The Jack of All Trades - M.A. Nichols Page 0,84

of a particular preference towards Miss Barrows, all should be well with Mina.

“Of course, Finch,” he said with a nod. “Whatever I can do to help the two of you.”

But his friend stiffened, his gaze dropping to his feet. “Ignore whatever imaginings you’ve concocted. Nothing has changed between us. Miss Barrows deserves better.”

Before Simon could question that further, Finch stepped to the side, nudging Simon forward. “Get a move on it.”

The musicians struck the introductory notes, and Simon scurried forward and came to stand before the lady.

“Do forgive my tardiness, Miss Barrows,” he said with a bow.

“Pardon me, Mr. Kingsley, but we are about to begin a set,” said Mr. Wilson, but Simon smiled at the young man.

“I apologize for the confusion, but Miss Barrows promised this one to me.” A wicked thought slipped into his mind, and Simon couldn’t help but add in a pointed whisper to Mr. Wilson, “The poor dear has trouble remembering such things ever since the accident.”

If Finch was going to put him in this unenviable position of playing rescuer to someone else’s damsel, it was only fair that Simon be allowed some enjoyment. And Miss Barrows provided that amply when she narrowed her eyes at him.

Mr. Wilson’s brows rose, and he glanced between Simon and Miss Barrows. Unfortunately, Simon had miscalculated his foe, for the young man didn’t move from his spot.

For good measure, Simon added, “I understand Miss Hensen is asking after you.”

The young man’s expression lightened, and luckily, the opening notes struck as he was debating his options. Simon slid into his place, leading Miss Barrows through the steps as Mr. Wilson was shunted to the side. Having already danced a few sets with Mina, he didn’t wish for another rousing turn about the floor and was grateful he’d lucked into a dance with a moderate pace.

“I see you and Mr. Finch are of a like mind when it comes to teasing me. I don’t know whether to thank you or scold you for that,” said Miss Barrows. “While your intervention saved me from his exasperating company, you’ve only encouraged him to pursue me more. Being a lackwit is considered an enticement for an heiress, after all. Far easier to snare into marriage.”

Simon winced. “I did not think of that. Though Mr. Wilson isn’t a bad sort.”

Miss Barrows and the ladies opposite moved forward, passing Simon and the other gentlemen as they switched sides and back again.

As she came close, Miss Barrows muttered, “He isn’t a good sort, either, Mr. Kingsley. Whether or not he is a conniving and selfish creature, I do not wish to be pursued solely because of my inheritance.”

The lead couple in the dance moved down the center of the line and back, and as he and Miss Barrows wove around that pair to take their place at the head of the line, she added with pink cheeks, “I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I do thank you for your rescue, Mr. Kingsley. I fear I am out of sorts tonight.”

Simon’s heart thudded against his ribs, reminding him all too acutely of a time when he’d been in the lady’s position.

“It is understandable, Miss Barrows. Regaining that which was lost is a painful endeavor.”

Miss Barrows turned a sad smile to him, her eyes devoid of the brightness usually found there. “There is nothing to regain, Mr. Kingsley.”

“Give him some time, and he will forgive you—”

“Forgiveness is not the issue,” she said with a hint of mockery that made it sound as though she were parroting the words. As they sounded identical to those Finch had spoken a few minutes ago, Simon guessed their source.

But Miss Barrows continued before Simon replied, “Our situation remains unchanged because a certain gentleman has shown he is no different than any of the other wretched men who hound my every step and equate one’s value with one’s bank account. Such a man won’t settle for something as plebeian as love.”

The lady’s tone sharpened, and Simon was quite grateful the gentleman in question was not standing before her, for Finch would’ve been flayed. As it was, Simon was relieved when the dance separated them again, giving him a blessed moment to sort through his thoughts.

With time to reflect, Simon saw more clearly the truth behind Finch’s words and behavior, and his steps became heavy as he thought of the struggles the poor man faced. Perhaps he ought to have been more forceful with Finch, pushing him to speak. Then they might not have arrived

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