9. Chapter Nine

Chapter nine

C uckolded husbands ought to learn how to satisfy a woman. Although if someone touched Hugh’s Firefly—no matter the reason—he’d kill the scoundrel. However, this time the marquess’s anger might be over a compromised daughter instead of a tupped wife. Or maybe the combination of them both. If so, Hugh was one dead man. Too bad since the wife he could not remember, he could do without. But the daughter? Oh, he wanted her with every fiber of his being.

A shiver wracked his body. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d just met the chit.

However, it felt as though he’d known her forever. Maybe because she’d taken care of him. She’d probably even halted his beating. And damn if Charlotte wasn’t the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Even wearing a dirt-stained, rumpled dress, she was magnificent and shiny .

Blasted head injury had him so discombobulated that he was thinking about big blue eyes, a lovely smile, and a pink gown as an angry marquess approached.

Hugh tried to stand, but his head whirled. He lowered himself back onto his bruised arse and leaned against the wall. Hell’s teeth, he was in deep shite. As Lord Chesterhill lunged toward him, Hugh winced and braced for the blow.

“I apologize for this misunderstanding,” Chesterhill said.

Hugh opened one eye. Chesterhill’s hand hung between them. He opened both eyes and blinked. His reach hesitant, he clasped the marquess’s palm and shook.

“Papa, what took you so long?” Charlotte asked.

“I had to wait for all of the guests to leave.” As if unaware he’d put Hugh through hell these last fourteen or so hours, he flicked his wrist dismissively.

“Surely you jest?” Hugh said.

The marquess squinted in confusion. Or maybe he was quite the actor. His greeting may have been affable, but Hugh would be foolish to trust an aristocrat—at least one who wasn’t his mother or one of his cousins.

“Whatsoever do you mean?” Lord Chesterhill asked.

“You had me chased through the city by five savages. I was knocked out, thrown into a carriage, and brought here in the middle of a social event. As if that wasn’t enough of an inconvenience, I had the shite beaten out of me.”

Chesterhill pulled a chair beside the bed and sat beside Hugh. “I only sent two men to retrieve you, and they were instructed to bring you to me unharmed.”

Hugh scoffed.

“But five men attacked him.” Charlotte’s gaze slid to her brother. “Seven men,” she said under her breath .

“Let us not forget he stole Nash’s coat and mask,” Alexander said.

Charlotte stiffened. “You are angry with Hugh over something that happened years ago. Thank heavens he saved you from Beatrice. She is a terrible gossipmonger.”

“And what were you doing in the garden with him?” Alexander grimaced in Hugh’s direction. “Answer that, sister.”

“Protecting him from the lot of you.” Charlotte crossed her arms over her chest and harrumphed.

Lord Chesterhill scowled at his son before focusing back on Hugh. “Alexander explained the situation to me. ’Tis quite unfortunate. As I explained, I only hired two of those men.” The marquess rolled his eyes. “You probably shouldn’t have stolen Lord Nash’s coat. He is quite a dandy. He uses only the best tailors and prides himself on his fashion sense.”

“Three of the assailants work for Lady Chesterhill,” Charlotte told her father.

The marquess rubbed his forehead. “I know not why she sent men.”

“We did not yet confront Lady Chesterhill,” Alexander said.

Charlotte huffed. “Of course not. No one ever confronts our stepmother.”

“Charlotte Beckett,” Lord Chesterhill reprimanded.

Hugh had had enough of this outrageous situation. His temper raged, threatening to explode. “Get to the point, my lord. What do you want from me?” It was a stupid question, as he did not care to discuss his past indiscretions in front of Charlotte.

“’Tis a private matter,” the marquess said.

Private sounded good to Hugh.

“You may speak openly in front of me,” Alexander said.

“And me,” Charlotte added .

Lord Chesterhill pursued his lips as he studied his children. “You look awful, Charlie. Have you slept?”

Her cheeks bloomed red as she studied her pink slippers. Hell, even they were adorned with sparkling jewels. She did not look awful in the least. The strands falling from her coiffure gave her a rather disheveled look—as if she’d been tupped good and hard. If only? However, red circles rimmed her innocent eyes.

“Alexander, please walk your sister home. She needs a bath, food, and sleep.”

Charlotte rearranged her skirt, dropped onto her knees, and rested her head on her father’s lap. “Please let me stay here with you.”

Her father was correct on one point—the poor chit needed sleep.

“You should have something to eat and then rest,” Hugh encouraged her.

“Reginald fixed me some bread and tea a few hours ago.” She looked up at her father with those pleading eyes that might very well be the death of Hugh. “And Mr. Fletcher is my patient. The doctor left him in my care.”

“I promise you, Charlie, he will be safe.” Her father clasped her hands. Together, they stood. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he walked her to the door. Looking over his shoulder, the marquess called, “Alexander, come. Escort your sister.”

Instead of immediately obeying his father, Alexander stabbed his finger in Hugh’s direction and growled. “Fletcher, if you touch my sister, I’ll kick your bollocks so deep inside your arse you’ll need a wizard to extricate them.”

Once they were alone, Hugh prepared for the accusations and threats. He would do his best to defend himself since he couldn’t remember seducing a marchioness. However, just to be sure, he should ponder the possibility again.

There was Lady Hinkley, but she was married to Lord Hinkley. And there was the Dowager Marchioness Clinton, but she was a dowager. At least he thought she was still a dowager. Then, there had been the time he seduced Lord Vinewood’s daughter in a box at the theater.

Hugh’s breath caught in his throat. Was Charlotte’s stepmother the Marquess of Vineyard’s daughter? She was much younger than Chesterhill, but such things were common, especially with a man as wealthy as the marquess.

Chesterhill cleared his throat. “I want to hire you, Fletcher.”

Surely, Hugh had heard wrong. Or perhaps his brain bashing had left him befuddled.

“What?” Hugh asked.

“I need someone with whom I can trust my secrets. Someone who is not afraid to get his hands dirty. Someone with access to the aristocracy, the gaming hells, and the local gaols. And someone who knows how to track individuals who may not want to be found. Who better than a Bow Street runner who can’t keep himself out of jail because of his temper?” The marquess held up a hand, halting Hugh’s response. “How fortunate that you have an aristocratic mother and a working-class father. ”

How did Chesterhill know about his circumstances? At the mention of his late father, Hugh swallowed the lump in his throat. Now, his mother worked herself to the bone, keeping the inn running and catering to society’s elite. Not that she ever complained. In fact, she seemed quite content. And Chesterhill was correct. Hugh was damn good at finding things. People. Stolen property. Lost items of value. You name it, Hugh could find it.

“Not interested,” Hugh said.

“But you have no idea what I am about to ask. You have not heard me out.”

“Because I am not interested.”

The marquess slid his chair closer to the bed and stared into Hugh’s eyes. “I know your countless brawls have you on thin ice with The Bow Street Runners.”

Why in the hell was Chesterhill privy to that information?

“Mr. Fletcher, like you, I was also quite the rake in my younger days. In fact, I still was up until a few years ago.”

The wrinkled, swine-bellied marquess could bugger off.

“I have children. By-blows. Many.” The marquess grimaced. “I paid well to have their mothers disappear. But now I would like to find them.”

Since this might affect Charlotte, Hugh should ignore the throbbing in his temple and concentrate on the marquess’s story.

“Why now, after all this time?” Hugh asked.

“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 know why you 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.