am very blessed, but there are times like these when I struggle to remember that.”
Felicity cast a look around as a blush stole across her cheeks. It was bad enough to be overtaken by such melancholy thoughts, but to do so in front of an audience was excruciating. The others paid her little heed, but her heart would not calm itself. Not when faced with the gentleman whom she’d hoped would fill that hole in her life.
“Miss Barrows, you are as capable and content as any person I’ve met before, but everyone has their moments of weakness. There is no need to feel embarrassed by yours.”
His voice hardly carried over the music, but the words settled into her heart, drawing her gaze to meet his. Mr. Finch’s eyes warmed as he held her there, the pair moving through their dance while the other distractions faded away. There was nothing she wanted more than to remain in this moment with him. To keep the world and its troubles at bay and seal the two of them in this peaceful bubble.
Mr. Finch cleared his throat, turning his gaze away from her and breaking the connection they’d shared. “You are an elegant dancer.”
Felicity’s heart dropped to her toes, and her cheeks puffed out as she let out a heavy breath. It would not do to forget that neither the world nor circumstances were keeping them from claiming this happiness as their own. No good could come from harboring feelings for someone who did not want a future with her.
“It helps when one has a talented partner.” Though Felicity did not think Mr. Finch held any particular love of dance, he was one of the finest she’d ever stood up with. Like with so many other things, it seemed effortless for him.
“You are too kind, Miss Barrows.”
Straightening, Felicity slanted him a glance as they passed each other, switching sides while weaving through the others in the line. It was not so much what he’d said as how he’d said it. The casual words had a weight to them, as though they were more than a polite deflection.
Felicity sorted through the past few weeks, including all that Mr. Kingsley had told her (what little that was), and tried to make sense of it all. The ideas planted by Mr. Kingsley took root at that moment, spreading through her memories and twisting them into something new.
“Why do you do that?” she asked. At a questioning raise of his brows, Felicity amended, “You always cast aside compliments as though they are empty and meaningless.”
Mr. Finch gave her a wry smile. “You are kind, Miss Barrows, but I am well aware of my lack of talents. No amount of false flattery will change the truth.”
Pausing in her step, Felicity nearly collided with the lady behind her, but she scrambled to arrive in her proper place.
“I was not stretching the truth, Mr. Finch.” When she spoke, Felicity examined his features for the sentiments lurking beneath his calm facade. There were little movements. The set of his jaw. Tightness to his shoulders. Doubt coloring his gaze.
The gentleman did not believe her.
Taking his arm, she spoke out louder than she ought, casting her voice to the busybodies listening in. “I’m fatigued, Mr. Finch.”
Without waiting for his reply, she tugged him away from the dance floor.
Chapter 33
The assembly room was full, which made it difficult to find privacy, so Felicity settled on private enough. Leading him to a section of wall near the musicians, she planted herself in front of the gentleman and studied his face. Mr. Finch met her gaze with lifeless eyes, and Felicity’s heart shivered at the sight of his resigned acceptance. As though his low opinion were a fact she would not dispute.
A man without hope.
“With that one notable exception, I have always been honest with you, Mr. Finch. No false compliments or niceties.” The notes of the song filled the air around them, masking much of their conversation from the others. “As you are so often forthright, I will ask you bluntly: what has you believing otherwise?”
“I am well aware I have little to recommend myself.”
Felicity scrunched her nose. “That is patently false.”
Mr. Finch met that with an arched brow. “I have a lifetime of experience to contradict that. One doesn’t earn the moniker ‘jack of all trades’ by being remarkable.”
Her head jerked back, her brows shooting upwards. “What do you mean?”
Mr. Finch shrugged. “A jack of all trades is someone who does not excel at any