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 swallowed hard, trying to ignore the bead of cold water hanging from the tip of his nose. He lifted his gaze to meet the wide-eyed stare of the handsome stranger as he regained his own feet.
“Are you okay?” Hugo inquired, trying with all his might to sound normal while he burned on the inside with embarrassment.
“Yes.” The man cleared his throat and smoothed out the shock from his face. “Yes, I am. Thank you for saving me.”
“Not a problem. I’m sure anyone would have done it.”
“Are…are you okay?” he asked. His eyes traveled down Hugo’s mud-coated clothes as if he still couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. Or maybe he was simply grateful that it hadn’t happened to him.
Hugo tipped up his chin and forced a smile. “Oh, yes. This is nothing.” Touching the brim of his hat, he tipped it to the man and his companions, wishing them a good day before spinning around and heading the way he’d come. He did not let himself think about how the back side of him had to be a hundred times worse than the front side. Already his pants were sticking to his slender legs, and all his wet clothes clung to him in the worst way while icy water slid along his body into his boots so that they made a horrible squelching noise with every step.
There was no way he could continue through town like this. He had no choice but to make the ten-minute walk home and change. He could make a second attempt to see the tailor for his parcel.
Maybe it was one of the worst starts to a day, but Hugo could at least say he’d spoken to the world’s most beautiful man.
Two
“Good grief, Hugo. It’s like the gods forgot to bless you with any brains. How are you ever going to find a suitable husband walking around like that?”
Hugo bit his tongue to hold in his acerbic response. It wasn’t as if he’d walked out of the house in one of his best suits covered in mud. No, that had happened when he’d pulled the most handsome man in the world to safety as a runaway carriage had charged pell-mell at him.
“And I see by your empty hands. You couldn’t even pick up the parcel from the tailor,” his mother continued.
“After being splashed with mud, I turned back and came home. It seemed the wiser course instead of wandering about town in wet, muddy clothes where everyone could gawk at me.”
Jessamine Baker winced. “Did anyone see you? Or recognize you?”
Hugo bit his already sore tongue a second time and gave his mother a look. Of course, people had seen him. How could they not have? The young man he’d saved and his friends had gaped at him, but there was no benefit in pointing that out.
His mother’s expression softened, and she reached up to pat his cheek, but stopped at the last moment, the number of wrinkles on her face tripling with her frown. He couldn’t blame her. It felt like there wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t coated in mud. “I don’t mean to be harsh, my darling, but the Season has just begun and you’re twenty-two. Dorian turns twenty this winter. If I don’t have you properly married and settled this Season, I’ll have a devil of a time trying to find a suitor for both you and your brother next Season. Don’t get me started on Augustine.”
“Augustine isn’t even eighteen yet. You have two years before you need to concern yourself with him.”
“Yes, and since your father’s death, money isn’t pouring into the house like it used to. Why you and your brothers couldn’t have been blessed with more useful magic, I’ll never understand. But it is what it is. Go clean yourself up and change clothes. I’ll see to your garments later. I’m off to the tailor to pick up the parcel.”
Hugo had taken a step toward the narrow stairs leading to the second floor but stopped. “No need. I ran into Augustine on my way back and sent him to the tailor for the parcel in my stead,” Hugo stated.
“Augustine? He has even less sense than you!”
His mother hurried off, snagging one of her bonnets from a peg near the door. She stuffed it on her head, muttering the entire way about how her husband had been far too selfish and inconsiderate to die so young and leave her all alone to raise these three useless sons.
Hugo stood alone in the foyer for a moment, listening to the ticking of the clock, letting the familiar comforts of the old house seep into his bones. His mother could be caustic, but he knew she spoke out of constant gnawing fear. They were reaching a desperate tether in their lives. It was felt all the more keenly given how far they’d fallen in a short time.