Page 64 of Charlotte's Kisses

“Shall we retire to the breakfast parlor?” Charlotte asked.

Emily’s countenance lit up. “That sounds delightful.”

Alexander wrapped an arm around Hugh’s shoulders and guided him toward the stairwell. “Let us discuss my stepmother’s eventual demise over coffee and egg pie.”

“What an appetizing prospect.” Hugh peered over his shoulder to wink at Charlotte. “I do hope there is bacon.”

Chapter twenty-seven

Despite his lack ofsleep, Hugh’s steps were light, and he whistled a cheerful tune as he trekked from the main house to the cottage.

The company at breakfast had been delightful. Halfway through the meal, Lord Chesterhill entered the breakfast parlor. Although his pallor had not improved, he joined them at the table, chatting as if nothing was amiss.

Astoundingly, sweet, intelligent Emily Coldpepper brought out Alexander’s human side, making the pompous arse almost likable.

Charlotte’s eyes had twinkled, and Hugh had soaked up her smile. Damn, his Firefly was lovely, and he was besotted. The thought of life with her by his side did not spark the slightestfear or doubt. Love at first sight was indeed real—unless Cupid had shot an arrow through his heart.

Hugh washed his face, polished his teeth, changed into clean clothing, and brushed his hair. Since it was not yet eleven, he sat at the table and perused the stack of newspapers while awaiting Theodore Ravenforde’s visit.

Lord Chesterhill entered the cottage about a quarter before the hour. He poured himself a drink and sat across from Hugh.

“Are you sure he is coming?” the marquess asked every few minutes.

Hugh was so single-minded that he managed to concentrate on his task despite the marquess’s constant interruptions and incessantly tapping foot.

About a quarter after the hour, Ravenforde still had not arrived.

Lord Chesterhill sighed loudly. “He is not coming.”

Ravenforde was probably drunk, balls deep in some whore. So, why in the hell did Hugh feel the need to protect him?

“My lord,” he said, “I believe you sincerely want to do right by your by-blows, but you need to consider what the truth might do to Theodore. He is heir to a viscountcy. You would strip him of this.”

“But I am a marquess.” He held his index finger high. “I outrank Cornelius Ravenforde.”

These damn aristocrats were so oblivious.

“That makes him a byblow of a marquess instead of the legitimate son of a viscount. He would lose his title. His home. His father’s love. His mother would be disgraced.”

“But he would have my love.”

Hugh shook his head. “He has never had your love. Forgive me for saying so, but your pride is getting in the way of what is best for Theodore. Believe me, I do not hold him in highregard, but I think this could destroy him.” The bastard was already an emotional mess.

The marquess’s bottom lip stuck out.

“My lord, think of King Soloman and the baby. A parent will do anything to protect their flesh and blood, including swallowing their pride. Why not allow Theodore to keep his viscountcy?”

“He can decide for himself after he meets with me?” Chesterhill said.

Hugh nodded. “Fair enough.”

Chesterhill startled at a light rap on the door. His eyes widened, and he popped from his seat. “Theodore is here.”

Hugh doubted it was Ravenforde tapping. He was the type of man who would pound on a door and bellow his presence. Hugh presented his palm staying Chesterhill, then he strode to the door.

As he suspected, it was only a footman, presenting a missive. Hugh read the note to himself before reading it to Chesterhill.

“Fletcher,