Chapter 7
Seven
Hugo choked back a cry of relief when the carriage rolled along the lane and his house with the faded blue shutters and the sketchy roof came into view.
As he’d stood in front of the queen a day ago, he’d been sure that he would never set eyes on it again.
A footman alighted and opened the door for him.
Hugo climbed down and politely thanked the man, clutching his other set of clothes to his chest. The kind maid had seen to it that his suit had been laundered and pressed.
Someone had even mended the cuff where the stitching had been coming loose.
The door to the house flew open, and Augustine ran full speed at him. Dorian was only a few steps behind. Their mother was nowhere to be seen, but Hugo suspected she might have taken to her bed in a fit of remorse.
Augustine collided with him, nearly knocking him off his feet, gripping him in a fierce hug. Dorian joined him, grabbing Hugo from the other side.
“You’re alive! How are you still alive?” Augustine shouted in his ear.
Hugo winced and leaned closer to Dorian, who was speaking at a normal volume.
“Impossible. We were sure we’d receive word that you’d been executed. That the carriage had come to deliver your body.”
Hugo freed a hand and awkwardly patted Dorian’s arm and then Augustine’s, getting his brothers to release him.
“It’s fine. Everything worked out. I’m still alive, and we’re all safe,” Hugo murmured.
At least he hoped they were all safe. Surely the queen would forget all this spinning straw into gold nonsense. He’d never be summoned for a repeat performance. He hoped.
“Where’s Mother?” Hugo demanded, praying he could distract his brothers from exactly how he’d gotten out of the palace with his head still attached to his body.
“She’s in bed, crying about how she killed you and that the queen was coming for her next,” Dorian grumbled.
“And how ungrateful the queen was after father made her wedding cake,” Augustine added.
Yes, a service paid for and provided twenty-five years ago.
Hugo fought the urge to roll his eyes.
“I don’t understand. How did you get out of the palace?” Augustine pressed.
“What? You’re not glad I’m still alive?” Hugo shot back.
“Huuugoooo,” Augustine whined and clung to his arm. “Don’t be like that. Tell me what happened.”
“And where you got that beautiful new suit,” Dorian tacked on, earning a glare from Hugo. Dorian was supposed to be helping him, not encouraging Augustine.
“Later,” Hugo growled under his breath as Jessamine Baker stepped out of the house with a forlorn howl, still wrapped in her dressing gown. Thank the gods they didn’t have any neighbors who lived close to them. The Bakers would be providing them with fodder for gossip to last them days.
Hugo forced a weary smile onto his lips as he wondered if there hadn’t been a better third option he’d overlooked. Instead of being beheaded or having lunch with a charmless prince, he could have begged his strange new friend to whisk him away on a magical adventure.
Except the odd fellow had stated that his magic was good only for getting him in and out of the room. Oh, well. It was a lovely thought.
After a ridiculous number of hugs and damp kisses, Hugo ushered his mother and brothers into the house. They sat in the parlor, their one servant fetching his flustered mother a cup of tea to calm her nerves.
“Okay, we’re all seated now,” Augustine announced. “Tell us how you escaped the palace.”
“I didn’t escape,” Hugo snapped. “As you clearly saw, I returned via royal carriage. There was no prison break.”
Augustine huffed and threw up his hands before slumping low on the settee. Hugo knew his youngest brother was cooking up some bizarre scenario in his mind that involved Hugo slicing his way out of the palace dungeon with a sword while explosions went off around him.
“Obviously, Hugo spun the straw—”
“I did not,” Hugo snarled at his mother.
He clenched his teeth and nearly growled at the woman.
“And you well know I can’t do anything of the sort.
Why you thought it was a good idea to spin such an outrageous lie is beyond my understanding.
I know you’re disappointed that I’m not more talented and handsome, that you feel you need to lie about me to find me a husband. ”
“No! Never, Hugo! My baby, never!” Jessamine jumped up from her seat and kneeled in front of Hugo, gathering up his hands in hers, squeezing them tight.
Tears glittered in her pale-blue eyes, and Hugo believed they might actually be real, just like when he’d last seen her at their meeting with the queen.
“I didn’t tell that stupid lie because I thought you weren’t talented or handsome enough.
I said it only so that those people would take a moment to see you.
If any of them bothered to stop looking down their noses at you, they’d realize that you’re worth more than a hundred of them, even without being able to spin straw into gold.
Those snooty mothers would get on their knees and thank the gods to have such a wonderful son-in-law as you. ”
Hugo’s sigh was caught up in the sudden tightness of his throat. “Thank you, but please, no more lies. I was very lucky not to have been killed, and I’d rather not be put in a position like that again. The same goes for Dorian and Augustine.”
Jessamine released his hands and pressed her right hand to her chest. “I swear to be on my very best behavior. No more outlandish lies or stories.”
“No more lies, period,” Hugo urged.
His mother rolled her eyes but acquiesced. “Yes, yes. I won’t tell any more lies.”
It was probably the best he was going to get. Hugo helped his mother onto her feet and into her chair.
“We’re all happy to have you home, but what we really need to know now—”
Dorian jumped in, interrupting their mother. “Is how he did it!”
“No, no.” She waved a hand at her middle child before turning her full attention on Hugo. “The reward was supposed to be lunch with Prince Everand. So…did you have lunch with the prince?”
Hugo was sorely tempted to walk out of the house, but there was no point. His family would pester him about it until he admitted the truth. Even Augustine appeared interested, perking up from his slouch.
“Yes, I had lunch with Prince Everand,” Hugo admitted a bit sullenly.
“What’s he like?”
“What did you eat?”
“Did he fall in love with you?”
“Does he have an impressive sword collection?”
“Has he proposed?”
The questions hammered him from every direction, all of them completely ridiculous.
“Lunch was…fine,” Hugo said, grinding the word between his teeth a bit.
“Ugh. This is boring,” Augustine declared first. He jumped to his feet and strolled out of the room, pausing long enough to pat Hugo on the shoulder, mumbling something about being glad he wasn’t dead.
Jessamine released a frustrated noise. Only Dorian seemed a bit concerned. Hugo offered him a reassuring smile before turning to deal with his mother.
“It was a lovely lunch. The food was delicious, and the queen was kind enough to allow me to clean up. I was even fitted for a new suit.” He leaped to his feet and turned this way and that, showing it off. “Don’t you think it’s nice? The royal tailor made it for me.”
“Oh yes, yes. The material is exquisite, and it’s obvious the tailor is quite skilled.
He was smart enough to show off your perfect shoulders.
What we need to know about is the prince.
What was he like? Did you speak together for a long time?
Do you think there’s a chance that he might call on you? ”
“No, absolutely not,” Hugo answered like a shot. He needed to nip this line of thinking off as soon as possible. “I don’t believe we had anything in common. We didn’t talk much at all. I think he was rather tired and had no desire to dine with me.”
“Oh, that’s nonsense. You’re always so charming.”
“No, Mother. He didn’t want to be there. The queen commanded it, and so it happened. Prince Everand had no desire to spend a single second with me.”
“That’s only because he doesn’t know you.”
“And after meeting me, he still had no interest in knowing me.”
“But—”
“It’s fine,” Hugo pressed.
“No, it’s not. He just needs another chance to get to know you. He will love you.”
“Does it matter that I could never love him?”
Jessamine blinked at her son. It was as if he’d slipped into a foreign tongue. “What do you mean?”
“He was…a bit of a boor. Rather uncouth and ill-mannered,” Hugo admitted quietly.
There had been a hint of playfulness that had sparked Hugo’s interest for an instant, but it had been squashed far too quickly.
Hugo wasn’t such a prig that he couldn’t appreciate a relaxed demeanor.
Yet, not on their first meeting. There was simply an expectation of some politeness in the beginning as two people got to know each other.
At least an air of respect for each other.
But Prince Everand had given him none of that.
How could he ever care for someone who didn’t respect him?
“Oh, that.” She chuckled and picked up her teacup, taking a sip. “That’s nothing, Hugo. You can’t be so picky when searching for a husband. No one is going to be perfect. Such a small thing like that? You can fix him over time.”
Hugo was skeptical and glanced at Dorian, who had a matching expression on his face.
“The important thing to remember is that if you were to marry the prince, we would have no trouble at all finding proper matches for your brothers. The entire family would be safe, and we’d have nothing to worry about,” Jessamine continued, oblivious to Hugo’s concerns.
Of course, “proper matches” translated into “rich families.” His mother’s concerns were for safety and comfort. Things like happiness and love were for people who weren’t worried about not having enough money for food and coal to get them through the next winter.
“I appreciate that, Mother, but I don’t think that Prince Everand and I will ever be a good match,” Hugo said, trying to cushion the rejection for her.
“We need to find a situation where you can meet. Then you can dazzle him with your wit and charm. He will undoubtedly fall in love with you. I know it.”
“Mother, we will never meet again. The same way we will not travel in the same circles as Lady Hawthorne and the others at the Winthrop Spring Gala.” Hugo rose and pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek. “I will find a good match and take care of our family, I promise. You must trust me.”
She reached up and patted his cheek. “And I’m your mother. Marriages are my specialty. I will find a good match for you.”
“Without telling more lies?”
She gave him a long, caustic look before finally sighing. “Yes, without telling more lies,” she repeated, though it was far less convincing than when she’d promised the first time.
Hugo forced a smile. May the gods have pity on him. He couldn’t possibly get married fast enough to end this torture.