“That is the sixth time you’ve said that today, Simon, and it is not yet noon,” she said.
“I cannot help but say it often, for it is always true.” He gave her a sparkling smile, but that tinge of worry colored his gaze, making Mina’s stomach sink yet again. She had thought this foolishness was over, yet here they were again.
But then Simon drew her close, capturing her lips in a kiss that was tender and heartfelt, sweeping all other thoughts away as Mina wrapped her arms around him. Bundled up as they were, she missed the feel of his hands brushing her skin, but even as muted as it was, Mina’s heart swelled in the euphoria her husband’s love elicited.
A loud, pointed clearing of a throat had the pair leaping apart, and Mina’s face blazed as they turned to see Mr. Finch standing there with his gaze fixed on the ground, but with a bemused smile that said he’d witnessed more than enough of their display.
“It is ill-mannered of you to carry on like that,” said Mr. Finch, the laughter in his tone muting any bite his words might’ve had. “The time is long past when you two should be merely tolerating each other’s company.”
Simon narrowed his eyes with a smirk. “Not at all, though it is long past the time when you should return to London.”
Finch chuckled at that, but as Mina watched him, she saw little hints of something more beneath the jovial expression. A melancholy in his gaze. Resignation in his shoulders. Perhaps Miss Barrows was correct about the fellow, and between that revelation and seeing how happy he made Simon, a hint of guilt tickled her stomach as she thought back on her behavior towards Mr. Finch: she had not been a very kind or attentive hostess.
*
Though Finch had spoken in jest, there was some truth to his earlier statement. Having witnessed many marriages, he was familiar with the sad decay that followed the first heady months. Even the love matches often ended in cold silence and resignation, and Finch was more pleased than he could say to see that Simon had lucked into a marriage that grew stronger with each month.
In quick order, the grooms had their mounts readied, and Finch pretended not to watch as Simon fussed and fluttered over his wife. Anyone seeing Mina atop her horse would know she was a capable rider, yet Simon assisted her up the mounting block and straightened her skirts, making certain she was comfortable before mounting his own.
It was a little moment and something clearly commonplace (since the grooms relinquished their duties to their master without a questioning glance). Small yet so tender that Finch was undeniably moved by it, and he wondered if they understood just how important such moments were. They must on some level, for this was not the first of such tenderness he’d witnessed from both sides. Mina and Simon were true partners; helping for the joy of it, even if the other was capable of handling it on their own.
Getting atop his borrowed mount, he followed the pair out of the yard and down the road, feeling grateful that Simon had found his happiness. Though Finch’s own life seemed a bleak thing, it was comforting to know that such joys existed.
The sky was clear above, and the roads were clear below. The day was as fine as anyone could wish for, despite the frigid weather, yet Finch’s mind struggled to lay hold of happiness. Not that he deserved any peace of mind at present while Miss Barrows haunted his every thought.
What had he been thinking? For years, Finch had remained aloof from females. There was no good to be found tempting himself with a life he could not have. Marriage was not in his future, yet he had allowed Miss Barrows to slip into his heart. How and when she’d done so was a mystery to him, but that did not absolve him of his culpability.
The look in Miss Barrows’ eyes when he’d stepped away pricked at his conscience, layering guilt upon guilt. Intentionally or not, he had raised her expectations while unable to fulfill them. Her heartache was his doing and his sin to bear.
Good heavens. It had been a mistake to visit Bristow.
And then, as though Simon had a window into Finch’s thoughts, he asked, “I understand you and Miss Barrows have quarreled.”
“Simon!” Mina hissed, glowering at her husband.
But the fellow shrugged. “I only wish to ask—”
“Mr. Finch,” said Mina with a bright and brittle smile. “As you are a musician, who is your favorite composer?”
Finch stared at her. Not so much because of the awkward shift in subject, but because she was engaging him in conversation. Turning his gaze back to the road ahead, Finch gave her question some thought.
“To play or to listen to?” he asked. “I find my answer varies greatly depending on whether I am the musician or someone more skilled is. And there is a vast difference between my favorite composers of opera compared to concertos.”
Mina blinked for a quiet moment before her grin grew into a genuine expression of pleasure. “I see you are of my mind on the subject. It is impossible to choose just one, for each shines in different situations. I, for one, do not care to play Mozart, but I adore his operas.”
“I gather from your music selection that you enjoy Clementi.”
She laughed in reply. “Not particularly, but I have not the skill to play those I truly adore. His pieces are simple and enjoyable enough. I find myself drawn to this new style that focuses on dynamics and passion—like Johann Hummel and Ludwig van Beethoven.”
Finch’s brows furrowed, and he stared at her for a long moment before she blushed and added, “My tastes shock you?”
“Only because they are so similar to mine. I do not know many who are familiar with Hummel, but his pieces are so dramatic and engaging to play.”
“And now I am to be subjected to endless discourses about music,” grumbled Simon, though his pleased expression belied his irritated tone.
His wife gave that comment all the attention it deserved and proceeded to discuss and debate the finer points of compositions and music. Mina seemed different. Warm and welcoming as she hadn’t been before. It was refreshing to converse without any awkwardness or discomfort as though the past weeks had been all that was amicable and pleasant between the pair of them.
As they rode, they shifted until Mina was between Simon and Finch, and from time to time, his friend gazed around his wife to give Finch a smile that spoke of a bone-deep contentedness that Finch was all too grateful to see.
