faltered, and Mr. Finch turned away, pinching his nose. Taking in a shaky breath, he shook his head and strode to the door.
“Mr. Finch, please,” called Felicity, but he was gone without a backward glance as the others pretended not to notice the sudden departure.
Pinching her nose, Felicity slumped down onto a nearby seat and closed her eyes. The full weight of her mistake settled onto her shoulders, pressing down until she felt ready to collapse beneath it. She cringed as Mr. Finch’s condemnation played through her thoughts again and again, but she knew she deserved every ounce of the guilt.
Only a little white lie? Good heavens, what had she done?
Chapter 28
Seven years had passed since Father’s edict had sentenced Finch to a life of solitude. He didn’t like his situation, but there was no fighting the path he was on, so Finch had come to accept it. There was a peace in embracing the inevitable, however unhappy that future may be. Somewhat like the sleepy calm that takes hold of one before the cold saps the last vestiges of life away.
A chilling thought.
And the knife twisted in his heart at that unintended pun. It was the sort of ridiculous jest Miss Barrows enjoyed.
From his corner of the assembly room, Finch looked over the crowd, wishing he’d had the good sense to forgo the gathering. He’d managed to avoid everyone but Mina and Simon in the past sennight, yet remaining at Avebury Park alone had seemed a far worse fate tonight. Besides, Finch was well-versed in hiding his emotions.
The musicians were gathered on their dais, churning out merry tunes at one end of the room, and the dancers pranced before them, their joyful steps and claps punctuating the melodies. The fireplaces on either side of the long room blazed, helping to fight back the winter’s frost, though the energetic press of people was doing a fair job on its own.
And Finch stood in a solitary corner, watching the whole thing, blending into the dark walls that were only a shade lighter than the pitch black of the world outside the window. Chandeliers shone above them, casting their light upon the crowd, yet they did little to stave off the night. A rather fitting comparison to the desperate attempt Finch made to cast aside the shadows clinging to his heart.
As much as he’d hoped to find some respite, it was impossible when the source of his torment was in the midst of the fray, dancing with gentleman after gentleman.
“Why did you insist on attending with us if you’re going to stand in the corner, watching over the frivolity like a specter of death?” asked the gentleman who was supposed to be Finch’s friend.
“Hush,” said Mina with a frown befitting a governess.
Holding hands with some peacock, Miss Barrows chasséd down the line of dancers with a lightness of step that reflected her temperament. The lady’s voice echoed in his thoughts, chiding him for being so severe and begging him to search out the joy hidden amidst his sorrow. But that was her talent, not his.
“Why don’t you ask her to dance when you so clearly wish to?”
Mina followed that with a quick, “Simon!”
Her husband looked between his friend and wife with a put-upon sigh. “But surely Miss Barrows is not beyond forgiveness, and she is trying to make amends. Lady Lovell’s cook must be baking day and night to keep up with all the peace offerings Miss Barrows has sent over.”
Had Simon suggested forgiveness a sennight ago, Finch would’ve balked. The wounded pride that had driven him from Buxby Hall that night had certainly thought her betrayal a capital offense. But with time came perspective, and though Finch despised the dishonesty, he couldn’t entirely fault Miss Barrows either.
Being well acquainted with the options granted a younger son, Finch knew many looked at marriage as a profession, and among their ranks were plenty who employed underhanded tactics to secure a prime position. Father had even suggested a few tricks with which to catch an heiress, though he’d surrendered that hope as readily as the others he’d harbored for his son.
Part of Finch’s heart still shuddered because of all the truths he’d laid bare to her, but even that was easing with time. It was hard to hold onto his anger and shame when it had felt so wonderful to share those secrets. Whatever else may have happened and whatever else was to come, Finch felt Miss Barrows was trying to be his friend,