Chapter 20 #2
Augusta smiled at something the girl said, and Hudson felt his chest tighten with a feeling he could not name.
Some dances later, Hudson made his way through the press of guests, nodding to acquaintances, accepting compliments on the ball with the practiced ease of long habit.
Three dances with three different partners had left him with a headache building behind his eyes and an ache in his chest that had nothing to do with physical exertion.
He had kept Augusta within his sight throughout, but the demands of his position had kept him away, dancing with daughters of peers and wives of politicians while she stood at the edge of the ballroom, a silent observer to a world she had been exiled from due to her father’s deeds.
He found James near the refreshments table, deep in conversation with a group of young men he recognized as fellow members of White’s. They broke apart as he approached, nodding respectfully before drifting away to find other amusements.
“She’s by the terrace doors,” James said without preamble, popping a sandwich into his mouth. “With the miniature version of you. They’ve been watching the dancers for the past half-hour.”
Hudson scoffed. “Cassie shouldn’t be out so late. It’s nearly eleven.”
“Then perhaps,” James suggested, his eyes gleaming with mischief, “you should go tell her so. Personally. In your capacity as a concerned brother and employer.” He took another sandwich. “I’ll come with you. For moral support.”
They crossed the ballroom together, James chatting amiably about the various scandals currently enlivening the Season while Hudson scanned the crowd for a glimpse of blue silk.
He spotted them at last, standing near the open terrace doors. Cassie was practically vibrating with excitement, her hands moving animatedly as she described something to Augusta, who listened with careful attention, which Hudson had come to recognize as genuine rather than performative.
There was something in the way his sister and Augusta stood together, in the ease of their conversation, that made his chest warm with an emotion he refused to name.
Cassie turned, her face lighting up. “James! Hudson! I’ve had three glasses of lemonade and a piece of cake that was this big.” She held her hands a foot apart.
“An impressive achievement,” Hudson said, unable to hold back a smile. “Though perhaps we should save some cake for the other guests.”
“Cook made plenty,” Cassie assured him. “She said it was the biggest batch she’s ever made, on account of how many people are here.” She glanced around the ballroom, her expression suddenly serious. “It’s very grand, isn’t it? Much grander than I imagined.”
“It is,” Augusta agreed. She had been quiet since their arrival, her eyes darting from Cassie to Hudson with a wariness he couldn’t quite interpret. “Your brother has outdone himself.”
“Not at all,” Hudson said. “The credit belongs to Mrs. Beale and Cassie. And to you,” he added, his voice softening. “Cassie speaks of nothing but your assistance with the decorations.”
Augusta’s cheeks colored slightly. “I merely passed pins and held ribbons.” She shrugged. “Hardly a significant contribution.”
“Nonsense,” James interjected. “Cassie told me you single-handedly arranged all the flowers in the ballroom. And that you climbed a ladder to hang the garlands in the hallway when the footman refused on account of vertigo.” His eyes gleamed with mischief. “A woman of many talents, clearly.”
“I’m afraid Lady Cassandra exaggerated,” Augusta said, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “The footman’s vertigo was entirely genuine. And I’ve had considerable practice with ladders. The vicarage where I lived had very high bookshelves.”
“Ah, yes,” James said. “Miss Norton’s mysterious past. You’ve been remarkably tight-lipped about your previous employment. One might almost think you have something to hide.” His tone was light, but Hudson caught the careful watchfulness in his eyes.
Augusta’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Not at all,” she said. “Merely a natural reluctance to bore you with the details of a governess’s curriculum vitae. I assure you, it contains nothing of interest.”
“On the contrary,” James said, leaning closer. “I find everything about you fascinating.”
Hudson’s hand tightened on his champagne glass. “James,” he said, his voice carefully level. “I believe Lady Follett is attempting to attract your attention. Near the orchestra.”
James glanced over his shoulder, then back at Hudson, one eyebrow raised. “Is she? How remarkable. I hadn’t noticed.” He turned to Augusta with a bow that was just this side of excessive. “Miss Norton, I trust that you are enjoying the evening?”
“Indeed,” she said. “Though Lady Cassandra has been on her feet for nearly three hours. I should take her upstairs soon.”
“Not yet,” Cassie protested. “It’s still early. And I’m not the least bit tired. See?” She demonstrated by hopping from one foot to the other with enough energy to make her curls bounce. “I could dance all night.”
“I’m sure you could,” Augusta said.
James leaned forward with a smile, his gaze on Cassie. “I am more interested in knowing about that cake you have been boasting about.”
Cassie beamed at him. “I’ll show you,” she announced grandly and took his proffered arm eagerly.
They watched as James led her through the crowd, her blonde curls bobbing beside his taller figure. When they had disappeared from view, Hudson turned toward Augusta.
“Would you care for more refreshments, Miss Norton? The next set won’t begin for a moment, and the refreshments table is less crowded.”
Augusta hesitated, looking around. “I… am not certain.”
“No one will remark on it,” Hudson assured her, lowering his voice. “We’ll stand at a respectable distance. You’re my sister’s governess; of course I have matters to discuss with you.”
She bowed her head. “Very well,” she murmured.
They moved quickly, pouring glasses of lemonade once they reached the refreshments table. She stood close enough that he felt the warmth of her sleeve against his coat. He handed her a glass and let his gaze linger on the gentle curve of her fingers around the stem.
They drank in silence for a breath, listening to the swelling notes from across the room. Then Hudson ventured, “May I ask what it is that troubles you? You seem… distant this evening.”
Augusta’s hand was trembling ever so slightly. She took a steadying sip and set her glass down. “I just… I suppose I am not quite used to the lavishness of all of this,” she mumbled.
A lie, he realized almost instantly.
He studied her profile, the soft furrow between her eyebrows, the way she averted her gaze.
“I believe you fear recognition,” he said, his voice low enough so that only she could hear.
Her breath caught. “Yes,” she admitted after a moment’s struggle.
“Each time someone looks at me, I’m certain they know who I once was.
I fear that they’ll reveal me to the room.
That you’ll be humiliated. That Cassie will be tarnished by my disgrace.
” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I cannot quell that fear.”
“It’s not selfish,” Hudson assured her, his voice firmer. He reached out and covered her hand with his own, only for a second. “It’s human. But here, with me, you are safe. No one will harm you or drag you back into the past.” His words came out charged with an emotion he had not meant to display.
She looked up, meeting his eyes at last. Her dark lashes trembled. “You cannot promise that,” she whispered.
“I can,” he said, stepping closer so that the scent of her hair drifted to him. “And I do. Believe me.”
Just then, the music died down, and James and Cassie appeared at the edge of the crowd, having finished their cake. Cassie curtsied to Hudson before skipping toward the table, while James paused a pace behind her and flashed Augusta a rakish grin.
“Miss Norton,” he drawled, brushing a stray lock from her face, “allow me to remark once more that you are positively glowing tonight.”
Augusta’s face reddened. “I… thank you,” she returned quite gracefully.
“James,” Hudson interrupted firmly. “I believe I see someone attempting to wave at you.”
James turned, then nodded briefly before facing Hudson once more. “A business associate,” he explained quickly. “If you’ll excuse me. We simply must speak. Otherwise, he will never forgive me.”
With that, he was gone.
Hudson released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Augusta turned to him, uncertainty in her eyes.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For your trust.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied, still formal yet softened by relief. “For your understanding.”
The letter from Joseph rose in his mind, making his chest tighten.
He would speak with her tonight, after the music ended and the house was quiet. He would explain all: her sister’s longing to bring her to Scotland, the choice she still had.
He would make sure that she knew the truth and that she remained safe in his care.