Finch huffed. “Talent is too grand a word for my musical abilities. My love of it outweighs my skill.”
Mina’s gaze did not waver from his as she spoke in a pointed, though quiet, tone. “I could invite Lady Lovell and Miss Barrows to join us.”
Refusing to flinch at that insinuation, Finch held her gaze, taking a bite of kippers before answering. “I am certain they would enjoy that.”
Making a vague sound of agreement, Mina took a sip of her drinking chocolate and added, “You’ve been spending a fair amount of time at Buxby Hall.”
“It has beautiful grounds,” he said, slanting another curious look at Mina. Her meaning was clear enough, though Finch didn’t know what her intentions were. And for all his desire to heal the fracture between them, he wasn’t about to allow her free rein to muck about in his life. There was already one lady determined to do so, and he wouldn’t suffer the interference of another.
“And Miss Barrows?” asked Mina, dropping all pretense.
“She is a fine lady whose company I enjoy.” Finch turned his gaze to his meal, digging into it with determination. Once finished, he could flee Mina’s piercing gaze and pointed questions. If this was what came from furthering his acquaintance with her, perhaps it was best if he kept his distance.
“Such a shame she’s so unattractive,” murmured Mina, seeming far more interested in her toast and drinking chocolate than the inflammatory words she’d spouted.
“Pardon?” asked Finch, setting down his silverware with a thud against the table.
“An unsightly complexion and shocking hair…” Mina’s voice drifted off before murmuring, “Or was it a shocking complexion and unsightly hair? I cannot remember the precise manner in which you phrased it.”
As Finch didn’t dare scowl at his friend’s wife, he turned his face to his plate. “I admit I did not have the highest opinion of her looks, but I was not as harsh as all that.”
“True,” said Mina in a tone that was drier than her toast. “You conceded that her figure was ‘fine enough.’”
Finch took another bite of food. With his mouth otherwise occupied, perhaps the conversation would lapse back into awkward silence. But it was not to be.
“Your opinion seems to have altered somewhat since that harsh assessment,” said Mina, her dark eyes studying him with too much interest, and when a footman arrived with a stack of letters atop a salver, Finch felt like embracing the lad as his savior.
“It looks as though you’ve received a letter from home,” said Mina, sifting through the missives and handing one to Finch.
“Would you forgive me if I read it now?” In truth, his sister-in-law’s letters rarely needed immediate attention, but it provided him an excuse to avoid returning to the previous conversation.
“Think nothing of it,” said Mina with a wave, though she placed her own correspondence to the side.
Breaking the seal, Finch unfolded the paper and wondered if Miss Barrows had sent her friend his recommendations for her steward and man of business. The list hadn’t been lengthy, but he felt quite certain there were perfect candidates among the selection; certainly, Finch wouldn’t hesitate to hire a single one to manage his affairs—if he had any.
Would Miss Barrows tell him if his suggestions were successful? It seemed logical that her friend would continue to confide in the lady, and hopefully, that would eventually make its way to Finch. His assistance may not have amounted to much, but it would be pleasing to know it had done some good.
Finch’s mind wandered from that thought to his sister-in-law’s elegant script. Annette was a stellar correspondent, who sent him a steady stream of missives detailing her family’s daily life, and even when Finch was on the other side of the country, he knew precisely what dishes the Gardiners had served at their dinner the previous evening, his nieces’ newly found disdain for geography, and even a daily account of the weather since her last letter.
No doubt, she wrote to each of her brothers-in-law to relay them similar information, and though her letters were tedious at times, Finch appreciated Annette’s efforts to maintain the familial ties. It was a tradition Mother had begun when the eldest first stepped out into the wide world, and her daughter-in-law strived to maintain it.
Yet Finch’s brows furrowed as he scanned the lines, searching for anything of substance. Not that he didn’t enjoy hearing of Ginny and Barbara’s antics, but there was a quality to her letters that left Finch feeling empty. Annette’s words were a flood of information, but never once did they touch on anything of personal interest to Finch.
There was a passing mention of his trip and wishing him well, but no questions about his affairs. Not even asking after his health. The letter was little more than a lecture on their lives, asking nothing of him but to sit and listen as she expounded on the greatness of the Finch family.
The other brothers’ illustrious careers were outlined in detail. Phineas’s effective negotiation with the tenants to raise rents. Solomon and Arnold’s victory in a case that had languished in the courts for some years. Julian’s advancement from commander to captain was all but done. Even remembrances of Wesley’s heroic exploits were given a passing mention, though he’d been gone from this world nearly fifteen years.
Finch wondered what she wrote to his brothers on his behalf.
“Finch still lives.”What more could she say? There was a reason he rarely replied to Annette’s letters, and it wasn’t just a matter of the cost.
“Is it bad news?”
Mina’s question jerked him from his thoughts, and Finch looked up to see her staring at him with a furrowed brow.
Tucking the letter back into the envelope, he smiled and waved away the question. “My sister-in-law enjoys writing novels about the goings-on of the Finch family. I hardly need to visit them, for she paints such a vivid picture of their lives.”
But the words didn’t mollify Simon’s wife, and she stared at him with those warm brown eyes of hers; something in them made him feel as though she was not as easily fooled as her husband, nor would she be put off by false claims of apathy. Yet what advice or sympathy could Mina Kingsley give?
