It was nothing but a recommendation. Anyone could’ve easily given Miss Barrows’ friend such guidance, yet the lady was acting as though Finch was a paragon among gentlemen and the only source of truth and light available in this dark world.
And though he wished she would desist, Finch couldn’t help but feel an inkling of pride warming his heart. But that was likely due to the thought that he would be giving a few friends some much-needed assistance in their professions. Nothing more.
*
Mr. Finch was such an odd fellow. At first glance, he had the look of a society fribble who was more likely to be flippant than earnest. Yet he lacked the social grace to fare well with that crowd, as speaking one’s mind in such a blunt fashion was not tolerated unless done with a biting wit that required more cruelty than Mr. Finch was capable of.
Then there was the ennui, which might seem affected if not for the way it resonated in his eyes. Felicity’s efforts to lighten that shadow were only temporarily successful and though Mr. Finch proved himself capable of enjoying a jest (even at his expense), the sentiment always returned. At this point, Felicity couldn’t decide if it was melancholy or boredom. Perhaps it was both.
And now he shifted in his seat, tensing at her praise and casting her a look steeped in disbelief, and Felicity swore his cheeks had a touch pinker than before. But even as she wished to reinforce her praise and gratitude, instinct held her tongue. That little voice whispered that it was best to leave it be for now.
The men in Felicity’s life were arrogant to the core, surveying their world with an unshakable confidence that rarely aligned with reality. Men who thought themselves capable of winning her heart with a few trite compliments. Men who believed themselves the expert on all things—even Felicity’s own life. They dominated and demanded, driving her to distraction until she was forced to flee her home.
Yet here was a fellow who looked at her with a question in his gaze. Vulnerability, even. As though dismissing her praise, yet hoping it was true. And Felicity felt an urge to hold him close and assure him.
“You mentioned you’ve worked with investments and finances,” said Felicity. “Yet I have also heard you say you studied medicine and served in the army, and now you are a gentleman of leisure. You’ve had quite the varied past, Mr. Finch.”
The gentleman’s jaw tightened, and he shifted in his seat once again, but with his gaze fixed on Duchess, Felicity could not see enough of his expression to surmise anything more than a faint feeling that he was uncomfortable again.
“I’ve tried my hand at a few professions, but none of them suited me or my family,” he said. Felicity opened her mouth to ask after that, but before she could, he added, “As I have given you a bit of assistance, might I ask you a question as well?”
Shifting the blanket around her, she smiled. “You’ve been most helpful, so it would only be fair for me to attempt the same for you.”
Mr. Finch nodded, though his brow furrowed as he considered his question. “What might I do to make my friend’s wife warm to me?”
*
Finch groaned at himself. That was not something he wished to discuss, but it was the first subject that formed in his thoughts, and it was better than continuing with the previous one. Besides, Miss Barrows was a lady, and she might have better insight into his mess with Mina.
“I was anticipating a fond visit with my friend, but it was clear from the first moment that his wife wishes me to Hades.” Frowning at the road ahead, he recounted a few of their interactions, each ending with cold dismissal or silent hostility. Shaking his head, Finch shifted his grip on the reins. “For the life of me, I cannot fathom what it is she dislikes so. Her reaction is inexplicable—”
But his ramblings were cut short by a strong snort from his companion. Turning his gaze to Miss Barrows, he found her fairly laughing in his face.
“I doubt her reaction is inexplicable,” said Miss Barrows.
Finch nearly yanked on the reins, but he kept himself from upsetting Duchess; it would do neither of them any good if he were to send their carriage into the ditch.
“I have been unobtrusive and friendly,” he said with a scowl. “What possible offense could she fashion from that?”
“Oh, you are a dear,” replied Miss Barrows with a faint smile. “I’ve only spoken to the lady a few times when she’s called on my great-aunt, but anyone who spends more than a few minutes in her company knows she is a tender soul.”
When Miss Barrows did not continue, Finch prodded her. “And?”
“And you are blunt. You likely said something—however unintentional—to offend her.”
Finch gaped. “I’ve hardly spoken to her.”
“Need I remind you that during our first conversation, you criticized my weight and called me very heavy?”
“I was carrying you! Even the most petite of ladies would be heavy in such circumstances.”
“And you made pointed remarks about my plain appearance.”
With a scowl, Finch muttered, “You were fairly accusing me of accosting you, and I needed to dispel you of that assumption.”
Miss Barrows nodded but did not look the slightest bit repentant. “But you could have done so in a more kindhearted manner, Mr. Finch.”
Shoulders slumping, Finch sent another scowl inward. Perhaps Miss Barrows had a point, though acknowledging that did not make him feel any better.
