“How? How could she have gotten such a coveted invitation? Our family has never traveled in the same circles as the Winthrops.” Hugo paced away from his bed, dropping his soiled jacket to the floor. Hopping on one foot, he tugged off a boot and tossed it aside with a heavythud. “Lady Winthrop is a duchess and a close friend of the queen. Her Spring Gala istheparty of the Season, and the guest list comprises only the best families of Frostbourne. How in the world did we get on that list?”
“Not we.Youand Mother. That’s it. I’m not going, thank the gods for that minor miracle. As for how, I have no idea. I’m sure Mother pulled every last string and called in every favor she had left. Good luck. No pressure, of course.”
Hugo stared at his mud-covered clothes, wearing just one boot. He was the poor eldest son of a former renowned baker whose one skill lay in making glass flowers. It was all on his shoulders to save his family. If he found a rich, powerful husband, he would be able to use that newfound clout to pave an easier path for his brothers and secure a comfortable life for all of his family.
And if he failed, an apprenticeship to a glassblower would not be nearly enough to save his family from poverty and homelessness.
Yeah. No pressure.
Three
The Winthrop Spring Gala was one of the biggest events of the season, as the elegant and rich Winthrop family welcomed hundreds of guests into their home in Frostbourne to show off their exquisite marble ballroom, delicious food, and perfectly cultivated gardens.
It was an honor to attend with all the “best” families, wearing their finest attire. It was an absolute crush, which was what every hostess desired. There were even whispers that members of the royal family might make an appearance. Servants with the very sharpest magic skills directed platters of food and champagne through the crowded room with an artful flair and flawless execution, making it seem so perfect and effortless. People twirled across the dance floor, and beautiful music filled the air. Everything about the ball was perfect.
And Hugo was bored to tears.
The thrill of being at the Winthrop ball had worn off quickly. He appreciated the glittering ballroom and the exquisite orchestra their hosts had hired to play music for dancing. The champagne was the best he’d ever tasted, and theamuse-bouchehad nearly made him moan in ecstasy. Even his father would have been impressed with their cooking.
Yet the sights and sounds dulled in their luster as the pressure to find a husband among the myriad candidates weighed on his shoulders. The future of his family depended on his success.
Hugo stood on the fringe of the dance floor, his stomach roiling with indecision. He held a flute of champagne in one hand, but he didn’t dare take another sip. He was afraid the alcohol would go straight to his head, and he’d say something mortifying.
Men and women danced and twirled in front of him. The men were all dressed in classic black suits with highly starched, perfectly white cravats tied in complicated knots, and pristine white gloves. The young, eligible women were all in pale pastel dresses filled with flounces and explosions of lace.
The only thing everyone had in common was a floral boutonniere or corsage to show the gender of the partner one was searching for. A person wearing a pink flower indicated that they were looking for a woman as a partner, while a blue flower demonstrated a desire for a male partner. What surprised Hugo was the high number of purple flowers, which announced that the wearer was open to either a male or a female partner.
His own mother had prodded Hugo to consider acquiring a purple boutonniere for the gala, hoping that fishing from both pools would increase his odds of finding a good match. However, Hugo denied her request and opted for a delicate blue rose with a tiny sprig of baby’s breath.
Despite his mother’s wishes for him to find a spouse, his sexuality was not flexible in that way. He’d known from an early age that he was attracted to men, and there was no way around it. He would not marry a woman just because she came with a sizable dowry and a title, only to doom them to a cold, unfulfilling marriage.
Since arriving at the ball, he’d done his duty and selected three elegant, handsome gentlemen and invited them to dance. They’d made polite conversation, though Hugo had struggled a bit to keep up with the attempts at small talk while also concentrating on the complicated steps of the dances. He’d managed two quadrilles and a waltz. He was avoiding all polkas and galops so as not to embarrass himself or his partner. The idea of attending the Winthrop Gala had been a shock and had not given him enough time to practice with Dorian, who was a much better dancer. Even Augustine could make his way across a dance floor with more grace than Hugo.
After completing the requirement set by his mother that he must invite at least three candidates onto the dance floor, two others had invited him out.
And yet, he couldn’t deny feelings of disappointment building in his chest, threatening to suffocate him. All the gentlemen of the gala, regardless of whether they were wearing a blue flower or a purple flower, were handsome and charming in a proper, reserved manner, but not one of them held a spark he’d hoped to find. Their conversations while dancing were mechanical and detached. It was as if they were all going through the motions of civility without caring about the other person.
It also didn’t help that Hugo was painfully aware that everyone attending the ball was much better off than his family. Where possible, he avoided anyone who possessed a title rather than risk being snubbed. He aimed for men who came from a merchants’ families or landed gentry whomightbe distantly related to a knight or squire. Yet, even they would gasp in horror if they learned of his family’s financial predicament.
Even without their money woes, he felt as if he were a common daisy among exquisite roses. There was nothing specialabout him. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Thin-ish lips. His chin was nice, though, with its sharp cut into a defined jaw.
Were lasting relationships sparked in a crowded ballroom? He’d heard plenty of ridiculous tales of meeting someone’s eyes across the room. The resulting spark would send a tingle through their bodies. Drawing closer. Dancing. Falling in love as easily as breathing. And then waltzing off into a happily ever after.
Yes, maybe he wanted something a little magical like love at first sight, but he wasn’t crazy enough to believe it would happen.
Hugo hoped for something more mundane, like encountering each other in a shop. They would accidentally bump and rush to beg each other’s pardon only to have their eyes meet and the words become caught in their throats. A spark and a soft smile. They’d chat and discover that they both liked the same herb-and-citrus soap or go to the same glove maker because of the type of wool he used. Either way, that initial spark would lead to thoughtful conversation and a deep-burning love that lasted forever.
Why couldn’t he have that?
He’d almost had that when he had encountered the stunning stranger on the sidewalk a few days ago. Their eyes had met, and he’d looked as if he were going to grin. Hugo had felt a spark. He might have even found the courage to say hello to the man if it hadn’t been for the carriage hitting the mud puddle. If he’d had a choice, he would have preferred to save the man but skip the part where he was splashed in cold, muddy water.
So much for a magical encounter.
Aside from potentially being snubbed by a dance partner, the only real danger that lurked at the ball was Jessamine Baker’s wagging tongue.
Hugo noticed that a particular young lord was edging closer to another gentleman. A smirk played on his lips, and he motioned with his head toward the tall doors that were open to allow a cool evening breeze into the crowded ballroom. Through those doors were the shadowy and extensive Winthrop gardens with itsheavilyvisited hedge maze.
Half hiding his knowing grin behind his champagne flute, Hugo turned to his left to tell his mother that young Lord Canterbury was about to steal away with Mr. Turner, but his mother was missing. Hugo blinked, his smile melting away as panic strangled him. Where had she gone? He’d glanced away from her for only a few minutes.
