She snorted, but the smile faded from her face. “Finish your story, Hugo.”
Hugo sighed. “Caton made it clear my first night the way things would be between us.”
By that time Hugo had already been with many men, but those had been furtive back-alley encounters. Caton owned his body outright and had the leisure and opportunity to use him fully.
“He liked to, er, well, whip me and then use me.”
She bit her lip, and her eyes became glassy.
He groaned. “Don’t cry for me, Martha. It’s a sign of what a bad man I am that I really didn’t suffer all that much during the years I worked off my debt. He knew how to handle a whip and never damaged me in any permanent sense. He was quite old when he’d bought me and took me less and less as time wore on. My last year with him was—well, it was quite possibly the easiest year of my life up to that point.” Only after he’d spoken did he realize how pitiful that sounded.
“Oh, Hugo.”
He kissed her. “He taught me a trade and I was good at it. I made enough money to buy my freedom. He wanted me to stay.” Indeed, he’d offered to give Hugo his business if he remained and took care of him. “But I was young and arrogant and, by then, I knew I could make a great deal more money elsewhere.”
“With your body?”
“With my body,” he confirmed. “I worked at several places before I managed to get a position at Solange’s. It was one of the most exclusive brothels in the city. Melissa Griffin cared about her employees and it was the safest place I had worked, by far.” He shrugged. “And the rest you know—I worked there until I could buy into it.”
“And you never saw any of your family again?”
“No. Bev told me that two of my sisters had worked for him, that my father—or the man I thought of as my father—had died some years back, and the rest of my siblings he knew nothing about.”
“Was your mother at least kind to you?”
He considered his mam, whom he’d not really thought about for years. After a moment, he shook his head. “I know it is terrible, but I can’t even recall her face. She was ill—I suppose it was consumption—for years. She was always tired, worn down, and joyless. She was never cruel to me—neither of them was—but I was just a burden to her. I don’t think she had enough of herself left to love any of us. It was a hard life, Martha. That’s why—” He bit his lip, not wanting to talk about losing Solange’s.
“That’s why you were so determined to hold on to your business—you didn’t want to be poor again.”
Hugo nodded. “Until I met you, possessions were the only things that made me feel safe or happy. I thought if I could surround myself with enough things then I would finally feel secure. But I now know that would have never happened. I would have always needed more, more, more.” He stroked his fingers through the soft hairs at her temple. “Now … well, I don’t give a damn about expensive clothing or a grand house stuffed full of fine things.”
“Do you really think you can be happy operating an orphanage in a foreign country, Hugo?”
He smiled down at the love of his life. “I don’t think you quite understand what I’m saying, Martha. When I thought I’d lost you—that I’d thrown away what we had—I realized that the only thing I needed for happiness was you. I’ll be happy living anywhere, doing anything, as long as we are together, my darling.”
Epilogue
A Small Village in France
Several Years Later
“Non, non, ne tenez pas le chien par la queue, Yvette. Il n'aimera pas ça.” Hugo said to the angelic-looking three-year-old girl who was risking life and limb by holding Fergus’s tail.
Martha smiled at both Hugo’s coaxing tone and his French. While all three of them had become far more fluent in the language over the last seven years, Hugo still had the most dreadful pronunciation. Sometimes she suspected that he wore his sheer Englishness as a badge of honor.
Once he’d detached the unwitting cherub from imminent canine danger, he carried the little girl back over to the group of children who were currently listening to a story before they took their afternoon nap.
“I’m sorry, Monsieur Yougo. Yvette is a sneaky one!” Sandrine said in charmingly accented English. She was one of the five women who lived and worked at their small orphanage. Hugo, Martha, and Cailean had all learned French, but they asked that their employees learn English so their young charges would learn both languages. All the children would one day have to work for a living and being bilingual was a valuable, and lucrative, skill, as the three of them had quickly learned.
Once he’d deposited the little girl, Hugo strode across the lawn of what had once been the country home of the de Courtney family. While the grounds were still lovely, much of it had been allowed to return to nature. What lawn remained was dotted with dandelions—which the children adored—and only raggedly trimmed.
Martha knew that the lovely estate was a mere shadow of what it had been when it belonged to the de Courtneys, but she liked to think that it was far more beloved by the children who had come here to heal and begin new lives.
Although Melissa and Magnus had originally purchased the house and land and employed Hugo and Martha to operate the orphanage, they had been able to buy the property after Albert’s first factory began production three years ago.
Rather than pursue his interest in Solange’s, Hugo had used the ducal favor he’d been granted to ensure that Albert gained speedy control of his patent. Not only that, but the man who’d tried to steal his idea and condemned Albert to transportation was now, himself,
