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with a lady guest visiting. Finch was baffled.
“Hello, sir,” he hazarded. “Can I help you?”
“No, no. It’s… uh… fine. Yes. Fine. I’m fine. No help needed. Er… may I come in?”
Hugh rarely, if ever, came to Finch’s room. Finch couldn’t remember the last time Hugh had
been inside the suite.
“Yes, sir. This is, after all, your house.”
His employer stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. For some odd reason,
that made Finch’s heart beat faster and harder. Hugh seemed oblivious, however. He
wandered about the space, making a great show of looking at things but not touching them.
“Ah, yes, but these are your rooms and they should be inviolable, but dammit, I didn’t know
what to do!”
“Sir. Please sit down.” Finch ushered Hugh into his favorite chair, put the girls back into their
cage, and closed it. “I’ll just be a moment. Would you like some tea?”
“No… I… wait. Yes. I would like some. Thank you. It might steady my nerves.”
Finch went to his small kitchen, washed his hands, then turned on the kettle. He prepared the
tea exactly like Hugh preferred it—sugar, no milk—in a cup made from porcelain so fine it was
nearly translucent. Finch put the cup on a matching saucer, added a spoon and a shortbread
biscuit, then took the tea out to his employer.
“Thank you, Finch. You’re an angel. I’ve no idea what I’d do without you.”
He tried to keep those words from filling him with pleasure. Hugh didn’t mean them. Not really.
They were just nice and polite things to say. “I’m sure you’d find a way to carry on, sir. Is there
something I can help you with tonight?”
“I… yes. I need somewhere to sleep.” Hugh looked up at Finch with imploring eyes.
Finch sat down abruptly on his tufted footstool. “Excuse me?”
Hugh cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “There is a young lady occupying my bed.”
“Astrid?” Finch asked. His stomach lurched sickeningly. “Astrid is in your bed?” He’d known
deep down that it was the purpose for her visit, but somehow hearing it from Hugh made the
knot of dread in his stomach knit itself a thousand times tighter. “Was it…” Finch was at a loss
for words. A wounded part of him desperately wanted to know if Hugh had consummated their
hours-old relationship, but couldn’t bring himself to ask it. He finally settled on, “Was it what
