to marry him, either.”
“But… aren’t you supposed to convince me that I should want to?”
“Can anyone convince you of that?” Hudson leaned back in his seat. “Whether I like it or not, my job is to ensure you are at the chapel at nine o’clock in the morning next Sunday. What you reply when the priest asks you to make your vows is between you and God, not me.”
“Then say yes,” she begged. “All four of us will get what we want. Viscount Oldfield will have a willing bride, my father will witness the ceremony, I will have my first—and, likely, only—week of freedom in my life, and you…” Her smile fell. “…will be saddled with me for seven days. I’m sorry. You’re the only one who won’t get what you want.”
That conclusion could not be further from the truth.
For years, Hudson had gone out of his way to have any spare second with Lady Tabitha that he could conjure. Drizzling? Why, Hudson happened to have an umbrella. A knot in your bonnet ribbon? Why, let me untie it for you. In need of an escort down the hall? Please, take my arm.
The two days he’d spent in her company at the beginning of the matchmaking festival was the most time they’d shared together in their entire acquaintance… and it had been glorious. He’d lost track of the number of times they’d forgotten who they were and simply enjoyed each other’s company like old friends.
Er, if one of the old “friends” pined after the other and yearned to pull her into his arms and kiss her.
An entire week alone with her was a dream come true. A dream he did not deserve. A dream he absolutely, positively, unquestionably should say no to, before things got even more out of hand.
Lady Tabitha’s face fell, as though reading his thoughts.
“I just wanted… to be happy again. For a short while.” Her expression was defeated. “It might be for the very last time.”
Hudson’s heart wrenched for her. From anyone else, that pronouncement might have sounded melodramatic. But Hudson had no reason to doubt his employer’s proficiency in making everyone around him profoundly unhappy.
A bride would bear the worst of it. She would belong to the viscount, like a piece of art or an old shoe. And she’d have just as much autonomy.
That wasn’t all, Hudson realized with a sinking feeling. Lady Tabitha might not even be referring to Lord Oldfield. Her father’s imminent death had visibly weighed on her ever since the physician first pronounced him incurable. At any moment, Lady Tabitha would be plunged into a year of mourning, not just of her old life, but of her last remaining family member.
She was right. Things were about to get much worse.
What kind of beast would refuse to allow the fair maiden a short respite before the storm?
Hudson tightened his jaw and came to a decision. If he were going to have to hand over the woman of his dreams to a man who didn’t deserve her, the least he could do was let her cross that bridge at her own pace.
“Six days,” he said firmly. “We return to London no later than Saturday evening.”
