11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter eleven

I t was impossible to sleep peacefully with the sun stabbing his eyelids, his muscles spasming uncontrollably, and his cock reacting to memories of Charlotte. Therefore, Hugh tossed and turned, hovering in a half-sleep, half-awake state. He’d just dozed off—again—when a warm breath blew across his cheek. It seemed his Firefly was watching him sleep. How utterly sublime. He snuggled into the mattress, willing her to crawl beneath the counterpane and press her lips to his.

A sickly sweet perfume tickled his nose. Would it be an arse move to tell her that the light floral scent she’d worn the previous evening suited her better?

The tickles morphed into an all-consuming nostril burn. Attempting not to sneeze on her, he used his palm as a shield and opened his eyes.

“Shite,” he sputtered with his sneeze. “What the bloody…?” The woman hovering over him was not his Firefly. He sat up so quickly the room spun, and pain shot from his neck to his lower back.

“What indecent language, Mr. Fletcher,” the woman said in a drawn-out, affected drawl.

A plum dress of fine quality. A hat with absurdly large plumage. Sharp cheekbones. Unkind, piercing blue eyes. A pinched expression…

No introduction was needed. His voyeur had to be Lady Chesterhill. His earlier suspicions were confirmed. No way in hell would he have bedded her. Ever! And not because she was unattractive. Nay, she was lovely in a terrifying way. It was just that she was…well, for lack of a better word, Terrifying, with a capital T.

Leon stood beside the door, staring high into the far corner, the expression on his face unreadable.

Hugh was not easily intimidated, and he always spoke his mind. “Well, I just awoke to find the woman who hired thugs to beat me to a bloody pulp breathing all over me.” He also refused to play games. “Let’s get this over with. What do you want from me, Lady Chesterhill?”

“So, you know who I am?”

“Your reputation precedes you, my lady.”

Her soulless blue eyes darkened as she placed her fingertip on his cheek. “Oh, my. Does this hurt?” She pushed on what must be a bruise.

Hugh hissed from the pain.

She could hammer on every one of his injuries; he would not kowtow. He was an angry, violent fuck. He would never hit a woman, but he would find ways to take away her will to live, and he’d enjoy every second of it. He met her Catherine de Medici death stare with his best Mephistophelian smirk .

They engaged in their battle of wills until she broke eye contact and sat in the chair next to his bed.

“Even with the swelling and bruises, you are more handsome than I anticipated.” She licked her lips and rubbed her hands together as if she were contemplating world domination. “I suppose that will make my plan more enjoyable.”

She and her plan could bugger off.

“I know my husband hired you to find his bastards.”

How did she know that? Wasn’t Hugh’s involvement a secret? However, how confidential could it be with him quartering on Chesterhill’s property? Still, he remained stone-faced. This woman was not to be trusted, and he would not provide her with a single nugget of information.

“I want you to come to me before you go to Lord Chesterhill,” she declared with such confidence it was obvious she expected Hugh to agree.

“Why in the blazes would I do that?”

“Because if you do not, the rumor of our long-ago love affair will circulate.”

Already having worked through the unlikely scenario, Hugh’s panic only lasted a moment. He’d never slept with this woman. His cock may easily be led astray, but never by wenches with cold-evil eyes. Not with all of the libations in the world.

“I have never tupped you, my lady. I do not favor Satan’s mignonettes.”

She smiled—if the disturbing upward turn of her lips could be considered a smile. “That does not matter.”

“I beg your pardon, but you are the one who stands to lose a fortune if your husband thinks you’ve bedded a younger man beneath your station. Much younger. ”

Yes, younger . Let the vicious serpent chew on that. He flashed her a toothy grin laced with venom.

She leaped from her seat, and her palm cracked Hugh’s cheek so hard his head flew to the side.

He stoically sucked up the sting and chuckled. Damn, did he understand human nature. She was jealous of Charlotte’s youth and beauty. Probably of any woman who was a recipient of the attention she thought she deserved.

“Bring the information to me, you insignificant rodent, unless you want my stepdaughter to hear of our affair.” She flashed her incisors. “I know Charlotte favors you. I know everything that goes on in this house.”

Whatever she planned to do with this information would be duplicitous as Hades. “Fuck you,” Hugh growled.

“Charlotte will also hear about the kiss we just shared.”

He snorted. “What kiss?”

Without warning—and with demon-like speed—the marchioness pounced. She landed on top of him and pressed her mouth to his. Her lips were ice cold, and she was so thin her bones sliced into his skin. Her serpent-like tongue shot out to lick his cheek.

As weak as he currently was, he conjured enough strength to push her away. He frantically wiped where her lips and tongue had left a trail of putrid slime.

“Leon, what did you just witness?” she called to the Cape guarding the door.

“I believe Hugh Fletcher was lying on top of you, my lady.”

“What the bloody hell?” Were these two seriously trying to set Hugh up so that he could be blackmailed?

With a raised fist, Leon marched toward them. “My lady, I believe when you came here to tell an old lover that you were not interested in rekindling your romance because you are happily married, he became angry. I came with you and waited outside due to his volatile temper. I heard you screaming and ran in to find a horrific scene. I cannot even repeat how indecent it was.”

“Try,” she said, a fake sweetness in her command.

Leon waved his arms about theatrically. “Why, he was…” He brought a palm to his mouth and feigned a gasp. “He was forcing himself on you.”

Gritting his teeth through the pain, Hugh stood and stomped as hard as his battered body allowed. He would knock this lying bloke all the way to hell. “You repulsive pile of dung.”

Undaunted, Leon stepped into Hugh’s space. Nose to nose, they stood glaring at each other.

“My lady, I had no other choice, I had to step in and protect you.” Leon’s fist slammed into Hugh’s jaw.

Hugh flew backward. His blasted body was so weak he stumbled about like a newborn foal. Once he gained purchase, he raised a battle cry and charged. His fist met Leon’s nose.

Unfortunately, Leon answered the punch with a devastating clobber to Hugh’s breadbasket. Three sharp jabs followed. Leon’s fourth blow caught Hugh’s jaw, and blood spattered.

Hugh landed on his bruised arse. He wiped his hand across his mouth. Sticky blood coated his fingers.

Leon stepped back and shook out his hand.

“Remember, you are to bring the information to me before you relay your findings to my husband,” the marchioness said. “And he is not to know of our arrangement.”

“Like hell,” Hugh said. “We have no bloody arrangement.”

“Then prepare for my stepdaughter to hear the rumors of our long-ago untoward affair and your current indecent advances.” The marchioness pressed the heel of her slipper into Hugh’s thigh, then stomped.

“Fuck,” he growled.

“Heal quickly, my dangerous wolf. You have a lot of work ahead of you. My husband was quite busy in his youth.” She turned on her heel and slithered into the night.

For a long while, Hugh remained on the ground, nursing his ego. The sun had set by the time he finished feeling sorry for himself. Damn, he hated to abandon Charlotte, but he had no choice; her parents were insane. He needed to get away from this place—quickly. Once he considered how to handle this jumble, he would come back for her. He crawled to one knee and then pushed onto his feet.

Why did the exit have to be so far away? Agonizing pain shot through him as he limped through the dark.

He still had a few feet to go when the door opened. A dainty hand clasping a large basket, and a hint of lantern light alerted him that this visitor was a welcome guest. A vision of loveliness. A bearer of gifts. A bright spark in the dark depths of his existence. His Firefly.