Page 27 of Charlotte's Kisses

“Why record? And why in such detail?” he asked.

Moaning, the marquess dropped his head onto the table.

For a long while, Hugh simply glared at Chesterhill’s wiry gray hair. “Why?” he eventually asked again since there was a chance the information was pertinent to his investigation.

The marquess sat tall and stared at the far wall.

“Did you mean to blackmail these women?” Hugh had no time for blackmailers.

“No.”

“Their husbands and lovers?”

The marquess’s brow furrowed. “No.”

“Then why?” Hugh asked.

Chesterhill stood, then paced the room. Meanwhile, Hugh remained silent, giving the marquess the time and space to build his courage and confess.

At length, Chesterhill lowered himself back onto the chair and met Hugh’s gaze. “I was raised to believe that I could bed any woman I wanted with no repercussions. Most men of my class have been taught this.”

Most men, in general, had been taught this, including Hugh.

“My assignations piled up. I started to lose track and forget who I had tupped and who I had paid to leave me alone. I had no recollection of which of my by-blows were alive and which had passed. And then women I had no memory of, claimed to have lain with me. I believe they lied, were paid off, and got away with it because I could no longer remember who was who. Can you see how this would be a problem when I am a wealthy man with a title and numerous holdings? These records became my protection.”

Unimpressed, Hugh snorted.

“I would not have cared about public knowledge except the first Lady Chesterhill was quite sweet and innocent and she did love me. I did not want to break her heart.”

“How noble of you,” Hugh said.

The marquess nodded, apparently missing Hugh’s sarcasm. “She was taken by lung disease when she was still young and beautiful. I have mourned her every day for the past decade.”

The marquess might currently be vulnerable and pathetic, but Hugh felt no sympathy for him. “Men with secrets are quite easy to blackmail,” he said, changing the conversation back to Chesterhill’s arseholery.

“Precisely.”

“You should have used a male sheath,” Hugh said.

“You can cease with the morality lectures, Fletcher. Remember, I have looked into your background extensively. You have not exactly been a saint.”

Hugh would concede that point. “What if someone untrustworthy finds these?” He inclined his chin toward the trunk. “And uses them against you?”

“I am entrusting my secrets to you.” Chesterhill stared into Hugh’s soul. “I have chosen you for your ability to show discretion. I am quite certain you will not allow that to happen.”

How unfair to play on Hugh’s conscience. Now he would have to guard the bloody volumes with his life.

“What am I to do when I find these by-blows?” Hugh asked.

“You are to bring them to me at once, unharmed. My wife and children are not to know. At least not for now.”

“And what if they do not wish to come with me?”

“Persuade them, Fletcher. That is one of your special talents.”

Persuasion was easier when Hugh had the law on his side. So much for that since he was supposed to “ponderhis priorities and get his shite together.” Whenever the law was not at his disposal, he was much more persuasive giving a bloke a bloody nose. However, Chesterhill probably didn’t want his bruised bastards stumbling about his fancy estate.

“As I said before, Curly and Stilts can assist with whatever you require,” Chesterhill added.