Emmeline placed her hand in his and stood. The warmth of his hand shouldn’t have surprised her, yet it did. His fingers were long, and his grip gentle but firm. And he didn’t let go of her hand right away.
In fact, he drew her to a stop before they entered the parlor.
“I meant what I said.” He looked down at her, sincerity in those gray eyes of his. He’d freshly shaved for this supper party, and she found herself quite missing the shadow that appeared on his face this time of night. “I’m happy to buy you a new wardrobe.”
Something in her chest caught. She was tempted to say yes but knew she could not. Because it would make her feel . . . feel . . . indebted? Obligated somehow. Unable to pay him back or return the gesture?
“Mr. Ridout,” she started, keeping her voice low and knowing they only had a few moments before Aunt Julia would wonder what had become of them, “I can’t possibly accept your charity. Please understand.”
His gaze searched hers. “Very well.” He paused. “By the way, I think you look lovely tonight.”
Ever so slowly, he lifted her hand, then pressed a kiss on the back of her hand. Warmth buzzed through her, and she found herself smiling up at him.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he said in a rumbling whisper. “I know we only have but a moment, yet I feel that I must inquire after—”
“Emmeline!” Aunt Julia’s voice rang sharp from the parlor.
Captain Ridout immediately released her hand, and they walked into the parlor, arm in arm.
“There you are,” Aunt Julia said, her gaze speculative. “I was just telling the vicar that this is your first governess position.”
“Yes, that’s correct.” Emmeline felt like she’d swallowed down a hot flame. What had Captain Ridout been about to say? Myriad possibilities jolted through her mind, but she quickly dismissed each one. Yet . . .
“And your last one, of course.” Aunt Julia’s wink was meant to be friendly, but instead, it was a sharp prick to Emmeline’s stomach.
Captain Ridout immediately stepped away from her and said, “You are leaving?”
“No, nothing like that.” She swallowed against what felt like pebbles in her throat. “At least, not exactly.”
“Oh, do stop bumbling about, Emmeline. Spit it out,” Aunt Julia said, drowning out any softening that Emmeline might have imparted.
For now she realized how leaving after one year of working as a governess might sound to the captain and how it might impact the dear Ridout children. How could she have been so foolish? She’d jumped into this position with two eager feet and an open heart, and they’d received her so well. How could she not have considered the consequences of her leaving the children after a year’s time?
“I—I . . . When I turn twenty-five, I’ll, uh, receive my inheritance. That is . . . that is—” When she dared a glance at Captain Ridout, her heart dropped all the way to her toes. His gray eyes had darkened, and a line of disappointment had appeared between his brows.
“Let me explain, or we’ll be here all night,” Aunt Julia said, straightening on the settee so that she looked like a queen holding court. For added effect, she tapped her fan open and waved it a time or two against her neck. “Emmeline is twenty-four, unmarried, and without prospects. She is under the care of her brother and his wife. They have more than enough responsibility at home raising their three boys. It’s a wonder they’ve put up with Emmeline for so long in the first place, what with her refusing to take any fashion advice from her sister-in-law, Martha, and purposely avoiding all social affairs in the months leading up to this governess post.”
The more her aunt talked, the more Emmeline wanted to sink into the floor. She’d dig her way to middle-earth and live among the rocks and dirt. There, surely, her aunt wouldn’t be able to follow with her hurtful words.
“Her father foresaw all of this, wise man that he was,” Aunt Julia said. “So he provided for her in his will. If Julia doesn’t marry by the time she’s twenty-five, then a cottage will go to her, plus a yearly income to keep her for the rest of her days.”
Emmeline blinked against the stinging in her eyes. This was all true, yes, but when put like this . . . she could only imagine the look of disappointment in Andrew and Charlotte’s eyes. Trading a small cottage for the love and laughter they’d shared together over the past month. It all sounded so coldhearted.
Her aunt was still talking, still stripping Emmeline’s soul before the men in the room, and she couldn’t catch a full breath. And she was fairly sure that the tears were only a breath away.
“Excuse me,” she said in a trembling voice. “I have a headache and will retire for the evening.”
Before her aunt could protest, Emmeline swiftly crossed to her and kissed the woman’s papery cheek. Then, with barely a nod to the men, she hurried out of the parlor. Up the stairs she fled, brushing at the tears now freely falling on her face. By the time she reached her bedchamber, she’d given up on holding back her emotions.
She crossed the dark room and stood before the attic window. Folding her arms did nothing to ward off the chilly air. But she didn’t care about the cold. She didn’t care that her throat burned and that her eyes would likely be swollen from crying come morning. Right now, all she cared about was how Captain Ridout had looked at her.
As if he’d been . . . hurt.
Was it possible to hurt a man like him? A man who’d been through so much and who continued to carry even more? She closed her eyes against the moonlight filtering through the thin clouds.
If only Aunt Julia hadn’t been over tonight, Emmeline might have been able to tell the captain about her one-year commitment in a softer way. Then perhaps they could have told the children together. Now she didn’t know what would happen.
Chapter 13
Yes, hiring Miss Finch as the governess had been unconventional from the very beginning. She’d showed up with her aunt unannounced, and Hudson had offered her a job a short time later at the behest of his niece and nephew. The facts couldn’t be changed.
Over the past weeks, Hudson had come to congratulate himself for such a move. He’d never expected things to settle into such a pleasant hum. A routine of sorts, filled with the productivity and laughter of children and the peace this brought overall to Branhall. Andrew and Charlotte were also learning their school subjects, and each time Hudson checked in on them, he was impressed with their enthusiasm and budding knowledge.
Of course, he was also impressed with Miss Finch and, well, everything about her.
The fact that she was planning to leave after one year didn’t bother him as much as the detail that she hadn’t told him from the beginning. Would it have changed his mind? He honestly didn’t know. Would it have dissuaded Andrew and Charlotte from begging for her to be hired? He doubted it.
So why was he pacing the library in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, once again, and mulling over ways and reasons why he wanted to persuade Miss Finch to stay? They were only two months into her one-year deadline. What if by the time the year was up, things had shifted and he would be glad for her to leave? Perhaps the children would be too.
No . . .
This wasn’t true, and he knew it. The children wouldn’t tire of her.
And neither would he.
Therein lay his conundrum.
Hudson didn’t want her to leave. Not in ten months, not in twenty, not ever.
Such thoughts would keep any man awake at night.
He knew she’d been about to cry when she fled the parlor earlier that evening. It had taken a steel spine to not head after her and find a way to stop those tears caused by her aunt. Mrs. Julia Finch was a gossip of the first water—was there such a phrase?—and Hudson had encountered women like her his entire life. Something the navy had protected him from. He hadn’t had to deal with meddling matchmakers in a long time, and it seemed that’s what he could expect if he attended the Jones’s soiree.
If he hadn’t already wr
itten and accepted the invitation, he’d be tempted to beg off.
Hudson left the library, feeling confined in the dark room. In a short time, he was outside, walking the garden beneath the moonlight. The sounds of the night should have been calming. The soft moonlight overhead should have been peaceful. The promise of another day should have been soothing.
Instead he thought of Emmeline Finch and the things her aunt had said about her.
No prospects?
That only told him she’d been much too sheltered.
In his opinion, that was to his advantage, because she was entirely unattached and had sought out a governess position. Which had brought her to Branhall.
Hudson paused in his step, not too far from the arbor that opened to the main part of the rose garden. What if . . . what if he and Miss Finch could come to a sort of arrangement? They could marry and raise the children together, and she could even have a child of her own. If she wanted. With him.
Or did she have her heart set on her family cottage? And was it too much to ask a woman to take on children who weren’t hers? And a captain whose limp was grievous and his mind too tortured to sleep?
These thoughts wouldn’t do. He barely knew the woman, and if the village was already gossiping about his bachelorhood, what would they say if he married his hired governess? They’d think he’d compromised her, and he couldn’t allow that reputation to follow her. Not a woman like Emmeline Finch.
Dawn was still hours away, yet Hudson had completely given up on sleep. He might as well accomplish something. Get those ledgers caught up once and for all. Give his throbbing ankle a rest.
So he altered his course and headed back to the house, only to stop short when he saw a woman standing on the terrace.
“Miss Finch,” Hudson said the moment he realized who it was. “Is something wrong?” He estimated it was somewhere around three o’clock in the morning. Was she ill? Was it one of the children?
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said. “Nothing is wrong . . . except . . .”
Her hair looked nearly black in the night, tumbling over her shoulders, and the moonlight showed enough of her features for him to see that she didn’t look happy. She wore a robe over what must be her nightgown, and Hudson tried not to notice how it followed her curves. Her barefoot state created a vulnerability about her that made his pulse thrum.
He closed the distance between them so that he was standing only a pace away, but he kept his hands clasped behind his back. “What is it, Emmeline?” he said in a quiet voice. Her Christian name had slipped out, and he realized it sounded natural on his tongue. As if he’d said it a dozen times, when in fact it had only been in his mind.
She didn’t seem to notice that he’d called her by her Christian name. No, her thoughts seemed quite far away.
“I need to apologize both for my aunt,” she began, “and for . . .”
At her pause, he wanted to reassure her that no apology was necessary. Not to him. The children might be a different matter. But he waited for her to finish.
“I came to Branhall hoping for a reprieve from my situation.” Her gaze lifted to meet his, and the moonlight caught the edge of her smooth cheek. “Which, of course, it has been. I had never thought to enjoy a governess post so much. The children are perfect, but—”
Her words stopped, and she swallowed back whatever she was about to say.
Hudson moved closer. He wanted to lift the ends of her long hair and see if it felt as soft as it looked. But he refrained, clenching his hands tighter behind his back. “Might I venture to say that you have your heart set on your little cottage? A life unencumbered by things like your best friend’s marrying the man you had hopes for and caring for children who aren’t your own?”
Her chest lifted in a sigh. “That’s just the thing. The longer I am away from Alicia and Mr. Baker, the more I realize that my hopes weren’t for a man like Mr. Baker at all.”
This line of conversation interested Hudson very much. “Oh?”
She lowered her gaze again. “And your niece and nephew . . . they are unexpected as well. I never thought I could enjoy this post so much. It doesn’t even feel like work, since I am enjoying each and every day with them. I would miss them fiercely.”
Hudson swallowed. And their uncle, he wanted to ask, would you miss him too? But he only said, “Andrew and Charlotte do have that effect on people. I’ll admit that I wasn’t sure what I expected either. And now I can’t imagine living my life without the two of them underfoot.”
Her smile was beautiful when she again met his gaze. “Exactly.”
They were in agreement about this one thing apparently. Hudson would take it for now. And then his hands unclasped, almost of their own accord, and he lifted his fingers toward her face. But he paused before touching her. He knew that to do so, there would be no going back. At least not for him. And it wouldn’t be fair to her to not be absolutely sure . . . sure of what his intentions were.
So he dropped his hand by his side, deprived of her touch.
She seemed to be holding her breath, and her eyes had darkened, her lips parted.
“Miss Finch,” he said, trying to return to some semblance of convention, even though nothing had ever been conventional between them, “I must confess. If you were to stay on at Branhall past your one-year mark, more than just the children would be pleased.” There was no way she couldn’t understand his meaning, and he hoped that it would be enough to start the process of her reconsidering.
She only tilted her head, her gaze fully upon his face. “Will you not sleep tonight, Captain?”
Despite himself, the edges of his mouth lifted. She was changing the subject? “I’ve quite given up on that, Miss Finch. There are so many other things to give my attention to than mere sleep.”
Her cheeks dimpled. “It’s not a battle, you know.”
Lifting his brow, he asked, “What do you mean?”
“You’re fighting against sleep, Captain Ridout, as if you are trying to win some sort of imaginary war.” She moved closer, until she was nearly touching him, and his heart leapt into his throat. “Think of sleep as recharging to meet your enemy—or the tasks of the day. Like any sailor or soldier, you need food and drink and strength. Sleeping is all of that.”
She smelled of softness and flowers, and if he leaned only inches, their bodies would touch.
“So you think I should surrender?” he asked in a low rasp.
“Only for a few hours,” she whispered. “Then you’ll come back much stronger.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps I’ll try it then.”
When she placed her hands on his shoulders and lifted up on her toes to kiss his cheek, he was pretty sure every sensible thought fled his mind. But she released him much too soon and stepped back too quickly for him to act. Too quickly for him to slide his hands about her waist and draw her against him. Too quickly to change the peck on his cheek to something more.
“Good night, Captain Ridout,” she said.
If his life depended on it, he couldn’t have found the words to reply. It seemed every emotion had collected in his throat and stuck there. So he watched her walk back into the house, taking her beauty and scent and soft words with her. When she’d disappeared, he touched his hand to his cheek and closed his eyes.
No, he would not sleep tonight.
Perhaps the next night he would. Depending on how long it took his racing heart to return to normal.
Chapter 14
Emmeline wasn’t sure if she could ever look Captain Ridout in the eye again. Or even be in the same room without feeling mortification about her bold act the night before in the garden. She’d kissed him. Well, his cheek, but that was nearly the same thing. Not that she had any experience of that sort of matter.
But whatever had he thought of her assertiveness? She was his governess, and she’d crossed the line of propriety. It wasn’t like she could write it off as having sisterly affection or concern, because they were deci
dedly not siblings or cousins or any type of relation, other than employer and employee.
She’d finally, miraculously fallen asleep, and no one had awakened her in the morning. Thus it was noon when she finally rose, and her first thought had been that the entire household must know about the garden incident. Were they keeping away from her on purpose? Unsure of what to think about such a brazen woman?
No, no one had seen them.
No one had been about.
But Captain Ridout had been, and that was enough.
He called me Emmeline. Twice.
How her heart both hurt and soared at the same time. She didn’t know why she had thought she could kiss his cheek. Perhaps she’d been so tired that she’d been delirious. But she knew she’d been wide awake. She’d blame it on him, that’s what she’d do. All that pacing in the garden, all that brooding, all that heavy weight on his shoulders. She’d wanted to let him know that she cared, and worried, about him. That he didn’t have to stagger beneath his burdens alone.
Well, he had no doubt now.
Emmeline turned to the mirror in her bedchamber. As she pinned up her hair, she vowed to only be in Captain Ridout’s presence when the children were around. And if they had an unavoidable conversation without the children nearby, she’d keep him at arm’s length. No stolen kisses allowed.
When she arrived downstairs, dressed and ready to face whatever was needed for the day, the last thing she’d expected was to find Captain Ridout and his two wards waiting for her in the parlor.
“There she is!” Charlotte said, jumping off the settee and running toward her.
Braids and ribbons flying, Emmeline barely caught the girl before she barreled straight into her legs.
“Uncle says we can ride the ponies today,” Charlotte gushed. “And you can come watch us.”
“Oh.” Emmeline tried to find the rest of her breath. “That’s wonderful.” She didn’t raise her gaze, didn’t dare look at him.
“Will you come?” Andrew spoke next, crossing to her in a much more dignified manner, although Emmeline didn’t miss the excited glow in his blue eyes.
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