Damn it, shesawthem, and this was her subtle way of informing him of what sheknew.

Or what she thought she knew.

“Of course, the Duchess cannot go without me escorting her,” he told the butler. “Tell her that I shall accompany her.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

The butler started to bow when Hudson frowned. “The invitation—who sent it?”

“The Earl of Southford,” the butler replied, his voice as smooth as glass.

Hudson’s frown deepened. “The Duchess’s brother?”

“One and the same.”

Perhaps he should have a talk with his brother-in-law soon.

Hudson nodded. “Is that all?”

“That is all, Your Grace.”

“Very well then. You are dismissed.”

The butler left the study in quiet, measured steps. When he closed the door, it barely made a click as the mechanism slid into place.

But outside, the afternoon sunshine spilled into the gardens, turninghervivid red hair into a glorious cloud of fire. Her laughter rang out as she cheered Snowdrop on, the sound sending tendrils of warmth into the cold stones of the manor and into even Hudson’s colder heart.

Such a sound had never been heard in Wolverton Estate before.

Hudson clenched his hands into fists at his sides as he looked at her, longing and desire tugging at him until he feared they would tear him apart. Maybe then he might even deserve it after everything he did.

But he would make sure to protect her. His wife. His Duchess.

His Scarlett.

If men had their study, then the parlor was the domain of women—or at least, Scarlett made it her domain in Wolverton Estate.

It was where she mostly took her tea or set about working on the mundane affairs that kept such a vast estate running. It was also mostly where she consulted with the servants, like Cook for the menu, and the butler for… a great many things.

“You have spoken to the Duke, then?” she inquired, sipping her tea delicately. “What did he say?”

She had not seen much of Hudson since their wedding and even less after Diana left for Oakview. Were sons so attached to their mothers as to withdraw to such a degree? Scarlett would not believe it ofthisparticular son.

“His Grace received the invitation to the opera,” the butler confirmed with a slight smile. “He also bade me relay to Your Grace that he shall attend it with you.”

“He bade you?” she muttered. “When he could have told me himself?”

The butler’s smile widened, but he refrained from saying anything more.

“Very well.” She wrinkled her nose. “If that is all?—”

“Well, there is another matter, Your Grace…”

She looked up from her tea. “Yes?”

Before the butler could open his mouth, a familiar figure swept into the parlor, auburn hair windswept as if he had been riding on horseback across the moors. He grinned widely at Scarlett, who returned his enthusiasm with a look of mild vexation.

“Sister!” Alexander greeted her with an exuberance that failed to reach her. “What a pleasure to see you doing so well!”