Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“Good,” Hudson said as he crossed to his desk.
He hadn’t expected the relief that coursed through him.
The drawer slid open, and he reached inside, fingers closing around a small leather pouch that sat nestled among account books and correspondence.
“This is an advance on your salary,” he said, watching her face. “Since the reverend saw fit to leave you without so much as a hairpin to your name.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said simply.
It was a small concession—taking money from a stranger when one had none—but it told Hudson everything he needed to know. This woman was practical to her core. She would not allow pride to stand in the way of survival.
It was a quality he understood and, in this moment, appreciated.
“There is one condition that is not open to negotiation,” he added, each word clear and deliberate. “Everything you witnessed tonight—the auction, my ownership of the Nightingale, all of it—stays in this room. No one is to know anything about it.”
She held his gaze without flinching. “I understand,” she said, her chin level. “Your secret is safe with me, Your Grace.”
For a moment, his eyes searched hers for any sign of hesitation but found none. Then, he straightened.
She was either very good at lying or remarkably genuine. Either way, he had made his choice. Now he would have to live with the consequences.
He moved to the door, unlocking it with a turn of the key, and stepped into the corridor where the same burly men from earlier stood waiting, their postures alert and professional.
“Bring my sister back,” he instructed. “We’ll be leaving shortly.”
Davies nodded and moved off down the corridor, his footsteps fading as he turned the corner.
Hudson stepped back into the office, leaving the door open, a small gesture of trust that felt both necessary and dangerous.
Miss Augusta Booth stood exactly where he’d left her, her eyes now fixed on the dying embers in the grate, her profile silhouetted against the fading glow.
She was beautiful; there was no denying it.
Tall and lean, with gentle curves beneath her modest dress.
Her dark hair seemed to be alive in the soft candlelight of the room.
He avoided the blue of her eyes, and his own eyes landed on the shape of her lips.
It made his heart beat in a way that had nothing to do with the bargain they’d just struck and everything to do with the inconvenient fact that she would be living under his roof, in his employ, with his sister.
Hudson cleared his throat. “My sister will be here shortly. I think it best if she believes your employment was arranged through more conventional means.”
Augusta turned, her eyebrow lifting slightly. “Conventional means,” she repeated. “Such as?”
“Such as an introduction through a friend,” Hudson said. “Which, in a manner of speaking, it was. Joseph—the man who bid on you—is a trusted employee. And you will be using a different surname. I thought Miss Norton might serve.”
“Miss Norton,” Augusta said, testing out the name. She gave a small nod. “It will do.”
“You’ll need to answer to it,” Hudson continued. “To Cassie, to the servants, to anyone who asks. Your history is your own—I won’t pry—but your presence in my household needs a simple explanation.”
“The truth, but adapted,” Augusta said, her mouth curving in what might have been a smile. “I understand the concept, Your Grace.”
The title, in her mouth, sounded like both respect and subtle mockery. Hudson found himself oddly charmed by it.
“Just so,” he said.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor. They were lighter than his employees’, with the distinctive skip and pause of a child trying very hard to appear contrite.
Hudson turned to the doorway, bracing himself for whatever expression Cassie had decided would best convey her remorse.
She was escorted back into the office by Davies, her eyes bright with what Hudson recognized, with a sinking feeling, as excitement rather than remorse.
“Thank you,” he said, nodding to Davies, who withdrew with a respectful dip of his head.
The door closed, leaving the three of them alone, Hudson behind his desk, Miss Booth a few feet away, and Cassie between them, vibrating with barely contained energy.
“Cassie,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “This is Miss Augusta Norton. She will be your governess from now on.”
Cassie’s eyes widened. She looked at Augusta, then back at Hudson, her expression shifting from surprise to delight in the space of a heartbeat.
“Really?” she gushed, the word bursting from her. “Today? Now?”
“Tonight, actually,” Hudson said, the corner of his mouth quirking despite his attempt to remain stern. “It’s well past midnight.”
Instead of responding, Cassie’s face split into a wide grin. She launched herself across the office with the unself-conscious enthusiasm only children could manage, wrapping both arms around Augusta’s waist and burying her face against the woman’s midsection.
Augusta stood perfectly still for a moment, clearly startled by the sudden physical contact. Then, slowly, her arms came up to encircle Cassie’s shoulders.
Hudson watched, something in his chest loosening at the sight of his sister, normally so guarded with strangers, pressing herself against Augusta with complete trust.
At last, Cassie pulled back, beaming. “Can I be the one to introduce Miss Norton to Pippin?” she asked, turning to him with her hands clasped beneath her chin in a posture of exaggerated pleading. “Please? I’ll be good, I promise! For a whole week! Maybe two!”
Hudson frowned. “No,” he said, the word coming out more sharply than he’d intended. “Your punishment still stands. The staff will introduce Miss Norton to Pippin.”
Cassie’s face fell, her lower lip beginning its telltale wobble. “But—”
“I can see I’ve missed something important,” Augusta interjected, stepping smoothly into the breach. She looked at Hudson, her head tilted slightly. “Who is Pippin, and what punishment are you talking about?”
Hudson stared at her. The question was perfectly reasonable; a governess would need to know the household’s routines and rules. Yet something in her tone suggested she was asking not as an employee but as an advocate. For Cassie.
“Pippin is my dog,” Cassie replied before Hudson could. “He’s the most beautiful puppy in the whole county, and Hudson says I can’t see him because I—” She stopped, casting a glance at her brother.
“Because she insists on sowing chaos with the animal, who is by no means a puppy anymore,” he supplied.
“Miss Fairchild was very cross,” Cassie added, with the grave understatement of the truly unrepentant. “She said she’d never been so humiliated in her life, and then she packed her things and left without even saying goodbye.”
“Well,” Augusta offered, “perhaps there’s a way to make amends that doesn’t involve being kept from something you clearly care about.
” She glanced at Hudson, her eyes meeting his with a directness that made his skin warm.
“What if, instead of this punishment, Cassie writes a proper apology—to Miss Fairchild and to you—and takes on a practical form of amends? Perhaps she could help tend to your animals? Show that she will be responsible with her dog.”
Cassie looked up, hope blooming across her face. “I… I suppose I could do that,” she said eagerly.
“No.” The word cut through Cassie’s excitement like a blade.
Hudson straightened, his shoulders squaring as he fixed Augusta with a look that had made seasoned businessmen reconsider their positions.
“Discipline in my house,” he said, each word precisely measured, “is not a matter for negotiation.”
Augusta met his eyes without flinching. “It isn’t about negotiation,” she countered. “It’s about making sure Cassie actually learns something from the experience, rather than simply being restricted until she forgets why the restriction was imposed in the first place.”
Hudson took a step closer, closing the distance between them. Augusta didn’t step back. Instead, she held her ground, her chin lifting slightly, her eyes never leaving his.
He was close enough now to see the flecks of gold in her blue eyes, to catch the faint scent of lavender that clung to her skin.
His jaw worked, his nostrils flaring slightly as he drew a breath. For one treacherous second, his gaze dropped to her mouth—full and currently set in a firm line—before snapping back up to her eyes.
“Cassie will write the apology,” he said finally, his voice lower than he’d intended. “And she will take on additional duties in the stables. But the terms are mine to set, and the supervision is my decision.”
Augusta nodded, a single dip of her chin. “Of course, Your Grace,” she agreed, holding his gaze just long enough to make it clear that she was choosing to accept his terms, not conceding to them.
Hudson turned to his sister, straightening his back. “Not a word of tonight’s little excursion leaves this room,” he ordered, his voice quieter than it had been all evening. “Not to anyone. Is that clear?”
Cassie straightened. “It is locked away, Hudson. I shall be a veritable fortress of silence,” she said.
With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she mimed the turn of a key against her lips and then held her hand out to him, palm up, waiting.
Hudson stared at her small, expectant hand for a beat. This was the silent demand for a ‘token’ of his trust. It was a trifle beneath a man of thirty, but then he looked at her face, glowing with the grave importance only an eleven-year-old could muster.
“A pact between us,” he said with a soft huff, then reached out.
Instead of a formal handshake, he tapped his index finger twice against her palm, then closed her fingers over it, as if trapping the secret inside her hand.
“Forever sealed,” Cassie said in a low, grave tone.
Hudson felt the corner of his lips twitch upward. He gave a sharp, single nod of confirmation, then stepped back to adjust his cuffs, already reassembling the mask of the elder brother.