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)
“Do you like it?” Everand whispered in his ear.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. These were my Uncle Crispin’s rooms. However, I’ll admit that I had the stuffed heads removed. I’m not as into hunting as he was, and my father is. Not much for having dead things staring at me at all hours.”
Hugo choked on a laugh. Everand made an excellent point.
The prince captured his hand and dragged him forward, through a parlor, lounge, and even the bedroom to a dressing room with several long mirrors along with exquisitely carved bureaus and wardrobes filled with clothes. An elegant sofa and a pair of buttery yellow chairs were in the center of the room. Standing at attention off to the side of the room was a familiar face—Mr. Booth. He was there with no fewer than four assistants, who were waiting with tape measures and stacks of fabric.
“I believe you’ve met Mr. Booth,” Everand said with a wave of his hand.
“Yes, he provided me with this excellent suit. It’s good to see you again, Mr. Booth.”
The skinny man blushed and bowed, his manner far less brisk this time. “I am honored that you remember me, Mr. Baker.”
“Mr. Booth is going to prepare your clothes for the royal ball tomorrow night and a few day-to-day clothing needs,” Everand announced.
“Ev—Your Highness,” Hugo gasped, barely managing to correct himself. He could understand getting a new suit for the ball, but to get more clothes on top of that was too much.
However, there was no chance to argue. Mr. Booth snapped his fingers, and his four assistants leaped into action. They moved Hugo into the center of the room, where they whisked off almost all the clothes he’d just put on, leaving him standing in only his undergarments.
Heat stole across Hugo’s face and down his throat as he glanced over his shoulder to find Prince Everand lounging on the settee with a wicked grin stretching his lips. Evil man.
But Hugo had little time to think about it. In a flash, the assistants were on him with the flying tape measures, taking his numbers again and calling them out to Mr. Booth. One of them made Mr. Booth stop and cluck his tongue.
“What’s wrong?” Everand demanded, shifting to perch on the edge of his seat.
Mr. Booth hurried to the prince. “Mr. Baker has lost half an inch from his waist since I last measured him.”
“You can recall my measurements from the last time?” Hugo asked, his voice rising in shock. He’d been sure the man had forgotten him the second he’d completed the alteration to the suit he’d provided Hugo weeks ago.
“Of course I can. I remember the measurements for everyone I make clothes for,” Mr. Booth replied, almost sounding insulted that Hugo would doubt him.
Everand rushed to his side, brushing away all the assistants still buzzing around Hugo. He placed his hands on Hugo’s hips, his thumbs brushing across his stomach, tickling.
“Why have you lost weight?” Everand demanded, worry thickening his low tone. “Have you not been eating enough? Does your family not—”
“No, we’re fine,” Hugo interrupted more sharply than he intended, but he didn’t want anyone thinking that his family was struggling to put food on the table. He didn’t want anyone’s pity and certainly didn’t want to be food for palace gossip. “Maybe the last time I was measured, I was a bit bloated,” Hugo continued in a softer tone, even as embarrassment blazed through his cheeks. He locked eyes with Everand and lifted one mocking eyebrow. “Or maybe I lost a bit of weight while we were running through the woods, trying to escape those bandits.”
“Regardless of the reason, I can’t have you losing weight. You must be healthy. I’m ordering some food. What are you in the mood for? Breakfast? It’s afternoon now. Lunch? Sandwiches? Or a hearty soup?”
“Ev—” Hugo stopped himself, closed his eyes, and clenched his teeth. He kept slipping up, but it was so hard to remember to address him properly when he was so close and very handsy. “Your Highness, please, this isn’t necessary.”
“It is, and you were right the first time. Ev.”
“Your Highness—”
“Ev.”
Hugo growled and opened his eyes to find not laughter but concern written clear across Everand’s face. “Please, people will talk,” he whispered, trying not to allow his gaze to stray to Mr. Booth and his many assistants.
“Yes, they will,” Everand agreed, keeping his voice at a normal tone so that everyone in the room could hear him. “By the end of the day, everyone in his palace will know that you are my most precious treasure.”
Hugo snorted. “You mean your paramour.”
“I mean the man I plan to marry. My soon-to-be husband. My one-day consort.”
Hugo’s mouth fell open, and for several heartbeats no sound came out. His brain imploded. Not a single thought occurred. He was lucky his heart and lungs continued to work. Everand smirked at him as if he knew how he’d shaken Hugo’s entire world.