A flush stained her pale countenance at the earl’s gentle reprimand. And God help him, Hudson found the pinkness to her cheeks damned alluring. An unwelcome stirring of desire began within him.
He tamped it down with great force and determination.
Marriage would not change him.
He did not want this woman.
He did not want this dukedom.
His return to London could not happen with enough haste.
“Perhaps you would care to join us for the discussion, my lady,” he found himself saying despite these reminders.
The urge to keep her here was strange. He ought to wish for her to go. To spend as little time in her company as possible. To see this awkward interview to its end and arrange for the wedding.
“What are you discussing, Your Grace?” she asked.
“The marriage contract,” Lord Leydon answered.
Her thin, dark brows drew together in a frown. “Have you seen to the amendment, Father?”
Amendment?
Hell.
Had he been offered the same marriage contract as his predecessor? Hudson cast a glance in his host’s direction to find the earl avoiding his gaze as he fingered the corners of the document stacked before him on the desk.
It would seem he had.
“The amendment has been made, dear daughter,” Leydon said.
“Excellent.” Lady Elysande’s mellifluous voice drew Hudson’s eye back to her. She plucked at her drab gown, and for the first time, Hudson noted a few errant stains on her skirts. “You must forgive my appearance, Your Grace. If I had known you were a guest at Talleyrand Park, I should have presented myself more formally.”
Who did she think he was? Had she no notion she was speaking to a man who had often returned to his bachelor abode completely unaware that blood besmirched his coat and sleeves? Likely not, or the lovely lady would run fleeing in the opposite direction instead of contemplating something so civil as an amendment to the marriage contract.
He wondered what her requested change could be.
“Your presentation is as formal as I require,” he said in what he hoped was a bland tone.
In truth, he liked the plainness of the gown, liked the stains marring it for proof she was not always as immaculate as she had appeared that day in the gardens. He had not realized the depths of her beauty on their last meeting. Seeing her thus, bereft of artifice, affected him far more than the last occasion upon which their paths had crossed.
She was watching him, that dark-brown stare brimming with intelligence. He could not shake the notion she was judging him. Or, least, making the attempt. He wondered what she must think.
“I am pleased you do not take offense to my lack of polish, Your Grace,” she said, her voice agreeable, her tone well-modulated.
She spoke as if they were in a formal drawing room. He supposed she must have been raised to play the role of duchess.
“Please,” he said, gesturing to the empty chair at his side, “since this dialogue concerns you, it is only reasonable that you should attend.”
Leydon made a noncommittal sound. “It is rather…unusual, Wycombe. I am not certain Lady Elysande will wish to remain.”
Hudson could not be certain if the earl was referring to the amendment in question or to his request that his future bride accompany them as the particulars of the marriage contract were revealed. Not that it mattered. He may be a duke, but he was still the same man who did not give a damn for society and all its bloody rules.
He turned back to Lady Elysande. “What would you prefer to do, my lady?”
For a moment, her implacable façade fled, and he thought he spied a hint of worry in her countenance as her eyes flitted to her father and then returned to Hudson. “I suppose I ought to stay.”
“Excellent,” he said, although privately, he was wondering why the devil he’d chosen to prolong this torture.
