Page 31

And she left.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“You are being strangely slow today,” Owen remarked in an unimpressed tone as he stepped from side to side, keeping himself out of Hudson’s reach.

Hudson tried not to roll his eyes at the obvious gloating from his friend who, for once, was not finding himself on his behind because Hudson’s frame of mind was not up to its usual state of strength and clarity.

It had been hard for him to focus all day, because lately, his mind had been consumed with thoughts of his wife and his children.

Dear Lord – he had children now. He was truly a father. Would wonders never cease?

He was still trying to reconcile himself with the fact, and was… a little lost on how to proceed. It was easy to make promises and claim with conviction that he would stand and do what was necessary. And while he had no intention of going back on his word, he was willing to admit to himself that he had no idea how to hold himself to the commitment he had made.

“Is anyone in there, Your Grace?” Owen called, waving a hand before Hudson’s face.

His ridiculous actions made him glad that there was no one else present at the club’s ring at that current time. He’d lost count of how many times he was thankful for the fact that he and Owen had invested jointly for the addition of a boxing ring to the club. Despite the fact that the idea had been born more out of fondness for the sport – and a hint of boredom – than any genuine ambition toward it. Hudson would not deny that the benefits had made every penny they had spent worthy, because having their own ring gave Hudson somewhere to put the restlessness that so often built beneath his ribs. A restlessness that had only grown considerably worse – if he were honest with himself – since his return to Wolvesley estate.

“You’ve been distracted all morning,” Owen observed, circling him with a loose, easy gait, his tone light remaining light in contrast to his eyes sharp. “Which is unlike you. You are typically insufferably focused when you fight. It is one of your few redeeming qualities, and I confess I rather miss it when it suddenly disappears.”

“I have a great deal on my mind,” Hudson admitted unwillingly, dodging a jab aimed at his ribs, though the movement was a fraction slower than it ought to have been, and Owen’s grin told him the lapse had not gone unnoticed.

“Oh? Do tell, seeing as whatever you are thinking of so much clearly bears a great deal of weight.” Owen’s eyes glinted with a light that told Hudson that he already had his suspicions on the cause of his friend’s distress but he simply wished for the other to confirm it with his own lips. “Word has it you’ve returned to Wolvesley after a year’s absence. That is rather sudden, even for you, and you have never been a man given to sudden decisions where your household is concerned.”

Hudson exhaled, lowering his guard for a moment, using the pause to gather himself before he answered.

“I needed to act swiftly once I was made aware of the fact that…I have children.”

His friend stopped mid-step entirely, stumbling sideways in a manner that would have been amusing, had Hudson been in the mood to entertain any form of teasing. Once Owen regained his balance, he dropped his fists as his expression – which had been playfully curious moments earlier – shifted to genuine shock. For a few seconds, he opened and closed his mouth a handful of times, as though his mind could not decide on how to address this very unexpected discovery.

“You – I beg your pardon? Children? As in – more than one?” Owen queried eventually

“Twins,” Hudson clarified, unable to ignore the warm sensation of something that might have been wonder or pride flashing through him “A son and a daughter. Apparently they had been born well over three months ago, but Anna kept them from me. I only discovered their existence a few days ago – which was quite by accident, thanks to a slip up caused by one of her maids. Had they been a little more careful, I might still be in the dark.”

Saying it like that set something akin to horror alight in him. He still could not believe that it had been a mistake – a mere mistake had exposed the truth of what he had recently discovered was possibly the most remarkable sight he had ever witnessed in his life.

He tried not to consider it at all, but it frightened him when he entertained the possibility of more care being exercised by Anna’s maid, which would have extended his time in the dark. It was sickening to think of, so he worked hard to ignore such notions as best as he could.

Owen let out a low whistle, dragging a hand through his damp hair, staring at Hudson as though seeing him for the first time in years. “Well. That would certainly explain the strange, vacant look in your eyes – as well as other things.” He continued to circle Hudson, likely to give himself something to do as his expression and voice remained without the former teasing edge they had carried previously. “How do you feel, having them? Truly, Hudson. Not the answer you would give at an attempt to paint your reputation in a good light, but the truth.”

It was not a question Hudson had prepared himself for, and he found he did not have a ready answer, not one that felt entirely honest even to himself. He threw a punch instead, using the motion to buy himself a moment to think, to organize the tangle of feeling into something he could put into words without sounding like a fool.

“Strange,” he admitted finally, lowering his fists. “I never intended to have children of my own. I told myself, for years, that I would not – that it was safer not to, given everything I encountered as a child myself. I knew I would not have it in me to be saddled with the responsibility of looking after my own, and I harbored many fears of what would become of them if any misfortune were to befall my wife or me. That was even long before I had gotten unexpectedly married. And yet…”

He shook his head, searching for the words that he could feel swimming about in his head but found difficult to grasp when they had drawn close enough to reach.

“There is something in seeing them, in holding them, that I did not account for. I held my son for the first time only days ago, and he would not stop crying, and I could not for the life of me work out how to soothe him, and I have never in my life felt so entirely out of my depth. And yet I would not trade the experience for anything. It matters to me more than I expected it to. Considerably more.”

Owen did not press further on the sentiment, though Hudson suspected his friend understood a portion of the reasoning behind it. After all, Owen had known him long enough, had been present for enough of the worst years, to require little explanation of why this particular development might strike so deeply. His family life had been tumultuous growing up and he had spent the early days of his youth fighting for more than he was equipped to. He had done everything in his power to protect the only person who meant the most to him in the world – his brother, regardless of what it might have cost him personally.

Turning himself into a shield had taken more from him than he was willing to admit, and he believed he did not have an ounce of that strength and courage to do so all over again. However… his children had changed that mindset. Suddenly he felt willing and ready to take on armies for their sake, to stand before any who would dare to so much as wag their tongue against his family. He had not felt this way in a long time, and the dangerous charge in his veins made him wonder if this was what he was meant to carry, as he had spent his childhood learning early and thoroughly what it meant to protect someone who could not yet protect himself.

Speaking of…

“Have you heard from Cornelius?” Hudson asked, needing a moment to ease away the tightness that had suddenly manifested in his chest.

Owen’s expression shifted, careful in a way that told Hudson the answer before it was uttered. “Not in the last few days, no. He has written to me a handful of times since he departed on his tour – nothing of great consequence, mostly accounts of Venice and Florence and the various trouble he’s gotten himself into with the local company, or so he claims, though I suspect he exaggerates for effect. He has always been rather dramatic, that one. He has not written to you, I take it.”

“No,” Hudson replied quickly, keeping his voice deliberately flat, a feeble attempt to sound unbothered, though the admission sat uneasily in his chest regardless, next to a small, persistent ache he had grown accustomed to ignoring every time he thought of his younger brother. “He is entitled to his silence, I suppose, given everything. Though I still believe he is being rather childish about it all.”