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Hudson might have predicted a storm, but he hadn’t predicted the fierce gale that seemed ordered by the mighty Zeus himself and carried out by one of his minor counterparts. Perhaps Hudson was letting his imagination get away with more than usual since he was sitting on the opposite side of the library from Miss Finch and the children as she read to them tales of mythology in front of the fire light.
The sun had set over an hour ago, but it seemed no one wanted to leave this cozy space. Hudson least of all. Once the wind had proclaimed that it wasn’t going to pass any time soon, Hudson had sent Mrs. Cooper and the other staff members home. Hudson had no doubt that there’d be plenty of cleanup work in the morning around the estate and throughout the entire village. His garden had already been quite ravaged.
So here he sat, as mesmerized as his nephew and niece while Miss Finch read, although he was likely mesmerized more by the woman doing the reading than by the actual story. Still, he chuckled when Charlotte and Andrew both gasped when Miss Finch informed them how Icarus’s wings melted when he flew too close to the sun.
A gust of wind rattled the windows just as the rain picked up until it sounded like small pebbles were pelting the glass. But the children didn’t notice. And Hudson couldn’t blame them. He supposed if he sat so close to Miss Finch, he might not notice anything outside of their cozy circle either.
Why had he even thought that a governess would be a bad idea? Of course, he couldn’t imagine this scene playing out if he’d hired any of the other applicants. No, he’d been right to wait, because quite frankly, Miss Finch made this house feel like a home.
Home.
Hudson mused on the word. He hadn’t felt this in many years, truly since before he went to boarding school and was relegated to holidays at the manor. Hudson didn’t want time to move backward or forward but to remain here in this very moment on this very evening. The wind faded, and even the rain seemed to lighten. If this was the worst of the storm, perhaps tomorrow’s cleanup wouldn’t be as bad as he feared.
The firelight had bewitched the color of Miss Finch’s hair. Hudson could almost believe that if he reached out to touch one of her locks, he’d singe his fingers. Just then, she lifted those dark green eyes, and their gazes connected.
She seemed expectant, and he realized the children were looking at him too. Had Miss Finch asked him a question? Should he admit that he’d been completely lost in thought?
Andrew broke the silence. “Won’t you tell us?”
Hudson cleared his throat. “Tell you what?”
“Why, your favorite mythology tale, of course,” Andrew continued.
Charlotte yawned, and this in fact was enough for Hudson to say, “I think we should save it for tomorrow night. It’s quite late.”
Both Andrew and Charlotte immediately protested.
But Hudson was quite sure that one story would turn into a second, then a third. Besides, this would give the children something to look forward to. He pushed himself to his feet, hiding a wince as several darts of pain lanced through his bad ankle. “Don’t make me tell you twice,” he said. “If you go to bed without complaint tonight, then I’ll tell you my story tomorrow night.”
Andrew’s nod was resolute, and Charlotte released another yawn.
“Come on,” Hudson said, crossing the room to the pair of children.
Charlotte only leaned closer to Miss Finch and locked their fingers together.
“I’ll walk up with you,” she said. “How does that sound?”
Charlotte nodded, and Hudson found that his heart had started an irregular beat. What should it matter that they would put the children to bed together? It wasn’t so unusual for a governess to help, was it?
Perhaps it was the lack of other staff about that had Hudson more aware of the whisper of Miss Finch’s skirts, the soft tread of her shoes, and the scent of subtle perfume in her wake as she led the way up the staircase, candle in hand.
Hudson carried a second candle so there was plenty of light for them to make their way to the children’s bedchambers.
Charlotte insisted that Miss Finch be the one to tuck her in, and Hudson hovered in the doorway as Charlotte requested both a hug and a kiss.
He wondered if this was like a typical night for Charlotte before her parents died. Did her mother tuck her in each night with a hug and kiss? What about Andrew? The boy had gone to bed stoically on his own, like usual, which gave Hudson pause as well.
His wandering mind was the cause of Miss Finch turning from Charlotte’s bed to find him watching her. She gave him a slight smile, then moved past him out into the hallway.
Hudson pulled Charlotte’s door closed, then turned to Miss Finch.
“Good night,” she said.
“Good night,” he replied, although he wanted to say more. What exactly, he didn’t know.
He watched her head down the hallway, her candle lighting the way.
“Miss Finch?” he said.
She paused, then looked back. The glow of the candlelight made her look like a Greek mythology goddess herself. He wasn’t sure why he’d ever thought freckles might bother him. They did quite the opposite, in fact.
“I’ll see you to the attic,” he said. “To be sure you get there all right.”
Her cheek dimpled. “Captain Ridout, I am perfectly able—”
“It won’t take but a moment,” he said. “And then I’ll rest easier.”
She didn’t answer for a moment, but she also didn’t break her gaze. “Well, if it will ease your mind.”
He was pretty sure she was silently laughing at him, but in the very next moment, the wind struck again, so hard that windows rattled beyond the corridor.
Miss Finch’s candle wavered, and Hudson reached her in two strides. “I can hold that for you.”
Her eyes had widened, and it took a lot of concentration not to pull her close and offer her some comfort. It wasn’t like they could all sleep in the same room tonight. They’d all have to weather the storm separately.
But when they reached her attic room, Hudson carrying both candles, he could see that it would be impossible to sleep. The attic window would hold fast against the storm, but it was certainly receiving the brunt of the wind and rain. Not even a baby could sleep through the rattling.
“Perhaps you can take a bedchamber on the second level,” Hudson said. “I can sleep in the library.”
Miss Finch turned to face him, and at first he thought she’d say no.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind,” she said in a faint voice.
“I don’t mind.” He nodded toward the door. “I’ll wait outside if you want to fetch whatever clothing you need for the night.”
She nodded, and he swung the door closed.
When she emerged, she carried a bundle and the candle he’d left lit in her bedchamber.
Walking through the dark house with a storm raging outside and only the spot of candlelight to guide them made Hudson feel more aware of Miss Finch than ever. He could practically hear her breathing.
The only room that would be decent enough for her to sleep in was his own. So she waited outside his bedchamber while he gathered a few items. When he emerged, she was leaning against the opposite wall.
“Do you need anything else before I go downstairs?” he asked.
Her gaze flickered to his. “What keeps you awake at night, Captain Ridout? I mean, what is your mind thinking about?”
He hadn’t expected this question.
When he didn’t answer right away, she added, “I shouldn’t have asked such a personal question.”
Hudson exhaled. “I’m not sure exactly how to answer. As I said before, I’ve had this trouble since I was a lad. Perhaps my body and mind don’t need what everyone else’s seems to need. I seem to survive just fine.”
Miss Finch kept her gaze solidly on his face. “It is quite the phenomenon.”
He was about to agree when he heard a young voice.
“Uncle, the wind is scary!”
Charlotte had come out of her bedroom. She looked like a tiny thing in her white nightgown and unbraided hair.
“I’ll take care of her,” Miss Finch murmured and started toward the girl.
Hudson watched as Miss Finch grasped Charlotte’s hand and the two of them disappeared into her bedchamber.
He stood in the hall for a moment or two, debating what he should do. Finally, deciding that Miss Finch had matters well in hand, he headed down to the main level. Just as he reached the library, a thump sounded overhead. The telltale sound of Andrew hopping out of his bed.
Hudson groaned. Now what? This night might be more than Miss Finch or he had bargained for. He picked up the nearly guttered candle and headed back up the stairs.
Andrew’s bedroom was empty, so Hudson next walked toward Charlotte’s.
There, he found both Charlotte and Andrew curled up next to Miss Finch on Charlotte’s bed. And Miss Finch was quietly singing.
Charlotte’s eyes were closed, but Andrew was awake. He brought a finger to his lips as if to make sure Hudson didn’t disturb Miss Finch’s song. So Hudson settled into a chair on the other side of the room. As the wind screeched and the rain made its triumphant return, Miss Finch continued to sing softly until, quite remarkably, Andrew fell asleep too.
Hudson had every intention of leaving the room and making the trek back to the library. But somehow his eyes had slipped shut, and when he next opened them, Charlotte’s bedchamber was filled with golden sunlight.