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he would keep looking.

It never hurt to look.

8

Hugh

Preparing for a ball was no easy task. Nothing could be overlooked. From the floral

arrangements to the catering to the date and time, every detail was important. If anything was

botched, Hugh would besmirch his good name to every one of his potential mates, and with so

much on the line, that absolutely could not be allowed to happen.

It was a good thing he had Finch on his side. The man truly was perfection personified. Hugh

would be hopelessly lost without him.

“Finch!” Hugh called out one afternoon several weeks after Astrid’s departure as he hurried

from the privacy of his study toward the grand staircase. “Finch? Where the devil have you

gone?”

Hugh proverbially flew down the stairs and headed into the sitting room, where he found

Francis enjoying a nap on his favorite armchair. Since it was neither time for naps nor

enjoyment, he cleared his throat, startling Francis awake. “What?”

“Finch,” Hugh repeated. “Have you seen Finch? He’s not in his office.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

“Why?”

“I’ve got an important question to ask him about the ba…” Hugh trailed off and stood perfectly

still, like one might when beset by a T-Rex. Alas, judging by the sharp click of approaching

footsteps, a different and far more terrible lizard had entered his lair. Hugh spun on his heel

and came face to face with his brother Everard.

Like all Drakes, Everard was dark-haired and purple-eyed, but unlike his brothers, he wore a

perpetual smirk that was as mischievous as it was cutting. It was the kind of look a cat might

give a mouse it had cornered, but not yet caught. Hugh’s cheeks burned. If their father found

out about his plans to host a ball, he’d undoubtedly put a stop to it, and if Everard knew,

he would find out. As much as his dear brother insisted otherwise, he was quite the tattler.

“About the bah?” Everard asked, one eyebrow sardonically raised. “Don’t tell me your

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