Hugo and the Maiden

by S. M. LaViolette

  Martha felt a glimmer of hope for the first time since Hugo had ejected her from his bedchamber the night before. “To make me happy,” she said. “When did you last talk to Hugo about coming over here today?” she asked Daniel.

  “Er, that would be Saturday night.” For some reason, he blushed.

  Martha worried her lower lip as she considered that information. Hugo had still been trying to conceal his double life—his lies—barely two days before he experienced his dramatic about-face.

  She stared pointedly at Daniel and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Ma’am?”

  “Tell me what happened?”

  Daniel’s eyes flickered from Martha to Albert and back. “I don’t understand what you mean?”

  “You say you are a friend of my husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you meet?”

  Daniel opened his mouth, and then shut it.

  Martha smiled tightly. “It’s all right, Daniel. I know where Hugo works—and it’s not the Exchange.”

  “It’s not?” Albert asked when Daniel said nothing. “Martha, what is going on?”

  Martha ignored his question. “Hugo is your employer, isn’t he?”

  Daniel sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What happened yesterday?”

  “I, er—” He gave her an anguished look. “Lord, ma’am. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Hugo told me the truth about his family last night. Why didn’t he tell you not to come here today?” Martha asked.

  “I’m guessing he probably had one of the servants leave a message for me in my room.” The skin over his high cheekbones darkened. “Er, I slipped out last night and spent the evening at a, er, friend’s house and I didn’t go back home before coming here.”

  Ah, that made sense. “Tell me what happened yesterday, Daniel.”

  “Ma’am, I can’t—”

  “I shan’t tell Hugo and jeopardize your job, but I want the truth from you. If you tell me everything you know, I won’t tell Hugo that you came here today.”

  Daniel pondered his choices for a moment before saying, “Bev Davies called Hugo in yesterday. I don’t know what it was about—I don’t,” he insisted at the skepticism he likely saw on Martha’s face. “But I do know that Bev brought Laura into the office while he was with Mr. Hugo.”

  “Laura Maitland?”

  “Yes.”

  “And who is Bev Davies?”

  Daniel groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Mr. Hugo will kill me.”

  “Martha, would you please tell me what this is all about?” Albert asked.

  “Hugo is the owner of an exclusive brothel.”

  “Brothel?” Albert yelped.

  “Yes. The brothel is the reason his scheming business partner arranged for Hugo to be falsely arrested. He managed to regain control of the business since returning to London and—what?” she asked Daniel when he opened his mouth, but then shut it again. “Why do you look like that?”

  “It’s just—well, Bev owns the business now and Hugo manages it.”

  “All of it?”

  Daniel nodded.

  Martha struggled to digest that information. Why would Hugo have lied about that?

  “Brothel?” Albert repeated, and then turned to Daniel. “And you, er…” Albert’s pale, freckled skin darkened as his eyes flickered over the much larger man’s body. He cleared his throat. “You work for him?”

  “Not like that,” Daniel hastily assured him. “I’m a footman there.”

  The two men held each other’s gaze, something unspoken passing between them.

  “What is the name of the brothel, Daniel?” Martha asked when it seemed they’d both fallen into a trance. “I’m afraid my husband did not mention it.”

  Daniel pulled his gaze away from Albert with visible reluctance. “Er, it’s called Solange’s.”

  “Hugo owns Solange’s?” Albert squawked. “That’s the most exclusive—” He pulled a face and turned to Martha. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be talking about such a thing in front of you.”

  Martha snorted. “It’s a bit late for that.”

  Albert shook his head. “This is—you must be—” He made a sound that was half disbelief and half frustration. “Surely when you say that Hugo owns the business that means he doesn’t actually, er work there?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “He does.”

  “Actually—” Daniel started, and then stopped when the two of them turned to him.

  “Actually what?” Martha asked.

  “Um, Hugo doesn’t take clients.”

  All the blood in her body rushed to her head. “What?” she asked, her voice over-loud judging by the way both men jolted.

  “Hugo doesn’t take clients,” Daniel repeated. “At least not since he came back.”

  Martha struggled to breathe.

  “Martha?” Albert slipped from his chair and crouched down in front of her, looking up at her with knitted brows. “What is it?”

  “Say it again, Daniel—what you just said,” she ordered.

  “You mean about Hugo not taking clients?”

  Martha squeezed her eyes shut. “No one?”

  “Not a one, ma’am.”

  Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her.

  “He doesn’t,” Daniel insisted, when she opened her eyes and stared at him. “Not even when people pester him, which happens often. Everyone has commented on it. I’m the only one he told about you, but everyone speculates that he must, er, well, that he must have somebody. And then there is the fact that he no longer lives there, when—”

  The door opened and it was Butterbank again, holding a silver salver. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but a person is insisting on speaking to you.”

  “A person?” Martha stared at the battered, grubby calling card on the tray: Laura Maitland.

  She glanced up at the butler and swallowed. “Um, are you sure she’s not looking for Mr. Buckingham?”

  “She specifically asked for you.”

  “Oh. Well, please show Mrs. Maitland in.”

  The door hadn’t even closed before Daniel said, “Laura! What’s she doing here? I don’t think this is a good—”

  “Why not?”

  “Because … well, just because.”

  “Won’t you tell me what is going on?” Albert asked yet again, looking from Martha to Daniel and back. “Why would Hugo’s ex-business partner want to talk to you?”

  “I think we’re about to find out,” Martha murmured as the woman herself entered the room.

  Martha didn’t know what she’d been expected from the co-owner of an exclusive brothel, but the gaunt, gray-skinned wraith who entered the room wasn’t it.

  Laura Maitland studied Martha with the same intensity, her bloodshot eyes flickering over her person. Martha knew the woman must be wondering what it was about her that had caught the attention of a man like Hugo.

  The two men stood, and Laura recoiled when she recognized Daniel. She scowled up at him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Please, have a seat, Mrs. Maitland,” Martha hastily said, as it looked like Daniel was about to say something unkind.

  Laura didn’t look away from Daniel, and Martha could see the woman was reconsidering her visit.

  “Please,” Martha repeated. “I’d like to know why you are here.”

  Laura jerked her gaze from Daniel and lowered herself into the proffered chair, her body vibrating with tension. “I take it you know who I am?”

  “You are the person who had my husband wrongfully abducted and transported.”

  Laura’s pale cheeks tinted, but she didn’t look away. “Yes.”

  “Why are you here?” Martha repeated.

  “Because I was there yesterday—at Solange’s—when Bev brought Hugo in to threaten him.”

  Martha sat bolt upright. “Threaten him? Who is this person—this Bev?”

  Laura glanced at Daniel. “Shall I tell her?�
�

  He pursed his mouth, clearly unhappy.

  “Yes, you should,” Martha said when Daniel refused to answer.

  “Bevan Davies is one of the most powerful criminals in London. I made a plan with Bev’s son Cowan—one of his many bast—er, baseborn children—to, um, steal Hugo’s part of the business.” The muscles in her peaked face tightened. “I thought Cowan loved me, but he was just using me to get his hands on Solange’s, which he then delivered to his father.” Laura Maitland shrugged at the betrayal, but Martha saw pain in her eyes. “I know that Bev made a deal with Hugo. If he could operate the business at a profit for a year, he told him that he’d sign over the half that was once his and—”

  “How do you know all this?” Daniel’s handsome features were twisted into a sneer. He turned to Martha. “You can’t believe her, ma’am. She’s a lying, thieving, conniving—”

  “Thank you, Daniel. But I’d like to let her finish.”

  Daniel’s mouth snapped shut and he cut Laura a venomous look.

  “He’s right, Mrs. Buckingham—I’m all that and more. A cheap whore, a degenerate gambler, and I’m too fond of blue ruin by half. But I am telling you the truth about your husband. I know all about his deal with Bev because Cowan still comes to the Hen Roost.” She swallowed and glanced away. “That’s where I work now.”

  “I thought he threw you over?” Daniel asked. “I’ve heard him say—”

  Fire blazed in the colorless woman’s eyes. “You needn’t rub it in! I know what Cowan Morgan says about me, Daniel.” She deliberately turned her back on him. “You’re a decent woman,” she said to Martha, “and I know Hugo wouldn’t want me to tell you too much about our trade—”

  “He wouldn’t want you in the same room with her,” Daniel muttered.

  Laura’s mouth tightened, but she continued, “Daniel is right that Cowan despises me. But he still comes to me. Suffice it to say that I do things for him that most of the other women refuse to do.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “Demeaning things.”

  “I’m not going to judge you for what you do to earn a living,” Martha said softly. “You needn’t go into any detail. It sounds like what you’re saying is that you’ve heard things from this Bevan Davies’s son about my husband?”

  “Yes. About Hugo, and about a lot of other things, too.”

  “Like what happened yesterday?”

  She nodded. “Cowan was laughing about it last night—crowing about how Bev had brought the mighty Hugo Buckingham low. He, er—”

  “Go on,” Martha encouraged.

  “He’s blackmailing Hugo to, er, service a very powerful client—somebody Bev will be able to squeeze for a great deal of money and other favors.”

  Martha’s face scalded at the word service. “Who is this person?”

  Laura turned to Daniel. “Do you know who I mean?”

  “I can guess,” Daniel said.

  “Who?” Martha demanded.

  When Laura said the name Martha’s jaw dropped.

  “Good God!” Albert gasped. “You have got to be bloody joking!”

  Martha had never heard the gentle man swear before.

  Daniel shook his head.

  “I don’t believe this,” Albert said to Martha. “Any of it. Tell me you don’t, either? Hugo would never—”

  “He already admitted as much to me, Albert.”

  Albert blinked, poleaxed.

  “What did this Bevan Davies blackmail Hugo with?” Martha asked Laura, although she was beginning to suspect.

  “At first he said that he’d tell you that truth about what Hugo did.”

  “How did he know I wasn’t already aware?”

  “Bev has had somebody watching Hugo since he learned he was back. Hugo isn’t known for being, er, well tractable, so I’m sure Bev decided that he’d probably need to have some leverage over him at some point. That’s how he found out that Hugo was married.” Her brow furrowed. “Cowan mentioned something about a man who was showing you houses?”

  “Yes, we have an agent,” Martha said numbly.

  “He’s the one who talked to Bev’s man about you.”

  Mr. Duncan knew all about them—Martha had spent hours with him and had doubtless told him everything.

  “But I don’t understand,” Martha said. “Hugo came home and told me the truth about everything last night. So how—”

  “Bev said he would kill you if Hugo didn’t do what he ordered.”

  The two men shot up from their chairs, both loudly chastising the other woman for telling Martha such a thing.

  Martha’s mind went back to last night—as it had been doing ever since Hugo had shoved her from his bedchamber—to all the cruel things Hugo had said to her. Now it was blindingly clear what he’d been doing: he wanted her to leave London and stay gone.

  He’d said all those things to protect her—true, it was a misguided and foolish and predictably arrogant male response to danger—not to hurt her. He would have known that she would never leave him without extreme provocation.

  He hadn’t meant any of it. He’d said what he had because he cared for her.

  “Martha?”

  She looked up to find Albert squinting down at her.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Are you smiling?”

  Her smile grew into a grin. “Yes.”

  His ginger eyebrows drew down. “But—”

  “I’ll tell you later,” she promised. She turned to Laura, who was arguing heatedly with Daniel.

  Martha cleared her throat and the two turned to her. “You still haven’t said why you’ve come to me, Mrs. Maitland?”

  “I came because I wanted to help—but I knew Hugo would never trust me.”

  “And you shouldn’t either, Mrs. Buckingham,” Daniel said, giving Laura a look of blistering contempt. “She’s a liar.”

  Laura sighed. “Daniel’s right.”

  “Perhaps. But I’d like to know what kind of help you have in mind,” Martha said.

  “Cowan always talks when he’s, er, well, when he lets down his guard. Two weeks ago, I heard about something big. Something that wouldn’t just put Bev and all the rest in jail—it would put their necks in nooses.” Her gray eyes glowed with an emotion Martha couldn’t identify. “It gave me an idea. An idea that could get Bev out of Hugo’s hair for good.”

  “And why would you want to help Hugo?” Daniel demanded, asking the question that Martha was about to ask.

  Laura ignored him and leaned closer to Martha. “I lost everything because of Bev Davies.”

  Daniel snorted. “And whose fault is that, Laura?”

  “It’s mine,” she snapped. “I know that. I’m the one who went to his vile gaming hells and stayed night after night at his tables—I won’t try to place the blame on Bev for my own weakness. But I know now that he had his eye on Solange’s ages ago; he was determined to get it. He came after me because he couldn’t ensnare Melissa or Hugo because neither of them is as weak and stupid as I am.” Her lips thinned. “It’s true that I’m the one who hanged myself. But Bev is the one who handed me the rope, inch by inch. You want to know why I would help you?”

  Martha nodded.

  Laura smiled, and the hatred in her bloodshot eyes was a frightening sight. “Because the man who is trying to destroy your husband—and your marriage—has already destroyed my life. And I would dearly love to repay the favor.”

  Chapter 35

  Hugo stood in front of his looking glass, putting the finishing touches on his neckcloth, and deeply regretted that he was not a drinking man.

  The last five days had been the most unpleasant in his life. More unpleasant than his first weeks with Mr. Caton or his time on the convict ship.

  Martha’s eyes as they’d looked that night—shattered and betrayed—were never far from his mind.

  He told himself that the chaos in his head would settle after this business with the duke was over tonight.

  Either that, or he’d be dead�
�depending on what he did, which he’d not yet decided.

  He placed a plain silver pin in the soft folds of his cravat, turned away from the mirror, and took one last moment to collect himself before going to work. It was likely to be a long evening. But then they’d all been long since that last, nightmarish night with Martha.

  Hugo exhaled, rolled his shoulders and let himself out of his room, locking the door to the same suite he’d lived in before Laura sent him on his journey. Although she’d found his money and cache of valuables, she’d left the contents of his large dressing room untouched. He suspected that she would have gotten rid of that, too, given enough time.

  Four days ago, Hugo had sold everything of value except three outfits of clothing.

  Because he had always purchased the very best, even a quick sale had yielded him almost five hundred pounds.

  He had deposited the five hundred, along with the rest of his money, into Joss’s bank and then sent him a detailed letter explaining what he’d done. No matter what happened tonight, Martha would have enough money to take care of both her and Cailean for at least five years.

  Hugo knew that if he died tonight Joss and Mel would both help Martha and Cailean. Perhaps they’d give her a job at one of the orphanages they were so fond of opening. He smiled; Martha would love that.

  Yes, he had taken care of every last detail.

  He grimaced. Well, except one.

  Not until three o’clock Monday afternoon—after he’d thoroughly wrecked his marriage and moved back into Solange’s—had he recalled that he was supposed to have met Daniel at Lady Selwood’s.

  When he’d finally found Daniel, the younger man’s shocked expression told Hugo just how rough he looked. “I forgot to tell you that—”

  “I went to the house, but nobody was there,” Daniel interrupted. “I assumed something had happened to change your plans.”

  Well, you could say that.

  “I’ll still pay you for your time,” Hugo had promised.

  “You don’t—”

  But Hugo hadn’t been in any mood to debate the matter. “I’ll be in my study and don’t want to be disturbed.” He’d locked the door and hidden away from the world until half past five, when he’d gone to Lady Selwood’s house.

  He’d told himself that he wanted to make sure Martha was gone. But what he’d really hoped was that she’d defied him and he’d find her curled up in her favorite window seat reading. Cailean would be making a racket in the kitchen with some new cat, and his little dog Fergus—a wiry-haired terrier cur who would give his life for the lad—would be patrolling the back garden and keeping it safe from squirrels.