“I believe enough for the both of us,” she whispered. “That will do for now.”
That sliver of hope buried deeper into his heart and whispered that maybe—just maybe—Miss Barrows might be right. And with her so close, Finch lost himself in her embrace and the bright future she painted.
A life together. He and his Sunshine.
Epilogue
Sussex
Five Months Later
It had been many years since Finch passed an autumn at Dewbourne, yet the view from his father’s study was exactly as he remembered it. The leaves were shifting from greens to yellows and reds, looking as vibrant and colorful as a sunset, and Finch smelled the subtle scent that signaled the coming of winter.
Standing at the window, Finch gazed at the scenery and was struck by an odd sensation: peace. Not that the sentiment itself was unusual, but feeling tranquil while standing in a room that held far too many unpleasant memories was surprising. And welcome.
Father came to his side and placed a hand on Finch’s shoulder. “I am proud of you, son.”
Finch might’ve smiled at that, except he knew the source of that pride.
“You will be master of your own estate and investments,” he said with a half-smile and shake of his head. That grin grew and he squeezed his son’s shoulder before returning to his seat. “I couldn’t be prouder of you.”
Yet even with that rather irritating assessment, Finch’s good mood did not diminish, for his heart was aglow with the promise of his impending nuptials.
Of course, Finch wished he’d earned his father’s approval on his own merit (he supposed a part of him always would), but he felt no need to defend his worth to his father. Finch poured out his heart in gratitude that his path had intersected with Felicity’s, for he knew full well that the whole of his present joy and peace was due to his Sunshine.
“It is a shame that Miss Barrows’ pedigree doesn’t boast more—”
“Father,” said Finch with a warning tone, and the gentleman held up his hands.
“I do not mean to impugn her honor or any such nonsense. Miss Barrows is a fine lady, and she will do you and this family credit.” Father paused, his eyes narrowing as he considered things. “And she is the cousin of a baronet…”
For all the strength he’d gained over the past few months, Finch still felt a strong swell of resignation take hold of him as Father spoke. He crossed his arms and embraced it; there was little to be done about Father’s snobbery.
“But that is neither here nor there,” the gentleman said, giving his son a wide smile. “I am simply pleased with what you’ve done with yourself, my dear Jack.”
Finch’s jaw set, his fingers digging into his arms, but he remained silent as Father droned on about his pleasure over his son’s “accomplishments.” But even as he thought to speak out, his heart grew heavy, that initial anger seeping out of him until he felt empty inside.
“…my dear Jack…”
For all that he’d learned and grown, Finch was still the family’s jack of all trades. He may have now gained their respect, but only because he’d snagged himself a wealthy bride-to-be. There was no point in fighting his place in the family. There never was.
His thoughts spiraled into that darkness, his throat constricting until it felt as though he would never be able to swallow again.
But a pinprick of light glimmered in his heart as Felicity’s voice echoed in his thoughts, chasing away the shadows and filling him with that measure of peace once more. Her words reminded him of all the things he’d come to understand over the past five months, recalling all the many things he’d grown to love about himself. And that helped him seize hold of his hard-won sense of self-worth, even in the face of old habits.
“That isn’t my name, Father,” said Finch, getting to his feet.
Father chuckled and waved the protest off. “I mean no offense, my boy. I know your wife-to-be despises our pet name for you, but it is only a jest.”
Straightening his jacket, Finch held his father’s eyes. “Call me Lewis, Finch, my boy, son, or any variation of those, but my name is not Jack.”
Father straightened, his brows drawing tight together, but before he could say anything more, Finch turned and walked out of the study. Though regret settled in a quiet corner of his heart, he felt light—like one of those hot-air balloons, rising into the heavens.
Going from room to room, Finch searched the house, wondering where everyone had gotten themselves to. Just as he was about to leave the library, he caught sight of a familiar green skirt sticking out from the bottom of the curtains. Moving to it, he pulled back the heavy fabric to see Felicity hiding there, her finger flying to her lips as she pulled him close and shut the curtains behind him.
“Did you see the girls?” she whispered, but Finch didn’t bother answering that question, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to hers. Her brows rose, but she leaned into him, accepting his embrace with her usual enthusiasm.
Sunshine personified, indeed. Felicity Barrows was a blazing light, and Finch didn’t know if he could ever give enough thanks for her appearance in his life. With every tender touch, he wished he could properly express the joy she'd brought into his world. Finch released her lips, resting his forehead against hers and breathing in her scent.
