Page 178 of Finch

will be required. The nursery is currently being deep-cleaned and preparations are being made

to compensate for my absence. All that’s left is for you to shower and dress in anticipation of

your brother’s arrival.”

Hugh wheezed at him.

“I understand that this is a very trying time, sir,” Finch said as he squeezed Hugh’s arm. “Rest

assured that no detail has been overlooked. All will be well. Now, please see yourself into the

shower. You wouldn’t want to look disheveled when Everard arrives, would you?”

Hugh’s head wasn’t all there, but the neurons he had left fired off a prickly memory. “That cake-

stealing bastard.”

Finch smiled. “Yes, sir. That’s the one. Speaking of, while I don’t condone such activities taking

place on the grounds of the estate, would you like me to get in touch with Gabriel? I’m sure he

could arrange to have something brought to you that would help take the edge off, so to speak.”

What did Gabriel have to do with Everard? There was a nagging sensation in the back of

Hugh’s mind like he should have been able to make the connection, but everything was a little

hazy. The only thought able to permeate his thick cerebral fog was that in no time at all, Finch

would make him a father. The thing he’d wanted all his life was finally coming to pass, only

now not only would he have a son or daughter, but he’d have a perfect partner to share

fatherhood with.

Blood rushed to Hugh’s face. He was sure every bit of skin from his shoulders up was red.

Stunned, he stared at Finch and announced to any eavesdroppers, “We’re going to have a

baby.”

“Excellent deduction, sir.” Finch patted his knee, then pushed him toward the side of the bed.

“Go shower. It’ll help you feel better. While you’re in there, I’ll get in touch with Gabriel and see

if he doesn’t have something to help you calm down a little.”

Hugh left the bed, the bottoms of his bare feet meeting the cold wood floor. “You shouldn’t be

doing anything, Finch. I’m the one who should be doing everything. You’re having a baby. Our

baby. I—” The gravity of the situation hit, and Hugh’s knees threatened to buckle. He caught

himself on the side of the bed. “You’re having our baby,” he gasped.

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re going to be fathers.”

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