Chapter 8

"Shall we?" Finley asked hesitantly after Cynara and Charles disappeared inside.

"Yes, of course," Jane agreed, and started a slow pace beside him. Charles, unmindful of her small stride, was soon a few quick paces ahead of her. Jane sped up her pace to match his.

"The gardens are lovely. I'm glad Cynara forced me to stay and view them."

"Yes," Finley answered. Why couldn't he form simple sentences when he was in the presence of this girl? He felt like a schoolboy, and was completely aggravated by it.

Finley took longer strides, moving even quicker than his usual stroll, forcing Jane to give up her attempt to keep up with him. She resigned herself to staring at his back as he walked along. He got farther and farther away until he suddenly seemed to realize that she was not trailing along beside him anymore.

He turned, and when he saw her great distance, he sheepishly walked back to her.

"What's taking you so long?" He didn't mean to say that.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were in such a great hurry," Jane demurred.

"It's no big deal," he voice came out harshly. Finley's neck twitched involuntarily, and he started walking again, deliberately slowing his pace. Only now, Jane had sped hers up. She was a few paces in front of him when she turned back.

"We can walk a bit faster if you want," she told him, trying to please him.

"I told you it's no big deal," he said, keeping his steps slow. He felt bad when he saw Jane hang her head like a scolded puppy. He didn't want to upset her, but he couldn't seem to control himself.

Finley tried desperately to think of something to say to the lovely girl beside him. "Are you enjoying the garden?" he asked inanely.

"Oh yes," Jane said smiling kindly at him, "Very much."

Finley wondered at how she gave her smiles so easily, and what beautiful smiles they were. The two awkwardly circled the entire garden, barely a word being said between them.

"It was very nice to meet you, Lord Stanmore," Jane said, as her footman helped her into her carriage.

"And you, Miss Withurby," Finley's calm voice a complete opposite to what he was feeling inside.

He walked back into the house as the carriage rolled away, the feeling of wanting to cry hitting him like a lightning bolt. Finley had never in his life cried, and he was certainly not going to start now. Especially not over something as stupid as love, he thought, then quickly corrected himself. He wasn't in love.

Cynara hummed as she as she made her way down the stairs, getting louder and louder as she went, finally breaking out into full song: "There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando. They were shining there for you and me, for liberty, Fernando. Though we never thought that—Charlie!"

Cynara broke of when she saw Charlie staring at her from the bottom of the stairs. "What are you singing, and who's Fernando?" He asked with a smile.

"It's just a song. You scared me," she accused.

"I'm simply warning you. I think Finley will be suspicious if he finds you singing and dancing on your supposedly sprained ankle."

"I was bored of just lying in bed," she pouted, coming down the stairs to meet him.

"I was just coming back up," he told her, "We should go before Finley finds you. I saw him earlier and he did not look happy."

"Uh oh," Cynara said, "That means things did not go well."

But before the two could sneak upstairs, Finley was there.

"Hi, Finley," Cynara said innocently.

"What was the meaning of that today? Was it just some game you were playing? Do you want to humiliate me, rub it in my face?" Finley yelled at her furiously.

"Hey now," Charles said stepping in front of her, "She was just trying to help."

"You, you are so enamored with her," he told his brother accusingly, "She has you wrapped around her little finger. We don't even know where she came from."

"Cynara, who are you really?" Finley demanded as he shoved his brother out of the way. He looked her right in the eye, "We've let you stay here, have asked no explanations for your odd behavior. I've had enough, God damn it."

"Finley, calm down," Charles's voice was deep and threatening.

Cynara looked nervously at Finley. This was a side of him she had never seen before. Since she first got here he had acted like a big brother to her, a little distant but always kind. He was actually scaring her now.

"None of us believe you memory loss act, we've never believed it. I demand to know the truth now, Cynara!"

"I-" Cynara said, but found that she had nothing to say.

"Why were you dressed so oddly when you first arrived here?" he demanded. "Why are you so eager to be my brother's mistress? You act like it is nothing to you—definitely not the behavior of a lady—anything but a lady."

Cynara couldn't understand why Finley was saying such cruel things to her. She quaked at this person that was not the Finley she knew and loved.

"That's enough," Charles said, once again stepping in front of her, facing his older brother menacingly.

"Charles, you would let some whore come between us?" Finley asked derisively. The words were barely out of his mouth, when Charles's fist landed squarely on his brother's jaw.

Cynara gasped as the brothers growled and instantly started throwing punches at each other, the sound of bone hitting bone filling the room. She couldn't bear to see the brothers fighting, especially over her.

Cynara ran back up the stairs and into the safe haven of Charlie's room. She sat down on the bed, tears spilling from her eyes. She didn't want them to fight, and she wished she could tell them where she was from, but they would simply think her crazy.

She felt her head pounding, a headache coming on. She laid her weary frame back on the bed. She wasn't feeling well at all, and hoped that she wasn't getting too sick. She would be better after she rested for a bit, she was tired, so tired.