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you.”
“You’re a good man.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now, how many Disgraces were you able to find?”
There was a moment of prolonged silence, during which Finch stepped away from the desk.
At last, he said, “Sixty-three, sir.”
“Total, or is that just the women?”
“Total, sir.”
“How many of them are female?”
There was another long silence. “A little less than half, sir. There are twenty-nine female
Disgraces listed.”
Twenty-nine? Hugh’s spirits lifted. He could barely believe it.
“My apologies, Mr. Drake,” Finch hastened to say. “I’m sure there would have been more had
I been able to access records from the other clans, but this is the best I was able to do given
the circumstances.”
“No, Finch, twenty-nine is more than enough.” Hugh pushed out of his chair and turned to face
his secretary with the intention of clapping him on a shoulder to celebrate a job well done, but
stopped upon catching sight of Finch. As usual, Finch stood with impeccable posture and had
his hands tucked neatly behind his back, but there was something off about him. Hugh couldn’t
put his finger on it, but whatever it was made something clench uncomfortably in his chest. His
enthusiasm deteriorated. Poor Finch—he’d worked tirelessly and produced astounding results,
yet somehow still felt he hadn’t done enough. It would be up to Hugh to convince him otherwise.
“If the rumors are to be believed,” Hugh said reassuringly, “I could find my mate after meeting
just one or two out of the bunch. Even if I only meet the women, twenty-nine potential matches
guarantees that I’ll have a family of my own before long.”
The something that was wrong with Finch intensified. “Yes, sir.”
“Finch, this is a happy time! You’ve done exceptionally well.” Hugh squeezed Finch’s shoulder.
“What’s the matter?”
Finch shook his head. “Nothing at all, sir.”
“Is this about the extra upkeep required to prepare me for international travel?” Hugh snorted.
