Page 18 of Finch

guest room. Perhaps he’d needed to make a pit stop to collect the appropriate supplies. Dust

rags, cleaner, perhaps some gloves, although Hugh was half-convinced Finch had a pair in his

pockets at all times. The man was equipped for any situation, just as ready to drop to his knees

and scrub as he was to throw himself into desk work.

How remarkable he was.

Hugh breathed in deep, filling his lungs with the lingering trace of his scent. As long as Finch

was around, Hugh had nothing to worry about. The house would be looked after, the

Attendants on staff would be supervised, and Hugh’s own life would run with effortless ease.

He should see to it that the man took a vacation. Hugh was terrible with dates, but he had a

feeling Finch’s birthday was on the way. A little spoiling would be in order. Perhaps he could

gift him a watch. Something expensive, but not gaudy. Finch, he thought, would look incredible

bathed in diamonds, but he was much too practical to want something so flashy.

A pity.

A knock interrupted Hugh’s train of thought. He sat up swiftly and made sure he looked proper,

then turned in his chair to indirectly face the door. “Come in.”

“Ms. Astrid Forsberg, sir,” Francis grumped upon admission. He stepped aside and there stood

Astrid, just as pretty inside as she’d been out in the sun. She smiled at him, and while Hugh

smiled back, deep inside he already knew that hers wasn’t the smile he wanted to see for the

rest of his life. Something vital was missing. He’d talk it over with Finch later and get it figured

out. There was no mess good, reliable Finch couldn’t tidy up, and Hugh was of the opinion that

his mess of a life would prove no different.

5

Finch

Finch threw himself into work that day to avoid both Hugh and the visiting Disgrace. It was a

temporary solution at best, but entirely necessary. Until he could untangle the knot of dread in

his stomach, he needed to stay away lest he make her feel unwelcome. After all, one day

Astrid might be Mrs. Drake, and Finch would be hers to command. That was a thought that

shot through him like an icy arrow and chilled his blood.

In time he would adjust to it.

In time, but not now.

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