Page 5 of A Modest Independence

“Who else would they be for?”

“You’re a young lady. Surely you’ll wish to hire a companion or a—”

“Hire a companion?” She failed to contain a laugh. “I am a companion. Or, rather, I was. And as for being young, I’ll have you know, sir, that I’ve just passed my twenty-eighth birthday. I’m what society charitably refers to as a dyed-in-the wool spinster. A veritable artifact collecting dust on the shelf.”

“I hardly think—”

“Do you imagine I mind such labels? Not a bit of it. I embrace them. I’ve longed for spinsterhood these many years. And now I’ve been given an independence, I intend to take full advantage of the state.”

“I beg your pardon, but…” Mr. Finchley’s eyes betrayed a hint of exasperation. “You’re no gray-haired grandmother. Unless you mean to announce your age to every person you meet—”

“Perhaps I shall.”

“Miss Holloway—”

“A spinster isn’t so different from a widow, you know. We’re afforded a great deal of freedom in the world. Society will think nothing of my traveling alone.”

“Society may be disposed to accept it, but there are men—I’ll not call them gentlemen—for whom your advanced years won’t act as a repellent. Without a companion or a maidservant, you’ll be fair game for all sorts of mistreatment.”

“I can take care of myself, thank you.”

“I don’t doubt it. But as a lady, there’s only so much you’re capable of defending against. You simply haven’t the strength. Now, if you were to take a maid and a footman on your travels, then—”

“I’m not hiring a companion,” she said firmly. “Nor am I surrounding myself with a legion of stuffy British servants. I mean to experience the world. To have an adventure. Not to recreate the same tedious environment I’ve been hostage to here in England.”

His brows lowered. “You feel as if you’ve been a hostage? It was my impression that Lady Helena treated you as a sister. A friend.”

“She has. Always. But Helena doesn’t exist in isolation. To everyone else in society, I was only her companion. Not her sister, as you say. Certainly not her friend. When her uncle ascended to the title, he had no qualms about tossing me into the street.”

“Lord Castleton was a blackguard, I won’t dispute that.”

Jenny didn’t know many who would. When Helena’s elder brother, Giles Reynolds, 6th Earl of Castleton, had been reported dead in India, her uncle had not only taken his title, he’d also attempted to take the vast fortune Giles had left to his sister. The means he’d employed to do so had been brutal, indeed.

“But he’s well out of the picture now,” Mr. Finchley said. “Unless something has changed?”

“No,” she admitted. “He’s still cooling his heels at the family seat in Hampshire. He’s made no more threats to any of us.”

“Then you have no legitimate reason to abandon your life with Thornhill and Lady Helena.”

“No legitimate reason?” Jenny was incredulous. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to exist in the background of other people’s lives? To be an afterthought? A nonentity, neither proper lady, nor proper servant? I can count on one hand the number of people who’ve actually seen me, who’ve paid me any attention. It’s no life for anyone, least of all for a woman like me.”

“A woman like you,” he repeated. “Are you so different from every other lady in your position?”

“Look at me.” She gestured at herself with her teacup, causing the contents to slosh against the rim. “I wasn’t created to shrink into the shadows. I’m strong and stubborn and opinionated. I need more from life than a half existence. I need the sand and the sea and the baking sun of distant lands.” She stilled her hand before her tea spilled over and soiled her skirts. “But you’re a man. You couldn’t possibly understand.”

Mr. Finchley leaned forward. For the first time, his face betrayed a flicker of emotion. It was gone before she could grasp it. “I understand more than you know.”

She exhaled, feeling somewhat deflated. Of course he understood. He’d grown up in an orphanage in Abbott’s Holcombe along with Mr. Thornhill, Mr. Cross, and another boy. Helena hadn’t confided the particulars, but Jenny knew enough to appreciate that the experience had been rather traumatic for all of them.

“Yes, well, then you must see why I want to leave this place. I need to experience the world as a whole person. To live among people who never knew me as a lady’s companion.”

“Must you go as far away as India to do so?”

“As to that…” She fidgeted with her teacup. “You did say that your clients always come first, didn’t you? Before your friends or even yourself.”

“It’s the truth, I’m afraid.”

She met his eyes. Her heart gave another traitorous thump. “Am I your client now?”