Chapter 4
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?
At least it was a good thing they wouldn’t need to find him a potential match for a few years.
“I almost pity the person who agrees to marry him,” Hugo muttered, talking to himself.
Dorian grunted softly. “We’ll have to find someone who deserves his nonsense.”
While Augustine might be ridiculous and wild, Hugo was grateful that their youngest brother didn’t appear to mind the fact that they were no longer as well off as they used to be.
He didn’t complain about not being able to stay with the heights of fashion or get a new racing horse.
He didn’t seem to mind that they’d moved to a smaller, somewhat broken-down home.
As long as Augustine could go on long rambles through Shaggy Butternut Woods and help with the house so that it wasn’t falling about their ears, he was happy.
“Today, I thought I would stay home and catch up on some of the household finances. Maybe try to find the spot on the roof where it started leaking.”
Dorian’s face wrinkled at Hugo’s words. “Are you sure you don’t want to send Augustine onto the roof? You’re not exactly good with a hammer. I also don’t think you’re in the best mental state to be on the roof.”
“I think now is the perfect time to learn to be better with a hammer. We’re going to need to pick up more useful skills in the days ahead.”
Dorian opened his mouth, likely to argue further, but thunderous footsteps rushed up the stairs. A second later, Augustine burst into Hugo’s room, his eyes wide and face flushed.
“There’s a royal messenger at the door. You and Mother have been summoned to the palace.”
All the blood drained from Hugo’s face, and his knees gave out. Both of his brothers lunged for him, saving him from hitting the floor. With firm hands, they lifted and guided him to the edge of the bed where he could sit.
“This can’t be good,” Hugo choked out. “Somehow, someone from the palace heard about what Mother said, and we’ve been summoned. Do they still chop off heads? Do you think they’ll chop off our heads?”
“I don’t know,” Dorian whispered, not looking any better than Hugo.
“How do you know this has anything to do with what Mother said? What would the king and queen care about that nonsense? They must know she was lying. I’m sure people have said more outrageous things at a ball,” Augustine argued.
“That’s true.” Dorian clung to the saving rope their youngest brother was tossing out. “This might be about something else. Why would they care about such a silly lie?”
“They just celebrated their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Maybe they want Dad to make a new cake, and they don’t know he’s dead,” Augustine suggested.
It seemed like a plausible reason, if grim. Far better than the alternative.
Hugo nodded. He grabbed hold of his panicking emotions and stiffened his spine. Regardless of the reason, he had to pull himself together. Their father was gone, and it was his job to look after their family as best he could.
“Yes, you’re right. It’ll all be fine. However, it would be best if you remained at the house today. Don’t allow any callers in.”
“I’ll tell anyone who’s being nosy that Dorian has a horrible cold and is spewing from both ends,” Augustine offered.
“Oh, gods, please don’t,” Dorian groaned.
“If there’s trouble, I’ll try to send word as quickly as possible.” Hugo rose on slightly shaky legs. He finished dressing in his best waistcoat and jacket. Dorian might have needed to help him tie his cravat. His trembling fingers kept mangling the knot.
A short time later, Hugo sat in an exquisite, well-sprung carriage with the plushest seats he’d ever sat on.
His mother practically bubbled over with excitement.
She was wearing her nicest visiting dress and biggest hat, which overflowed with feathers and flowers.
Jessamine Baker was sure Hugo was going straight to meet the prince, where they would instantly fall in love.
Naturally, the prince would propose marriage before the end of the day.
Hugo, on the other hand, was sure he was riding to his execution.
The trip to Frostbourne seemed to take twice as long as it had last night, and yet they were at the palace in the blink of an eye.
Hugo fought the overwhelming urge to gawk at his surroundings.
His family had lived in Frostbourne for several years, and he’d seen the castle from outside the walls, but never in his life had he thought that he’d one day be walking inside.
White marble and elegant gold touches were everywhere. Colorful flags hung from the ceilings in the grand entrance and long, intricately woven rugs. It wasn’t hard to be completely overwhelmed.
A very severe-looking man with a pinched face and thinning hair greeted them at the entrance.
He wore a dark burgundy-and-gold uniform that appeared so starched and pressed that the edges were sharp.
The butler led them through a series of long, empty corridors and through numerous ostentatious rooms without uttering a word.
Near the end of their journey, Jessamine was puffing and gasping for her breath, struggling to keep up, and even Hugo was feeling winded.
How did anyone live in a place so big and not get lost constantly?
Was every servant handed a map the day they joined the staff?
At long last, they were brought to a large room with tall floor-to-ceiling windows filled with beautiful sunlight, gazing out onto a garden that was bursting with colorful spring blooms. Four ladies sat in elegant pastel gowns, sipping tea from rosebud teacups.
Hugo might not have ever seen the queen in person, but she was still easy to pick out among the group. She sat on a thronelike gold chair at the head of the room while the other three were on significantly smaller chairs that resembled footstools. Their heads were decidedly lower than the queen’s.
Jessamine sank into a graceful throne-room deep curtsy, while still panting heavily, and Hugo bowed as well, praying that his fear didn’t show on his face.
“We are so honored to have received your invitation, Your Majesty,” his mother gushed.
There was a long pause, and Hugo finally heard one woman whisper, “This is Mrs. Baker and her son.” Another long pause. “From last night’s gala.”
“Oh yes,” the queen purred. There was a soft clink of porcelain, and Hugo glanced up as he straightened to see the queen hand her teacup over to a waiting servant.
Dammit. This did have to do with his mother’s ridiculous claim. So much for Augustine’s excuse that the queen had wanted their father to make an anniversary cake for them.
“Mrs. Baker, and your very handsome son, Hugo, correct?” the queen inquired.