Puffing out her cheeks, Felicity groaned at her foolishness. Surely, at her age, she ought not to be overwrought by wild speculations into the logic and sentiments of men.
The dance brought them together for several steps, and Mr. Finch avoided looking at her as they moved together. Biding her time, Felicity waited for a pause.
“What do you mean, Mr. Finch? That evening, you made it clear that…” Felicity struggled with the words. Though the others paid them little heed, she did not like having witnesses to this conversation. Yet the moment the set was over, she knew the vultures waiting at the edges of the dance would steal her away again. This was no time to be a wilting miss.
“You gave me every indication that the impediment between us was our lack of funds. That is not the case. So, why do you insist the situation is unchanged?”
“I have no profession, Miss Barrows. That is unchanged.”
Felicity’s brows drew together. “What need have you of a profession when I have income enough for the both of us?”
Those words had Mr. Finch’s expression hardening as his gaze slid to the floor. The hand at his side clenched as he murmured, “So, I go from being my family’s ornament to being yours?”
Straightening, Felicity stared at him, but the dance pulled them away again, and she cursed the fool who’d choreographed the wretched thing. Could he not have given the couples a tad more time together before they went flailing about once more? As she moved about the dance floor, her eyes fixed on Mr. Finch, but he would not meet her gaze.
Did he truly think she viewed him as such? To her thinking, the role of spouse and parent was a far cry from being an “ornament.” But was there more to his meaning? Various interpretations of his words sprang to mind, and Felicity itched to drag him from the dance floor so they could discuss this properly.
When the dance finally allowed it, Felicity pounced. “That is hardly a fair comparison, Mr. Finch. And I would think you would be pleased with this situation, for you would have work enough with our properties and investments. Even with a man of business and steward, there is so much work to be done, and I would welcome a partner.”
“And an unequal match where the husband brings nothing to the marriage?” Mr. Finch did not look at her as he spoke the words, casting his gaze about the room as though searching for an escape. His teeth ground together, the muscles in his jaw tightening.
But Felicity’s thoughts were fixed on his words, pulling them apart as she tried to grasp the underlying meaning. Was his pride pricked that others might believe him a fortune hunter? Unequal matches elicited some snickers and judgments, but surely that was no reason to forgo their joy.
“What does it matter, Mr. Finch? If we are happy together, surely your income is but a detail.”
His gaze fell to the ground, his expression pinching as he examined the floorboards, but before he could reply, the dance drew them away once more, and Felicity struggled through the steps. Was this all a matter of masculine pride? That foolish quality pushed men to do idiotic things simply to prove themselves better than their counterparts. It had already left its mark on Mr. Finch’s forehead; was it now to claim his future as well? And hers?
The pair moved through their set, getting only snippets of a conversation, but each reiterated the issue of the money. Felicity could not comprehend why it mattered so very much, but no amount of reassurances budged the fellow. A steady refrain of denials kept her at arm’s length, and as their time together wound to a close, a weight settled in Felicity’s stomach.
Mr. Finch was determined to cast her aside because of his lack of funds.
Taking her by the arm, the gentleman did his duty and led her from the floor without a word. The pair moved together, though a gaping void stood between them.
Felicity’s breaths came quicker as she glanced at him (though he kept his face turned away from her) and realized that he saw her in the same light as the other gentlemen: Felicity Barrows was simply an heiress and nothing more, whose defining characteristic was numbers in a ledger. Where others used that as a reason to pursue her, Mr. Finch saw it as a reason to avoid her, but that did not negate the fact that men viewed her money first and foremost.
“So, Mr. Finch,” she said as they came to a stop, “our situation is unchanged because yours has not.”
He shifted in place, tucking his hands behind him while his eyes looked at anything but her. “I have nothing to offer you, Miss Barrows.”
Her throat tightened, and Felicity tried to swallow, though it felt like someone had tied it in a knot. While there was an admirable amount of self-sacrifice steeped in his words, they simply reinforced the fact that he was no different than the others. Taking in a breath, Felicity tried to steel her heart against the prickles of pain, but it was like trying to stop the earth from spinning.
“I see,” she murmured. “If you view one’s value only in terms of money and income, perhaps we are not suited after all.”
He flinched, though she could not fathom why those words mattered to him. This break between them was of his doing, and there was no point in belaboring the issue. Felicity would not beg him to love her.
“Miss Barrows,” called Mr. Wilson as he arrived at Felicity’s elbow. The fellow gave Mr. Finch a hard look before turning a smile to her. “As my set with you was commandeered by another, might I claim this one?”
A sigh lurked beneath her placid expression, begging to be let loose. Though Felicity wanted nothing more than to send him away rather than be subjected to his insipid conversation, there was nothing to be done.
“Of course, Mr. Wilson,” she said, taking his proffered arm.
Though she wished she felt nothing when surrendering her place at Mr. Finch’s side, Felicity’s heart was as illogical as any. Even after his rejection, she still longed to be near him and bask in all the wonderful moments to be found with him.
A fleeting hope whispered that Mr. Wilson may prove more diverting with time, but he and several other gentlemen had pestered and preened around her for the entirety of the assembly, and he’d proven thus far to be as uninterested in anything she had to say as the rest of the fellows. That might be forgiven if Mr. Wilson was a source of entertaining conversation, but alas, he was far too enamored with his horse’s bloodlines. Felicity forced a smile on her lips and nodded as Mr. Wilson began to drone on, listing off all his abilities and talents, as though petitioning an employer for a position.
At least Alastair had not approached yet. She caught glimpses of him lurking in the background, watching her with longing eyes that were likely meant to make her weak at the knees. But Felicity knew better than to think he would be content with simply gazing from afar.
Chapter 30
