for the deception. It was near enough to the truth, as she would be serving as a companion of sorts during her stay; yet it made distinct inferences that shielded her from unwanted attention.
Only a poor relation lived as a companion, and Felicity was more than willing to embrace that role at present. Being free of proposals and feigned declarations of love was the precise reason she’d come to Bristow in the first place. A little lie was not such a terrible thing. Not if it brought her the solace she so desperately needed.
“Well, I am happy for that,” said Mr. Finch. “Lady Lovell is delightful, and I’ve often worried about her living all alone. I gather her son and his family do not visit the estate often, and she ought to have company.”
“I am glad for it, too. I have always enjoyed my time in Bristow, though I do not recall seeing you among the locals before.”
“I am visiting my friend, Mr. Simon Kingsley, at present.”
Felicity smiled at that. “Avebury Park is a fine estate.”
And that statement led to questions about their respective homes, and though the conversation was hardly enlivening or interesting, it was familiar. Peaceful even. It was just the sort of discussion she’d had many a time before, full of the banalities one expected between strangers.
In her younger years, she’d despised such insipid subjects, but speaking with someone who had no designs on her was heaven-sent. Though Uncle George’s money was a blessing in so many ways, it carried a slew of burdens, including an increased propensity for gentlemen to recite poetry at ridiculous moments. And Felicity reveled in her present anonymity.
As they walked, Felicity’s twinges eased, attesting that she’d gained nothing more than a few bruises, but she was glad to see Buxby Hall appear in the distance. By the time they arrived, she was quite done with the outdoors and wanted a comfortable chair beside a blazing fire and a cup of something warm to drink.
A footman answered the door, and his eyes widened at the sight of Felicity hanging on Mr. Finch’s arm. He called for servants to handle the gentleman’s horse and led the pair into the entry, but her wet slippers touched the polished marble and struggled to find purchase. Before she added to her aches by crashing to the ground again, Mr. Finch swept her into his arms.
Felicity gasped and held onto his neck, and the fellow slanted a look in her direction.
“Are you attempting to impress me with your strength, Mr. Finch?” she teased.
“Only saving you from yourself, Miss Barrows. You are lucky I do not dump you right here, for you are quite heavy.” Said in any other manner, Felicity might have believed him to be speaking in jest, but Mr. Finch’s tone was all too serious to be mistaken. Perhaps she ought to have been offended by such an implication, but Felicity was no fool; she may be of average height and build, but that did not mean it was easy to haul her about.
“Then I am not the ‘picture of feminine daintiness’?” she asked, repeating something one of her former swains had claimed.
Mr. Finch gave no vocal response, though his eyes spoke of his confusion and incredulity, further adding to Felicity’s mirth.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“You are refreshingly honest,” she said as Mr. Finch carried her into the parlor.
“Good heavens, what has happened to you?” said Aunt Imogene, rising from the sofa.
“I’m afraid your companion took a nasty tumble, though she is mostly unharmed,” said Mr. Finch.
Aunt Imogene’s brows rose at that, though it was more due to what he’d called Felicity. The older lady’s gaze met Felicity’s, and she gave her great-aunt a pleading look. Though Aunt Imogene’s expression tightened, she did not correct Mr. Finch.
Mr. Finch set her on the sofa and bowed, giving a few words of farewell, but Aunt Imogene pounded her cane against the hardwood floor as Mr. Finch turned to leave.
“Lewis Finch, you cannot think to walk away without greeting me properly.”
The gentleman glanced from Aunt Imogene to Felicity. “I thought you might wish to attend to Miss Barrows.”
But Aunt Imogene, showing all the loving concern she was wont to do in such situations, waved the question away. “Bah, she is not going to die if we take a few moments. I haven’t seen you in nearly a year, my dear boy.”
A smile curled the edges of Mr. Finch’s lips, and he turned back to