Lady Tabitha gasped, her brown eyes shimmering in relief. She scooped up his hands and brought his knuckles to her chest in gratitude. “Thank you. Thank you. You shan’t regret this.”
Regret this? Only a few seconds of their pact had transpired, and already Hudson’s hands were nestled against the bosom of his employer’s future bride.
It was definitely going to be a week to remember.
Chapter 13
Elation washed over Tabitha, accompanied by a bone-melting wave of relief. Mr. Frampton had found her, and he would return her, but not yet. She could still have her week of freedom.
Oh, very well: six days. Which were six more days of freedom than she would normally dream of. She would take them, and happily.
Tabitha was also glad Mr. Frampton was here with her. She’d enjoyed his company so much on their most recent visit to Marrywell, and had lamented being obligated to spend social outings with her own set instead of continuing her conversations with a man society considered beneath her.
She didn’t think of him as beneath her at all. And now, he was right here next to her. Co-conspirators, who would forever have this secret—and a week full of memories—between them.
“You must be famished,” Tabitha told him. “I can vouch for the special of the day.”
His brows shot up. “Isn’t it rude for a servant to eat in front of a lady?”
“You’re not a servant—you’re an employee.”
“Is there a difference?” he asked with amusement.
“You’re not my employee, in any case. I can’t help being a lady, but I can resolve any awkwardness of eating alone. Whilst you enjoy your supper, I shall indulge in cakes for dessert.”
“I’ll accept that deal.” Mr. Frampton signaled the barmaid and placed the orders. As soon as the barmaid was gone, he returned his full focus back to Tabitha. “Now, as for the question of pretending to be your husband—”
“You agreed!”
“I agreed not to return you to your future husband until Saturday. That is stretching the rules enough without adding a Shakespearean farce to the mix.”
“There’s no reason to rent separate rooms when I’ve already got lodgings sorted.”
“The reason is that you are an unwed young woman, alone in—”
“No one knows that. I’ve checked in as Mrs. Snowfeather. If you’re worried about my reputation, cease at once. I’ve already spent several unchaperoned hours far from home. I’ll be ruined if this much gets out. Pretending to be the King and Queen of France won’t make it any worse.”
“I rather think it might. It would be wisest to call the least attention to yourself as possible.”
“In which case, renting separate rooms is out of the question,” she replied with satisfaction. “Far more eyebrows will raise at a wayward wife, gallivanting around town with a handsome bachelor. Yet it is utterly unremarkable for a married couple to spend time together.”
He gazed at her for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Then: “Handsome, am I?”
She blushed. “Tastes vary. I have mine.”
His eyes glittered. “All the more reason not to tempt fate.”
“Because otherwise we’re fated to find ourselves in a compromising position?” she asked archly. “Such an objection would imply you find me attractive.”
“I needn’t ‘imply’ any such thing. Surely, you’ve glimpsed yourself in a looking-glass.”
Her cheeks flushed hotter, but she didn’t look away. “Tastes vary.”
He inclined his head. “And I have mine.”
She folded her hands together atop the table. “Would it help if I promise not to ravish you without your permission?”
His eyes heated, then cleared. “You’ll find I am always in control of my actions.”
