“Miss Augusta Booth,” Joseph said. “She’s four-and-twenty. She’s stayed with the vicar and his wife in the countryside for many years. After her father’s recent arrest last month, the vicar was eager to get rid of her and anything that might connect them to the Whitfield scandal.”
Hudson nodded, processing the information. A gently bred lady, educated but sheltered, with no family to speak of, and a name that was now synonymous with disgrace.
“Bring her to my office,” he ordered. “I shall talk to her.”
Chapter Three
“Let me go,” Augusta demanded with a haughtiness she did not truly possess.
Her demand was, as she had expected, ignored.
Everything had happened in such a blur that she was still not quite sure how the man had managed to drag her in front of a door to an office.
She attempted once more to jerk her arm from his grip, but to no avail.
A door opened, and the man dragged her inside. “Here she is… your new acquisition.”
“I am not an acquisition,” she spat. “Now, let me go. I have a sister to find and…”
The man who had brought her faced the one behind the desk.
He sat behind the ostentatious desk like a god—broad-shouldered, proud, muscled. Despite the fear coursing through her, she could not help but look at him. A stray lock of golden-brown hair fell on his forehead, and he was staring at her with piercing blue eyes.
“All yours,” the first man mumbled, before moving out once again.
Yours. The word sent an unexpected jolt through her. She didn’t want to be his.
That did not explain why her eyes fell to the gentle curve of his lips above a trimmed beard.
The door closed with a soft click that felt like the sealing of a tomb.
She glared at the man behind the desk haughtily, already on guard. But the man made no move toward her. He simply continued to regard her with that same open curiosity.
Augusta’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t care how much you paid for me. I… If you don’t let me go at once, I will scream.”
His mouth curved in what was almost a smile. “You won’t find that necessary. Besides, the walls are very thick.”
She glared at him. “What is it you want?”
“Me? Nothing.”
She took a step closer, her chest heaving. He was still staring at her with an unreadable smirk, one that she did not quite know what to make of. He was devilishly handsome, and she repressed the treacherous thought at once.
“I find that hard to believe,” she scoffed. “Since you’ve kept me here by force.”
He stood now, and she had to crane her neck to look up at him. The room suddenly felt much smaller with him on his feet, and she stepped back. His scent drifted toward her, and she swallowed.
He was so close to her, and he looked down at her with a piercing gaze, one that sent a strange warmth to the pit of her stomach.
“I will not force you into anything, Miss Booth,” he said softly. “Believe me.”
Before she could speak, a sharp knock cut through the tension between them.
Hudson straightened, his attention snapping to the door. He reached into his waistcoat pocket—Augusta noted the location immediately—and produced a small brass key.
With a single smooth motion, he unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Two burly men stood in the doorway, their expressions carefully blank. Augusta understood they were employees here. Between them was a girl of about eleven with golden curls escaping their pins. Her chin was lifted in defiance, but her eyes—wide and the same startling blue as the eyes of the man before her—darted to his face and then away.
