Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 96695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96695 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Hugo pushed through the queasy feeling that gripped his stomach and pasted a tight, tense grin on his lips as he gripped his mother’s elbow.
“Come along, Mother. It’s time for us to summon the carriage,” he nudged. It was a struggle to keep the tremors of embarrassment and disappointment out of his voice. A glance at the other women showed malicious laughter and even pity in their eyes. Some even held fans in front of their lips to hide their smirks.
“There you are, Hugo,” Jessamine greeted with a laugh, oblivious to the havoc she’d wrought. “Finally escaped from your dancing partners?” She turned to the other mothers. “Eager dance partners have surrounded him all evening.”
“And I find myself quite exhausted now,” Hugo cut in, tugging even harder on his mother. “I’m ready to call it a night.”
Jessamine made some halfhearted arguments, but ultimately allowed her son to pull her from the ballroom.
When they reached the carriage they’d hired for the evening, Hugo discovered he no longer had the energy to chastise his mother. What was the point? The damage was done.
Besides, they’d been reaching too far above their station at the gala. There was no way he’d be able to win the favor of those eligible bachelors. Even if he caught someone’s eye, it would have been impossible to get his parents to approve of the match to a mere baker’s son.
No, they would just have to brazen it out. The aristocracy would have a good laugh at their expense and then forget the entire matter. If Hugo was lucky enough to find a partner and he’d heard of the incident, he would explain that his mother had indulged in a bit too much champagne.
From that day forward, he, Dorian, and Augustine would have to focus on saving their family the old-fashioned way—with jobs.
Four
Hugo stood in front of the mirror, fastening his cufflinks, feeling as if he’d been dragged behind the carriage they’d taken home last night. His mother had spent most of the ride singing praises about how well the gala had gone and who he should write letters to or invite out riding, as if he hadn’t heard her tell the world’s biggest lie.
He tried to remind himself that it didn’t matter. It was unlikely they would ever see those people again. After they had their laugh, they would forget about Hugo and his exaggerating mother.
Unfortunately, his brain didn’t get the message. He tossed and turned all night, harassed by nightmares of faceless people pointing and laughing at him as he ran through an endless ballroom.
A knock on his door made him turn. Dorian, who had been sitting on the bed talking about a book he’d borrowed from Mr. Cuthbert about growing roses, stood and answered the door.
Augustine was in the doorway, devilish grin on his face and a hand behind his back. Somehow his blond hair already looked windswept, as if he’d been out running in the woods since dawn.
“Hugo, I was thinking of popping into town and getting fitted for a new pair of Hessians with a stylish gold tassel,” Augustine announced.
“Absolutely not!” Hugo barked. “You received your last pair of riding boots not six months ago. There’s no way you’ve worn through them.” Hugo took a step closer and lowered his voice as he added, “Besides, you know we haven’t the money for it.”
Augustine’s wide grin didn’t waver for even a second at Hugo’s reaction. He thrust forward the hand he had been hiding. Hugo glanced down to find he was holding a fistful of straw.
“If you’ll just spin a bit of straw for me, I’m sure it would be more than enough to cover the boots,” Augustine joked.
“Out! Get out!” Hugo bellowed, swinging one hand at his youngest brother.
Augustine cackled wildly as he dodged, darting out of the door and down the stairs. Hugo slammed the door shut after his brother.
“Why the devil did I tell him about last night?”
Dorian resumed his seat on the edge of Hugo’s bed and tugged slightly at the legs of his pants. “It really wasn’t one of your smarter moments.” Hugo shot him a warning look, and Dorian merely shrugged. “Think of it as Augustine helping to thicken up your skin. While we can hope and pray gossip doesn’t get around, someone is bound to hear and tease you about it. It’s best for you to prepare a reply now. It’s not as if you can bash everyone over the head with a bedwarmer like you can Augustine.”
Dorian was right, but it didn’t change the fact that he still wanted to hit Augustine with a bedwarmer or at least throw a boot at his head.
He sometimes wondered if Augustine was a fae changeling rather than their real brother. Dorian was always so calm and logical, much like Hugo. That was why they’d always gotten along so well when growing up. But Augustine was a wild child given to fits of temper and outbursts of pure silliness. Shouldn’t he have outgrown all that by now?