“Pardon me, Mr. Kingsley, but we are about to begin a set,” said Mr. Wilson, but Simon smiled at the young man.
“I apologize for the confusion, but Miss Barrows promised this one to me.” A wicked thought slipped into his mind, and Simon couldn’t help but add in a pointed whisper to Mr. Wilson, “The poor dear has trouble remembering such things ever since the accident.”
If Finch was going to put him in this unenviable position of playing rescuer to someone else’s damsel, it was only fair that Simon be allowed some enjoyment. And Miss Barrows provided that amply when she narrowed her eyes at him.
Mr. Wilson’s brows rose, and he glanced between Simon and Miss Barrows. Unfortunately, Simon had miscalculated his foe, for the young man didn’t move from his spot.
For good measure, Simon added, “I understand Miss Hensen is asking after you.”
The young man’s expression lightened, and luckily, the opening notes struck as he was debating his options. Simon slid into his place, leading Miss Barrows through the steps as Mr. Wilson was shunted to the side. Having already danced a few sets with Mina, he didn’t wish for another rousing turn about the floor and was grateful he’d lucked into a dance with a moderate pace.
“I see you and Mr. Finch are of a like mind when it comes to teasing me. I don’t know whether to thank you or scold you for that,” said Miss Barrows. “While your intervention saved me from his exasperating company, you’ve only encouraged him to pursue me more. Being a lackwit is considered an enticement for an heiress, after all. Far easier to snare into marriage.”
Simon winced. “I did not think of that. Though Mr. Wilson isn’t a bad sort.”
Miss Barrows and the ladies opposite moved forward, passing Simon and the other gentlemen as they switched sides and back again.
As she came close, Miss Barrows muttered, “He isn’t a good sort, either, Mr. Kingsley. Whether or not he is a conniving and selfish creature, I do not wish to be pursued solely because of my inheritance.”
The lead couple in the dance moved down the center of the line and back, and as he and Miss Barrows wove around that pair to take their place at the head of the line, she added with pink cheeks, “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I do thank you for your rescue, Mr. Kingsley. I fear I am out of sorts tonight.”
Simon’s heart thudded against his ribs, reminding him all too acutely of a time when he’d been in the lady’s position.
“It is understandable, Miss Barrows. Regaining that which was lost is a painful endeavor.”
Miss Barrows turned a sad smile to him, her eyes devoid of the brightness usually found there. “There is nothing to regain, Mr. Kingsley.”
“Give him some time, and he will forgive you—”
“Forgiveness is not the issue,” she said with a hint of mockery that made it sound as though she were parroting the words. As they sounded identical to those Finch had spoken a few minutes ago, Simon guessed their source.
But Miss Barrows continued before Simon replied, “Our situation remains unchanged because a certain gentleman has shown he is no different than any of the other wretched men who hound my every step and equate one’s value with one’s bank account. Such a man won’t settle for something as plebeian as love.”
The lady’s tone sharpened, and Simon was quite grateful the gentleman in question was not standing before her, for Finch would’ve been flayed. As it was, Simon was relieved when the dance separated them again, giving him a blessed moment to sort through his thoughts.
With time to reflect, Simon saw more clearly the truth behind Finch’s words and behavior, and his steps became heavy as he thought of the struggles the poor man faced. Perhaps he ought to have been more forceful with Finch, pushing him to speak. Then they might not have arrived at this point. The best he could do was to give Miss Barrows insight.
“You have every right to be angry,” he said as they came to rest, facing each other. “But the reasons behind his actions are not what you think.”
“Do his reasons matter?” The lady’s jaw was tight and set against his friend, but there was a spark of curiosity in her gaze that allowed the knot in Simon’s stomach to loosen.
“Certainly they do, but as that was your wounded pride speaking, I will ignore it and say that Finch has every reason to believe he is not good enough for you.”
A hard glint gleamed in her eye, and Miss Barrows opened her mouth, but Simon held up a staying hand to hold off any protest she might mount.
“It is not your doing, so do not take his actions personally.” The dance drove them apart, and Simon was forced to pause, waiting for the next opportunity to add, “It is not the money that upsets him.”
Miss Barrows’ forehead wrinkled as her brows drew together, but she did not interrupt him. The steel in her gaze softened a touch, and Simon prayed she would listen and understand. With a few more steps, they moved down the line of dancers, taking their part as needed before coming to a rest again.
“His family are not cruel people. They do not belittle or abuse him in any overt fashion, but they do not value or respect him.” Simon’s brow furrowed, his expression twisting at the memory of those few interactions he’d had with the Finch clan and all the little things his friend had told him over the years. None of it painted a happy picture. “A person cannot be surrounded by such low opinions and remain unscathed.”
The lady’s gaze drifted from Simon, as though she were sifting through her memories, and he hoped she saw the little signs that showed a broken but genuine soul.
“It was Finch who begged me to chase off Mr. Wilson.” Simon’s words drew Miss Barrows’ attention once more before her eyes flew to the edge of the ballroom, and he hoped she was searching for the poor fool; Finch deserved some credit for his gesture. “And while doing so, he made it clear he thinks himself unworthy of you. I believe his precise words were ‘Miss Barrows deserves better.’”
The lady shook her head, speaking in an off-handed tone. “He said something similar to me a few minutes ago, but I don’t understand why he feels it is so important for me to find a man with money. I have enough of it as it is.”
Simon shook his head. “He wasn’t speaking of income, Miss Barrows. He was speaking of himself. His family has him convinced he has no value.”
