“I apologize, Your Grace,” she said, her voice composed but pitched low. “It was not my intention to intrude.”
“You did not intrude,” Hudson assured her. He selected a waistcoat from the valet stand and put it on. “Though, in the future, you will knock before entering my rooms, Cassie. Especially if you bring company.”
“Yes, Hudson,” Cassie said, but her tone made it clear she considered this more a suggestion than an edict.
Hudson began to fasten his waistcoat, but she immediately shook her head. “Not the grey. The blue one, with the silver buttons. It matches your eyes.”
He arched an eyebrow. “And since when are you my valet?”
Cassie ignored the question. “Miss Norton, don’t you think the blue waistcoat is better?”
Augusta hesitated. “I—well, yes, I do. The blue one is more… striking.”
Hudson turned, holding the blue waistcoat up for her inspection. “You agree, then?”
She nodded, a small, awkward gesture. “It is… a very handsome color.”
He slipped out of the grey waistcoat and into the blue, feeling the weight of her gaze as he did. For a moment, he was acutely aware of her presence, her breathing, the slight tremor in her hands, the scent of lavender that clung to her skin.
Cassie, pleased with her triumph, set about critiquing his cravat next. “Not the white, that’s too plain. The patterned one. With the little… things.”
“Paisley,” Hudson supplied.
“Whatever it is, it’s better.” Cassie fished the offending neckcloth from the pile and held it out. “Miss Norton, you have a good eye. What do you think?”
Augusta’s lips twitched at the corners. “The paisley is certainly… memorable.”
Hudson took the cravat and wound it around his throat. As he worked, Cassie edged closer, her eyes narrowed in concentration. She was nearly bouncing with excitement.
“You’re going to be the most dashing man at the ball,” she declared, once he had finished. “Except maybe Lord Ridgewell, but only if he wears his gold waistcoat. Otherwise, you win.”
“High praise,” Hudson said dryly.
Cassie beamed, then frowned. “Wait, it’s not right. The knot’s all wrong.” She peered up at him, then at Augusta. “Can you fix it, Miss Norton? I can’t reach.”
Augusta blinked. “I—well, I suppose I might.”
Hudson’s shoulders tensed. He hadn’t expected her to agree.
His heart began to beat faster as she approached, moving with the caution of someone defusing a bomb. She reached up, her fingers brushing the base of his throat as she adjusted the fabric. Her touch was feather-light but electrifying, and for a moment, he could not breathe, utterly captivated by the contact.
“There,” Augusta said finally, stepping back. “Much improved.”
Hudson found his own throat unexpectedly dry. “Thank you, Miss Norton,” he said, the words coming out rougher than he had intended.
The moment was shattered by the sudden intrusion of Pippin, who barreled into the room with a bark and skidded to a halt beside Cassie. He eyed Hudson with what could only be described as suspicion, then circled Augusta’s ankles before dropping to the floor with a contented sigh.
Augusta smiled, the tension easing from her shoulders. “Cassie, I believe we should leave your brother to his preparations. It would not do for him to be late.”
Cassie nodded, but before leaving, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Hudson’s waist.
“Don’t let a lady trap you into a scandal,” she whispered, loud enough for both adults to hear.
Hudson froze, awkward in the unfamiliar embrace, then patted her gently on the head. “Go on, then. And try not to set anything on fire while I’m away.”
Cassie disengaged, skipped to the door, and vanished, with Pippin trotting behind.
Augusta lingered for a moment, turning back at the threshold.
