Christmas Charity by Oakley Beverley

Author:Oakley, Beverley
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Sani Publishing
Published: 2020-02-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Hugo took her to their special place. A house where no questions were ever asked. A house run by a kind matron who, perhaps, had her own reasons for turning a blind eye but who kept a neat, unremarkable lodging house where the rooms were clean and the bed was comfortable.

“I didn’t want to go with him,” Charity wept after Hugo had shut out the world and now cradled her against his chest in their warm, comfortable bed.

“My poor darling, I know that.” Hugo’s voice was thick with what Charity understood now were tears as she raised her head to look at him. They clung to his lashes but his voice was steady though his breathing was laboured. “Did he hurt you? Dear God, I’ll kill him! I’ll — ”

Charity shook her head as she raised her finger to his lips. “No, my love, he didn’t touch me. Well, only my shoulder. I promise you! You came just in time.”

She felt some of the tension drain out of him though his words were full of self-recrimination. “How will I protect you when I’m gone, Charity?” It was almost a cry of despair. “What will become of you? I can’t guarantee your security for the many months I’ll be away.”

“But you can guarantee my happiness now,” Charity whispered, tugging at the button that secured his collar. She’d soothe the worry from him as only she knew how. In the morning he’d be gone and Charity would be at the mercy of the world.

But for a few hours tonight, she could try and forget that. They both could.

And she’d do her very best to bolster his hopes that she would be safe.

He cupped her cheek and kissed her tenderly while Charity stroked his strong, young chest before wrapping her arms tightly about him.

“I will never forget you, Hugo,” she promised, revelling in the warmth and weight of him. He might be gentle but he was well built and well endowed. She might be innocent of other men but she knew her Hugo was more the lover than any of the gentlemen callers her friends entertained.

And more passionate.

“I won’t let you,” he vowed, his voice tight with promise. “You think I won’t come back to you? That I’ll fail in my promise to ensure your upkeep?” He rose above her on one elbow, his eyes bright. “I have managed, at least, to provide for you for the first two months I’m away. Madame has the money in trust so that you’ll not be turned into the street. I anticipate that by that time I’ll have managed to send you my wages after my first couple of months away. And I’ll write every day, Charity.” He took a deep breath. “I swear to you that in two years I will come back to marry you.”

“A Christmas wedding,” sighed Charity though she didn’t believe it. Still, it’s what he needed to believe when she farewelled him. He could face whatever hardships were in store

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