Finch unclenched his teeth, the muscles in his jaw throbbing. “And I have no desire to return to the battlefield—”
“Nor are you likely to distinguish yourself there,” replied Father with another vague wave of his hand.
Steeling his nerves, Finch ignored that and focused on the task at hand. “As I was saying, Lieutenant Bentley has done well as regimental agent and is leaving to start a bank. He wants me to serve as his partner—”
“At a bank? Ridiculous.”
“It is a good profession, Father.”
“For the son of a vicar or physician, perhaps, but it is hardly fit for a Finch. You hail from a long line of proper gentlemen, and I would not have you stoop to being a money lender.”
Finch’s brows furrowed. “My responsibilities would be nearly identical to that of a regimental agent, yet you have no qualms about me pursuing that option.”
Father leveled an incredulous look at his son. “Don’t be ridiculous. Bankers are hardly better than tradesmen, and I cannot countenance you joining their ranks. Your brothers and I would not be able to admit the relation, and we’d be forced to sever all ties with you. But an officer in a prestigious regiment like yours is a gentleman through and through. An honorable addition to any family.”
“I am not being ridiculous. The skills I’ve honed while assisting Lieutenant Bentley are the precise reason why he is interested in partnering with me even though I can offer little in the way of capital,” said Finch. “Though I do not have his way with people, I have a talent for numbers that would be valuable to his venture.”
Father’s expression shifted to that of paternal exasperation as though Finch were an errant child and not a man of seven and twenty. “My dear boy, keeping good ledgers is hardly noteworthy or every steward in the country would be hailed a genius. It is only basic arithmetic.”
Finch opened his mouth, but Father spoke over him. “I am proud to see you’ve developed that skill, for I would hate to think my son a dunce, but it is hardly worth pursuing. You are also skilled at the pianoforte, yet you would never pursue music in a professional capacity.”
Father watched him with an open expression of concern, his greying brows resting high on his forehead, waiting for Finch to agree with that undeniable fact. A rebellious part of his heart wanted to argue, but Finch knew all too well how that would end: there was no battling Father. Though only his last few years were spent in the army, Finch had been a lifelong soldier, standing at attention, awaiting his commander’s orders—even if Father gave them with a paternal air. As there was no point in disagreeing, Finch nodded; he had no more sway over his father than an ensign had over a general.
With a wry smile, Father shook his head. “The Finch family jack of all trades, indeed. Skilled at many things yet master of none.”
“Perhaps I could attend university? It is a little late for me to pursue the church, but I would welcome that possibility,” mumbled Finch. Anything would be better than the army, and Father could not argue against the gentlemanly nature of that profession.
Resting his hands on his desk, Father gave his son a warm smile. “This is precisely what I wished to speak to you about, for I have spent much time thinking through the options and have landed on a perfect solution.”
Father’s fingers drummed against the wood as he continued, “I have already invested far too much capital in bolstering your career. Your brothers and I have done all we can to provide you with connections and opportunities to distinguish yourself, and yet you’ve floundered. In the six years since you joined the army, you’ve yet to advance up the ranks or distinguish yourself in any capacity despite the family expending vast funds to purchase you such a coveted commission.”
His hands stilled while Finch kept his eyes riveted to the polished desktop. He wished there was some excuse or explanation he could give, but there was no denying the fact that he had failed. Again.
“My grandsons will soon begin their professions and shall need the family’s assistance, while the time is long past for you to be independent of our purse strings.” Letting out a soft sigh, Father shook his head. “And though we have funds enough to continue aiding you, we’ve exhausted all our connections. Even if you displayed an aptitude for the church, you have little chance to gain a prosperous living without some familial tie to that profession. We would waste more funds educating you only to find you languishing for years awaiting an appointment to a parish. Assuming you could secure one.”
He leaned forward, drawing Finch’s gaze, and there was a worried furrow to his father’s brow. “That is not the life I want for you. Endless waiting for something better to appear and forever disappointed.”
And then a spark returned to his father’s eyes, drawing with it a smile. “Which is why I have decided on the proper course of action for you, my boy. With battles looming, there is high demand for your commission. That, along with the sale of your horse, saddle, and all the rest—”
“Ares?” Finch winced at his father’s implication and the beast’s silly name, which was far too on the nose for his liking. Though Finch supposed if any horse deserved to bear the name of that god of old, it would be that fine creature.
“You will have no need for a horse, and he will fetch a pretty penny,” said Father with another airy wave. “A gentleman about Town can forgo such a luxury without it being remarked upon.”
Finch blinked at his father, though the gentleman hardly noticed.
“If you sell all and invest the funds, you will have enough capital to earn a modest interest,” said Father, as though that explained all.
When Finch did not reply, Father gave another sigh and shake of his head.
“It will allow you to be a gentleman of leisure,” said Father, as though that were the finest prospect a fellow could aspire to. “The family will secure you lodgings befitting a Finch and your interest will cover the rest of your expenses. You would have to economize, but a bachelor does not entertain and London does not require a carriage or horses. You have no need for a large house or anything more than a valet, and when you take that all into account, there is no reason you cannot thrive. It is the only proper option for you.”
There was some merit to the scheme. Leisure’s siren call provided him with images of what that life would mean. The gentry’s eldest sons haunted London with little thought beyond their own pleasures, indulging in frivolity and all the entertainments the city had to offer. Finch had hardly visited Town more than a time or two and had little knowledge of it other than the fanciful tales he’d heard his peers exchange of ballrooms and clubs, merriment and excitement.
Yet there was an aspect of his future that Father had not addressed.
“And marriage?” asked Finch.
Father’s brows rose. “You’ve never shown an inclination towards matrimony.”
