Chapter Twelve
July 18, 1817
Jane tried to keep her breathing even as she walked through Mayfair on her way to call upon Finn. It had been over a week since she’d last seen him, over a week since that evening when he’d sent her flying, over a week since he’d made the decision to remove himself from this world—and her.
Coming to terms with the crisis had taken her more than a few days. Yes, she was upset about it and with him, but it had solidified her feelings for the major. Before, she’d been confused by him, and though she’d known exactly what she’d wanted from him, realizing she had almost lost him had changed everything. Now, beyond a doubt, she acknowledged that she was more than enamored with Finn, wanted to help him live a full, happy life. And if he couldn’t find that contentment in her, then she’d wish him well and walk away.
Please, Finn, come to your senses and realize I want you just the way you are.
In her time away from him, she’d changed the trajectory of her life. No longer was she an earl’s daughter who’d let life happen to her, pampered and spoiled in the ton. Every weekday morning, she worked at her brothers’ clinic, and this time she grabbed opportunity with both hands, making certain they were well and truly dirtied in the process. She’d thrown herself wholeheartedly into each task, and only occasionally did she speak her message of a positive outlook or that merely a change of thinking could transform the patients’ lives.
Now, she knew better, and it was all because of Finn. Healing through trauma, both physical and mental, took time and patience and determination, not empty platitudes, but that wouldn’t stop her from giving out sunshine to those who wanted it.
The one thing that had marred her new direction was the fact that the Duke of Ballantrae had called upon her twice during the week. He’d been everything lovely and polite that a lofty member of the ton should be, but though they’d enjoyed numerous conversations on a variety of topics, and he was quite an intelligent debater, there was simply no thrilling spark between them. Mutual respect and admiration, surely, yet the thought of spending a lifetime beside him didn’t release a horde of butterflies in her belly like what happened when she let herself dream about a potential future with the major. The duke had left each time disappointed that she hadn’t committed to any sort of future outing with him.
A horse’s whinny on the street yanked her from her musings as she stood on the pavement in front of the Hadleigh townhouse. Knots of anxiety pulled in her stomach. Jane lifted her face to the summer sun and let its warmth sink into her person before squaring her shoulders and releasing the latch on the wrought iron gate. The time to confront Finn had come, and she wished to forge a new path with him. She’d steered him wrong before, and for that, she wanted his forgiveness.
Gathering courage around her like a garment, Jane moved up the short walkway. She rapped on the door and died a thousand deaths as she waited. What if Finn didn’t wish to see her? His words that night had certainly sounded final, and there’d been no response to the rather scandalous gift she’d sent once it was clear he was on the mend.
Soon enough, the door opened and the Hadleigh butler stared down his hawkish nose at her. “Lady Hadleigh is out of pocket just now.”
“I’m here to see Major Storme.”
“I was given strict instructions by Her Ladyship not to let anyone disturb his peace.” He looked her up and down, judgment unconcealed in his expression.
She tamped on the urge to sigh in frustration. Could he tell by looking what she and Finn had done that evening? Or that the outcome of said night precipitated his fall? “I promise I’m not here to further harm him. Please inform the major that Lady Jane Marsden is here to visit.” Fumbling in her reticule, she handed the graying man a calling card.
“Very well. Follow me.” He stood back from the door so she could enter the house. After, he closed the door and led her through the corridor to the drawing room. “Please, wait here. If the major wishes to see you, I shall let you know.”
“Thank you.” When she was left alone, she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. A pox on servants who thought they knew best. Of course, they would all be over-protective of someone they considered family, but she wasn’t the enemy or a threat.
A quarter of an hour later, Finn wheeled himself into the room. She rose from her spot on a low sofa, smoothing her hands down the front of her sage green silk gown shot with gold thread. It was a trifle too elegant to make a social call, but she’d wished to look her best. Her heart hammered behind her ribcage while she devoured him with her greedy gaze. “You’re looking well.”
He snorted. “You mean for a man who tried to kill himself a week ago?”
“That’s not what I…” Her words trailed to a halt when she caught the half grin that quirked his lips, and as he came closer, amusement twinkled in his sapphire depths. “Oh, you.” A wave of relief smacked into her to know he hadn’t suffered any ill effects, at least not visually. “How are you feeling?” A jagged scab decorated his left temple, the only testament to his misadventure.
He halted his chair in front of her. “Better.” His gaze dropped to his lap.
Gooseflesh popped along her skin. Quick tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, drat, I’d really hoped I wouldn’t make a showing as a watering pot today.” When she would have turned away, Finn caught her hand.
“I’m sorry to have upset you,” he said in a low voice full of emotion that had a thrill tripping down her spine. “I wasn’t in my right mind at the time. Such is the case when I’m not vigilant enough and depression throws its weight around.”
“I can only imagine.” A few tears fell to her cheeks. “Devil take you, Finn. Why did you think there was no one in the world who cared for you? You’re never alone, and I certainly don’t want you to suffer by yourself.” She sniffed, and when she wanted a handkerchief, she realized she’d left her reticule on the sofa.
He pulled a pristine square of fabric from his interior jacket pocket. “Here.”
“Thank you.” To blow her nose, she had to release his hand. “I was sad to think of life continuing without you in it.” Another few tears fell and Jane mopped at her cheeks. She stumbled close to him and looked him in the eye. “Even if you don’t realize it yet, you’ve made an impression on me in the short time we’ve known each other, and,” she swallowed. “I would have missed you.”
“I know that now.” The hoarseness in his voice and the moisture in his own eyes spoke of more than what he said. “It was a mistake, and if it hadn’t been for Wellington—”
“The duke?” She frowned. Perhaps his faculties still weren’t right.
A rusty chuckle escaped him. “My cat. She jumped on my shoulder and saved me.” He heaved a sigh. “It’s a long story.”
“I’d like to hear it some time.” Such gratitude filled her being that she came into his personal space and swiftly hugged him. “Please don’t ever think you should give up on life again.”
He nodded, and his Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow, but he said nothing.