Finch was silent for a short while, undoubtedly considering the question—the faraway look in his eyes gave him away. At last, he said, “The other Mr. Drakes ought to have better insights into this than me.”
“Sebastian, you mean?”
“Any of your brothers, sir. I believe they’re all mated now, aren’t they?”
Hugh frowned and folded his hands together, following the zigzag pattern made by his woven fingers with his eyes. “All of them but Bertram, yes. But I’m not sure I can ask them. It would arouse too much suspicion—particularly from Everard, who’d find a way to flap his gums even if his mouth were taken away.”
To Hugh’s surprise, Finch laughed, but by the time he’d lifted his gaze, all signs of it had been stricken from Finch’s face. “My apologies, sir.”
“For what?”
“For laughing. It was inappropriate.”
“I made a joke, Finch.” Smiling, Hugh laid a hand on Finch’s thigh and squeezed. “It’s all right to laugh at it, even if it was at my brother’s expense. Lord knows he’s done the same to me.”
A shiver ran the course of Finch’s spine, culminating in a tightening of his posture. Hugh, confused, took his hand away. Why was it that Finch was so averse to his touch? Not for the first time since Finch had come under his employment, Hugh wondered if the man secretly despised him. But that was foolish. Finch was his model employee, and the only one Hugh trusted with his innermost thoughts and feelings. If Finch bore any kind of hatred in his heart for Hugh, it would have come back to bite him long before now.
“Finch,” Hugh said softly, “I—”
Before he could say what was on his mind, the crackle of rolling tires on the driveway stole Hugh’s attention away. Heart in his throat, he jumped to his feet. “It must be the Audi! They’re here. God, Finch, I’m nervous all over again. How will I know?”
Finch came to stand beside Hugh, the anchor to his storm-swept ship. “You’ll know because when you see her,” Finch said, “you’ll think to yourself there’s not a creature in the world who could rival her beauty. When you hear her speak, you’ll hope a day never comes when she runs out of things to say. And her laugh—you’ll know from the second you hear it that you’ll pursue it for the rest of your life. Her very presence will resonate inside you, and you’ll know.”
What a fount of reassurance Finch could be! Heartened, Hugh spun to face him and pulled the man into a tight embrace. Finch went rigid in his arms.
“Thank you, old friend,” Hugh whispered into Finch’s ear. “I truly don’t know what I’d do without you by my side.”
Finch said nothing, but Hugh felt him tremble just slightly, as if what Hugh had said had warmed him so much that the rest of the world had gone cold by comparison.
When Hugh let him go, Finch took a hasty step back and bowed his head. “You’ll have to excuse me, sir. I’ve just remembered I neglected to dust the baseboards in the guest room Astrid will be staying in. As she will be arriving shortly, it’s of utmost importance I get it done.”
“Oh, of course.” Hugh nodded. “You’re dismissed. Thank you for your hard work and encouragement. I really couldn’t have asked for a better secretary.”
It looked like Finch’s lips twitched as if to speak, but he turned on his heel and swiftly exited the room instead. Strange how he didn’t take the stairs to the next floor where the bedrooms were located. Hugh was about to call after him to tell him he was going the wrong way when he heard the click as George unlocked the front door—Astrid was about to arrive. Filled to the brim with hope that this would be the first step toward starting a family, Hugh stood a little straighter and did his best to smile, but fell a little short. How could he be happy when there was something wrong with Finch? He resolved to shelve the issue for now and figure it out later. Astrid was waiting, after all, and the future waited for no dragon any more than it did a man.
4
Hugh
After a terrible moment of heart-clenching anticipation, the door opened, and there stood the woman Hugh hoped would one day carry his clutch. Astrid was as pretty as her picture. Noontime sunlight sparkled in her hair and brightened the blues of her eyes. Her lips were painted a pale pink that sweetened her smile and made it all the more inviting. She wore a royal blue midi wrap dress that was tied beneath her bust. Its cut amplified the swell of her breasts and the shape of her curves, and while they were quite lovely, there was nothing about them that set Hugh alight. He’d imagined that there would be a spark, a pop, a… something when he finally laid eyes on his mate-to-be, but all he felt was empty.
Something had to be wrong.
While he made a fool of himself gawking at the woman he’d invited into his home, Astrid bowed her head and curtsied prettily. When she lifted her chin, she caught his eye. Wasn’t his heart supposed to flutter? What was it Finch had said about no creature in the world rivaling her beauty? For the life of him, Hugh couldn’t remember, but he did know that he was not deeply and irrevocably in love.
“Hello, Mr. Drake,” Astrid said as she held his gaze. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me.”
No, no, no. All of this was wrong. Panicked, Hugh took a hasty step back. There had to be a way to fix this. The spark had to be there. It was just… hidden. Obfuscated by his anxiety. If Disgraces really were dragons, that spark had to be in him somewhere. All he needed to do to coax it out was stage his introduction to Astrid somewhere he felt more at ease. Once he did, all the pieces would fall into place.
Determined to make this work, Hugh took a bold step forward and addressed the woman on his doorstep. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but could you step back a touch? Yes. There you go. Perfect. Now, stay.”
That said, Hugh closed the door in her face.
“Francis!” Hugh cried in total desperation, fleeing from the door as if the plague were waiting on the other side. “Francis, where are you? Ah! There you are.” Hugh discovered the butler snoring in the sitting room’s most comfortable armchair. “Francis, you’re needed at the front door!”
The butler snored at him.
“This is no time for a nap,” Hugh argued. “There is a young lady waiting to be let in. You are to show her to my study, where I’ll be waiting to receive her. It’s only proper.”
The butler snored again.
“Francis!”
“What?” Francis startled awake, then squinted up at Hugh. “Who?”
“A young lady—Ms. Astrid Forsberg.”
Francis groped his way across the end table next to the chair until he located a pair of round, frameless glasses, which he promptly slotted onto his face. When they were in place, he narrowed his eyes and scowled in confusion at Hugh. The man was always a little grumpy after being awoken prematurely from a nap. Most times Hugh found his grouchiness charming, but today he was too high-strung to appreciate much of anything.
“A young lady?” Francis grumbled. “Where?”
“At the front door, Francis. Please, do keep up. She’s waiting.”