“Mr. Finch, please,” called Felicity, but he was gone without a backward glance as the others pretended not to notice the sudden departure.
Pinching her nose, Felicity slumped down onto a nearby seat and closed her eyes. The full weight of her mistake settled onto her shoulders, pressing down until she felt ready to collapse beneath it. She cringed as Mr. Finch’s condemnation played through her thoughts again and again, but she knew she deserved every ounce of the guilt.
Only a little white lie? Good heavens, what had she done?
Chapter 28
Seven years had passed since Father’s edict had sentenced Finch to a life of solitude. He didn’t like his situation, but there was no fighting the path he was on, so Finch had come to accept it. There was a peace in embracing the inevitable, however unhappy that future may be. Somewhat like the sleepy calm that takes hold of one before the cold saps the last vestiges of life away.
A chilling thought.
And the knife twisted in his heart at that unintended pun. It was the sort of ridiculous jest Miss Barrows enjoyed.
From his corner of the assembly room, Finch looked over the crowd, wishing he’d had the good sense to forgo the gathering. He’d managed to avoid everyone but Mina and Simon in the past sennight, yet remaining at Avebury Park alone had seemed a far worse fate tonight. Besides, Finch was well-versed in hiding his emotions.
The musicians were gathered on their dais, churning out merry tunes at one end of the room, and the dancers pranced before them, their joyful steps and claps punctuating the melodies. The fireplaces on either side of the long room blazed, helping to fight back the winter’s frost, though the energetic press of people was doing a fair job on its own.
And Finch stood in a solitary corner, watching the whole thing, blending into the dark walls that were only a shade lighter than the pitch black of the world outside the window. Chandeliers shone above them, casting their light upon the crowd, yet they did little to stave off the night. A rather fitting comparison to the desperate attempt Finch made to cast aside the shadows clinging to his heart.
As much as he’d hoped to find some respite, it was impossible when the source of his torment was in the midst of the fray, dancing with gentleman after gentleman.
“Why did you insist on attending with us if you’re going to stand in the corner, watching over the frivolity like a specter of death?” asked the gentleman who was supposed to be Finch’s friend.
“Hush,” said Mina with a frown befitting a governess.
Holding hands with some peacock, Miss Barrows chasséd down the line of dancers with a lightness of step that reflected her temperament. The lady’s voice echoed in his thoughts, chiding him for being so severe and begging him to search out the joy hidden amidst his sorrow. But that was her talent, not his.
“Why don’t you ask her to dance when you so clearly wish to?”
Mina followed that with a quick, “Simon!”
Her husband looked between his friend and wife with a put-upon sigh. “But surely Miss Barrows is not beyond forgiveness, and she is trying to make amends. Lady Lovell’s cook must be baking day and night to keep up with all the peace offerings Miss Barrows has sent over.”
Had Simon suggested forgiveness a sennight ago, Finch would’ve balked. The wounded pride that had driven him from Buxby Hall that night had certainly thought her betrayal a capital offense. But with time came perspective, and though Finch despised the dishonesty, he couldn’t entirely fault Miss Barrows either.
Being well acquainted with the options granted a younger son, Finch knew many looked at marriage as a profession, and among their ranks were plenty who employed underhanded tactics to secure a prime position. Father had even suggested a few tricks with which to catch an heiress, though he’d surrendered that hope as readily as the others he’d harbored for his son.
Part of Finch’s heart still shuddered because of all the truths he’d laid bare to her, but even that was easing with time. It was hard to hold onto his anger and shame when it had felt so wonderful to share those secrets. Whatever else may have happened and whatever else was to come, Finch felt Miss Barrows was trying to be his friend, and even if his confessions were gained through falsehood, the burden of silence had lifted for a time.
And in the privacy of his thoughts, Finch could admit that his desire to attend tonight had little to do with needing a distraction; there was little to be found when the source of his anguish danced before him. No, when the pain of betrayal and shame eased, a new clarity came with it: Finch had nothing to offer a lady like Miss Barrows. But he needed to see her.
For this last time, if nothing else.
“It is better if I keep my distance,” mumbled Finch.
Simon scoffed. “With the dour looks you’re both giving to the assembly, I find that difficult to believe.”
Finch’s brows drew together, and he cast a glance at Miss Barrows, who moved through the dance steps with a light heart, meeting each movement with a smile. Perhaps there was a tightness to her expression, but she chatted with her usual animation. No doubt the fellow had far more interesting things to say than anything Finch could manage.
“Miss Barrows is in fine spirits,” Finch said with some reluctance. Not that he wished for her to suffer, but it was painful to admit that she was so unaffected by what had passed between them.
Mina’s brows rose at that, and Simon scowled, turning to his wife and whisperingsotto voce, “Was I this infuriatingly blind?”
“Hush,” she repeated with a narrowed look at her husband, though she added, “but yes, you were, Simon. More so in some regards.”
Then, turning to Finch, she said, “If you believe Miss Barrows is in fine spirits and pleased with her partners, you are not very observant.”
With a true frown, Finch turned his gaze to the lady in question, but before he could give more than a cursory glance, Simon spoke.
