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Hudson raised a dark eyebrow with some amusement when Ethan handed him a glass of his finest brandy. “It is rather unusual for you to be indulging in spirits at this hour,” he drawled. “I thought you have developed a preference for tea and crumpets around this time of day.”

In response, Ethan threw back his head and downed the rest of his glass before pouring himself another one.

“Are you trying to drink yourself to an early grave?” Hudson growled. “If you are, then I will not be party to your lunacy. It is much too early in the day for this.”

“Pray tell, is there actually an ideal time of the day for that sort of business?” Ethan grimaced, feeling the burn of alcohol in his throat and chest.

“None.”

“I was afraid you would say that.”

Hudson regarded him with a piercing stare—one that Miss Banbury likened to a demon looking into one’s soul.

“I was not expecting to find you in your townhouse at this time,” he said softly.

Ethan hung his head with a self-deprecating smile. Even he wanted to crawl back to Sinclair Estate, to Phoebe.

Even if he had to sit through tea and crumpets or hell itself, he would.

“I had to stay home,” he replied through gritted teeth. “Business.”

“Ah.”

Hudson gave him a knowing look.

For a man who kept mostly to himself in that musty estate of his, Hudson was surprisingly far more keen about such matters than even Ethan, who prided himself on his extensive knowledge of women.

Except none of that is working for you right now, is it?

“I have an agreement with my lady wife,” Ethan admitted grudgingly.

“Ah.”

“I am to spend one hour every day with her,” he continued. “In return, she will… consider making this marriage a real one.”

Hudson let out a snort that seemed oddly like a laugh.

Great. Now even the Duke of Wolves was laughing at him. Could he sink any deeper?

“You did not think to… simply convince her otherwise?” Hudson asked him, his eyes gleaming with amusement at his predicament.

“She was very firm in her beliefs. She wants a grand romance.Love,” Ethan spat out. “And I am not about to force an unwilling woman to my bed.”

“Distasteful business, forcing women.” Hudson shook his head. “Or maybe you did not try enough?” He regarded him with a smirk. “I do not see why you would not. Your Duchess is a very pleasing woman to look at…”

“Say one more word about Phoebe, and I just might forget our years of friendship,” Ethan growled.

Hudson gave him a pitying look. “You want her,” he said softly. “You want her so badly that you can hardly keep your hands off of her, and instead of facing it, facingher, you hide away like a bloody coward in your townhouse and invite rumors and speculation upon both your heads.”

Ethan knew he had messed up when his friend did not even bother to take the edge off his scathing remarks.

It was also a testament to their long-standing friendship that Hudson did not stand up and leave him to wallow in his drivel. Ethan was only too aware that the man had no patience for empty talk.

Or conversations that went around in fruitless circles.

“Does your wife know that you do not intend to show up for tea this afternoon?” Hudson asked.

Ethan nodded and hung his head again. “I have already sent my apologies to Sinclair Estate.”