All was well. Or as well as it could be while ladies like Mrs. Baxter attacked his dear Mina. Though calling that harpy a “lady” was a generous use of the term. Simon had always believed that the terms gentleman and lady required an attitude of generosity towards one’s fellow man.Noblesse obligemay be a foreign phrase but not a foreign concept.
Some feral part of him wished to shove aside his gentlemanly strictures and hunt Mrs. Baxter and all the rest down, but again, that would require relinquishing his current position. And angering his wife. Mina was too kind, and though he didn’t deserve her, Simon wished to at least feign that he was worthy of her.
So, he let that anger die to a flickering flame and reveled in the contentment of being so warmly situated with his wife. Mina hadn’t been upset with him; that was good. Of course, it didn’t dispel the shadows lingering in his heart, which warned that he would ruin it eventually, but for now, Simon was willing to embrace the joy of the moment. Tomorrow would be soon enough to continue his campaign of trustworthiness.
Mina ran a hand across his chest, tracing a pattern into his waistcoat, and Simon breathed in the scent of lilies that had become synonymous with his wife. He didn’t know if he’d ever noticed that fragrance before, but now it permeated the house, bringing a smile to his lips.
But that smile fled as he recalled Mina’s earlier reaction. With the conversation shifting quickly from that moment, Simon hadn’t given it much thought then, but his mind drifted back to that little comment he’d made.
“My beautiful wife…”Simon had said it in all sincerity, yet Mina had flinched. Though she’d tried to hide it, he’d seen the doubt. Even after months of honest affection, Mina shied away from such compliments; she did not go so far as to fight him on it, but neither did she accept it.
Simon’s fingers twitched, tapping a gentle rhythm against Mina’s arm as he held her close. One way or another, he would rebuild the trust he’d damaged.
Chapter 17
Sunlight poured through Finch’s bedchamber window, filling the room with a golden hue. The crystalline dusting of snow sparkled outside, begging him to abandon the warmth and comfort of Avebury Park. Perhaps he might persuade Miss Barrows to join him on another excursion. The lady seemed keen to traipse through the snowscape, but Finch wondered if it might cause her trouble; Lady Lovell was the picture of generosity, so he hoped she did not mind losing her companion so frequently.
But then, he reminded himself that Lady Lovell was also the picture of blunt conversation and would have no qualms about telling him if he’d made a nuisance of himself.
Taking one final perusal in the mirror, Finch straightened his jacket and cuffs and turned to the door in search of breakfast. And found trouble instead. Not that Mina was trouble in and of herself. She was an amiable lady, but Finch thought it better if Simon served as a facilitator between them. Unfortunately, the man in question was taking his leave.
Like so often, the couple seemed unaware of Finch standing in the doorway. Their heads were together with a few smiles and whispers. Finch wondered if he ought to back away, but his stomach gave a treacherous gurgle, drawing Simon and Mina’s attention.
“Had you a pleasant morning, Finch?” asked Simon, getting to his feet.
“Quite.” And that was true enough. His mornings at Avebury Park were neither extraordinary nor unbearable despite his friend’s noticeable absence.
“I wish I had time to chat, but I am to meet Mr. Thorne about some improvements we are planning to begin as soon as the ground thaws.”
And kissing his wife’s cheek, Simon swept from the room, off to do terribly important things. At present, the most pressing matter Finch had to decide upon was whether to finish the book he’d begun last night or go on yet another walk; he’d prefer a ride, but the ground was just treacherous enough that he didn’t care to go too often and risk injury to his borrowed mount.
Mina watched her husband leave and spared Finch a passing glance before returning to her toast, giving it far more attention than any food ever warranted. Finch stood by the edge of the table and stared at the empty seats, his lagging wits finally urging him to move as it was too late to escape now.
Loading up his plate from the array of foods on the side table, Finch took a seat beside his hostess. The crunch of toast and the clink of silverware against china broke the silence as the pair munched. Slanting a glance at Mina, he tried to know what to say to her.
If Miss Barrows was correct (and Finch’s stomach gave an unhappy lurch that told him she was), then Mina had reason to be wary of him. Whether he’d earned it or not, he ought to do something to ease her worries. This was his closest friend’s wife, and it was time Finch did something to secure her good opinion.
“I understand you are building a school in the village,” he said.
Mina’s brows climbed upwards as she froze mid-bite.
“Simon often talks about it,” added Finch. “He is rather proud of your efforts.”
The lady’s cheeks pinked, her lips curling into a smile, and Finch was quite amazed at how quickly her expression had gone from apprehensive to pleased. He didn’t know if she’d ever looked so happy at something he’d said before.
With a quick chew and swallow, she took a sip from her teacup and cleared her throat. “I am attempting it, though my detractors are determined to see it fail.”
Finch gave a low chuckle and spread a napkin across his lap. “I can imagine many of the ladies in Bristow are quite livid at you stealing away their prize. They’ve been vying for Simon since their daughters were born. If nothing else, I will be forever grateful you’ve secured him so I will no longer have to suffer through their machinations. My visits often revolved around assisting Simon in avoiding their lures.”
Mina did not laugh as he’d intended, but neither did she recoil or flee as she was wont to do when he said something outrageous like that. Slanting a look in his direction, she studied him while pretending not to study him, and Finch took a bite of cold ham as he pondered what to say next.
“I am pleased to see your pianoforte is finally receiving the love and attention it deserves,” said Finch. “Simon always neglected it terribly unless I pressed him to tune it.”
Her gaze held his for a silent moment before she replied, “I understand you are quite the musician.”
A smile crept upwards, and Finch nodded. “Not enough to be useful but enough to appreciate the sight of a well-used instrument and sheet music.”
“It is a shame that we haven’t had a musical evening in which to display your talents.”
