“You judge Lady Sophia for frequenting unsavory parts of London at questionable hours. And yet you yourself spend your evenings in a basement tavern, beating strangers bloody for sport.” Hugo spread his hands. “If the ton discovered your nocturnal activities, the scandal would be considerable. But here you sit, condemning a woman for similar behavior.”
“That is different.” Edward set down his glass with more force than necessary. “My boxing harms only myself. And I am thinking of Oliver. I cannot allow him to be influenced by a woman of questionable judgment.”
“A woman who has known him since infancy.” Hugo’s voice softened. “Edward, I am inclined to agree with Lady Sophia. The boy needs someone familiar. Someone who knew his parents. Someone who can offer comfort that you, with the best will in the world, cannot provide.”
The words struck deeper than Edward wanted to admit. He thought of Oliver at dinner, screaming for his mother. The way the boy flinched when Edward raised his voice. Of the silence that stretched between them, thick and impenetrable.
“And bringing a wife into the household will help?” Hugo continued. “Another stranger? Another new face for the boy to adjust to?”
“He needs a mother figure.” Edward’s voice came out rough. “Someone other than his nursemaid. Someone who can provide the warmth and guidance that I’m not equipped to give.”
Hugo was quiet for a moment. Then he leaned forward, his expression unusually serious.
“Why not marry Lady Sophia?”
Edward’s head snapped up. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not? She already knows Oliver. The boy adores her. She has breeding, education, and a respectable family. She meets every requirement on your ridiculous list.”
“She is not suitable.”
“In what way?”
Edward stood and moved to the window, putting distance between himself and his friend’s probing questions. The street below was quiet, the lamplighters having completed their rounds hours ago.
“Our characters are completely opposite.” He spoke to the glass and to his own faint reflection. “She is stubborn. Argumentative. She challenges everything I say and does the opposite of what I ask. A marriage between us would be nothing but conflict.”
“Some would call that passion.”
“I call it incompatibility.” Edward turned back to face Hugo. “I cannot stand the woman.”
Hugo arched an eyebrow. His lips twitched with barely suppressed amusement. “Cannot stand her. I see. Then why, pray tell, did you look ready to murder me when I complimented her at the garden party?”
Heat crawled up Edward’s neck. “I did nothing of the sort.”
“You went rigid as a poker the moment I kissed her hand. I thought you might challenge me to a duel over the color of her eyes.”
“I was not jealous.” The words came out as a growl.
Hugo raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. You were not jealous. My mistake entirely.” The smirk remained firmly in place.
Edward returned to his chair and seized his brandy, draining what remained in one swallow. The burn in his throat was preferable to this conversation.
“I need to find a wife.” He set down the empty glass. “Oliver has been avoiding me for days. He will barely look at me, let alone speak. We are meant to live under the same roof until he reaches his majority, and at present, we can scarcely endure a meal together.”
“Perhaps that is for the best?” Hugo ventured.
“No.” Edward shook his head. “He is my brother’s son. My responsibility. I will not fail him as I failed Leonard. A wife could help. A kind woman who could guide him, nurture him, ensure he grows into an upstanding young man.”
“And perhaps improve your relationship with the boy,” Hugo added.
“Ideally.”
Hugo swirled his brandy, watching Edward with an expression that bordered on pity. “Do you want your wife to be interesting? Attractive? Someone whose company you might actually enjoy?”
“She should be sufficiently pleasing to the eye.” Edward kept his voice clinical. “We will need to produce an heir eventually.”
Hugo’s face twisted with distaste. “That is remarkably cold, even for you. Do you not want a woman whose company you might enjoy? A woman you would enjoy bedding?”
