Chapter 6

Violet smoothed the front of her dress as she made her way down the dimly lit corridor toward Augustus Halloway's study. The estate's vast hallways were particularly haunting at night, the candle sconces flickering against the walls, casting long shadows that danced with each step she took. The weight of expectation pressed against her shoulders, and though she reminded herself she had nothing but good news to offer, a lingering nervousness settled in her stomach.

She had done well today. Her first proper lesson with Clara and Theodore had been a success. Clara had smiled—genuinely smiled. And Theodore had even thanked her afterward. Surely, Augustus would be pleased.

As she neared the heavy oak doors of his study, she noticed them crack open.

"It has been two years, and you still have nothing substantial," a mans voice carried faintly through the open door before it clicked shut behind him.

Augustus' response was muffled, but Violet caught the distinct weight of frustration in his tone. "That is not your concern. Continue as instructed."

A man stepped out—a tall, broad-shouldered officer with a neatly trimmed mustache and a sharp navy uniform. His gaze met hers briefly, his expression unreadable, though he offered her a curt nod.

"Miss Rowe," he greeted politely as he passed. His voice was even, his tone unreadable.

She blinked in surprise but managed a polite nod in return. "Good evening, sir."

The officer exhaled sharply through his nose before turning down the corridor.

The moment was fleeting. The officer disappeared around the corner, and she turned back to face the study door. Without wasting another moment, she rapped her knuckles against the wood.

"Enter."

She did as instructed, stepping into the room. The study was lined with tall bookshelves filled with aged tomes, the air thick with the scent of parchment and ink. A fire burned low in the hearth, casting an amber glow across the dark mahogany desk where Augustus sat, his quill poised above a document. Stacks of neatly arranged papers littered the surface, along with an intricately carved wooden inkstand. The heavy drapes were drawn over the tall windows, shutting out the night, making the space feel closed in, suffused with quiet intensity. The steady scratching of quill on parchment was the only sound aside from the occasional crackle of the fire.

He barely looked up. "Miss Rowe."

"Mr. Halloway," she greeted, clasping her hands before her.

He gestured toward the chair across from him, his movements measured, precise. As she took her seat, she observed him closely. His once-black hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and deep lines creased his forehead and around his mouth. His presence, while as commanding as ever, bore the weight of exhaustion. The years had withered him, she thought. Perhaps not physically frail, but there was something undeniably tired about him.

"Well?" he prompted, glancing up briefly from his paperwork.

Violet straightened her posture. "I wanted to report on the first lesson with Clara and Theodore," she began, keeping her voice professional yet composed. "It went well. Clara is shy, but she engaged more as the lesson progressed. I believe she enjoys having structure and encouragement."

Augustus nodded once, waiting for her to continue.

"Theodore, as expected, is sharp. He excels in both subjects, though he is particularly adept at mathematics. He takes his role as an older brother seriously. I believe part of his motivation in learning is to ensure Clara is not left behind."

A small flicker of something passed across Augustus' face—approval, perhaps? It was gone before she could truly discern it.

"They will both continue to improve," she added. "It was a strong start."

Augustus set down his quill, lacing his fingers together atop the desk. "Good," he said simply, his voice as even as ever. "I expect you to maintain this standard."

Violet felt a twinge of frustration. He gave no indication of pride or satisfaction, no acknowledgment of her efforts beyond the bare minimum. She had seen fathers beam with joy over their children's progress, but here Augustus was clinical, detached. She wondered, not for the first time, how a man like him could have fathered so many children.

Still, she kept her thoughts to herself. "Of course, sir."

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Violet shifted slightly, unsure if she should take her leave, when Augustus spoke again—his voice softer this time, though not by much.

"They were tutored by their mother before she passed."

Violet's breath hitched slightly at the unexpected revelation. She studied his face, and for a brief moment, something surfaced there. A flicker of loss? Sadness? It was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced once more by his impenetrable composure.

She hesitated, considering her words. "I see," she said carefully. "That must have been comforting for them, to learn from someone they loved."

Augustus exhaled slowly, staring at the flickering flames in the hearth. "Perhaps," he muttered. Then, as if shaking off the momentary lapse in his usual demeanor, he straightened. "That will be all for tonight, Miss Rowe."

Violet stood, smoothing down her skirts. "Goodnight, sir."

He nodded, already returning to his work. As she exited the study, closing the door behind her, she found herself lingering in the hallway for a moment, her mind turning over what had just transpired.

Even Augustus Halloway had a heart.

But how deep was it buried?