Page 12 of Charlotte's Kisses

Alexander made eye contact with each of the men. “He is not to be harmed further. My sister is in charge until I return. Do I make myself clear?”

The men chorused their understanding.

Charlotte clutched her brother and kissed his cheek. “Please hurry back.”

Alexander’s shoulders hung as he and Lord Nash trudged toward the house.

“Pick him up,” Charlotte told the two ruffians working for her father. “Leon, help them.”

She sent two men to retrieve the physician and two others to find clean towels, water, and brandy.She barked orders until Hugh was gently laid upon their head gardener’s bed, and she did not stop even after the doctor arrived.

Time passed slowly as the evening faded into dawn. The doctor had arrived and left, providing very little information or assistance and making unsettling comments such as, “These masquerades are dangerous affairs indeed. Individuals running amuck in masks think they can do anything without repercussions.” And, “Good God, what did he do to earn himself this wicked beating?” Then the terrifying proclamation, “He could wake up and act as if nothing happened. Or it could be as if his brains have been scrambled. Might not know who or where he is. One never can tell with these types of injuries. One thing is for certain; he is going to hurt like the dickens.”

Charlotte had clasped her heart.

“He needs rest,” was the doctor’s only advice, leaving Charlotte feeling rather hopeless as she waited for her brother and father.

She had reminded the men they were not to seek out her stepmother and sent them on their way hours ago. Of course, she did not trust a one of them. Not Papa’s filthy rascals or her stepmother’s arrogant staff.

When the morning sun danced through the window, she was still waiting. Reginald, their dutiful head gardener, stood by her side. Every so often, she placed a cool towel on her patient’s forehead. Hugh occasionally stirred, only to fall back to sleep. Meanwhile, Charlotte watched his bare chest rise and fall. It would be indecent to stare at his muscles with longing at a time like this, so she tried not to. Buthow could she not admire his mesmerizing sinew?He is so strong.He will heal quickly,she told herself repeatedly.

“Lady Charlotte,” Reginald said.

She shook herself to the present.

“I am heading to the main house to seek Lord Chesterhill and your brother to see what has caused their delay.”

Charlotte acknowledged him with a nod.

Once the door clicked behind him, she sat on the mattress and clasped Hugh’s hand in hers. No wonder polite society insisted upon gloves. Skin-to-skin contact elicited a powerful intimacy. Fascinated by the strength in those hands, Charlotte ran a finger over the veins cording his knuckles.

“I am so sorry this happened to you. Please wake up,” she said.

He moaned.

“Hugh,” she whispered.

His eyelids fluttered open.

Her heart beat faster. If only he stayed awake this time, she might be assured he’d regain his health.

It took him a moment to focus. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself to sit and leaned his back against the wall. “Charlotte, where am I?”

He knew who she was. Her heart raced with delight. Although the cadence of his speech was slow, and he looked a little worse for wear, it seemed Hugh was going to be fine—bruised but coherent.

“Our gardener’s cottage,” she said.

“Hell, we could have come here for our liaison and avoided all of this.” He peered down at his torso and winced.

Charlotte could not help herself, giggles burst forth. “Reginald, our head gardener, might take offense to us using his home for atryst.”

However, the one-room cottage was charming. A stone fireplace took up one wall, and a cozy bed was pushed against the opposite. A small wooden table and two chairs sat beneath an oval window that looked out over the gardens. The pleasant aroma of freshly baked bread filled the room. If only she had a cottage of her own. Then, she could invite Hugh to a nightly tryst.

Hugh moaned.

She wanted to wrap him in her arms and take away his pain, and she would have if she weren’t so concerned about bumping his scrapes and bruises.

“Have you been nursing me?” he asked.