Page 56 of Charlotte's Kisses

Leon halted to look down at her. The moonlight glinted off his pistol, which he half-heartedly pointed in Charlotte’s direction. His gaze traveled to her discarded gag, and he sighed.

“Walk.” He yanked on her forearm, pulling her along beside him. “I suppose there is no harm in telling you since you willnot be alive to tell anyone. I have been in love with Suzy since I was a young lad working for her first husband.”

Suzy?What the dickens? The name did not suit—not even a little. She should be called Lillith or Queen Succubus. And how could any man love her? Why had even her father fallen for the woman’s machinations?

Although it seemed her father had fallen for many women. Charlotte could not begin to entertain the thoughts of his many lovers and by-blows. The entire notion left her queasy. No wonder Alexander had immersed himself in books these many years.

“Tell me about her first husband,” Charlotte asked. Engaging in pointless banter seemed a better choice than rolling into a ball and crying. Besides, if she endeared herself to Leon, he might be less inclined to kill her. In between his moments of arseholery, he had shown seconds of kindness.

Arseholery?She was beginning to sound like Hugh. Her heroic, brave Hugh.

“He was a cruel baron, forty years her senior,” Leon said. “He did not provide for her after his death. His children from his first marriage disowned her, leaving her an impoverished widow.”

“Oh.” Charlotte had not known.

“She was not as jaded back then. A bit pampered and spoiled, but she smiled and laughed a lot.” Leon growled. “She was mistreated by that stone-hearted man and his despicable children.”

“Mayhap, that is why she hates me so,” Charlotte said. “She thinks that if something happens to our father, Alexander and I will toss her into the streets.”

She, for one, would love nothing more than to be rid of her stepmother. But Papa would not want that. Certainly,he would leave Suzannah well cared for, setting her up in their lovely dowager house in the East Midlands. Although, truthfully, Charlotte no longer knew her father’s motivations or priorities. The man she adored had become a mystery to her.

“I suspect that is the case.” Leon sighed. “I left the new baron’s employ to stay with and protect her. Society ill-treated her so.”

The woman had probably always had an unkind streak and had sealed her destiny with her late husband’s family and fortune. But if Leon was besotted, he might only see her positive attributes. Could this mean that Leon had a soft spot for women? If the horror apparent in his gaze as he watched poor Snowball’s mishandling was any indication, he might also have a soft spot for animals. Charlotte could work with this.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“Where no one will hear a gunshot.”

She stifled her horrified whimper. She must keep her wits about her.

“I suppose this is as good a place as any,” Leon said.

Charlotte swallowed her tears. “Will you let Snowball go free? Please.”

Leon kicked at a pile of sticks, and they crackled beneath his boots. “I never intended to hurt the kitten. ’Tis quite adorable.”

Charlotte had no other choice but to trust him. She placed the basket on the ground. Lifting Snowball, she cooed into her ear, “I love you, my precious baby.” As much as she wanted to hold her kitten close to her forever, she needed to set her free before Leon changed his mind.

She placed Snowball on the ground. The kitten rolled onto her back and stuck her legs into the air, awaiting belly rubs.

“Snowball, you must go,” she said. Please let her find a home where she could receive loving pats and drink fresh milk daily.

Snowball rolled onto her belly, curled into a ball, and instantly fell asleep.

Sighing, Charlotte stood.

Leon sniffled and turned his face from Charlotte. If he was trying to hide tears, then her speculations were correct, and unlike his mistress, he had a heart.

“May I request that you somehow prevent Lady Chesterhill from tormenting poor Lucy?” she asked.

He faced her, an all-consuming frown belaying his torment. He nodded, then raised his pistol, aiming it at Charlotte.

“Wait!” she cried out.

He lowered the gun.

“I know you are aware of the three-legged goat in the barn. Her name is Cricket. I visit her every day and take her apples, carrots, and a piece of bread. Could you ensure that Billy, the stable boy, has what he needs to continue to care for her?”