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“That’s it? That’s all you came here for?”

Hudson immediately regretted his question, for her voice dropped to that low, seductive purr that had him hard in the space of a breath. “Should I be here for anything else?”

Yes,he had wanted to say.Right there is my sofa. To your right is my bed. You can take your pick.

“No,” he said. A little too abruptly, it would seem, for the teasing light in her eyes flickered and was replaced by that shuttered look that made him want to hurl himself out of the window.

“Then… I suppose I shall see you around. Your Grace.”

She even dropped into a curtsy before she left. Like one of those damned debutantes.

Hudson smiled harshly as the door clicked shut behind her. Raked his hand through his hair. Ran it over his face.

And he wondered for the thirtieth time that morning if his London townhouse was far enough to be freed of the torment of wanting her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The next few days passed by Scarlett in a blur of fabrics and flowers and questions of what kind of quiche she would prefer for the wedding breakfast. She had menus stuffed under her nose, and fabric samples and ribbons shoved in her face. An endless parade of tiny cakes for sampling.

And still, there was no sign of Hudson beyond their conversation in his bedchamber, where he had admitted to securing the special license so she could be married with all the pomp and tradition of all the Duchesses of Wolverton before her.

She did not know whether she should be elated or not.

“Oh, pishposh. Marriage is naturally confusing.” Her mama swept past her hesitation, waving a bit of ribbon. “I could barely remember my wedding.”

If she had married the sort of man her father had been, Scarlett would not have wanted to recall her nuptials either.

“My wedding was arranged by my mother and a bevy of her most attentive servants.” The Dowager Duchess smiled at her. “All I needed to do was get into my dress, walk down the aisle, and parrot out my vows.”

“Oh.” Were weddings always this underwhelming? “I had thought it would be a bit more… exciting.”

They were walking down to the next chapter of their lives, after all. Did they not feel apprehension? The faintest twinge of excitement? Scarlett had to wonder if she was truly expecting too much from her own marriage when all that preceded it was so terribly dull.

“Oh, believe me, it will be exciting for the rest of London.” The Dowager Duchess laughed. “They are forever wondering who will marry who, those nosy busybodies, and a duke’s marriage is a matter of great importance for many of them.”

Of that, Scarlett had no doubt. It had been so with all three of her friends’ marriages. She just did not know what to make of hers. She had not expected to marry the Duke of Wolverton, after all.

Amariage blanc. A white marriage.

The reminder felt like a boulder sinking into her heart. One without consummation.

Hudson was truly cruel to show her just how wonderfully wild the pleasure between them could be and then offer her a paltry white marriage. Scarlett felt as if she had been duped. Like buying an emerald, only to find it was nothing more than polished glass.

And despite it all, her foolish heart insisted on holding on tight to that polished glass with all of its sharp edges.

“I just think that we should consider what His Grace thinks of all of this, too,” she sighed. “It is his wedding, too, after all.”

She saw the two older women exchange glances. And then the Dowager Duchess laughed.

“Oh, my dear,no. You would not want Hudson meddling in wedding preparations. His job is done, for the most part.”

His job. As in securing the special license.

Her heart fluttered, much to her chagrin. Why, oh why, did it insist on such a complicated man?

“Her Grace is right.” Her mama nodded affirmatively. “Men are practically useless in this matter. Weddings are the realm of women.”

“I, for one, would not want their intrusion.”