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
