to me.” Reaching forward, she placed a hand on his forearm, willing him to believe her. “Your friendship and counsel have blessed me. You are intelligent and thoughtful, and the sort of man my uncle hoped I would find.”
Drawing a hand upward, Mr. Finch rested it atop hers, gazing at that touch. Felicity prayed with all her heart that he would see the truth and understand. Her breath stilled as she watched him.
“You are very kind, Miss Barrows,” he murmured, and her chest shrank, squeezing her heart, for his tone was not one of acceptance. As he met her eyes, his features were set as though carved from marble, giving strength to the words he spoke. “But I am certain your uncle would’ve wished you a better husband than myself.”
Forcing air into her lungs, Felicity held her chin still, not allowing it to wobble or release a flurry of words that cursed the stubbornness of men. But even as the light in her world dimmed, leaving her heart heavy and cold, she saw a spark of doubt in his eyes that was directed inwards. Small though it may be, Felicity sensed it there. Whatever his lips may say, some part of Mr. Finch was wondering whether her words might be true.
Perhaps she was a fool for clinging to it, but Felicity grabbed onto this hope with both hands, holding it close to her heart. She would not beg a man to love her when he was determined not to, but it was himself that he did not love. And that was something worthy of patience.
“If you are resolved, Mr. Finch, then I will honor that. But might we remain friends?” Another lie of sorts, but one with far better intentions than the last. She did wish to remain friends with him forevermore, but there were grander plans for them in the future. Time and love could do a world of good, and she trusted in that.
Mr. Finch smiled, though it lacked its usual warmth, and he nodded. “I would like that, Miss Barrows.”
His hand lingered atop hers for several long moments before he dropped his and tucked them behind his back with a nod. “I still owe you an apology for not seeing you when you came to visit Avebury Park last. Would you please forgive me and tell me what is weighing on you?”
Felicity forced her lungs to maintain a steady breath as she smiled and nodded.
***
After an evening of dancing and socializing, there was nothing better than tucking oneself away in a bedchamber. With the door closed tight to intruders and the crackling fire filling the space with its light and warmth, Mina’s bedchamber was a sanctuary that belonged only to her and Simon. But stepping into her haven tonight brought none of that comfort.
True, it was better to address the issues clinging to their marriage than to let them fester, but Mina was not confrontational. Cowardly was a better descriptor.
Having rushed through her evening ministrations, Mina perched on the edge of the bed, her hands twisting the edges of her robe as she waited for her husband to emerge from the dressing room. She’d spent the evening fretting and fussing about the words to say, how to broach the subject, and every possible outcome or argument that might arise from it, but she did not feel adequately prepared to embrace honesty.
Even now, that frightened, fearful part of her begged Mina to remain silent. With cruel efficiency, it brought to mind those wretched days after the last time they’d had a frank discussion about the issues haunting their marriage, whispering to her that history would repeat itself tonight. Though she knew she needed to trust in herself and Simon, it was far easier to do in the abstract.
With shaky breaths, Mina’s lungs heaved as she tried to calm the frantic beat of her heart. Her fingers twisted and worried the fabric of her robe until she was certain it would need mending tomorrow.
Time might sort it out in the end. Did she need to be direct? Such foolhardy action might lead to disaster. But Mina shoved that cowardice aside. They’d spent their marriage stuck in this horrid cycle of Simon hiding his darker emotions while Mina pretended not to see them.
This needed to be done.
That one thought kept her seated on the edge of the bed, but no matter how prudent and necessary the conversation may be, her nerves would not calm. By the time the valet took