she said she was free.” A flash of mischief took hold of his tongue, and Finch added in a low voice (though not low enough for Miss Barrows to miss it), “Please do not think ill of the lady. Her wits are addled, the poor dear, and she often forgets such things.”
Miss Barrows’ foot shifted, the toe of her slipper settling over his foot and pressing down with just enough weight to serve as a warning.
Her promised dance partner glanced between Finch and Miss Barrows, his expression souring, and though Finch ought to have felt terrible about misleading the fellow, there was a covetous glimmer in his eyes that had Finch’s heart chilling. Apparently, addled wits were an enticement for this gentleman, which on further reflection Finch ought to have anticipated; a lady of means with questionable faculties was a strong lure for fortune hunters.
Turning her away, Finch led Miss Barrows to their place in the figure. It would be another moment before this set started in earnest, but readying themselves was a good enough reason to put some distance between her and the gentlemen plaguing her tonight. As they faced each other, Miss Barrows held his gaze and let out a low breath; the tautness of her shoulders eased, and that polite smile stretched into a genuine one full of gratitude and warmth.
“I did not expect such a fine rescue, Mr. Finch.” But her bright eyes dropped to the ground as she added, “I certainly do not merit such kindness.”
“Nonsense.” Recalling the words she’d spoken to him not long ago, he added, “I cannot stand to see you unhappy when I have the power to make you smile.”
Miss Barrows’ cheeks pinked, that ever-shifting smile of hers growing at those recognized words. But that joy was short-lived, and her complexion paled as she clenched her hands.
“You have ample reasons to be unhappy of late,” she said, “and it pains me to know I play a large role in your suffering.”
Finch nodded, considering the words she offered, and his gaze drifted to a few gentlemen scattered throughout the assembly, who looked upon Miss Barrows with greedy eyes. “If tonight is any indication of your struggles, I do not blame you for seizing a bit of anonymity here in Bristow. I am familiar with the machinations of fortune hunters, and if I were in your place, I imagine I might’ve done the same.”
Miss Barrows stilled, her twisting fingers slackening as she stared at him. When she spoke, her words were little more than a whisper that barely carried over the noise around them. “Then you forgive me?”
But before he could reply, she closed her eyes with a wince and shook her head. “I ought to have spoken up sooner. I knew you were not like the others, but there was this silly little part of me that was terrified to damage the friendship we’d built, and then…”
Her shoulders and expression fell. “I suppose it doesn’t matter why I waited so long to tell you the truth. Just know I am ashamed for having misled you and for causing you pain.”
“I know, Miss Barrows.” Speaking that truth aloud had a power of its own. The feeling had grown in strength during the days he’d spent pondering this situation, and giving voice to them wiped away any residual doubt. Finch trusted Miss Barrows’ contrition, and it washed away the last of his anguish at having discovered the truth.
“I forgive you,” he added, and Miss Barrows’ eyes brightened at the words, glowing with joy and relief as only she could.
“Mr. Finch.” His name was a whisper on her lips, but he heard it all the same. Her gaze glowed with her heart and soul, filling his own and binding him all the more tightly to her.
Finch jerked out of that daze as the musicians began to play, and he stepped back into place, uncertain of when he’d moved closer to her. The first bars of the introduction played in the background as he struggled to know what to say. The dance had the ladies stepping towards the gentlemen, and as Miss Barrows drew near, he stole the opportunity.
“Do not pin your hopes on me, Miss Barrows. Our situation is unchanged.”
*
Mr. Finch’s confession had Felicity pausing, mid-step, as she stared at him. This was not at all how she imagined this moment. Groveling had featured as the highlight of the conversation as forgiveness was not a guarantee, and Felicity had anticipated it taking much more effort