Page 27

Anna rolled her eyes as she drew Lucy closer to her chest.

“What is wrong with their names?”

“Surely there are better names. Like… Percival. And Charlotte.”

“Percival and Charlotte,” Anna snorted. “How original.”

Hudson shot a glare at her. “At least they sound regal. These children have a higher status than most. They should have been named accordingly.”

“Perhaps if they were borne from your own loins and you had to survive despite the many sleepless nights you had to endure due to their restless cries and nursing requirements, you would have been earned the right to name them. As it stands, that was not the case. Cease your complaining and focus on getting your son to a state of peace and calm.”

Anna had a valid point, but he was never going to admit that, so he simply frowned, looking down at the child he was still cradling. Timothy was a fussy little thing, his small cheeks flushed red as he wailed and wailed, restlessly wriggling about in his father’s embrace.

The longer Hudson held onto him, the more uncertain he grew that he could actually soothe the boy.

“Is he all right?” he heard himself ask. “Are you certain he is not ill? Are children supposed to cry this much?”

“I suppose that is something you will have to find out yourself,” Anna responded, her lips tugging into a small smile as she stared down at Lucy.

Unlike her brother, Lucy had fallen asleep, one of her tiny hands gripping onto one of Anna’s fingers as her mother cradled her back and forth in a gentle, steady rhythm. It was quite the sight, how mother and daughter together painted a serene picture of peace. Something about the sight tugged at Hudson’s heart, and for a moment, he was so distracted that he did not realize that he had been saddled with an issue far beyond him.

It was when Anna had returned a slumbering Lucy to her cot that he realized that he was stuck in a rather underwhelming predicament.

“Wait – he is still crying. What should I do? How do I get him to stop?” he inquired, brows furrowed in worry as Timothy continued to wail.

Anna stepped in front of him, casting a look of pity to her son before she refocused her attention on Hudson with a look of irritation.

“Surely you can figure that much for yourself? After all, it was you who insisted on being there for your children just yesterday. I believe the only way you can learn is to experience exactly what it means to be a parent firsthand. Unless you are already overwhelmed,” she taunted with a raised eyebrow.

His pride was immediately called into question, and he shook his head and stepped away.

“I will handle this. You will see.”

If he expected her to put up a fight, he was greatly disappointed because she had no intention of doing so. Anna simply shrugged and said,

“Suit yourself.”

Then she walked away, leaving him alone in the nursery with his children – one of whom was gradually giving him a rather difficult time. As concerning as his cries were, Hudson could not help but admire his son.

He had never really imagined himself being a father. He had no qualms against having children, but he had resolved to remain wary of women, given what he had gone through in his childhood. And truly, when he had gotten married to Anna, having a child was the last thing on his mind, given the circumstances. However, once he had heard about the children Anna had birthed and hid from him, Hudson had been overcome by a strange sense of discomfort.

He felt as though he had missed out on so much already, had lost the opportunity to be part of the defining moments of their beginnings – such as picking their names for them. It was outrageous and upsetting in ways he had not expected and could barely fathom.

“I am still in disbelief, I think,” he mumbled, trying to sway the child in his arms as he had seen Anna do with Lucy. “I do not know what to do with you because I had never imagined that I would have the chance to find out. And now here you are.”

He walked over to Lucy’s cot precariously, worried that Timothy’s cries would wake her, and was surprised when he noted that it seemed as though his daughter could sleep through a storm.

“Here you both are. My children.”

It filled him with indescribable warmth, though he could hardly fathom why.

“I have no idea how I am meant to care for you,” he whispered, reaching out to lightly run a finger along the curl of Lucy’s fist. “But I will do everything in my power to ensure that you want for nothing.”

His mind wandered to his wife, and he found himself adding, even quieter.

“All of you.”

For all the nonchalance Anna had displayed when she handed Timothy to Hudson, she had grown anxious the moment she left her precious son in the arms of the man who was practically a stranger to him.