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“I would be glad to, sir.” Finch whispered his thanks to Peregrine and Misha, then stepped out

from behind them to join his employer. “And thank you again for not minding my freckles. I

always strive to be the best for you, but some things simply cannot be helped.”

“Think nothing of it.” Hugh took Finch’s hand and led him through the crowd. With almost thirty

nephews between the ages of five and eight, one lizard in a party hat, seven grown dragons,

and six Disgraces—not including themselves—it was no easy feat.

“Isn’t it amazing, Finch?” Hugh asked when they were in the thick of it, the ghost of his lips

moving against the shell of Finch’s ear. A shiver coursed down Finch’s spine, and he leaned

into the touch. It was only so he could hear Hugh better, he told himself, but it was a lie. Being

close to Hugh was a delight unlike anything else he’d experienced in life, and he’d take any

excuse he could to partake in it. “Seeing all the children together like this puts all my fears to

rest. Disgraces are dragons. They have to be. There’s never been a time when so many

clutches were born in such rapid succession. Harrison really has figured it all out.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I can’t wait until we can put his theory to the test and add to the chaos at the next Drake family

function.”

A new kind of pleasure coursed through Finch. Hugh had said “we.” It was a slip of the tongue,

to be sure, but after his discussion with the Dragonet Club and so many years of repressed

desire, Finch couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful it would be to carry a clutch to term for

his dragon.

“Yes, sir,” Finch said again, not trusting himself with anything else.

But like all dreams, the fantasy ended all too soon. Hugh parted from his side and shooed

away his nearby nephews. “Step aside, children! Save some cake for your uncle Hugh!” he

bellowed.

Finch stood where he’d been left, eyes on Hugh’s back, as he convinced himself over and over

that every other Drake mating had been a fluke. Disgraces were not meant for dragons. Even

were he to try, he would never have a clutch with Hugh, and it would break his heart. A lifetime

spent at his side longing for what he couldn’t have was better than taking a risk and having it

end in catastrophic failure. At least, as his secretary, Finch would be able to serve him all his

life.

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