“Perhaps this is her first post,” said Simon.
Finch shrugged. “Miss Barrows has quite the forceful personality, which will not serve her well as a companion.”
At that, Mina huffed, though she remained mute, giving no further indication of the source behind the outburst. When Simon nudged her, she gave her husband a raised brow.
“I cannot think of a better companion for Lady Lovell than someone with a forceful personality. She is forever badgering me about mymousyways.”
The lady put a slight emphasis on “mousy,” her eyes meeting Finch’s for a moment before sliding away, and he knew there was some meaning behind it, though he could not fathom what it was.
“Lady Lovell is a force unto herself,” said Simon with a laugh. “I suppose they are a good match, then.”
Finch chuckled. “True, but I wish you had been there, Simon. Miss Barrows is an odd creature. There I was, attempting to be gallant, and she was fairly accusing me of being madly in love with her. And she is anything but the sort to inspire sudden bouts of romance.”
And with that, he launched into a description of all that had happened while Mina watched him with hooded eyes.
“She seemed congenial enough after a few moments of conversation, but she behaved as though she was a great beauty destined to ensnare me with one glance,” he said with a laugh. “It’s not as though she is an unfortunate creature, but her complexion is the sort to raise eyebrows—and not in a good sense—and her hair is a most unsightly shade of orange and a tangled mess of wild curls—”
Mina rose to her feet, leveling a hard look at Finch before stalking out the door. Simon straightened and called after his wife, but she did not return.
“What have I done to offend her?” asked Finch. “Perhaps I was a tad harsh, but Miss Barrows’ behavior was thoroughly strange—”
But Simon followed his wife’s lead and rose to his feet. “I mean no disrespect, Finch, but I haven’t the time to discuss that at present. I need to see to my wife.”
And with that, Finch was left alone, staring at the books lining Simon’s study. While he sat there, a thought crept up on him, whispering such maudlin things that he could not sit still. Getting to his feet, he straightened his jacket and cuffs as though that would right his off-kilter world.
Truly, it was a blessing to see his friend so happily situated, but this shift in Simon’s life left him with no space for his aimless friend.
Casting that thought aside, Finch wandered to the drawing room, but when he poked his head inside, he saw the pianoforte was no longer in a forgotten corner of the chamber. Someone had shifted the instrument to sit beneath the windows at the center of the far wall, which afforded the instrument better light. Stacks of sheet music rested on the piano cover, but Finch gave them only a cursory glance, noting an excellent collection of Mozart, Clementi, and others before seating himself on the bench.
His fingers brushed the keys, and Finch smiled at the bright sound that came forth. It was a beautiful instrument, and it had long pained him to see it neglected by Simon and his family. At least its new mistress seemed to appreciate it.
The keys were smooth, their touch a silky joy to his fingertips, and with no more than a passing thought, his fingers climbed the keyboard, running through the crisp trills and runs the composers of the past century so adored. The bright, cheerful tune gave way to the more modern works that softened that precision, eschewing the rudimentary dynamics and giving the musician freedom to infuse his own emotions into the work. And Finch’s heart did so, embracing the music as it swept him away from his present cares.
From the corner of his eye, Finch saw the drawing room door open.
“It is good to hear you playing,” said Simon, coming to join his friend. Like many drawing rooms, the area was sparsely furnished with a few pieces of furniture edging the room, leaving the majority of the space free to be transformed into whatever was needed for evening entertainment. From the placement of the piano, Finch supposed Mina preferred music and dancing to cards.
“It seems your instrument is finally receiving the proper attention and maintenance it deserves,” replied Finch in a dry tone. “How is Mina?”
Simon came to stand beside the pianoforte, his hand resting atop the wood cover as his fingers drummed along in pace with the notes. As Finch was quite familiar with this piece, his gaze drifted from the keyboard to his friend.
“She is well enough and just set off to pay a call to Mrs. Pratt concerning their new literary society,” said Simon. The words were reassuring, though Simon’s tone was not. Besides, Finch was hard-pressed to believe Mina’s sudden departure was nothing. Her cool dismissal was easily understood, even if it was puzzling.
Finch glanced at his fingers. “It’s hard to believe all is well when you look so fretful.”
Sucking in a deep breath, Simon let it out in a great heaving puff of air. “We’ve not had a good go of it, Finch. Not three months ago, she left me.”
The tune jerked to a halt, and Finch stared at his friend, but Simon hurried to add, “I hold all the blame. I was a fool and treated her shabbily. Mina had every reason for doing so, and I count myself eternally blessed that she forgave me after I prostrated myself before her. Things have been perfect ever since, but something has her at odds now, and I cannot discern what I’ve done this time.”
Finch started to play where he’d left off, his thoughts gathering as the melody tripped along. “She seems displeased with me. Perhaps I ought to go—”
Shaking his head, Simon cut off that thought. “No, she assured me she wishes you to stay, so it has naught to do with you.”
But Finch was not so certain of that. Surely, it was the truth as Simon saw it, but though the fellow was as good a friend as any could wish for, Simon Kingsley was not the most observant of men.
“If you are certain you wish me to stay, then I will.” Finch kept his eyes trained on the keys, hiding away how much Simon’s answer meant to him.
The thought of returning to London was enough to make his insides turn to lead. The city had its diversions, but too many were beyond his financial means, and those available to him were hardly enjoyable when Finch was forced to attend them alone. Simon would not return to London until the Season began—or perhaps he would not return at all, as Finch doubted the fellow’s wife found much pleasure there.
