Felicity, forcing herself not to speak through gritted teeth.
Great-Aunt Imogene gave her niece a faint smile, and Felicity braced herself for the forthcoming mischief.
“Felicity, dear, fetch me my shawl,” she said, waving a hand towards the item, which was draped across a chair on the other side of the parlor.
The request was not odd on its own, but the pointed tone and innocent look she gave her niece spoke of trouble afoot, and Felicity was quick to ascertain it even as Aunt Imogene reinforced it by mouthing, “You are my companion.”
Getting to her feet—and causing Mr. Finch to do the same—Felicity quickly fetched the shawl and handed it to Aunt Imogene.
“Drape it properly,” she said with another sweet smile, and Felicity complied. It was one thing to speak the truth to Mr. Finch when they were alone, but she wasn’t about to reveal her ruse in front of an audience. With a few quick adjustments, Felicity had the shawl placed precisely as Aunt Imogene directed and returned to her seat.
With a smile, Felicity turned her attention to the gentleman at her side. “And what else—”
“Felicity, dear,” said Aunt Imogene. “My sewing box is in the way.”
Felicity held Aunt Imogene’s gaze, which sparked with a combination of humor and challenge. Then, rising to her feet once more—and forcing Mr. Finch to do the same—Felicity lifted the box from the cushion beside Aunt Imogene and walked it to the table on the other side of the room. It was only when she returned to the sofa that Aunt Imogene spoke up again.
“Not over there. I wish it to be out of the way but within reach. I might wish to do a little more sewing while we chat.” Though Aunt Imogene maintained a careful facade for Mr. Finch’s sake, Felicity felt the older lady’s laughter begging to burst out.
Going back to the table, Felicity lifted the sewing box and walked it to the sofa. It took several attempts to find a proper place before Aunt Imogene patted Felicity on the head and gave her a sickly sweet, “Good girl.”
Felicity wondered if the lady was going to scratch her behind the ear and give her a treat.
Mr. Finch stared at the pair, and Felicity feigned a smile, though she sent her great-aunt a glance that promised retribution; it inspired not an ounce of remorse in the lady. Taking her seat beside Mr. Finch once more, Felicity opened her mouth but found herself interrupted by Aunt Imogene. Again.
“This shawl just won’t do. Besides clashing terribly with my gown, it is not the proper thickness. Felicity, dear, fetch me my grey shawl from my bedchamber.”
Felicity didn’t know how the lady managed to say all that without bursting out into laughter, for Aunt Imogene’s gaze was ablaze with it.
“I could call a maid to stoke the fire if you are cold, Aunt,” said Felicity.
“No, I need my grey shawl.”
With a huff, Felicity rose to her feet again, gave her aunt one more narrowed look, and left the parlor.
*
Tucking his hands behind him, Finch stared at the empty doorway, wondering if he ought to take a seat once more or simply await Miss Barrows’ return as he was. Casting a glance at Lady Lovell, Finch wondered what she was up to, for there was no mistaking the unspoken conversation playing between the two ladies even if he couldn't interpret it.
“Have I overstepped my welcome?” asked Finch.
“Don’t be a goose,” said Lady Lovell, motioning for him to sit. “You are always welcome here.”
Finch examined the lady, and though her expression was impassive, her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Are you intentionally annoying your companion?”
Lady Lovell broke into a beaming smile, and she chuckled. “Your forthright nature is why I adore you, Mr. Finch. My niece ought to follow your example.”
“I’ve always found her quite forthright.”
The lady gave no response to that, merely grinning at him with a sad shake of her head. “And how are you faring today, Mr. Finch?”
Annette’s letter burned in his pocket, but Finch gave a lazy grin. “Have you ever known me to be anything but well?”
Lady Lovell met that with a narrowed look, her smile fading into contemplation. “Perhaps Felicity is not the only one in need of some honesty.”
A movement at the door drew Finch’s attention away from that enigmatic response, and Miss Barrows appeared, her lungs heaving (though she feigned nonchalance).
“I have—” Miss Barrows took in a breath, smiling at the pair as she attempted to recover from her hurried trip. “—your