“You are looking at me quite strangely,” he mumbled, glancing between his work and her.
Felicity sent out a silent prayer of gratitude that the air had a nip, for her cheeks were already rosy enough that her blush would not show. Reining in her ridiculous thoughts, she shook off that odd turn and smiled as though nothing were amiss. Romantic musings were best left alone; Felicity had not come to Bristow to fall madly in love with the first gentleman to show her kindness.
“I am admiring your skill with Duchess,” she said, which was true enough. “Even gentlemen who adore horses do not show such ability with the creatures and their equipment. If it does not involve them sitting majestically atop their steed, they think it an insignificant detail best left to stable masters.”
Mr. Finch leveled a wry smile at her. “I would hardly call it skill; it is something any groom can manage—even if Lady Lovell’s seems incapable. As a member of the light dragoons, I learned a thing or two about caring for horses.”
“Or three,” she added, but the gentleman shrugged, turning his gaze back to his work.
“The army may seem thrilling, but it is mostly monotonous with little to occupy one’s time. With a horse on hand that needed tending, I chose to spend my time in better pursuits than wagering and drinking.”
“And if I recall correctly, you weren’t terribly good at wagers.” Felicity scratched at her face in the exact place his scar rested and gave him a saucy smile, to which he replied with a good-natured scowl.
With a tug of the straps and another rub of Duchess’s neck, Mr. Finch came round to climb in beside her. “It should hold until Buxby Hall.”
Checking that his mount’s reins were still tied to the back of the phaeton, Mr. Finch took Duchess’s in hand, and they set off down the road. Felicity felt like gaping at the miracle that was a functional carriage and the wonderful Mr. Finch who’d brought it about.
Chapter 14
“So, Miss Barrows, what is it that has you in such a tizzy?” asked Mr. Finch. Felicity glanced at him, and he slanted her a look, adding, “You said it had been a trying day before I rescued you so heroically once again.”
Yet another reason to be grateful for Mr. Finch’s assistance, as she no longer needed to focus on steering Duchess and could enjoy the winter scene before her. Felicity cast her gaze out to the landscape as she pondered his question. Here may be a solution. Mr. Finch might have the answers she sought if she trod lightly.
For a brief moment, Felicity wondered if she ought to simply admit the truth of her situation. Mr. Finch had proven himself to be far more trustworthy than the others who had courted her affection. But even as she contemplated it, the past reared up to warn her to keep on her guard. Alastair Dunn had seemed honest; even now, Felicity struggled to see his duplicity in her memories of him. Yet he had turned out to be as false as all the rest. More so in some ways.
But no. Felicity could not imagine Mr. Finch behaving in such a manner. He was far too blunt and honest a person to maintain a facade. And yet, many of her newly acquired beaus were equally amiable when they hadn’t known she was in possession of a fortune. Only when they thought to snare her did they become wholly unbearable.
Better not risk it.
“I am concerned about a friend of mine who is struggling with her finances.” The lie burned in her stomach, but there was no good to be had in telling the truth at this juncture. Besides, the subject arose so infrequently that she hardly had to reinforce the falsehood regarding her finances.
Clearing her throat, Felicity continued, “She inherited a fortune, but she has been struggling to know what to do with it. I long to give her some guidance that might ease her burden, but I fear I have none. Might I ask your opinion on the matter?”
*
Finch held back a snort, though he did chuckle to himself. If Miss Barrows only knew she was seeking the advice of someone with little funds to his name and no experience with fortunes. Except if one were speaking of metaphorical fortunes, in which his expertise leaned towards ill rather than good.
“Might I suggest speaking with Mr. Kingsley? He is a good fellow who would love to assist your friend in any manner.”
“Though I’ve met his wife, I fear I do not know the gentleman,” she said.
“I can give an introduction.” With a gentle hand, he steered Duchess around a particularly nasty bump, saving them all from being rattled.
“While I am grateful for that Mr. Finch, I would like your opinion. You seem a sensible fellow with a good head on his shoulders, even if you require the occasional assistance in rescuing wayward hats.”
Turning an eye towards his companion, Finch sat there, mute. Casting his thoughts to their previous conversations, he could not recall any instance in which the lady might come to such a startling revelation, and he didn’t know whether to laugh at her misjudgment of his abilities or blush at the implication.
It was one thing for Simon to ask his opinion. They’d been friends for years, and Simon generally knew his mind and merely needed a listening ear and a few proddings.
“If you think I can be of assistance, then I will do what I can,” said Finch, keeping his tone even. There was no need to broadcast just how doubtful he thought his help would be, especially when Miss Barrows looked so terribly pleased by his answer.
“You see, my friend inherited a fortune, including control of the capital invested in a bank…”
There was an odd quality to Miss Barrows’ tone when she spoke of this friend, and Finch wondered if there wasn’t a hint of jealousy or discomfort on the lady’s part. Though that didn’t seem in line with what he knew of Miss Barrows, it was natural to feel something of the sort when faced with one’s own reduced state. As much as Finch adored Simon, there were moments when he was plagued by such dark sentiments. Not that he resented his friend’s good fortune. Finch was pleased his friend was so well situated, but there were times when Simon’s life made Finch’s feel all the starker.
But as Miss Barrows continued to speak of her friend’s dilemma, Finch turned his attention away from those thoughts and focused on the subject at hand. Outlining the scheme in great detail, Miss Barrows showed incredible insight into the issue, and Finch found himself rather impressed at her grasp of finances. Many gentlemen struggled to gain such an understanding.
Her brows pinched tight, her expression scrunching as she spoke. Miss Barrows gestured from time to time, punctuating her words with more and more force.
