“I am glad for it, too. I have always enjoyed my time in Bristow, though I do not recall seeing you among the locals before.”
“I am visiting my friend, Mr. Simon Kingsley, at present.”
Felicity smiled at that. “Avebury Park is a fine estate.”
And that statement led to questions about their respective homes, and though the conversation was hardly enlivening or interesting, it was familiar. Peaceful even. It was just the sort of discussion she’d had many a time before, full of the banalities one expected between strangers.
In her younger years, she’d despised such insipid subjects, but speaking with someone who had no designs on her was heaven-sent. Though Uncle George’s money was a blessing in so many ways, it carried a slew of burdens, including an increased propensity for gentlemen to recite poetry at ridiculous moments. And Felicity reveled in her present anonymity.
As they walked, Felicity’s twinges eased, attesting that she’d gained nothing more than a few bruises, but she was glad to see Buxby Hall appear in the distance. By the time they arrived, she was quite done with the outdoors and wanted a comfortable chair beside a blazing fire and a cup of something warm to drink.
A footman answered the door, and his eyes widened at the sight of Felicity hanging on Mr. Finch’s arm. He called for servants to handle the gentleman’s horse and led the pair into the entry, but her wet slippers touched the polished marble and struggled to find purchase. Before she added to her aches by crashing to the ground again, Mr. Finch swept her into his arms.
Felicity gasped and held onto his neck, and the fellow slanted a look in her direction.
“Are you attempting to impress me with your strength, Mr. Finch?” she teased.
“Only saving you from yourself, Miss Barrows. You are lucky I do not dump you right here, for you are quite heavy.” Said in any other manner, Felicity might have believed him to be speaking in jest, but Mr. Finch’s tone was all too serious to be mistaken. Perhaps she ought to have been offended by such an implication, but Felicity was no fool; she may be of average height and build, but that did not mean it was easy to haul her about.
“Then I am not the ‘picture of feminine daintiness’?” she asked, repeating something one of her former swains had claimed.
Mr. Finch gave no vocal response, though his eyes spoke of his confusion and incredulity, further adding to Felicity’s mirth.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“You are refreshingly honest,” she said as Mr. Finch carried her into the parlor.
“Good heavens, what has happened to you?” said Aunt Imogene, rising from the sofa.
“I’m afraid your companion took a nasty tumble, though she is mostly unharmed,” said Mr. Finch.
Aunt Imogene’s brows rose at that, though it was more due to what he’d called Felicity. The older lady’s gaze met Felicity’s, and she gave her great-aunt a pleading look. Though Aunt Imogene’s expression tightened, she did not correct Mr. Finch.
Mr. Finch set her on the sofa and bowed, giving a few words of farewell, but Aunt Imogene pounded her cane against the hardwood floor as Mr. Finch turned to leave.
“Lewis Finch, you cannot think to walk away without greeting me properly.”
The gentleman glanced from Aunt Imogene to Felicity. “I thought you might wish to attend to Miss Barrows.”
But Aunt Imogene, showing all the loving concern she was wont to do in such situations, waved the question away. “Bah, she is not going to die if we take a few moments. I haven’t seen you in nearly a year, my dear boy.”
A smile curled the edges of Mr. Finch’s lips, and he turned back to the pair of ladies, giving Aunt Imogene a gallant bow befitting royalty.
“My dearest apologies, madam,” he said, taking her hand in his and placing a kiss on her knuckles. “You must excuse my errant manners.”
“I shall forgive you this time, but see that it does not happen again,” she said with an imperious sniff. But her haughtiness melted away, and Aunt Imogene grinned at Mr. Finch, giving him a matronly pat on the cheek. “You are a good lad. I’m glad to see you’ve returned to us again. Are you enjoying your time at Avebury Park? Simon’s new wife is a dear, and it does me good to see them so happy together.”
“Yes, they are quite jubilant,” said Mr. Finch, and Felicity caught a certain something that belied the warmth of his expression and words. She could not pinpoint what it was precisely, but she’d sensed a falseness beneath his earnest demeanor throughout his conversation. But that was not quite right, for he was not duplicitous. Felicity watched him as he and Aunt Imogene exchanged a few more pleasantries, and before long she recognized the truth for what it was—he held a tinge of sorrow beneath the placid exterior.
With another bow, Mr. Finch took his leave, and Felicity stared after him.
“What do you mean by misleading Mr. Finch?” asked Aunt Imogene, coming to stand before her great-niece with an imperious frown.
“It is nothing—”
But that prevarication was cut short by a snap of the lady’s cane against the floor, and Aunt Imogene narrowed her eyes. “I do not care for falsehoods, Felicity Barrows.”
A footman and maid entered at that moment, giving Felicity a reprieve as they readied a tray of tea and cakes for the pair of them. She ought to change out of her damp gown and slippers, but with the fire stoked, and a warm blanket provided by one of the servants, Felicity was in no hurry to vacate her position.
