Content was not a word Simon associated with assemblies and dancing, yet there was no other descriptor to choose at this very moment. Standing to one side of the assembly rooms, Simon surveyed the crowd, his gaze lingering on his wife. Mina’s dark eyes sparkled in the candlelight, her hands gesturing as she spoke to Lady Lovell with a smile stretched across her face in a manner that would raise the eyebrows of the posh ladies of London.
Yes, Simon Kingsley was quite content.
Casting his thoughts to the changes fate had wrought in his world, he was startled to realize that it was almost a year ago that a ball had brought Mina into his life. That Simon of the past had foolishly thought marriage would free him from the demands of bachelorhood, such as dancing at balls and assemblies. Instead, it had taught him to cherish these moments.
Even as he contemplated that, his feet itched to lead Mina around the dance floor again and see her spirits soar as she skipped through the steps. His wife was a fine dancer and even though Simon didn’t care for the activity itself, he adored dancing with her.
Wouldn’t Finch laugh if he were privy to Simon’s soppy sentiments.
But thoughts of his friend drove away that peace and drew Simon’s gaze from his love to the gentleman in question. Finch and Miss Barrows were among the throng, looking as pleased with their situation as a prisoner facing transport to New South Wales. Crossing his arms, Simon watched the pair, his fingers rapping against his arm with a frantic beat.
Finch was making a muck of things. Simon had hoped a dance might heal the breach between them, but when his friend deposited Miss Barrows into the care of another, both gentleman and lady appeared to welcome the separation.
Fools, the both of them.
Phantoms of the past cast a shadow over his thoughts as Simon remembered that dark time not too long ago when he’d believed all was lost. He’d spent nearly a sennight on horseback, hunting for Mina to beg her forgiveness, and though his body had ached from that abuse, his heart had fared worse. Those days of travel offered nothing to occupy his thoughts but his sins of the past and the bleakness of a future devoid of his wife.
Without caveat or equivocation, Simon could say those days were the darkest of his life. Mina had given him a glimpse of a joy he’d never thought to find, only to have it ripped away, leaving his world all the bleaker for its absence. Though Simon had attempted to do so, there were not words enough to describe his gratitude at having found forgiveness at the end of that journey.
For both Finch’s and Miss Barrows’ sakes, Simon hoped the fellow would follow Mina’s example.
Turning on his heels, the gentleman in question strode from Miss Barrows, his expression shuttered, though Simon knew his friend well enough to see that Finch was in turmoil beneath the placid facade. The fellow’s gaze swept the room, and when it landed on Simon, he moved through the crowd with more expedience than care and arrived at his friend’s side in a trice.
“You must ask Miss Barrows to dance,” said Finch.
Simon straightened, his gaze darting between his friend and the lady. “Have you two mended things?”
Finch waved that away. “That is of no importance.”
“I would say it is. Miss Barrows made a poor choice, but I cannot believe her unworthy of forgiveness.”
Puffing out his cheeks, Finch shook his head, his eyes darting away from his friend. “Forgiveness is not the issue, Simon. Nor does it have any bearing on the favor I am begging of you. Miss Barrows is being pestered by unwanted attention, and I have done as much as I can without raising eyebrows. Would you step in for me? Or would you rather stand around like a lump?”
Simon scoffed and gave him a wry smile. “That is one way to ask a favor, though not terribly effective—”
Finch scowled. “There is no time for jests. The set is about to start, and she will be trapped.”
“If she already has a partner—”
“Make some excuse. Any excuse,” he said with a vague wave. “Mr. Wilson doesn’t seem bright.”
Simon gave a low groan. The Wilson sons weren’t sensible, nor did they have the social acumen to cover that deficiency. Not bad lads per se, though Simon would not want them courting his daughter.His daughter. That thought brought a lopsided grin to his face as he wondered how soon it would be until Avebury Park rang with children’s laughter.
“Simon!” Finch barked, bringing the fellow back to the present.
“I would like to help you, Finch, but I don’t know if that would be wise. I do not dance with anyone but my wife.” Simon’s gaze drifted from Finch to rest on Mina. Even without his friend’s petition, Simon wanted to help Miss Barrows; she seemed a fine lady who did not deserve the unwanted attention of fortune seekers. However, an uneasy shiver held him captive. Surely it was only a dance and could not be construed as anything more. Yet could he be certain?
“Please, Simon,” said Finch, and even without the additional supplication, Simon was decided. If the roles were reversed, he would hope for Finch’s assistance. As long as he gave no indication of a particular preference towards Miss Barrows, all should be well with Mina.
“Of course, Finch,” he said with a nod. “Whatever I can do to help the two of you.”
But his friend stiffened, his gaze dropping to his feet. “Ignore whatever imaginings you’ve concocted. Nothing has changed between us. Miss Barrows deserves better.”
Before Simon could question that further, Finch stepped to the side, nudging Simon forward. “Get a move on it.”
The musicians struck the introductory notes, and Simon scurried forward and came to stand before the lady.
“Do forgive my tardiness, Miss Barrows,” he said with a bow.
