Page 78 of Finch

“I carried you,” Hugh said proudly, “and I did it so carefully, you didn’t wake up.” He set the

chest down and started pulling ropes of pearls from its depths.

“I… see. And the accoutrements?”

“You needed decoration,” Hugh said, his chin set in a stubborn line. “You wore the lovely

brooch today, but it seemed lonely, so I got it some company. Don’t you like it?”

Hugh spoke with such a hopeful air that Finch couldn’t bear to disappoint him. “It’s all very

lovely, sir. You’ll make some omega a very happy mate one day. One day soon, hopefully. The

ball is only six weeks away.”

Hugh’s face fell. “Ah, yes. The ball. Of course.”

“You seemed excited about it at the birthday party,” Finch said, giving Hugh an encouraging

smile. “You were very interested in cake.”

“From Chef Funfetti, yes. I’m delighted you’ve made arrangements to have some at the ball.”

Hugh, despite his words, looked anything but delighted.

“Have you changed your mind, sir? Do you wish me to cancel the affair?”

Hugh looked at Finch and a variety of emotions flashed across his face: relief, resignation,

determination, and something that might have been sorrow. “No,” he said slowly. “No, I still

need a mate if I’m ever to have a family. Still, it doesn’t give me much time.” He frowned.

That frown worried Finch. “Not much time for what, sir?”

“Oh, nothing,” Hugh replied airily. “Well, something, yes, but… well, never mind what. That’s

my secret.” Then he gave Finch a smile every bit as brilliant as the diamonds nesting in Finch’s

hair.

Hugh

Once upon a time, a young Hugh had discovered a golden coin. The tiny piece of treasure had

been lost at the deepest part of the stream behind Drake Manor, where it sparkled once a day

when the sun hit it just right. Hugh, smitten with its shine, had spent long hours on the shore

plotting how to make it his. The current was too swift for him, and the coin too far away. At last,

unwilling to give it up, he’d plunged headfirst into the water and had been promptly swept away.

No matter how hard he’d paddled or flapped his wings, he simply couldn’t beat the current. By

the time he washed up onto the shore, he’d exhausted himself trying to stay afloat. It had been

a long trip back home.

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