“I am trying to be honorable and keep my distance until we’ve properly courted.” Mr. Kingsley’s voice was rough, though there was a spark of humor in his eyes. “Please do not test my resolve.”
But his arms came around her, pulling her close, and Sophie leaned her head against his shoulder.
“As to your questions, my answer is yes to all of them,” she said.
“I should hope so after such a display,” he teased, and she poked him in the side.
Mr. Kingsley laughed and released her, taking her hand in his and pulling her away from the tree now that the rain had eased. Together, they strolled through the fields, the scent of the wet soil and leaves filling the crisp air around them.
Chapter 27
Staring out the parlor window, Mina searched for Oliver’s figure on the front drive even though she knew it unlikely he’d return along that route. The surge of joyous energy flowing through her wouldn’t let her sit and wait like a proper adult. So, she stood there, hovering at the useless window, waiting.
The sun slid down the horizon, the day waning sooner as the world began to embrace the changes autumn wrought. A little more than a fortnight from now and the trees would be ablaze with the golden yellow leaves. And the Banfields would be gone.
Mina made a vow to leave Bristow the next time the Nelsons hosted a house party; such lavish gatherings only served to let the hosts display their wealth and self-importance while stirring up trouble in the neighborhood. In truth, Mina blamed herself for not being more suspicious when the invitation had been extended. Thank goodness it was a local party in which she was free to spend much of the time in her own home.
Arms came around her, and Mina smiled to herself, leaning back into Simon’s embrace as he pressed a kiss to her neck.
“You are quite pensive, dearest,” he murmured.
“I am girding my loins.”
Simon’s arms tightened around her. “We needn’t suffer through this. We could pack up and go bother Ambrose and Mary in Lancashire if you wish it. Or go abroad and join Graham and Tabby on their European travels. Or scurry off to London with Nicholas and Louisa-Margaretta. We’ll tell the Nelsons some crisis pulled us away. It is the beauty of claiming familial difficulties. It can be as vague as one wishes without resorting to dishonesty and cannot offend when used. Family is family, after all.”
Allowing her head to fall back and rest on Simon’s shoulder, Mina longed to accept that escape. “Do you truly think we ought to pull Oliver away from Miss Caswell at such a juncture?”
Groaning, Simon’s head drooped, his arms growing slack. “I suppose not.”
His breath brushed across her neck, tickling her skin, and Mina embraced the peace that came from having her dear husband so near.
“A fortnight more,” he murmured as though it were a prayer.
“And then we shall be free again.”
Turning in his arms, Mina let hers rest on his chest, her fingers fiddling with the cravat that had been abused by its wearer. Simon pulled her flush to him as she smoothed the fabric with more skill than most valets. It was a familiar habit; one she’d performed countless times during their near three decades of marriage. Simon could never seem to leave it be; thank goodness fashion dictated cravats only in the evening, for his daytime stocks gave his tugging and fidgeting little heed.
Her eyes rose from the cloth and met his. Simon’s gaze was steeped in appreciation, admiration, affection, and a myriad of other tendernesses that made Mina’s heart warm. Bringing her arms around his neck, she pulled him to her, her kiss saying more than mere words.
The parlor door swung open, and Mina pulled free from her husband, smoothing her skirts.
“Mother. Father.” Oliver gave them each a nod as he came to stand before them with a commanding glint to his eye and rigidity to his posture that was far more imposing than she’d ever thought to see her son display.
Simon reached forward to take Oliver in a handshake. “Ought we to call for Lily and begin the celebration in earnest?”
“There is cause to celebrate, though you may not agree,” replied Oliver, pulling his hand free. Without ceremony or warning, their son declared, “I am courting Miss Sophie Banfield.”
Mina gaped; there was no other way to describe the great open-mouthed stare she gave her son. And judging by Simon’s expression, this was as much a surprise to him as it was to her.
“But what of Miss Caswell?” she asked.
“We do not suit,” came the quick reply.
“But…” Mina struggled to phrase the question, for her thoughts were an unhelpful mess. “Sophia Banfield?”
Oliver’s brows furrowed, the muscles in his neck tightening. “I felt you should know—”
“How could you, Oliver!”
