then, Mr. Finch. He was fond of saying ‘a fool and his gold are easily parted.’ In truth, I felt the scheme was unsound, but so many were for it that I couldn’t help but feel as though I had the wrong end of the stick.”
Finch turned his attention back to Duchess, though the horse knew her way well enough to need little guidance on his part. “It’s easy to feel that way, but why doesn’t your friend have a man of business to assist her in such matters?”
Miss Barrows sighed, sending out a whirl of vapor into the air. “She’s had several, but they were either incompetent, unwilling to follow her direction, or seeking to make their position a more permanent one.” When Finch sent her a puzzled look, Miss Barrows added, “As her husband.”
“And she doesn’t wish to marry?”
“What woman wishes to marry someone who only loves her money?”
“True,” he said with a shrug. “So she wishes for a man of business who will aid and assist but not dictate and has been unable to locate one?”
Sadness tinged Miss Barrows’ eyes as her shoulders drooped. “I am beginning to think she shall never find such a person.”
“Only because she is going about her search all wrong,” Finch mumbled.
Miss Barrows straightened. “Pardon?”
Finch shrugged again. “What she needs is someone with ability who has yet to climb the ranks. Too many professions and businesses reward connections over talent, ensuring that some of their best assets are left to languish in obscurity for years. Gentlemen stuck in such circumstances would be grateful and eager to manage her assets in any manner she chooses.”
“Even if it means listening to a lady’s counsel in matters of business?” she asked in a derisive tone.
“Even then,” he said with a smile. “There are plenty of young men desperate for the opportunity to prove themselves.”
Miss Barrows made a noncommittal noise, her gaze turning to the landscape.
“If you wish, I could make a few suggestions. I know several gentlemen who would fit the bill nicely.” In truth, he wished he could add his name to the list, but that was such a useless thought that he banished it in a trice. He could only imagine what Father would say if he found out his son longed to be a man of business; if being a banker was not good enough for a son of Darius Finch, something lower down the social ladder would hardly suffice.
Then Finch gave her a wry smile. “And most of them are either married or otherwise engaged, so she needn’t worry on that account.”
“And what of stewards?”
Finch gave her a puzzled look. “What sort of employer is she that she cannot keep a man of business or steward?”
Miss Barrows shook her head with a laugh. “A good one, I assure you. She’s simply terrible at finding the right employees. Do you have suggestions for a steward as well?”
“Certainly. If you wish me to, I could supply a list of candidates for both.”
The phaeton shifted and before Finch could do a thing about it, arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tight.
“You are a gem, Mr. Finch!” said Miss Barrows before she released him and returned to her seat. “You are a godsend, truly!”
Finch’s cheeks warmed, though it wouldn’t show beneath his chill-reddened skin, and he was grateful that he was dealing with the horse, as it gave him a reason not to look at his companion. The lady gushed about his brilliance, and Finch had no idea how to respond to such glowing and undeserved praise.
It was nothing but a recommendation. Anyone could’ve easily given Miss Barrows’ friend such guidance, yet the lady was acting as though Finch was a paragon among gentlemen and the only source of truth and light available in this dark world.
And though he wished she would desist, Finch couldn’t help but feel an inkling of pride warming his heart. But that was likely due to the thought that he would be giving a few friends some much-needed assistance in their professions. Nothing more.
*
Mr. Finch was such an odd fellow. At first glance, he had the look of a society fribble who was more likely to be flippant than earnest. Yet he lacked the social grace to fare well with that crowd, as speaking one’s mind in such a blunt fashion was not tolerated unless done with a biting wit that required more cruelty than Mr. Finch was capable of.
Then there was the ennui, which might seem affected if not