“There, there.” Tabitha kissed Hudson on his cheek. “We can resume after dessert.”
“I want you for dessert,” he growled.
“I’ll consider the merits of your petition,” she replied pertly, and skipped toward the door before he could haul her back into his arms.
He chased after her.
When he reached the corridor, she hooked her arm through his and grinned at him. “I’m proud of you, you know.”
“I’m proud of you,” he countered.
Thanks to his recent marriage well above his league to Tabitha, and also thanks to the far reaches of his new father-in-law’s influence, Hudson interfaced with members of the ton every single day.
Not as an aristocrat himself, but as a trusted advisor. His client list contained dozens of well-known names, from lords to widows. Hudson aided each one of them with personalized advice in choosing the right investments and managing their funds.
“You could’ve kept my money,” Tabitha said.
He nibbled her earlobe. “I wanted you, not your dowry.”
Instead, Hudson had asked the marquess to place the funds into a trust in Tabitha’s name, so that every farthing belonged to her, and only to her. Hudson’s initial thought had been to teach his wife how to invest the balance, so that if anything happened to him, Tabitha could carry on without financial fear.
To his delight, she’d far surpassed the lessons he’d planned to bestow, and had become his right hand in his new venture—his own personal woman-of-business, as it were.
According to Tabitha, female clients preferred her advice because Hudson’s rough looks and brusque manner were off-putting at best. But that was only part of the truth.
The fact was, Tabitha’s cleverness and intuitive grasp of the market meant that she gave legitimately good advice. It wouldn’t be long at all before Hudson was begging her to accept a role as full partner in his new firm.
“At least this isn’t another dinner party,” he grumbled.
His wife swatted his shoulder. “I thought you liked our dinner parties! That’s how you landed half of your current clients.”
“Every last one of them takes up time that I could be spending with you.”
“You are spending time with me,” she reminded him. “I have a desk of my own, right there in your office, and at dinner parties I sit at the table by your side.”
“Yes, but you’re not naked on top of it,” he muttered. “I must simply imagine it vividly whilst pretending to listen to other people prattle on.”
“If you’re very nice at tonight’s dinner, I’ll consider tidying the paperwork off your desk so that it can be employed in a less boring fashion,” she promised him.
He brightened at once and kissed her lips. “It’s a deal.”
Hudson’s life and calendar had never been so full. Not every member of the ton was willing to accept such an unconventional couple into their exalted echelons, in light of Hudson’s humble birth. But enough of them were true friends of Lady Tabitha—or long repulsed by Viscount Oldfield—that Tabitha and Hudson had no shortage of cozy parties to attend or acquaintances to invite over.
His wife squeezed his arm. “Now, hurry up. Father’s waiting.”
Hudson grinned despite himself. The marquess had good days and bad days, but had been holding steady ever since Tabitha moved in to stay. Father and daughter were getting along better than ever. All of their final memories of each other would be happy ones.
As would the memories Hudson and Tabitha made with each other, and their own future family.
One bed—or desk—at a time.
