Goodness, he wanted to kiss her.
“It is just so taxing at times,” she said with a sigh, her gaze not rising to meet his. “I try so hard to do my best, only to be told my efforts are unnecessary. It is as though they are blind to the most important things that ought to be done and choose to focus on things that are more niceties than imperatives. When I try to show them the truth, I am told that I worry too much and that everything will sort itself out—as though success can simply spring forth without effort and planning. And they do so without recognizing their hypocrisy as their efforts are far more involved and overwrought than anything I might suggest.”
Marian filled her lungs once more and straightened to face him. “But I am trying to focus on that which I can do, and not on that which is beyond my control. Working myself into a dither helps nothing and makes me miserable.”
George opened his mouth to agree, but she hurried to add with a pleading expression and only a hint of exasperation in her tone, “But at least my ideas do not add to the expense. For goodness’ sake! The point was to raise money for a charity, not to spend it on a party for our friends and neighbors.”
Attempting again to get a word in, George opened his mouth and was quickly cut off when Marian shook her head with a wince.
“But here I am, going on about myself. When did you return?” she asked. “Your mother assured me you wouldn’t return until tomorrow at the earliest.”
George held back a chuckle at that shift. The flurry of words darting back and forth was so very like his dear friend that he couldn’t be annoyed at it.
“I was able to conclude my business in Manchester sooner than we’d anticipated.” Of course, there was far more to that story than he was going to say, but Marian needn’t know it was a miracle he’d made the return journey so quickly. Or that the Littles had been kind enough to allow him use of a bedchamber so he might change into appropriate (and clean) attire for the concert when it was abundantly clear he had not the time to stop at Farleigh Manor.
No doubt he would feel all that haste tonight when he collapsed into bed.
Leaning forward, George cast a glance to the side, though no one stood nearby. “Did you receive my letter and flowers?”
Marian gave him a crooked smile. “And the sweets as well, Mr. Finch.”
“I am so very sorry I have not been a better friend to you.” George felt every one of those words. They burrowed into his heart, dredging up his mistakes and strengthening his resolve.
“A friend does not scheme or manipulate…” Marian’s words came back to him, and though his heart shuddered at the thought of what a true friendship might require of him, George knew he needed to love and support her without the hope of winning her heart. Was it true love if his actions only worked to securehishappiness? Granted, he couldn’t imagine her being as happy with the other fellows as she would be with him, but if he truly cared for her, he would do all he could to help her attain her dreams—even if they did not include him. His stomach turned, knowing exactly how difficult this was going to be.
Hopefully, his devotion would win her affections, but he could no longer lie to himself and say that love drove him between Marian and her beaus. Jealousy and desperation, certainly. But love could never be selfish. And good intentions or not, George’s actions had been that of a self-serving cad.
Marian rested a hand on his forearm, giving it a tender squeeze, which echoed through his heart. “You needn’t apologize again, Mr. Finch. I will not lie and say I was unaffected by your actions, but I am not without hope. And your intentions—however misguided—were good.”
“You are most certainly not without hope, Marian,” he said, his smile broadening, but before he could say another word, she held up a staying hand with a chuckle.
“I have already accepted your apology, and you have been quite gallant in your expressions of remorse. You needn’t offer yourself up as a sacrifice to my father’s edict.”
“And what if I am in earnest?” George didn’t know how he got the words out, but there they were, floating in the air around them like a miasma determined to choke him.
Marian raised her eyes to the heavens and huffed. “You are a dear for suggesting it, but I shall sort it out, Mr. Finch. There is no need for both our futures to be dictated by my father’s well-meaning but foolish intentions.”
If George had had any doubt about the opposition his new resolution was going to face, he knew it in that instant, for everything from Marian’s lightness of tone to the spark of humor in her gaze said she thought his offer of marriage born of pity or jest. That did nothing for George’s poor pride, which had taken quite the beating of late.
“But enough of my troubles,” said Marian, turning away from her work at the refreshment table to give him her undivided attention. “Were you able to sort everything out? Though I suppose that is a silly question, as you would still be in Manchester otherwise.”
“In the end, it took little to resolve. Merely a squabble that required a little bit of negotiation, which for many gentlemen merely means I ply them with compliments and fine foods. The travel took more time than the work itself.”
Marian moved away from the tables, and George offered his arm to her. It wasn’t as though she needed an escort or assistance, but it wasn’t wholly out of line, and the feel of her arm slipping around his helped to settle his heart.
“I am only sorry I was not around during the preparations for tonight,” he said.
With a sigh, she nodded. “I could’ve used a confidant, but all in all, I am quite proud of myself. I cannot claim to have the firmest hand on my heart, but I have been striving to focus on my purview and not allow the actions of others to affect me so. I feel I have made some progress.” She paused, considering that with a chagrined smile. “Though I suppose ranting at you hardly supports my claim.”
“Having seen you in a full temper, I would disagree, Miss Marian.”
The lady grimaced. “Yes, I suppose you have seen it quite a lot of late.”
“Which I fully deserved…” But George’s words drifted off as Marian’s attention strayed from him. He followed her gaze to find Evelyn standing in a corner. In his haste to arrive, he hadn’t noticed his family was in attendance (though it was not surprising). Even during the performances, he was more aware of Marian’s location than the music.
But his sister’s presence wasn’t what had him and Marian staring. Evelyn stood there, her shoulders straight and her head held high, but there was a pinched quality to her lips that made George frown. Though her expression seemed accepting of her solitary state, her playacting was not good enough to fool her family. Or apparently, Marian. Her free hand came to rest atop his forearm, her fingers squeezing it in silent question, though he needed no further prompting.
Turning them towards his sister, George wove them through the crowd.
