because of the pain attached to the memory of that awful night or how much she missed her dear uncle. A year and a half of mourning had eased much of her sorrow, but at times like these, she missed his support and guidance.
“You should’ve seen Uncle,” she said with a faint smile. “There I was, sitting in a coaching inn, awaiting Alastair's arrival, and Uncle George barreled in, leaping out of his carriage before it had come to a stop. I thought he’d be furious, but his only concern was my safety. I was such a simpleton and didn’t consider what evil can befall an unaccompanied young lady at a coaching inn.”
“I shudder to think of it,” said Aunt Imogene.
“As do I, but providence smiled down upon me, and Uncle George discovered Alastair's plans. Once Uncle made it clear he would not give us a farthing if we eloped, Alastair disappeared, leaving behind a pathetic note of apology. The villain didn’t even bother to give me the news in person or tell me before I spent hours sitting in the cold, waiting for him. He simply never showed.”
And it truly was a pathetic note of apology, though Felicity was not about to share those brief words. She’d burned the missive long ago, but it could not erase their memory, as though the words were burned into her mind.
I cannot marry you, Felicity. Please forgive me. —A.
For a man with so many sweet words to say, he ought to have managed something more than that.
“I cannot imagine George cutting you off,” said Aunt Imogene, drawing Felicity back to the present, and her observation drew a smile from her great-niece.
“Uncle George would never be so cruel, but my beaus believed it to be true, which ensured each petitioned for his approval, and not one received it. For a time, I was bitter over his interference, but I came to understand. And having seen the specimens that have lined up to claim my hand since Uncle George passed, it is no mystery as to why he sent them all packing.”
Of course, there was more to the story than those few sentences could convey, but that was the heart of the matter. Felicity felt no need to expound at length over the pain Alastair and all the others had caused, for it was of no significance now. If anything, she silently thanked them for their part in her history. For good or ill, it had molded her, and Felicity was quite pleased with the end product.
“So, I am sorry for having misled Mr. Finch, but I could not bear the thought of yet another gentleman tripping over himself to earn my good opinion.”
Aunt Imogene’s lips pinched. “I cannot claim to be pleased with it, but I will not give away the truth. Nor will I lie.”
“I am not here to socialize, and no one in the neighborhood knows of my inheritance. I doubt the truth will be discovered, and I cannot see how my financial affairs are anyone’s business but my own. So, it should not matter if I am a companion or guest.”
“Well, you may not be here to socialize, but I do hope Mr. Finch will keep his word and visit,” said Aunt Imogene. “He is such a good fellow.”
Felicity’s brow furrowed. “Do you not think him the slightest bit…” She paused, hunting for the word until it came within her grasp. “…melancholic?”
Aunt Imogene’s head cocked to the side, a smile on her lips. “Not at all.”
“There is something in his expression that makes me think him unhappy,” said Felicity.
Wrapping an arm around her great-niece, Aunt Imogene gave a start. “Oh, my dear. I have been terribly pudding-headed. You are wet and must change immediately.”
“I am well enough.” For all that the lady was correct, Felicity was not ready to relinquish her seat. The blanket and fire were doing their job to keep her warm, and the journey to her bedchamber would be far colder. But Aunt Imogene had inherited the Barrows family strength of will, and there was no standing against her.
Chapter 8
Having known that conditions were not conducive to a proper ride, Finch ought not to be disappointed about that lackluster turn about the countryside, but hearts are not logical things, and his was quite frustrated at present. Sheba’s tail twitched, and she shook her head and neck, as though she wished to shake free of the reins holding her back, but there was nothing to be done about