Page 16 of Charlotte's Kisses

“Because I am ill—quite ill. My days are numbered, and I want to meet my maker, having done the right thing. I am quite wealthy and want to ensure all my children and grandchildren are comfortable.”

Hugh drummed his fingers on the mattress.

“You may convalesce before you begin, as long as it does not take too long.”

How bloody generous.

The marquess exhaled long and slow. “My strength is failing me.”

“How many by-blows do you have?” Hugh asked.

“You will convalesce here. My gardener will stay in the servant’s quarters of the main house. And, of course, I will see that you have the finest doctor.”

Chesterhill’s blatant disregard of Hugh’s question left him unsettled. Was Hugh expected to spend the rest of his life chasing down bastards? Hell’s teeth, there could be dozens of the buggers.

“Not interes—” On second thought, did that mean that Charlotte might continue to nurse him in this cozy little cottage? He did not require a nurse or a doctor. He would be fine after a few hours of sleep. But he did desire Charlotte’s tender touch and sensual kisses. Besides, he had been locked out of his lodgings.

“Fine. I shall stay here until I fully heal.” And maybe longer.

The marquess stood. “Then ’tis settled. You will be paid handsomely.”

Since he had given away every cent he owned to a woman he knew not, he desperately needed money. But what good was blunt if Chesterhill strung him up by the bollocks for defiling his daughter? And what about this witch of a stepmother looming in the background? How much trouble might she be? Now that the idea of an assignation with her had been planted in Hugh’s mind, its malignancy festered.

“Why is Lady Chesterhill having me followed?” Hugh asked.

“I know not, but I will get to the bottom of it. My wife is a curious woman indeed, so I had my men seek you out while our house was full of guests, hoping she would not notice. Unfortunately, her involvement means she is aware you are here. However, she will be less aware of your comings and goings in this cottage. Most likely, she will move on to her next project and forget about you.But, I repeat, she cannot knowwhyyou are here. No one can know, not even my children. And they will all be quite curious. We shall tell them the duke asked me to look out for his scoundrel of a cousin as a favor.”

What an atrociously bad idea. Everyone knew Hugh would never consent to having a nursemaid.

“If you need assistance, Curly and Stilts are at your disposal.”

“Are those the blokes who beat the shite out of me?” Hugh asked.

“They are. They got a bit carried away. They do that at times. I assure you it will not happen again. Do we have a deal, Mr. Fletcher?”

Hugh would make damn sure he never needed their assistance.

Was he actually going to accept this insane job offer? Because only two things about this entire proposal held any appeal to Hugh, and one was just as likely to be his demise. Damn. Dangle a sparkly chit and blunt in front of him, and he was a goner.

“I will have the doctor look in on you again when he has time, and I will be back tomorrow late morning to check on you. At that time, I will provide you with the information I have on my —” his nose wrinkled “—indiscretions.”

The marquess strolled to the door. Before it closed behind him, he glared at Hugh.

“One more thing. Stay away from my daughter. If I find out you have made any untoward advances, I will instruct Curly and Stilts to slice off your cock and feed you your bollocks.”

Huffing, Hugh rested his head on the pillow. First, he’d sleep. Then he’d worry about the constant threats to his manhood.

Chapter ten

Charlotte shuffled through herdresses. Sometime in the last twenty-four hours, more of her clothing had been destroyed. All of it, to be precise. Holes had been poked into every single garment, even her favorite day dress with purple flowers and ivory trim. Adding insult to injury, grass stains marred the new pink gown that Hugh favored.

After an afternoon of slumber, instead of feeling rested, Charlotte fumed as she tapped her foot. Turning her back to the wardrobe, she faced her sobbing lady’s maid.

“I’m sorry, my lady. I swear on my life, I did not do this.” Tears and mucus dripped from the poor girl’s chin.

“I know, Lucy.” Without a doubt, one of her stepmother’s maids had performed the destructive deed. These women were so cruel they made a hangman seem like an eager-to-please puppy.

“If I was here, sleeping all afternoon, someone would have to have done it last night. Did you see anyone around my chamber?” Charlotte asked.