18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter eighteen

C harlotte awoke before dawn to find the lanterns still lit. She rolled onto her side and studied Hugh. The bruising on his face had yellowed, but his nose was not quite as swollen. Neither thing took away from how handsome he was.

Hugh was wonderful in a million ways. He made her feel special and cherished. He bombarded her with heartfelt compliments without overthinking everything he said like the insincere men of her class. Every single aristocratic male reminded her of Lord Nash. She imagined George in a garish tailcoat and too-high collars juxtaposed against Hugh’s bronzed skin, the corded muscles of his forearms exposed from rolled-up shirt sleeves. There was no comparison. She would choose Hugh’s masculinity every second of every day.

In any other circumstance, she might question a worldly man like Hugh being attracted to someone as sheltered as her. But not after last night. He had placed his head between her thighs and enthusiastically suckled. And his eyes had been filled with affection as he slid in and out of her.

Without a doubt, Hugh Fletcher fancied her as much as she fancied him. She’d never been so sure or confident about anything. She wanted to shout to the world that she wished to officially court Hugh Fletcher. But first, she would tell him how she felt, and if all went as planned, he would confess his deep affection for her. Hopefully, the day passed quickly, because as soon as the sun set, she would return to him.

For now, she would sneak home before anyone discovered her missing. Once her father broke his fast, she would speak her mind.

“ Papa, I know that you would like me to make a match with someone who has a title,” she would say . “But I fancy Hugh Fletcher with all of my heart. Although I have known him for mere days, our souls are connected. I would like to live in a small house and have three babies who look like him. I would also like a dog, a kitten, two birds, and a goat. Lucy shall live with us and help tend the house. I shall be as happy as a fairytale princess. So please do not engage him in this dangerous business of yours. ”

Thereupon, her father would shower her with blessings.

Unless he bellowed at her and shot Hugh between the eyes.

She sighed.

Careful not to wake Hugh, she slid from beneath the counterpane. She quietly dressed, kicking her stays beneath the bed. She’d retrieve them later. She packed her basket, leaving Hugh the bacon and a few miscellaneous accessories. After extinguishing the lanterns, she snuck out of the cottage into the glorious pre-dawn.

Swinging her basket, Charlotte strolled along, humming a cheerful tune. Since it was much too early to encounter anyone on the well-worn main path, she did not have to tramp through the woods.

Swatches of pink and orange slid across the horizon, announcing the dawn. Colorful flowers lined the walkway. Leaves unfurled and petals opened to drink the morning dew. Chirping merrily, the birds sang the chorus to her song.

A clamorous gurgle interrupted her musical duet. She patted her noisy belly. Once she reached Chesterhill Manor, she would enjoy thick slices of bread, marmalade, and coffee. She giggled, for it seemed amorous congress made one ravenous. And oh, had it been amorous , exceeding every one of her expectations.

She halted to watch two bunnies hop about. “I would take you home and feed you the biggest carrots you have ever seen, you adorable little fur balls, but my stepmother would probably chop you up and bathe in your blood.”

Something behind her crackled—perhaps a deer or a squirrel skittering about? Or maybe not, since the hair on the back of her neck stood at attention. The sound of snapping twigs and crunching leaves grew closer. Anxiety crushed her heart.

She lifted her skirts and dashed into the woods. Her assailant followed, their feet thumping against the forest floor.

Her lungs caught fire as she tried to take in air. ’Twas no use because she did not know how to sprint. Someone behind her grasped the basket, pulling it from her hands. The contents tumbled to the ground. Hunching forward, she gasped for breath.

A strong hand clutched her forearm. “Lady Charlotte.”

She swung around to face Leon. A gust of wind lifted the edge of his cape. It fluttered dramatically before falling into place alongside his ankles. She attempted to wriggle from his grasp, but he pinched harder. The brute!

“Let go of me,” she demanded.

“’Tis not safe for a lady to be wandering around the woods on her own.”

“I was on the path, thank you very much.” At least she had been before he terrified her.

“I shall escort you to safety,” he said.

He did not give a fig about her safety. She harrumphed and swatted his hand away. “I do not require an escort.” She bent to pick up her scattered belongings.

Sighing loudly, he squatted beside her and helped gather her possessions. Once everything was contained in her basket, he helped her stand. His eyes raised heavenward. “Please forgive me.”

Who was he talking to? Was he apologizing for spilling her belongings? Maybe she should forgive him since he had helped pick them up. He did seem truly apologetic.

“You are forgiven,” Charlotte said.

His gaze dropped to her face. Confusion clouded his expression. “I have no other choice.”

What in the dickens was he talking about?

He took her basket in one hand and grasped her forearm with the other. “Please do not fight me. I do not want to harm you.”

To Beelzebub with him. She refused to be dragged about the woods willingly. “Ouch,” she murmured under her breath every time his fingers dug into her flesh. His grip firm, he ignored her complaints as he tugged her along beside him. Every so often, he applied unwarranted pressure. This was not a man concerned with her safety. Nay, she was his captive, which could only mean one thing—he had been sent to find her.

Did he know she had been with Hugh? Had he waited outside the cottage, then followed her?

“Are you taking me to Lady Chesterhill?” she asked, even though she was certain what his answer would be.

However, he did not say anything. He simply grunted as he tugged her all the way to Chesterhill Manor.

Wearing a scarlet dress, Lady Chesterhill perched on a vermillion chair. Her cheeks were crimson from anger, and heated flames ignited her eyes. Her caped men and stern lady’s maids surrounded her. Charlotte blinked, but the blood-colored nightmare did not fade.

“How dare you send someone to spy on me,” Charlotte said with as much spirit as she could muster.

Lady Chesterhill flicked her fingers toward the exit of her private parlor. “Please excuse me, I must speak with my stepdaughter privately,” she told her staff. “Except for you, Leon. I may need your assistance.”

Assistance? Did Lady Chesterhill mean to use Leon to intimidate her? It was more likely that Leon would have to protect her stepmother since Charlotte was currently fantasizing about wrapping her hands around the woman’s neck .

By the time Charlotte returned from her murderous daydream, all the servants had gone except for Leon, who stood sentry, his arms folded across his massive chest, his expression unreadable.

Feeling utterly defiant, Charlotte settled her hands on her hips. “I know you ruined my dresses.”

Lady Chesterhill wrinkled her nose indignantly as if Charlotte was insane for making such an accusation. “We must speak about Mr. Fletcher.” A spindly digit jabbed in Charlotte’s direction.

Good heavens, Lady Chesterhill’s fingers were demon-like. They could pierce a heart with one swish.

“You have been sneaking to his cottage. Last night, you spent the night there.”

Denying the accusation seemed pointless. “Why are you spying on me?”

That insidious finger pointed at a chair. “Sit.”

Although she wanted to do exactly the opposite of what she was being ordered to do, Charlotte’s legs shook uncontrollably making it difficult to hold herself upright. She lowered herself as gracefully as she could with her nerves aquiver.

“Mr. Fletcher is a dishonorable beast,” the devil hissed.

Charlotte rolled her eyes.

“I knew Hugh before I married your father. I sought him out the other day to tell him not to play his roguish games with you. But he…he forced himself upon me.”

Since Suzannah had been married to her father for ten years, was she suggesting she knew Hugh when he was a young lad? What in the devil was the woman up to?

“My lady, you are an untruthful talebearer.” And a conniving sorceress of the worst sort. “Hugh would never do such a thing. ”

Lady Chesterhill folded her hands in her lap and exhaled. “Charlotte, I know that we do not always see eye to eye. But you need to know, I love your father very much. It has been hard to fill your mother’s shoes, and you look so much like her.”

See eye to eye? “Pfft.” The woman abused Charlotte to no end.

Lady Chesterhill’s eyes filled with tears. She blotted the wayward drips with her handkerchief, even going so far as to blow her runny nose. Although a terrible stepmother, the woman would make a splendid stage actress.

“I know I can be a bit jealous. But I do love you like a daughter, and I do not want to see you hurt. And make no mistake, he will break your heart.”

If Charlotte was a man, she would bellow an unseemly word. “Please excuse me. I would like to retire to my chamber.” Charlotte stood and headed toward the exit.

“Leon will escort you,” Lady Chesterhill called to her back.

Charlotte faced her stepmother, and teeth clenched, snarled, “Bugger off!”

Dash it all, it felt good to express herself with the impolite phrase. No wonder Alexander tossed it about like a ha’penny. It was so fulfilling to murmur the expletive that Charlotte might add it to her everyday vocabulary.

Lady Chesterhill took advantage of the lull in conversation to rush toward Charlotte and grasp her hand in an icy grip. “When I was your age, I also would have been drawn to Hugh. I learned the hard way that one must beware of handsome men.”

Was that an insult to Father? Because it sure sounded like one. Charlotte found him quite attractive for a man in his middling years. She wanted no more of this ridiculous conversation. “Good day, my lady.”

“Did you know Hugh is in trouble with the magistrate?” Lady Chesterhill said so quickly her words ran together.

Although she knew, the wind was sucked from Charlotte’s lungs. Against her better judgment, she cocked an ear and waited for the rest of the story.

“Just the other day, a man encountered Hugh about the affair he was having with his wife. They fought in the street where everyone witnessed it.” Lady Chesterhill held a hand to her heart. “It brings me no joy to inform you that Hugh was asked to leave his position as a Bow Street Runner.”

Was that true?

Nay. It was a lie.

However…? When she had asked Hugh about his past, he had changed the subject. The truth hit Charlotte with the force of a tornado decimating a Robin’s nest. She had allowed herself to fall for a man she barely knew.

“Even if you cannot forgive me for my jealousy, please heed my warning,” Lady Chesterhill said.

Charlotte balled her fists, squeezing until her fingernails dug into her palms. The air had become too thick and heavy to breathe. She needed to get out of that suffocating chamber and away from her stepmother.

She flew into the hallway, Leon at her heels. She whirled on him. “Please, let me be.”

While he rubbed his brow, she dashed away. Ignoring her plea, he followed her, his footsteps echoing in the long hallway.

“My lady, please,” Leon called to her.

She lengthened her stride.

“I saw it with my own eyes,” he yelled .

Halting, she held her breath and faced him.

“Yesterday, Mr. Fletcher kissed Lady Chesterhill. I had to intervene and…” Leon winced and stared at his shoe. “I am sorry, I had to use force to make him stop.”

Was that why Hugh had new bruises? Charlotte’s heart pounded at her chest until it plummeted to her feet and crashed on the ground, splintering into hundreds of lifeless shards.

Since she had no friends and no one to talk to, who could she discuss her broken heart with? A sparkling firefly her big toe. She was simply a silly miss shoved into a too-tight, sparkly dress. Loneliness and overwhelm cocooned her in a gray cloud.

Charlotte schooled her tears as she opened her chamber door. Once it closed behind her, she cried a waterfall.