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Hudson doubted that Ethan would even remember he existed, with Phoebe around. The man practically worshipped the ground his wife trod on.

Just like he did with Scarlett.

Do not even think of going there.

“Well, I have been staying here.” He opened his arms wide. “Enjoying my peaceful solitude.”

“Hiding,” she pointed out, matter-of-factly. “It’s called hiding, my boy.”

He had not been called a boy inages, but his mother could do it and had chosen this particular time to do so.

“I am not hiding.”

She said nothing, just smiled as she walked over to him, deftly avoiding marble debris and the odd tool he had dropped—or launched—in his frustration the past few days. She reached out and patted his dust-covered cheek.

“Well, when you are done hiding from all the good in this world, you had best get cleaned up,” she chided him gently. “You know, before it’s too late.”

Hudson frowned. What the hell did she mean by that?

Terror, cold and sinister, wrapped around his chest like a vise, sinking its claws into his heart. She could not have found a match for Scarlett, could she?

He meant to stop her, ask her if she truly did, but she had already begun walking to the door, while he reeled in shock.

“I expect you to be at the ball tomorrow, Hudson,” she told him over her shoulder. “Do not be late.”

He sighed. That had to be it. She could not have found a match for Scarlett, what with her rarely going out the past two days.

But that was none of his concern. He had made his decision, although it stank abysmally of regret.

“Oh.” His mother paused at the landing. “Do get that doorknob fixed. I recall you complaining about it some time ago. You would not want to be locked in at the worst time possible, would you?”

Too late for that warning.

“No,” he bit out.

She smiled cryptically at him, but before he could ask her about it, she had disappeared down the stairs.

He was not inclined to follow after her.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Hudson had almost forgotten how much he despised social gatherings of any kind. The endless bustle of preparations, the infernal noise and chatter, the absolute torture of having to smile and nod to this and that person… it made even the war seem like a peaceful promenade in the Park.

He tossed his head back and allowed the alcohol to burn a path down his throat. His mother was going to kill him, but there was no way he was going to survive the night without some sort of fortification. And speaking of fortifications…

“I thought I might find you here.”

Hudson gritted his teeth at the grating cheerfulness of his friend’s voice as Ethan walked into his study and invited himself to his liquor cabinet.

“Remind me again why I consider you my friend,” he growled.

Ethan merely laughed and helped himself to some whiskey. He raised his glass in his friend’s direction and smiled. “Hiding out here will do you no good, my friend.”

All right. Hudson had had enough of diplomacy.

“Why are you here?” he demanded harshly. “Shouldn’t you be out there, dancing with your wife?”

Ethan shook his head. “Have you forgotten? Etiquette forbids married couples from dancing with each other.”