Miss Barrows turned her head to meet his gaze, her eyes narrowing. “You made it clear that you do not wish for my company, and I have no interest in forcing myself upon unwilling companions.”
“That is not true.” Finch winced, fighting against the surge of frustration that forced his voice louder; the others darted looks in his direction, but they turned away with equal speed, feigning disinterest and ignorance of the pair’s conversation.
“I came to you as a friend, in need of a listening ear and a bit of advice, and I was turned away, Mr. Finch. I believe that says it all.”
Something in her tone and the pinch of her expression had Finch’s heart sinking. “What has happened?”
Miss Barrows let out a mirthless chuckle, a wry smile on her lips. “That is not how friendship works, sir. You cannot ignore me one moment and expect me to tell all the next. I shall handle my problem on my own as I always do.”
There was a hollow quality to her words, and though Finch didn’t doubt her capacity to do just that, his heart ached at her having to shoulder troubles alone. Miss Barrows was one of two people on the planet who desired his opinion (let alone valued it), and he’d turned a blind eye to her.
Finch tapped a rhythm against his leg, his mind scrambling to know what to say to her. As much as he wished to ignore the accusation and pretend all was well, he couldn’t leave things be. Perhaps if he hadn’t seen what an honest conversation could do with Mina, he could’ve ignored the voice in the back of his thoughts begging him to tell her the whole truth, but as things had been so pleasant between him and Mina of late, Finch thought it best to forge ahead.
“It is not disinterest, Miss Barrows,” he murmured. Sucking in a deep breath, Finch held it for a moment before letting it out in a rush, his words tumbling out with it. “The opposite, in fact.”
Chapter 27
Swallowing, Finch forced his throat to loosen. It felt as though every eye were on him, though the others continued their impromptu concert, pointedly ignoring him and Miss Barrows. As he thought through what he ought to say, Finch’s heartbeat sped, fluttering along like the trilling notes of a piano.
“I did not mean to…” Finch frowned at that poor start and the jumble of thoughts keeping him from seizing upon the right words. While Miss Barrows deserved to understand, declaring his heart would hardly improve the situation.
“A man in my position must guard his actions and behavior, so as not to give rise to expectations he cannot meet.” Finch did not look at Miss Barrows, choosing to stare forward as though watching Mina’s performance, though his thoughts were far from it.
“Such a man cannot hope to marry,” he whispered, “and to foster feelings beyond friendship would only bring him and the lady pain.”
Miss Barrows turned her gaze to him, studying his profile. Finch couldn’t bear to meet her eyes, but he felt the breath catch in her lungs as she stilled.
“So, it is better for that gentleman to distance himself. Cut ties altogether, if necessary.” Finch’s throat tightened, but he could not keep the next words silent. “No matter how much he may wish otherwise, his fate is set, and it is better for them to part ways. It does no good to entertain feelings that cannot be acted upon.”
Her voice barely carried over the music as she whispered, “And why not?”
Finch sniggered, shaking his head, his brows scrunching tight. “A gentleman without income cannot afford a wife when he can hardly afford to care for himself. The only thing he could offer his lady is poverty and suffering, and no man with an ounce of decency could do that. Even if the lady in question makes him happier than he thought possible and gives him reasons to smile when the world wishes him to weep.”
A better man would not say such things, but Finch could not keep the feelings completely hidden. Speaking in hypotheticals had allowed him to be frank, and the added strain in his heart forced even more of his confession as this would likely be his final conversation with Miss Barrows.
*
The world blurred as Felicity stared at Mr. Finch. His lovely words filled her, weaving their way into her heart until they were a part of her very makeup: Mr. Finch loved her.
Perhaps he had not said those exact words, but there was no mistaking the meaning beneath them or the emotion filling his tone. His eyes remained trained on the others, yet she felt his control slipping, pulling free of his grasp as he spoke what was in his heart.
This wasn’t the bland recitations so many had offered her. This was a gentleman fighting against what he thought was right and what he desired. Felicity felt like leaping to her feet with an exultant shout at the thought that Mr. Finch desired her. Not her money or position or all the other mercenary motives of the past, but because she made him happy.
“…the lady in question makes him happier than he thought possible and gives him reasons to smile when the world wishes him to weep…”Those scant words were worth more than the volumes of verse that spoke of love.
And it was as she reveled in this newfound joy that Felicity realized what Mr. Finch was truly saying. Yet again, her fortune was standing in the way of her finding matrimonial bliss, but this time it was her apparent lack of one.
Felicity’s eyes slid closed, and she shook her head, leaning forward to rub her forehead as the weight of her lie pressed down on her. Good heavens, what had she done? Even as she tried to think her way through this mess of a situation, Aunt Imogene’s voice taunted her, saying this was all of her own making, which was true but exceptionally unhelpful at present.
There was no way to maintain her dignity and keep Mr. Finch, and though her heart shuddered against admitting the truth, if it was between her pride and love, there was no contest. And though habit warned her to keep silent on the matter, Felicity couldn’t—not with his tender and earnest declaration warming her heart.
“Mr. Finch, I feel like a fool,” she whispered, straightening and turning in her seat to look at him. “As much as I wish I had not made such a mess of things, the truth is that I did, and the only way to remedy the situation is to speak the truth.”
The gentleman watched her with a puzzled look, and Felicity sucked in a deep breath, letting it and a rush of words out in one gust. “I am not a companion to Aunt Imogene and do not need to earn my living. My uncle left me a sizeable inheritance.”
Mr. Finch stilled, his expression slackening as he stared at her.
Taking another fortifying breath, Felicity continued, “I came to Bristow to escape the attentions of fortune hunters, and when I met you, I didn’t expect us to become friends…” She lingered on that word, for it did not do justice to their relationship, yet it was the only word she could think of to describe it. “I wanted to avoid all that bother about money and inheritances, so I lied about my situation. I am so terribly sorry, Mr. Finch—”
