Page 36 of My Demanding Duke

"I have it on good authority that you decided to promenade around Green Park with only Josephine for company," Hugh stated, once the footmen had poured the wine and withdrawn to fetch the first course. “London is not safe for—"

"And I have it on good authority that my father is still missing," Anna interrupted, her voice brittle as she finally turned her blue gaze his way. "A fact that you felt needed to be kept from me."

Hugh stilled, his wine glass halfway to his lips. The accusation in her eyes was genuine, but beneath it lay something he recognized all too well—fear. Thanks to Jack, he knew well what it felt like to imagine the worst when a loved one disappeared.

"Did you know?” she questioned, her voice shaking slightly as her composure cracked. “Were you aware that he has not been seen since—"

She faltered, unable to directly reference the card game that had thrust them together.

"Since the night he lost you in a game of chance," Hugh finished for her, setting down his glass with deliberate care. He would not gild the lily and pretend her father an honourable man, even if he was missing.

"If you want the truth of the matter," Hugh began, spreading his hands in surrender, "I have not spared your father a second thought since the wedding. I had arranged with the proprietor of one of town’s more salubrious gaming hells to alert me when he resurfaced."

"And you did not worry when you heard nothing?"

Anna’s accusatory and somewhat frightened glare stopped the wicked reply at the tip of Hugh’s tongue. He wanted to snap that he did not think Lord Mosley deserved anyone’s worry—especially not that of his daughter—but now was not the time to divulge that.

"He slipped my mind,” he replied carefully. “Now I am aware that he has not returned, I shall endeavour to pour all my resources into locating him.”

The footmen returned with the soup course, forcing a pause in their conversation. Hugh watched Anna's face in the candlelight. There was anger there, but beneath it lay fear, and worry for her father that Hugh both understood and resented. He knew the feeling all too well—it was not easy to let go of worrying about a loved one, even when they had hurt you.

When they were alone again, Hugh leaned forward, seeking to offer assurance even as his own old ghosts pressed close.

"He will be found," he promised, his voice gruff. "You have my word.”

"And you will keep me informed of the search?" Anna prodded, not quite trusting him.

"I will not keep anything from you,” Hugh swore. "But in return, I ask that you not venture out alone again. I should not like to have to search for two people in the slums of St Giles; one is quite enough."

Something in his tone must have conveyed his sincerity, for she offered him a wan smile before turning her attention to her soup. They both ate in strained silence for a moment or two until his wife offered him an olive branch.

"How was your day at Lords?" she ventured, tilting her head like a curious bird.

Hugh almost snorted with laughter at the staid domesticity of her question. Had anyone walked in just then, they would have assumed them married for decades rather than forced together by Hugh’s desire and a deck of cards.

“Productive but dreadfully dull. I don’t think you want to hear about the slow turning cogs of The House of Lords.”

“Try me,” she suggested lightly. “If I fall asleep in my soup, you’ll know it’s time to change the topic.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he cautioned, before gingerly beginning the tale of the member’s bill he had helped sponsor that day.

"I’m supporting the Duke of Thorncastle’s efforts to strengthen the abolition laws. The bill proposes harsher penalties for those caught trafficking human beings and additional funds for the West Africa Squadron to intercept slave ships."

Hugh paused, surprised by Anna's attentive expression. He had expected her eyes to glaze over, but she appeared interested. He had a momentary glimpse of what their marriage might have been like had they come together by choice—warm interest in the other’s day.

“I expect there was some argument against diverting funds away from the Navy?” she ventured, surprising him further with her political acumen.

“Yes, a few think that the government should not be distracted from the war effort,” Hugh conceded. “Though most were in support of funding the cause.”

“I should hope so,” she declared, setting down her spoon. “What point is there in having the might of the British Naval Fleet if it cannot be used to save those poor souls from their wretched fate?”

“Quite,” Hugh lifted his wine glass in toast to her statement.

As they continued to discuss the particulars of the member’s bill, he found himself unexpectedly savoring the moment. How long had it been since he'd shared the details of his day with anyone?

Since Jack’s death, he had wrapped his title around himself like armor, keeping even his closest acquaintances at a carefully measured distance. For years, he had haunted the same gaming hells that had destroyed his brother, drinking the same brandies, playing the same games, seeking some connection to the ghost of his brother.

Yet here, in this forced marriage born from those very cards that had destroyed Jack, he was finding what had eluded him in all those dark, desperate nights.

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