by Piper Scott
Finch
Piper Scott
Virginia Kelly
Finch © Piper Scott and Virginia Kelly 2020.
Amazon Kindle Edition.
Edited by Courtney Bassett.
Proofreading by Lori Parks.
Cover Design by Amai Designs.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Any characters, locations, events, or businesses are works of fiction, and resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
To everyone who wanted to see poor Hugh find his happily ever after.
And to Michael Ferraiuolo, who must be a dragon for all the magic he breathes into our stories.
Contents
Prologue
1. Hugh
2. Finch
3. Hugh
4. Hugh
5. Finch
6. Hugh
7. Finch
8. Hugh
9. Finch
10. Hugh
11. Finch
12. Hugh
13. Finch
14. Finch
15. Hugh
16. Finch
17. Hugh
18. Hugh
19. Finch
20. Finch
21. Hugh
22. Finch
23. Hugh
24. Hugh
25. Finch
26. Hugh
27. Finch
28. Finch
29. Hugh
30. Finch
31. Hugh
32. Finch
33. Hugh
34. Finch
35. Hugh
36. Hugh
37. Finch
Epilogue
Take Your Forbidden Desires Experience to the Next Level
Stay in Touch
Also by Piper Scott
Also by Virginia Kelly
Prologue
Finch
When Finch arrived at his employer’s study, he found Mr. Hugh Drake wearing a hole in its Turkish rug. “You called, sir?”
“Finch. Finally. I thought you’d never get here. I need your help.”
As Hugh’s primary Attendant and secretary, helping the dragon with whatever he requested was Finch’s entire job description, and what he’d done for the last third of his life. Thirteen years, of course, was merely a brief moment in a dragon’s existence, but to Finch, who was very human, it was long enough to ascertain something was wrong with his employer. He’d never seen Hugh so agitated. “Yes, sir?”
“I need you to find me a list of Disgraces that have aged out of the Pedigree.”
Finch blinked at the dragon, who had a bit of smoke escaping from his mouth and nostrils. “Excuse me?”
Hugh raked a hand through his thick black hair. “You heard me. Now do your job and find them.”
Finch was nonplussed. He’d never seen Hugh in such a state, much less so short-tempered. “I beg your pardon, sir, but I must ask—why?”
“Because I—” Hugh stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Finch, I do apologize. I realize I’m being testy. It’s just… I’m tired of waiting. It’s been six years and I keep being overlooked. It’s time I take matters into my own hands and discover if all this science being bandied about is true.”
“If what’s true, sir?”
“That Disgraces are dragons,” Hugh whispered.
Finch fell back a step. “What?” Had Hugh finally gone mad? Finch had strict instructions from his employer’s father, the very intimidating Grimbold Drake, to notify him at the first sign of his son’s mental collapse. He’d thought the edict ridiculous at the time, but now he couldn’t be so sure.
“That’s the rumor going about,” Hugh confirmed. “My brother and his strange mate insist the data from their mating experiment is conclusive, but I really can’t be sure, since Father chose Reynard as the Amethyst candidate instead of me.” His face crumpled a little, then he stiffened his upper lip and went on. “But who’s to say I can’t have my own experiment? Yes, all of the Disgraces currently in the Pedigree are either already mated or being courted by dragons far more impressive than I, but… there’s still hope. There are Disgraces out there no longer tied to the Pedigree, and I’m sure they’ve been as overlooked as me. My sanctioned period in which I can produce a clutch is coming to a close, though, so I’ve no time to lose. It’s of the utmost importance that you find me as many of these aged-out Disgraces as you can. One of them will surely be tolerable.”
Finch had no idea where to start, so he began at the end. “Why do you need to tolerate them, sir? Do you mean for breeding purposes?”
The whites shone all the way around Hugh’s eyes. He looked both panicked and excited. “No. That’s not it. According to what I’ve heard, there’s a very real possibility I’ll end up mated to her. Or him, I suppose. One can’t afford to be choosy when it comes to what bits they’ve got between their legs. Not given the circumstances. But it is absolutely imperative I can stand being in the same room as them for any amount of time if we’re to spend an eternity together.”
“Indeed, sir,” was all Finch could think to say.
“So you’ll do it? You’ll make a list of aged-out Disgraces that are still of child-bearing years? I’ve no idea how many of them exist. If the list is too long, just give me the females, but please, be as thorough as you can. My future happiness depends on it.”
“A-All right, sir. I’ll get to work immediately.”
“Good man,” Hugh said, beaming. The smoke had stopped tumbling from his nostrils. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Thank you, sir.” Finch gave Hugh a short bow, then left the room. As he walked down the hallway to his personal office, Finch made peace with the thought that, despite Hugh’s wishes, the list would never be absolutely complete. One name would never appear on it, no matter how thorough he strove to be.
1
Hugh
Hugh squinted at the file folder on his desk. “Is this everyone?”
“No, sir.” Finch cleared his throat, sounding uncomfortable. “Due to non-compliance, I was unable to obtain information from the Diamond, Onyx, Gold, and Topaz clans. In addition, my research on Amethyst Disgraces was complicated due to the secretive nature of this… experiment of yours. Were I to directly inquire, word would have eventually made it back to Mr. Grimbold Drake, which you’ve explicitly stated is not to happen under any circumstance. Nevertheless, I persisted, and I’ve discreetly sourced a few Amethyst candidates.”
“Excellent work.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Will you explain how you’ve arranged this information?”
Finch reached around Hugh from behind to lay a hand on top of the folder. Like always, his nails were neatly manicured, each one filed into an identical crescent, and his suit jacket sleeve showed exactly half an inch of cuff. Notes of his cologne were subtly present in the air—a vetiver something-or-other, if Hugh recalled correctly. Whatever it was, it was proper, subtle, and masculine, much like Finch himself. “Of course,” Finch said softly a short distance from the back of Hugh’s ear while opening the folder. “It would be my pleasure.
“The list is sorted by clan and alphabetized by surname, starting with Amethyst, then Sapphire, Emerald, Ruby, and finally Opal. I’ve inscribed information about each Disgrace therein with individualized facts sheets. I’ve included as many details as I could find and a picture of the Disgrace when one was available.�
��
Finch lifted the first sheet and held it so it was within Hugh’s line of sight.
“Take, for example, Lianne Abbott, an Amethyst Disgrace currently residing in Hertfordshire.”
In the top right corner of the page was a picture of a gorgeous woman who looked to be in her mid-to-late thirties. Her dark hair fell in loose waves down her shoulders, and her piercing blue eyes appeared kind, although they seemed to Hugh to be rather uninspired.
“In the top left corner of each profile, you’ll discover the Disgrace’s name, age, height, weight, and last reported temperament. As you can see, Ms. Abbott was described by her cloister as a kind, sweet, and obedient young woman who excelled in her studies. The main body of the report is comprised of a more thorough analysis of each Disgrace and any pertinent details that came up during my research.”
“My god, Finch. You’ve gone all out.”
“I did what was necessary so you could make an informed decision, sir.” Finch placed the profile on top of the stack and closed the folder. “I’ll always do whatever it takes to best serve you.”
“You’re a good man.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now, how many Disgraces were you able to find?”
There was a moment of prolonged silence, during which Finch stepped away from the desk. At last, he said, “Sixty-three, sir.”
“Total, or is that just the women?”
“Total, sir.”
“How many of them are female?”
There was another long silence. “A little less than half, sir. There are twenty-nine female Disgraces listed.”
Twenty-nine? Hugh’s spirits lifted. He could barely believe it.
“My apologies, Mr. Drake,” Finch hastened to say. “I’m sure there would have been more had I been able to access records from the other clans, but this is the best I was able to do given the circumstances.”
“No, Finch, twenty-nine is more than enough.” Hugh pushed out of his chair and turned to face his secretary with the intention of clapping him on a shoulder to celebrate a job well done, but stopped upon catching sight of Finch. As usual, Finch stood with impeccable posture and had his hands tucked neatly behind his back, but there was something off about him. Hugh couldn’t put his finger on it, but whatever it was made something clench uncomfortably in his chest. His enthusiasm deteriorated. Poor Finch—he’d worked tirelessly and produced astounding results, yet somehow still felt he hadn’t done enough. It would be up to Hugh to convince him otherwise.
“If the rumors are to be believed,” Hugh said reassuringly, “I could find my mate after meeting just one or two out of the bunch. Even if I only meet the women, twenty-nine potential matches guarantees that I’ll have a family of my own before long.”
The something that was wrong with Finch intensified. “Yes, sir.”
“Finch, this is a happy time! You’ve done exceptionally well.” Hugh squeezed Finch’s shoulder. “What’s the matter?”
Finch shook his head. “Nothing at all, sir.”
“Is this about the extra upkeep required to prepare me for international travel?” Hugh snorted. “Because I’ve half made up my mind to stay right here in Aurora and invite the Disgraces that catch my eye to come visit me. In the event I’ll need to court more than one of them before I find my perfect match, it will be far easier. Just thinking about the paperwork I’d need to have done to grant me clearance into each clan’s territory is giving me a headache. I can’t imagine actually having to sit down and do it.”
“No, sir.”
“Are you worried about having guests, then?” Hugh studied Finch’s face, seeking the truth, but found nothing but the same inexplicable disappointment. “I can hire on additional staff if you don’t think our current fleet of Attendants is up to the increased workload. And I’d only be inviting one Disgrace into our home at a time.”
Finch lifted his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Mr. Drake, would you kindly excuse me? I’m afraid I’m not feeling so well.”
Ah, there it was. That was why Finch didn’t look like himself. The tightness in Hugh’s chest undid itself, and he dropped his hand from Finch’s shoulder. “Of course. Why don’t you take the rest of the week off? You’ve gone above and beyond sourcing this list for me, and despite what Father thinks, I’m old enough to be able to take care of myself for a few days. Relax and feel better.”
Finch nodded tersely, then took a mechanical step back and turned on his heel. He hurried out of the room on long, slender legs and closed the door to Hugh’s study softly in his wake. When he was gone, Hugh shook his head. Oh, Finch. Always worried he’d never done enough when in reality, he’d done three times the work of Hugh’s other Attendants. How lucky it was he’d come under Hugh’s employ. Life would have been insufferable without him.
Pleased to have given his star employee and good friend the time off he deserved to take care of himself, Hugh returned to his desk and began the painstaking process of selecting the very best Disgraces from the folder. How strange and wonderful to think that one of them might one day be his mate.
2
Finch
Finch rose, as he always did, at six o’clock sharp, without the aid of an alarm. He made his bed immediately upon leaving it, then went to his kitchenette. His suite of rooms was much larger than the tiny flat he’d had in London. He missed London, sometimes, but Aurora had its compensations. Every now and then, he wondered at how his life had turned out, but never regretted his rash decision to take a dragon, of all people, up on his offer of a job in a country an entire ocean away from where he’d lived his whole life. There was such a thing as hiding in plain sight, and Finch accomplished it with expert mastery. Here, on American soil, he was the perfect, unobtrusive servant, and with Hugh vouching for him, no one within Aurora’s Attendant network had a clue they had a Disgrace living in their midst.
Which was precisely how Finch liked it.
His life was neat, orderly, and exactly what it was supposed to be.
Finch switched on his kettle to heat water for his morning tea. He poured milk into his mug, grabbed a PG Tips tea bag, then put in bread to toast while he waited for his kettle to whistle. Tea having been properly prepared, Finch scrambled two eggs, buttered his perfectly golden toast, and took it all to his small table to eat. While he did, he looked through the news headlines to see if there was anything important he should know, then checked Hugh’s correspondence, which came to him, as his family knew better than to expect Hugh to pay attention to emails or texts, let alone letters. As there was nothing pressing, Finch blacked out his phone’s screen, prepared two tiny plates with a chunk of egg and a bit of toast crust on each, and adorned each with one perfect blueberry. He cleaned up his breakfast dishes, then went to go visit his girls.
“Good morning, ladies,” he crooned into the large cage housed in a corner of his suite. Two rats poked their little noses out of the nest in their hammock, sniffing the air. “Yes, that’s right, I’ve brought breakfast.” Finch opened the cage’s door and placed each plate down. Elizabeth and Eleanor scrambled toward them. Finch clicked his tongue in warning and they slowed down, stopping right before the food. “Good girls,” he said, and Elizabeth grabbed her blueberry while Eleanor picked up her chunk of egg and nibbled at it.
He closed the cage door after giving each of the girls a good ear scritch. He’d let them out of the cage later, after his duties were performed for the day, but for now, he left them to amuse themselves with their wheel—Eleanor’s favorite—and a tissue box—Elizabeth’s current passion. Breakfast delivered, Finch went to wash his hands thoroughly in anticipation of the day ahead. It was officially time to go from being Finch the man, pet rat owner and inveterate tea drinker who enjoyed crossword puzzles and watching old romantic comedies, to being Finch the very correct and proper secretary of Hugh Drake.
The difference was stark. Finch the man wore pajama bottoms with penguins on them and a vintage Qu
een t-shirt he’d picked up in an Islington charity shop. Finch the secretary wore bespoke suits made by a tailor in Aurora who was obscure, ridiculously talented, and charged extremely low rates for his wares.
Finch’s room had a large walk-in closet he was grateful for. His wardrobe didn’t vary much, but his suits needed to be hung properly, and the small wardrobe he’d had in his London flat was less than ideal. He chose charcoal trousers, a waistcoat in the same material, a white shirt with a proper Windsor collar, and a black jacket. He pondered his ties, then chose one that appeared to be black, but was actually an extremely dark shade of aubergine. His socks were the exact same hue. He dressed swiftly, but carefully, making sure everything fit just as it should and that no flaws were visible in his attire. Finch had more than one set of cufflinks, but he ignored them in favor of his favorite pair, which he wore most days. They were two perfectly cut dark amethysts that had been a gift from Hugh on his tenth anniversary of employment. It had been very unexpected of Hugh, which was likely why Finch treasured them. Not only had it surprised him that Hugh had been aware of the passage of time, but it had shocked him that Hugh had recognized that giving a gift in celebration of such a milestone was appropriate. Moreover, Finch was startled that a dragon had given him—of all people—a treasure from his hoard.
