Once Lady Tabitha was safely on solid earth, Hudson immediately released his hold of her. Or tried to, very hard. Or meant to try to. Felt obligated to release her. And felt simultaneously the utter incapacity to do anything more than keep his arms right where they were, wrapped tight about her waist.
Her arms were conveniently still about his neck, her smiling face upturned at a distance absolutely ripe for kissing.
Not that he was going to kiss her. Probably. That was to say, definitely not. Was he? His insides were a flutter and his mind had emptied of all coherent thought. He was certain he had very strong reasons to let her go before his mouth tasted hers, but at the moment all such logical considerations escaped him.
A throat cleared just behind him. “Are Mister and Missus in need of a room for the night?”
Right. Mister and Missus. A thing Hudson and Lady Tabitha certainly were not. They were only pretending.
He peeled himself away from her and turned to the innkeeper. “Actually—”
“We already have a room,” Lady Tabitha interrupted, aiming her dazzling smile at the innkeeper. “This is my darling husband, Mr. Snowfeather. I can show him to our quarters.”
Hudson braced himself for the innkeeper’s inevitable skepticism, but to his surprise, the man smiled cheerfully and welcomed them inside as though all married couples in Marrywell regularly leapt off of driver’s perches into each other’s arms.
“Er,” Hudson managed. “My barouche…”
“We’ll carry up any luggage, and take good care of your horses and your conveyance,” the innkeeper assured him. “Just ring when you want the vehicle brought round, and we’ll manage the rest.”
Lady Tabitha wrapped her arm around Hudson’s, and batted her eyelashes up at him. “Come, my love.”
Hudson didn’t know which he liked best: the thought of coming, or the idea of being Lady Tabitha’s true love.
Neither was a likely occurrence. He glared down at her quellingly.
She twinkled up at him all the brighter.
“Our rooms?” he growled.
“This way, darling.” She tugged him up a full flight of stairs before collapsing against him in giggles. “The innkeeper was so relieved to hear you were my husband. The poor soul would suffer an apoplexy if he knew—”
“Shh.” Hudson placed a finger against her lips. “Not here.”
She winked, kissed the finger pressing against her lips, then spun down the closest corridor to unlock the second door on the left. “Here we are then, Mr. Snowfeather.”
Hudson crossed the threshold right behind her.
At first glance, the rooms were very clean, very pretty, and very… compact. They were standing in a parlor not much larger than his barouche. It barely fit a narrow sofa for two, and a small tea table with two slender armchairs. He hoped the delicately carved walnut wouldn’t splinter around him.
“Perfect, isn’t it?” pronounced Lady Tabitha rapturously.
Perfectly dangerous. Now that Hudson wouldn’t be pining from afar, it would be harder than ever to hide the depth of his feelings for her. Sharing space with Lady Tabitha felt too easy. He thoroughly enjoyed every second of her company. And she seemed to enjoy… well, everything. Lady Tabitha was the opposite of spoilt. She was adaptable and resilient and allowed nothing to keep her spirits down for long.
A knock sounded at the door. Hudson opened it at once.
Lady Tabitha’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of a quartet of footmen hauling multiple heavy valises into the tiny parlor.
“What’s this?” she asked in obvious confusion.
“Our trunks,” he replied dryly, tipping each of the footmen a vail before closing the door behind them.
“But…” she stammered, her wide eyes still taking in the tower of leather valises. “How long did you think it would take to find me?”
“Hours, at most.”
“And didn’t you say you’d intended to pop me into the carriage and head right back home?”
“That’s correct.”
