Hugo and the Maiden

by S. M. LaViolette

  Hugo stared at her so hard he should’ve been able to see into her brain; did she know who it was that she’d just gamahuched?

  Gibson took Maisie’s arm and led her away from the door.

  His royal highness was buttoning up his trousers when Hugo entered the room. He greeted Hugo with a smile that was remarkably genuine considering their disparate social stations. “Hugo, old man!”

  Hugo gave a full court bow, something he did with exquisite grace.

  “No need to stand on ceremony with me,” the duke said, his bulbous blue eyes glinting with pleasure at either Hugo’s person or his gesture of obeisance, Hugo wasn’t sure which.

  The other man had taken a beating in the newspapers lately, so a little respect probably went a long way to soothing his battered nerves and pride.

  “Come, sit.”

  Hugo viewed the fact that the duke gestured to the chair next to his, rather than the floor between his spread thighs, as a positive sign.

  “Thank you, your royal highness.”

  “How have you been, Hugo?”

  “I have been well.”

  The duke nodded briskly, “Capital, capital. Quite a nice gel that—what was her name?”

  “Maisie, sir.”

  “Hmm, yes.” His magnificent mustache moved from side to side, his fingers drumming on the arm of the chair. Even though Hugo had been inside this man’s body countless times he still had no idea what went on in his head.

  “I’m leaving for the Continent soon,” the duke suddenly barked. “Probably saw that in the demmed papers.” He muttered that last part more to himself, and then his vague blue gaze sharpened and pinned Hugo to his chair. “I shan’t be coming home for … well, not for some time.” His slack features suddenly became firm and stern. Kingly, almost. “I’ll come back next week—one last time.”

  “Er, shall I reserve Maisie for you, sir?”

  The duke laughed, but then his eyes narrowed as his jaw flexed, his eyes hungry as they moved over Hugo’s body. “One last time, Hugo,” he repeated.

  Hugo swallowed. “Er, that’s—”

  The duke nodded vigorously. “Jolly good, jolly good.”

  The door to the room opened, as if somebody beyond it was attuned to the royal attention span. It was Gibson and he held the door open and gestured for Hugo.

  Hugo turned to the duke, but the older man was looking at his watch. Only the clenched fist that rested on his thigh gave away the duke’s tension.

  Again, he opened his mouth to tell the duke that he would not be here next week—that he wouldn’t be in the city. Better yet, that he wouldn’t even be in the country.

  Or perhaps he should just tell him that he was married. The duke had a wife and he even seemed to care for her, in his own strange way. Surely he would—

  “Time to go,” Gibson said, his cold gaze on Hugo.

  No, Hugo thought as he bowed low to the duke and then walked toward the door, his feet like lumps of lead, the time to go was before I ever stepped foot into this damned room.

  Chapter 32

  Martha, Albert, and Cailean were in the breakfast room when Hugo went down the following morning.

  “Hugo, what are you doing up so early? You didn’t come home until after four o’clock. You couldn’t have had more than three hours sleep.”

  Hugo didn’t tell her that he’d not even slept that much. Instead, he kissed her cheek and then nodded at Albert and Cailean. “Good morning, Albert, young Cailean.” He grinned at the huge lad. “Nice to see you for a change.”

  The boy flushed and gave him a shy smile.

  “Coffee, please,” he said to Richard.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Martha asked when Hugo sat down without filling a plate from the buffet.

  “I need to have a few cups of coffee first.” He turned to Albert before Martha could try to feed him; she was adamant in her belief that a healthy breakfast was critical to a healthy body. Normally Hugo agreed with her, but this morning he thought he might vomit if he tried to eat.

  “How were things with Mr. Williams?”

  Albert smiled. “He is confident that I can get control of the patent with the proof I’ve given him. In fact, he knows of my ex-employer and said there have been accusations in the past. He is a brilliant man” His chin wobbled and a distinctly emotional expression slid over his face. “How can I ever thank—”

  “Excellent news,” Hugo boomed, not wanting the younger man to thank him—yet again—for loaning him a bit of money and introducing him to a competent lawyer.

  “I told Albert that we selected a house with ample room and that he should consider coming to stay with us until his legal troubles are over. Cailean and I would adore having a Londoner show us the best places.”

  Hugo was both proud and amused that she was trying to do a favor for the cash-poor young man and make it seem as if Albert were the one doing a favor for her.

  Albert’s freckled face flushed at the offer. “Oh, I’m sure the two of you must be tired of—”

  “What an excellent idea, Martha.” He turned to Albert. “I’m afraid my business is eating up a great deal more of my time than I’d like at the moment. You really would be doing all of us a favor.”

  “I would want to pay for—”

  “We can discuss that later.” Hugo cut in. “You must stay with us until the patent issue has been settled. These things can sometimes drag on for months—even years.”

  Albert frowned.

  “Not that it will in your case,” Hugo hastened to assure him.

  “Well, it you are sure—”

  “We’re positive.” Hugo turned from the younger man to the fourth occupant of the table. “I’ve not spoken to you in almost two days, little brother. Have you brought home any new houseguests—perhaps a carthorse? Some pigeons?”

  Cailean gave one of the hushed, huffing laughs that Hugo found so endearing, his huge shoulders shaking with silent amusement.

  “Cailean has been finding homes for some of the animals,” Martha said.

  “Is that so?”

  “Lord Bellamy’s stablemaster said he needed a good mouser and also that his daughter had taken a liking to Emma—the little black dog.”

  “Ah.” Hugo turned to Cailean. “You don’t mind if they go to somebody else?”

  Cailean shook his head, his expression calm but firm, as if he’d considered the character of the people and was satisfied. That was probably a good thing since the animal head count seemed to grow weekly.

  “Well, you are an excellent judge of character,” Hugo teased. “You liked me on sight, didn’t you?”

  Cailean snickered.

  “I’ve told Cailean that he needn’t worry there won’t be enough room as our new home has a large back garden,” Martha said.

  Hugo had to smile at that. The house they’d chosen had a big enough garden, but it wouldn’t hold all the animals Cailean collected. “I’m sure we’ll manage,” he said, topping up his coffee and taking another sip, beginning to feel more awake.

  “Will you be able to come to services with me today, Hugo? You needn’t if you’re too tired. Cailean and Albert are joining me, so I shan’t be alone.” She hesitated, and then added, “It is a new church.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, St. Olav’s. Do you know it?”

  “I can’t imagine there is a Londoner who doesn’t, my dear. I shall be delighted to attend services with you today.”

  The door opened and Richard approached Hugo with a salver. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but this message just came for you and the messenger is waiting for a reply.”

  Hugo ignored the tightening in his gut at the familiar cheap parchment and broke the sickly gray wafer.

  I want to see you immediately. Don’t keep me waiting. B.

  He swallowed down the bile that surged in his throat at Bev’s terse message. What in the name of God had happened now? He’d left Solange’s after the party was, for all intents and purposes, finish
ed, although there were always the inevitable stragglers.

  A quick perusal of the ledger last night had shown they had made more money than ever before from the ridiculous orgy.

  Something must have happened after he left. Something bad.

  Hugo looked up to find three sets of eyes regarding him curiously. “Er, tell the messenger that I shall be over within the hour.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Once Richard had gone, Hugo said to Martha, “I’m sorry, darling. It looks like I shan’t be able to go with you, after all.”

  Martha smiled, but he could see she was disappointed. “Do you think you will be home for dinner?”

  “I’m sure I will,” Hugo said, hoping to God he was right.

  ◆◆◆

  Just like the last time there were two sneering ruffians flanking the door to Hugo’s study at Solange’s.

  But this time, Cowan Morgan—Bev’s bastard son, Laura’s manipulative ex-lover, and the man who’d helped to defraud Hugo of his life’s work—was one of the men.

  Cowan said something to Jac Evans when he saw Hugo and the men laughed in a way calculated to be offensive.

  Hugo ignored them and reached for the door handle.

  “Not so fast, Mr. Buckingham,” Cowan said, grabbing Hugo’s upper arm with his meaty paw.

  Hugo grinned up at Cowen, who had a good six inches and three stone on him, and then turned his head and licked the back of the other man’s hand.

  Cowan yelped as if Hugo had struck him and yanked away his hand.

  “Did you want something from me, Cowan?” Hugo asked with a leer.

  Jac—a deceptively jovial-looking bloke whom Hugo knew had killed at least two men—shook his head, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re a one, you.”

  Cowan scrubbed the back of his hand against his breeches, scowling. “He’s a sick sod bastard who likes takin’ it up the arse, is what he is.”

  “How flattering that you are so interested in my arse and what I put in it, Cowan.”

  Jac chortled and opened the door. “Go on in, ’Ugo, ’ee’s expecting ye.”

  Hugo winked at Cowan and struggled to leash his fury as he was admitted into his own goddamned office as if he were a lowly bill collector.

  Bev was sitting behind his desk, poring over a ledger. The safe behind the desk, where Hugo kept all the important documents and account books, was open.

  Hugo had been aware that Bev had the combination—it was his business, after all—but he felt physically violated to see evidence of the other man’s ownership.

  And there wasn’t a damned thing he could say or do to stop him.

  “Sit.” Bev hadn’t bothered to look up when Hugo entered.

  Hugo sat.

  The clock on the mantel ticked softly as Bev finished the page he was reading. When he was done, he closed the book without a sound and finally looked up.

  “You had a visitor last night.”

  As an experienced whore, Hugo was good at hiding his thoughts. But this question surprised him so much that it took him a fraction of a second too long to respond. “Er, visitor?”

  Bev’s eyes narrowed.

  “Oh, yes—a visitor. Er, how did you know?”

  “It’s my business, Hugo.”

  Red-hot fury churned in his belly at the man’s words. Hugo forced a smile. “That it is.”

  “So, what did he want?”

  “The same thing that everyone else wanted. He spent an hour with Maisie and then left.”

  “Yes. But what did he really want?”

  “As far as I know, that was all.”

  Bev leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “Oh, mab. You’d have to live in the world a whole lot longer than you have to lie to me.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  Bev slammed a ham-sized fist on the desk, making everything on top of it jump. “Don’t lie to me!”

  Hugo knew exactly what a rabbit felt like when cornered by a fox. He was momentarily frozen with fear. But if he bowed to this man once, he would never get off his knees.

  “I’m not lying,” he repeated calmly.

  “Cowen!” Bev bellowed.

  The door opened and Bev’s ugly son stuck his shaggy head in. “Aye?”

  “Bring her in.”

  There was a scuffling sound in the foyer, a feminine whimper, and then Laura came stumbling into the room.

  He’d only seen her a month ago, but already she looked ten years older.

  “What’s this?” Hugo asked Bev, turning away from the cringing woman.

  “While nobody wants to take her for a ride anymore,” Bev said, sneering at Laura, “it turns out the slut is still good for somethin’.”

  Hugo experienced an almost overwhelming desire to kick Bev’s ugly head right off his shoulders.

  Bev turned his cold gaze on Laura. “Which one of my employees did his royal highness want to go ridin’ with, pet?”

  Her eyes darted around the room, never settling on anything for long. “Hugo.”

  “Good lass,” Bev praised. “Now get out.”

  Laura moved with remarkable speed for a woman in her condition. She wrenched open the door but then turned. “I’m sorry, Hugo.” Cowan yanked her out of the room and shut the door.

  Bev chuckled. “I have to thank you for convincin’ me to keep her around.”

  Sometimes Hugo hated himself.

  “What do you want from me?” he asked.

  “I think you know the answer to that.”

  “It was one of my few conditions that I would no longer take clients,” he reminded the man, as if he might have forgotten.

  “Aye, that’s true. But now I’m changin’ our agreement.”

  Hugo clamped his jaws shut, afraid of what might come out if he opened them.

  Think of Martha. You’re no longer alone, you have her to take care of—not to mention Cailean.

  “Hugo, Hugo, Hugo.” Bev chuckled and shook his head. “After so many years what does it matter if you take one last punter? And Laura already told me that it’s his royal highness who takes it up the arse, not you. How difficult can it be to put a duke on his knees and bugger him?” He laughed even harder. “Hell, I know men who aren’t even sods who’d pay good money for the chance.”

  “Why do you care, Bev? He doesn’t pay more than anyone else.”

  “Don’t worry about my motives, Hugo—that’s not your concern.”

  “True,” he conceded. “But it is my concern where I shove my prick. And I won’t do it.”

  Bev’s eyes narrowed and he cupped a hand up to his ear. “I think I misheard you.”

  “Our agreement was that I’d manage Solange’s for you, not whore for you. If it comes down to that, I’ll leave.”

  “Well, see—that’s a problem.”

  Hugo refused to be baited and play Bev’s fool.

  When he didn’t reply, Bev smiled unpleasantly. “You’ve made a deal with me. That means you don’t get to decide when our arrangement is over, Hugo—I’m the one who makes that decision.”

  “Are you going to force me to fuck him?”

  “Nah, I’ll just have a chat with your pretty young wife and tell her what her husband does for his crust.”

  Hugo was only startled for a second. And then he gave a dismissive bark of laughter. “You think she doesn’t already know what I do?”

  “As a matter of fact, I know she don’t.” Bev chuckled. “Such a friendly, trustin’ little bird—came all the way down from some godforsaken island in Scotland with her clever husband, who spends his days playin’ the ’Change.”

  “You stay the hell away from her!” Hugo was halfway across the desk when Bev produced a small pistol from thin air.

  The older man clucked his tongue. “Now, now, don’t get emotional, Hugo. Ain’t no place for that in business. Why, if I were to get emotional, I might be offended that you’d attack me after all I done for you. If I got emotional, I might find my finger twitchin’ on this trigger.
All sorts o’ bad things might happen if I were to let my emotions control me.” His thin lips tightened. “You might disappear. So might that wife of yours and the big lad who’s touched in the upper works.”

  Hugo stared.

  “Aye, I know about your little household. I know about the ginger-hackled boy and his patent.” He grinned. “I might be interested in putting a bit o’ blunt into such a clever device.” His smile disappeared in a heartbeat. “Now, you listen to me, you uppity sod: you get your arse in here when the old duke returns and you give him the bloody ride of his life.”

  Hugo stared at the other man and considered his motives. Trying to extort money from a royal duke for patronizing a whorehouse would be like trying to extort money from the average person for breathing. The entire nation knew the royal dukes patronized whores—not to mention kept mistresses and fathered bastard children on them.

  But it would be an entirely different story if one of them were discovered with a man. His mind boggled at the power Bev would have over the duke if he could get proof of sodomy.

  “You’re going to try to extort money from him—or is it something else? A royal favor?”

  Bev just smiled at Hugo’s accusation. “That’s none of your affair, mab. The only thing you need to worry about is gettin’ your prick hard and into his arse. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “And if I refuse then you’ll tell my wife what I do for a living.”

  “Nah, I won’t tell her.” Bev leaned across the desk, his eyes like twin pits that led straight down to Hell. “I’ll kill her.”

  Chapter 33

  Martha was tossing and turning when she heard the door to Hugo’s bedroom close. She sat up and peered at the clock on her nightstand; it was after two in the morning. Poor Hugo must be exhausted.

  But as tired as he was, he always came to her. He had spoken in earnest on their wedding night when he’d told her they would share the same bed every night.

  Martha listened to the sounds of him moving around his dressing room and imagined his reaction to her news. She laid a hand over her midriff; it was far too early to feel anything, of course, but it just made her feel close to her baby to touch her stomach. Which was silly since she was already as close to her unborn child as a person could get.