Chapter Nine
July 7, 1817
Finn sat in his closed carriage while contemplating the front door of an ordinary, smallish townhouse in Piccadilly Circus. The street had been quiet the whole time he’d sat there with a soft rain beating against the window glass. The overcast skies lent a gloomy atmosphere to everything, and quite frankly, it matched his mood.
With a frown, he stared at the emerald ring he’d stuck on his forefinger. The small gold band, made for a tiny, slender finger, only went to his first knuckle, but it didn’t belong to him. No, this was the engagement ring meant for his best friend’s girl, the one he should have seen straightaway after he’d returned to London. Yet here he was, eight months later with the ring in his possession because he was a coward.
From the other bench, Rodgers frowned. “Best have this over with, sir. You’ll feel better for it.”
“Perhaps.” It certainly wouldn’t weigh on him any longer.
A sharp rapping on the door preceded the panel being swung open. His driver stood with his shoulders hunched into his greatcoat, water dripping off the brim of his hat. “Will you need your chair, Major? Or shall we continue on?”
“Yes, I’ll need it. I’ve put off this call long enough, and my surgeon is coming to call later.”
“Right then. I’ll just unstrap it and bring it around.”
“Thank you, Collins. We shan’t be long.” He turned up the collar of his own coat. Once the driver wheeled the Bath chair to the carriage, Finn slid to the edge of the bench. Rodgers hopped out of the vehicle and turned, easily picking him up into his arms and then he set him into the chair. “Thank you, Rodgers. I appreciate your support.” Having his friend and valet about helped to lessen the indignities he suffered on a daily basis.
“I’d sooner cut off my own arm than abandon you.” The valet went ahead up the short walkway.
Thank the good lord there weren’t steps to the nondescript door. When Finn nodded, Rodgers rapped upon the panel. Once it swung open, he stood silently off to one side so that Finn was the focus.
An older woman stared first at Finn then flicked her cold gaze to Rodgers. “What do you want? We’re not that sort of household.”
Despite the curiosity to know what sort she referred to, Finn shoved the urge to ask from his mind. “Is Miss Waterson in? My name is Major Storme, and I’ve a need to give her a message that’s long overdue.” Nervous sweat trickled down his back, at least where he could feel it, and his palms were damp inside his gloves.
The woman’s dark eyes narrowed. “One moment.”
Finn jumped as the door slammed closed. He glanced over his shoulder at Rodgers, who shrugged. For long moments, he focused his gaze on the closed panel in front of him while the rain tap tapped on his top hat and dotted his coat.
Finally, the door opened again, and this time a younger woman stood blinking at him. Sandy-blonde hair was caught up in a sloppy bun. She wiped her hands on a pinafore apron that was already decorated with streaks and smudges from cooking.
“Look who the cat dragged by,” she said by way of greeting. Annoyance and grief mingled in her brown eyes. “When Edward wrote me of his best friend, I didn’t expect he’d become a coward who is only just coming to visit.” She crossed her arms at her chest while looking him over, no doubt finding every flaw. “I received a letter from Edward’s mother nigh onto eighteen months ago telling me of his death. Where have you been?”
Thiswas the sweet woman his best friend had wished to wed? Yes, grief changed people, but this wasn’t for the better. Her ire brought his own bubbling into his chest. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I spent copious months in various rehabilitation and recuperation hospitals before I was released to my own devices.”
“In his last letter to me, he asked me to be his wife. Edward also said that if anything were to happen to him, you would come by and take care of me.” A tiny waver had entered her voice, the only testament to the grief that did indeed still plague her. “Yet where were you when I needed you?” she finally asked in a soft voice.
What the devil was this then? He gawked as his mind reeled. “While I did know of Edward’s plan to find himself engaged to you, I had not been apprised of his wish that I take care of you.” He shook his head. What a coil. “As this is our first meeting, I’m going to respectfully decline his premature offer.” Why the deuce would his friend promise something like that without consulting him?
“Ha! Just as I thought. Men are all the same. When it comes time to do the responsible thing, they balk.” She looked him over again. Shades of disgust colored her expression. “As if I would ever wish to find myself wed to an injured man. I have enough work already without taking care of a grown adult.”
“To that end, why the hell would I wish to align myself with a shrew like you?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Shrew? What do you know of my life as it is now? Every dream I had depended on wedding Edward. Now, what is left for me?”
“You could find someone else to marry. There’s nothing stopping you.”
“Except you were the second-chance plan, and now look at you.”
“Ah, so your misfortune is to be my fault?” His cheeks heated with shame. Her words cut to the quick and sliced away at his confidence. “Of course, you’re entitled to your opinion.” Before the situation could grow more entangled, he plucked the ring from his gloved finger and held it out to her. “He wanted you to have this.”
She snorted. “And what am I to do with a bauble? It certainly won’t take care of me in old age and neither will it keep me warm at night.”
“I understand that you’re talking out of grief and loss, but it’s a token of his affection, a reminder of him that you can wear always.” Again, he offered the ring. The stone wasn’t as brilliant in the overcast air.
“Edward couldn’t manage to stay alive so that he could come home and wed me. Why would I wish to remember him? It’s not as if my life will become any easier from wearing a useless engagement ring.” Before Finn had a chance to say anything more, she stepped inside the house and slammed the door.