Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
The Nightingale after midnight came alive, filled with smoke and noise.
Hudson moved through the main floor without haste, his path clearing easily. He did not acknowledge the deference. He simply walked.
The air was thick with tallow smoke and the bitter tang of spilled ale. Somewhere near the faro table, a man laughed too loudly. A dealer caught Hudson’s eye across the room and gave a fractional nod that meant all clear, and Hudson returned it without breaking stride.
He took the private staircase two steps at a time, the noise of the gaming floor falling away as the heavy door swung shut behind him. The corridor was dim, carpeted, and silent. A different world from the chaos below.
His office waited at the end, its door already open. Slater was lounging behind his desk and jumped up the second Hudson entered. His face turned an impressive shade of red, all the way to his ears.
“My apologies, sir.”
Hudson simply looked at him, and though the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, he did not allow himself to smile.
“I can only infer that you are waiting in my office for a reason.”
Slater nodded slowly. “Bit of a dust-up with the auction, sir. A gentleman—an’ I use the word loosely—named Hackett. A baronet from Kent. Tried to slip a note to the girl during the bidding. Wanted to take ‘er off the floor private-like, said he’d pay double whatever the house brought.”
Hudson lifted an eyebrow. “The plant?”
“Compromised. Rogers saw it happen, got Hackett out before it became ugly, but the man made a right scene on his way out. Knocked over a whist table, waved his stick about like he was fencin’ the furniture.
Took two of the floor men to get ‘im into his carriage, and even then he was shoutin’ about Newgate and lawyers and his good friend the magistrate. ”
“He’s banned.”
“Permanently.” Slater nodded. “Rogers and Miller kept their heads, sir. Didn’t lay a finger on ‘im, even when he clipped Rogers with the stick. They deserve a word, if I might say so.”
“Twenty pounds apiece from petty cash,” Hudson said. “And tomorrow night off. Full pay.”
Slater’s eye stopped twitching. “Very good, sir.” He hesitated.
“There’s also Lord Seabury. Wandered into the back corridor after the third round.
Not drunk, exactly, but not what you’d call navigatin’ with confidence.
Looking for the necessary, found the staff staircase instead.
One of the girls caught ‘im, but not before he’d poked his head into the morning room. ”
“The lock.”
“The lock,” Slater confirmed. “Old as sin, sir. I’ve sent for the locksmith. First light tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Slater. That’s all for tonight.”
Slater moved around the desk leisurely, his eyes twinkling with a mischief that filled Hudson with some trepidation.
“What?”
“Nothin’, sir. I haven’t got a thought in this world.”
“As impressive a liar as you are, you are by no means fooling me.”
Slater shrugged. “I was just seein’ this map, sir. And I was just wonderin’ a bit, is all.”
“Wondering about what?” The ice in Hudson’s voice would have dissuaded lesser men from answering. But Slater was no lesser man.
“Dornie, Loch Ness, Kinloch. Seems you’re lookin’ for something. Or someone.”
Thus far, Joseph had been the only one Hudson had spoken to about his search for Olivia.
He sighed. “I am, indeed. I’m looking for Miss… Norton’s sister.”
Slater sat down, despite Hudson’s clear indication that he was done talking about it. “You are?”
“I am. She is trying to find her. I am assisting her. As you will see there, we have not yet found her. The only possibility left is Kinloch.”
“And if she is not found in Kinloch, sir?”
Hudson clenched his fists. This had been bothering him too. After all, the first two women were not Olivia. What if he were wrong again?
“Then I keep looking.”
Slater’s face lit up with delight. “If you don’t mind me sayin’ so, sir… You are being very devoted to this search for your governess’s sister.”
“I am doing a kind thing.”
“Ah. Kind.”
That was all he said, and yet the single comment said far more than a thousand words would have.
“I am doing the right thing, Slater. The woman is helping me with my sister. It is only right that I do something for her.”
“It is mighty good of you to be so devoted to a cause. And to do… something.”
The clear insinuation in Slater’s words dredged up memories Hudson would rather keep buried. He slowly took a seat, his heart racing wildly in his chest.
The taste of her lips. Her soft skin under his hands. Her body pressed against his—
“That’ll be all, Slater.” It took everything he had to keep his voice level.
Slater dipped his head and withdrew. The door clicked shut, and the office settled back into its particular silence: the distant rumble of the gaming floor below, the tick of the mantel clock, the faint creak of the building itself, old timbers shifting in the cold.
Hudson turned back to the map. He traced the line of the coast with one finger, north from Kinloch toward the cluster of fishing villages that dotted the shore above Lochinver.
Somewhere in that landscape of stone and heather and grey water, a girl was waiting for news of a sister who did not know where to find her.
He had promised to find Olivia.
Two villages crossed out. One lead going cold. A sprig of heather growing brittle in the corner of a map.
The clock struck three. Hudson reached for his whiskey, lifted it, and drank.