Page 86 of Finch

That day, not only did Hugh get to sample delicious cake, but he also smuggled three more

coins into Finch’s pockets. That night, there came a tapping at his bedroom door. Hugh opened

it and discovered a cup of herbal tea and a note placed on a small tray left in the hallway.

I’ll owe you one conversation if you’ll owe me one moment when you drop everything.

x Finch

To other dragons, a plain piece of paper was no treasure, but Hugh was not other dragons,

and he stored the note in a place of honor—front and center in his hoard—which was where

it, and everything relating to Finch, belonged.

* * *

Time was running short. One week remained until the ball, and Hugh had yet to find the

courage to ask Finch to become part of his hoard. To be honest, he wasn’t sure how. As far

as he was aware, there was no etiquette for asking such a question because no dragon had

ever claimed a man as one of his precious belongings. What he did know was that it wasn’t a

question that could be asked casually. If he wanted Finch to say yes, he’d need to prove he

was serious.

It seemed, then, that the best time to ask wouldn’t be before, but on the day of the ball.

Buzzed on wine, spirits high from seeing the fruits of his labor, Finch would be in an incredible

mood, and Hugh would have a far easier time persuading him than he would otherwise. It

would take some additional effort to plan when and where it would happen, but Hugh had

nothing if not time, and even had he been outrageously busy, he would have made space in

his schedule. Finch was more important than any of his preoccupations, and Hugh intended to

prove it.

Early that same morning, Hugh checked in with Francis, George, and Emma to make sure

affairs around the house would be handled the morning of the ball, then went to find Finch,

who was fretting over the cleanliness of the hardwood in the ballroom. When Hugh entered,

Finch lifted his head and shifted his worry onto matters far more reptilian. “Sir, it only just

occurred to me that you may be in need of a haircut before the ball. Should I book you an

appointment?”

Hugh patted his hair. It was, admittedly, a little shaggy. “Yes, but later.”

“Later? I’m not sure I understand. The longer I put it off, the less likely it is there will be an

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