7. Chapter Seven

Chapter seven

W hy in deuces had Hugh dallied on a garden path after he’d escaped from confinement? He needed his head examined, or he required a swift kick in the arse. Or perhaps he should be castrated. He glared down at the tent in his trousers with disdain.

Hugh’s fierce firefly stepped in front of him as if she could protect him from these ruffians. She was too adorable.

Placing her hands on her hips, she glared down the barrels of a half-dozen pistols. “Put those silly things away and leave him alone, you foolish blackguards.”

And there was the reason he’d been waylaid in that garden. Not only was Charlotte beautiful, but she was also spirited. Her deadly combination of innocence and passion was alluring. Any man within her vicinity would be side-tracked by her feminine magic .

But no woman is worth this kind of trouble, he chided himself.

And yet, here he was, feeling some sort of possessive pride for this beauty. Or maybe primal lust? Unless this odd jumble of emotions was romantic inclinations?

Nay. Absurd. He never had romantic inclinations. Especially for some chit he’d just met. Although it was not every day one saw a brave woman all pink and sparkly, standing up to five large men wielding weapons. Make that five men wielding weapons, one foppish, coatless aristocrat, and a devil attempting to talk down his massive cockstand.

“I told you to leave him alone,” Charlotte said,

“Aye. Back away, ye bloody blackguards.” A smirking Mister Mustache twirled his knife with one hand, and the end of his stash with the other. “He is ours.”

“Who are you calling a blackguard?” asked the brute who seemed to be in charge of the caped crew.

The dandy stepped forward and thumped Hugh in the chest. “I shall report you to the local constable for stealing my coat. How dare you attack a peer of the realm.” Hopefully, his nasal pitch was because Hugh had broken his nose

“Arseholes, the bloody lot of you,” Hugh mumbled under his breath to the fools staring menacingly at him.

“All of you, leave him be, or I shall tell Lord Chesterhill.” Charlotte bit her lip, not looking at all confident of her threat.

“Your stepmother is the one who commissioned us to find him,” said a Cape.

Charlotte did not seem surprised by this pronouncement. Hugh, however, was shocked speechless. He had no idea who this jealous stepmother was, but he’d probably tupped her at one time or another. Normally he did not give two shites about sleeping with a mother and daughter, or two sisters, or any combination of taboo women. Still, the thought of bedding his Firefly’s stepmother left him slightly nauseous.

“We was hired by the marquess,” the giraffe declared. “Therefore, we’s the ones with authority.”

Was this over some cuckolded husband? He couldn't remember tupping a marchioness, but that didn’t mean he hadn't. Although it would have had to been ions ago because lately, he remembered the chits.

“Why would my father hire you?” Charlotte asked the giraffe before facing the Capes. “And Leon, what does Lady Chesterhill want with Hugh?”

The giraffe shrugged. “Ain’t a bloody clue, me lady.”

“’Tis not our job to ask,” the man who must be Leon said.

Hugh winced. Well, so much for ever finding his way up his Firefly’s skirts. Once she discovered he’d tupped her stepmother, he’d be dead to her. Not that it mattered. He had no business with a woman as grand as her—a wealthy marquee’s daughter to boot. Henceforth, he would control his impulses. Scratch that. There was no need to be ridiculous. He’d simply have to make sure a woman was unwed. Unless he wanted to pay a prostitute?

Been there, done that. Unmarried it was.

“I say we take him to the constable,” the aristocrat said.

Hell no. That would ensure his termination. Hugh stepped toward the man and growled. “I say you keep your nose out of it unless you want me to break it again.”

“Lord Nash,” Charlotte said, “I do not think you want everyone to know you followed me into the gardens and approached me while I was alone.”

What a grand chit she was. Hugh snorted at her manipulative brilliance .

“I simply wanted to make sure you were unharmed, Lady Charlotte,” the aristocrat said.

The conversation halted as someone wearing a mask approached. Bloody great. Six men would be hard enough to take down. How in the hell was Hugh to defeat seven? Especially in this dashed coat that was so tight, he could barely move.

He calculated distances and drew a mental diagram. He could land another punch to the aristocrat’s nose, then a front kick to the shortest Cape’s bullocks, followed by a back kick to the tall bloke’s breadbasket. And then, he’d have just enough time to lunge toward Leon before the man shot him between his eyes.

“Fuck.” Hugh faced his truth. He would once again be a prisoner. But which group of men was less dangerous?

Charlotte smiled as the newcomer broached the tetchy ensemble. “Alexander, is that you?”

“’Tis, Charlotte. I was worried about you.” He removed his mask. It dangled between his fingers, swinging in the breeze like a metronome of doom. “You’ve been gone quite a long while.”

“Thank heavens. I desperately need your assistance,” she said.

Hugh lifted his gaze from the black mask to take in the man’s furrowed brow. Hell no. It couldn’t be. Not Alexander Beckett, the Marquess of Chesterhill’s heir? Was his one-time enemy truly Charlotte’s brother? Hugh winced.

Alexander strolled into Hugh’s space and squinted. “Astleyshire’s cousin? What the bloody hell are you doing in my gardens?”

Charlotte’s gaze shot to Hugh. “You are The Duke of Astleyshire’s cousin? ”

Would a truthful answer help or hurt his predicament? He did not give two shites about telling these men the truth. However, he did not want to lie to this woman who was doing her best to protect him.

“Yes,” he murmured. “The duke is my first cousin.”

She swung her finger back and forth between Hugh and Alexander. “And you two know each other?”

Unfortunately, they had first met at Bedford. Since Hugh’s mother had married beneath her station, he constantly had to prove he belonged at school. He had needed a thick hide and a wicked fist to survive. Having his older cousin, who was a popular bloke and a champion fencer, look out for him didn’t hurt.

Alexander growled. “He’s the bloody arsehole who cheated me out of one hundred pounds. And then he had the impudence to tup Beatrice in an alley.”

Hugh had won that card game fair and square. Or maybe he had cheated. He’d been young, stupid, and trying to prove himself worthy. The girl was another matter. “’Twasn’t my fault you couldn’t keep the damn chit satisfied,” he growled out between clenched teeth.

Since Hugh’s arm was practically pinned to his side in the bloody coat, Alexander’s fist shot out faster than he could protect his jaw. Hugh’s head snapped back.

The damnable punch hurt like the deuces.

“Alexander,” Charlotte cried.

Hugh probably deserved that. As he rubbed out the sting, someone tackled him from behind, taking him to the ground. Hugh hit the earth with a thunk.

“Fuck. I will kill every last one of you,” he spat out between spasms of pain .

“I believe you are outnumbered, Mr. Fletcher,” Alexander said. Someone else kicked him in the stomach. He’d wager Nash.

Feet and fists pummeled him. The last thing he heard before his world went black was his firefly’s pleading cries.