“Your sister told me of your parents’ objections.”
As both of his hands were occupied, Oliver could not give in to the impulse to run them through his hair. He settled for scowling. “Lily is too free with her words.”
Miss Sophie’s expression hardened, her eyes turning to flint. “Do not speak of her in that manner. Lily is a dear young lady, and I find her conversation lively and engaging. Do not curtail it—”
“Peace,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I did not mean to raise your ire.”
She dropped her gaze, and her already pinked cheeks deepened in color. “I apologize, but I do not like hearing her criticized so. Even from you.”
There was something in her tone and words that hinted at their significance. “What are you not telling me?”
That had Miss Sophie meeting his gaze once more. “It’s not my secret to tell.”
Though her answer did not give Oliver any peace on that score, he did not push matters. “So, what did Lily tell you?”
Miss Sophie lifted one shoulder in a gentle shrug. “That our parents have a history—though I surmised that from simply watching them—and that your parents do not wish you and her to associate with my family.”
“An edict Lily began ignoring some days ago, and you had no qualms with that or my own overtures of friendship,” he replied.
“That is hardly the same as courting, Mr. Kingsley.”
Courting. Whereas that word had held a more sedate meaning when referring to Miss Caswell, Oliver’s heart thumped a happy rhythm at hearing it tied to Miss Sophie.
“I readily agree, but although I allowed my parents’ opinions to sway me in the past, I’ve come to understand that I cannot give my heart to a lady simply because my parents wish it.” Holding her gaze, Oliver allowed his heart to push him to greater heights, the growing certainty gleaming in his eyes as he spoke.
Miss Sophie released his hand, walking away from the safety of the tree. Rain pelted down on her as she put space between them. “I have watched your family together, Mr. Kingsley. You do not understand how blessed you are to have such love and support, and I shan’t allow you to risk an irreparable fracture for me. That is too high a price—”
“Nonsense. And come back here or you will catch your death.” Snatching up her hand once more, Oliver dragged her back beneath the canopy.
“We hardly know each other, Mr. Kingsley.”
Oliver fought against the scowl threatening to surface. No wonder Miss Caswell had been so ready to bludgeon him when he was spouting such ridiculous things. Miss Sophie’s dress was not soaked through, but she was wet enough to elicit a few shivers. Though it was uncouth to go about in his shirtsleeves, Oliver shucked his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
“You need your jacket,” she protested.
Oliver rubbed her arms, hoping to warm them more rapidly, though it brought them closer together as well. “I feel no chill with you near.”
Miss Sophie pulled the fabric close and met his gaze with such hope.
“I am willing to try,” he said. “If we cannot overcome this final hurdle, that is one thing. But this is too important to let it slip away.”
Propriety warred with desire, the one warning Oliver to put some space between them while the other begged him to sweep her into his embrace. The former’s voice was little more than a whisper, but the strength of its objections was enough to keep him in check. Miss Sophie deserved gallantry, and he would not rush her.
“Now, you haven’t answered my question,” he whispered. “Will you drive out with me tomorrow? And allow me to escort you to the Nelsons’ ball next week? And spend long stretches by your side and explore all the countryside together? And forgive me for being such a stubborn fool and denying what my heart has wanted since the first time we met five years ago?”
*
“Your question keeps growing.” Sophie attempted to give the tease a lighthearted tone, but her words were breathy.
Lifting her hand to his lips, Mr. Kingsley pressed a kiss to her palm, his eyes closing to savor the touch. His fingers wrapped around hers, closing her hand around that token of affection. Sometime in the past moments, they’d moved closer together, and Sophie felt the brush of his knees as her skirts swallowed his feet.
And yet Mr. Kingsley did not close the distance.
Holding his gaze, Sophie saw the longing there, which stoked her own heart until it blazed like the hottest embers in a fire, and she found her self-control sadly lacking.
Leaning the last few inches, Sophie pressed her lips to his. The shock of her boldness and her first kiss had her pulling back as quickly as she’d advanced. Her cheeks were aflame, and there was no need for Mr. Kingsley’s jacket about her shoulders, for her whole body flushed. By most accounts, the kiss would be counted as little more than a buss, but her heart swelled at the sentiment beneath that quick touch.
“I am trying to be honorable and keep my distance until we’ve properly courted.” Mr. Kingsley’s voice was rough, though there was a spark of humor in his eyes. “Please do not test my resolve.”
But his arms came around her, pulling her close, and Sophie leaned her head against his shoulder.
“As to your questions, my answer is yes to all of them,” she said.
“I should hope so after such a display,” he teased, and she poked him in the side.
Mr. Kingsley laughed and released her, taking her hand in his and pulling her away from the tree now that the rain had eased. Together, they strolled through the fields, the scent of the wet soil and leaves filling the crisp air around them.
Chapter 27
Staring out the parlor window, Mina searched for Oliver’s figure on the front drive even though she knew it unlikely he’d return along that route. The surge of joyous energy flowing through her wouldn’t let her sit and wait like a proper adult. So, she stood there, hovering at the useless window, waiting.
The sun slid down the horizon, the day waning sooner as the world began to embrace the changes autumn wrought. A little more than a fortnight from now and the trees would be ablaze with the golden yellow leaves. And the Banfields would be gone.
Mina made a vow to leave Bristow the next time the Nelsons hosted a house party; such lavish gatherings only served to let the hosts display their wealth and self-importance while stirring up trouble in the neighborhood. In truth, Mina blamed herself for not being more suspicious when the invitation had been extended. Thank goodness it was a local party in which she was free to spend much of the time in her own home.
Arms came around her, and Mina smiled to herself, leaning back into Simon’s embrace as he pressed a kiss to her neck.
“You are quite pensive, dearest,” he murmured.
“I am girding my loins.”
Simon’s arms tightened around her. “We needn’t suffer through this. We could pack up and go bother Ambrose and Mary in Lancashire if you wish it. Or go abroad and join Graham and Tabby on their European travels. Or scurry off to London with Nicholas and Louisa-Margaretta. We’ll tell the Nelsons some crisis pulled us away. It is the beauty of claiming familial difficulties. It can be as vague as one wishes without resorting to dishonesty and cannot offend when used. Family is family, after all.”
Allowing her head to fall back and rest on Simon’s shoulder, Mina longed to accept that escape. “Do you truly think we ought to pull Oliver away from Miss Caswell at such a juncture?”
Groaning, Simon’s head drooped, his arms growing slack. “I suppose not.”
His breath brushed across her neck, tickling her skin, and Mina embraced the peace that came from having her dear husband so near.
“A fortnight more,” he murmured as though it were a prayer.
“And then we shall be free again.”
Turning in his arms, Mina let hers rest on his chest, her fingers fiddling with the cravat that had been abused by its wearer. Simon pulled her flush to him as she smoothed the fabric with more skill than most valet
s. It was a familiar habit; one she’d performed countless times during their near three decades of marriage. Simon could never seem to leave it be; thank goodness fashion dictated cravats only in the evening, for his daytime stocks gave his tugging and fidgeting little heed.
Her eyes rose from the cloth and met his. Simon’s gaze was steeped in appreciation, admiration, affection, and a myriad of other tendernesses that made Mina’s heart warm. Bringing her arms around his neck, she pulled him to her, her kiss saying more than mere words.
The parlor door swung open, and Mina pulled free from her husband, smoothing her skirts.
“Mother. Father.” Oliver gave them each a nod as he came to stand before them with a commanding glint to his eye and rigidity to his posture that was far more imposing than she’d ever thought to see her son display.
Simon reached forward to take Oliver in a handshake. “Ought we to call for Lily and begin the celebration in earnest?”
“There is cause to celebrate, though you may not agree,” replied Oliver, pulling his hand free. Without ceremony or warning, their son declared, “I am courting Miss Sophie Banfield.”
Mina gaped; there was no other way to describe the great open-mouthed stare she gave her son. And judging by Simon’s expression, this was as much a surprise to him as it was to her.
“But what of Miss Caswell?” she asked.
“We do not suit,” came the quick reply.
“But…” Mina struggled to phrase the question, for her thoughts were an unhelpful mess. “Sophia Banfield?”
Oliver’s brows furrowed, the muscles in his neck tightening. “I felt you should know—”
“How could you, Oliver!”
Mina jumped at Simon’s tone and volume. Though it was not loud enough for the house to ring with it, anyone in the hall would certainly overhear.
“After our discussion this afternoon, you take up with her?” Simon swung his arms wide, his voice climbing upwards. He continued to rail against Oliver, and Mina turned her gape to his uncharacteristic display of temper. Grabbing her husband by the arm, Mina forced him to look at her; his jaw was clenched tight, a fire burning in his gaze.
“Calm yourself, Simon. This isn’t helpful,” said Mina before turning her attention to her son. “Oliver, might you give us a moment to talk in private before we discuss this further?”
But her son straightened, his unflinching gaze holding hers. “There is nothing to discuss, Mother. I did not come to this decision lightly, but it is mine to make. I came to inform you of it. That is all.”
Turning, he strode from the parlor with the same determination he’d shown upon entering, and despite the circumstances, Mina felt a glimmer of appreciation at seeing her son showing such strength and purpose.
The parlor door shut behind him, and Mina turned to face Simon, though he had stepped to the mantle, staring into the empty fireplace.
Coming up behind him, Mina rested a hand on his shoulder. “Speak to me, love. What is bothering you so?”
Whipping around, Simon scowled. “Our son has taken up with that woman’s daughter. What else is there to say?”
Pressing a hand to her stomach, Mina shook her head. “I am sickened at the thought, but your reaction…” Words failed her, but they were unnecessary as Simon’s gaze said clearly that he understood her meaning. He turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he did not elaborate, Mina stepped to his back and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder.
“Please speak to me. No secrets.”
His hand came up to rest upon hers, holding them close to his chest for a moment before he turned to face her. Mina looked into his face, but Simon did not meet her eyes.
“I am watching my son make the same mistakes I did.” Simon held her gently in his arms, but his muscles were so taut and strained that it felt as though she were held by granite. Pressing a hand to his cheek, Mina nudged his face up and waited until he finally looked directly at her. Despite his protestations, it was there that she saw the truth.
“Dearest,” she murmured, her thumb brushing across his cheek. “There is no need to carry the burdens of the past. It was long ago—”
Simon sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I know, Mina. I do. And it’s not that I…” He paused, his head dropping once more.
Nudging his chin upwards, Mina held his eyes, imbuing her gaze with all the certainty she felt. “The mistakes of the past do not need to be resurrected, Simon. Nor need you be burdened by those long-ago actions. You behaved carelessly back then, but you have proven yourself worthy of my trust time and time again. I do not doubt you.”
There was a hint of a question in his gaze as though he hardly believed it himself. Taking his hand in hers, Mina held it close to her heart.
“You do know that, don’t you?” asked Mina. “Whatever else I’ve been struggling with, not a bit of it has to do with doubting you or our marriage. I trust in us.”
Lifting her hand to his lips, Simon pressed a kiss to her palm, the light in his eyes confirming that he’d needed her words. The bonds of marriage connected them as tightly as any two could be bound, and Mina felt his unspoken love flowing through it and filling her to bursting. And she gave back with equal measure.
“I do apologize, Mina. But with that woman here, I feel as though I’ve been transported back to those awful days, and I cannot seem to think straight.”
Mina grabbed him up in an embrace, holding tight to him for his sake as much as hers. “I feel the same, Simon. I am not the trembling, timid thing she knew back then, yet when she looks at me, I feel all my hard-earned composure evaporate.”
“Perhaps we should reconsider a trip,” murmured Simon, his voice muffled as his face buried into her neck.
“Do you think Oliver is likely to join us? I cannot stand the thought of leaving him in their clutches—”
“Ridiculous!”
The couple both jerked, flying apart as they turned to see their daughter stepping clear of her high-backed armchair, which had been turned away from Mina and Simon.
“How long have you been hiding there?” asked Simon.
Lily straightened and her lips pinched together in prim disapproval. “I wasn’t hiding. You didn’t notice I was there when you entered, and I chose not to make myself known, but I cannot stay silent when you are making a grave mistake.”
Mina opened her mouth, but Lily did not allow them a chance to speak.
“I shan’t stand idly by and allow you to speak so cruelly of Sophie. She is my friend!” Those last words wobbled as Lily’s expression fell, and though she attempted to curtail the gathering tears, they were clear for Mina to see. “Perhaps one of the truest I’ve ever had.”
And with that, her breaths became jagged. Lily bit on her lips, but it would not stop the tears. Having been born with a tender soul apt to feel everything deeply, Lily was quick to empathize, but this reaction was more than sympathy for Sophia Banfield. True pain shone in her eyes, and Mina rushed to her daughter’s side, leading her to a sofa as Simon sat opposite, watching the pair with a worried pull of his brow.
With a little prodding, Mina drew out the story from Lily, though it came through broken breaths. Mina’s own heart ached at the pain her daughter had suffered at the hands of she who claimed to be Lily’s friend, drawing forth sympathetic tears from Mina’s eyes. Meeting Simon’s gaze, she saw the same concern, though mixed with a fair bit of righteous anger on Lily’s behalf.
“You are not a bore,” said Mina, rocking her daughter while cursing that wretched Hettie Nelson and Charles Dosett. As much as she hoped Lily would trust in that reassurance, Mina knew too well the power behind poisonous words.
“That is not the point,” said Lily. “Sophie has been nothing but kind to me. Even while others think me a tedious burden, she enjoys my company. She is sweet-tempered and simply wonderful, Mama. If you only gave her a chance, you would see it for yourself.”
Mina sorted through her arguments, picki
ng her words with great care. “I know it may seem that way to you, Lily, but her mother is an expert at manipulating others. I have no doubt her daughter—”
Lily leaned away, wiping at her cheeks. “It is not fair of you to judge her for her mother’s actions. I feel uneasy around Mrs. Banfield—even when she is being cordial—but I do not feel so around Sophie. Quite the opposite.”
“You do not understand what you are asking of us,” added Simon, and Lily’s watery gaze flew to him.
“I am not a child, Papa,” she replied. “I am well aware of the history between you and Mrs. Banfield, but are you willing to deny Oliver a chance of happiness because of that? I have seen him with Sophie, and as much as I adore Victoria, Sophie is the better match for him. He cares for Victoria, but he loves Sophie. Or near enough. Give them a chance to sort things out.”
“It’s not that simple—” Mina didn’t know how she was to finish that statement, but it was of no use as Lily spoke over her.
“You cannot condemn her without even speaking to her, Mama.” Turning her gaze to her father, Lily added, “And if she is as false as you believe, then Oliver will discover it on his own as you did. Trust him.”
Simon crossed his arms. “I wouldn’t have discovered it if not for your mother’s assistance, and if Miss Sophie is as conniving—”
“No!” Lily rose to her feet, her cheeks pinking, though she did not allow her discomfort to dissuade her from her present course. Mina was so shocked at the outburst that she remained in her seat, as did Simon. “I will not sit here and listen to you slander someone who has been nothing but kind to me.”
Clenching her fists, their daughter strode away, ignoring Simon’s protests and only stopping at the threshold to turn a burning scowl at them.
“Do not try something so foolish as forcing Oliver to leave Bristow. It will do nothing but cause more friction.” Lily moved to leave, but stopped again, the fire in her gaze ebbing as she straightened and faced them. “And though you judge her harshly, Sophie has shown a great deal of understanding and concern for your feelings. Never once has she railed against you or encouraged me to go against your edicts. Though she had every right to be angry or bitter, she was only pained at your unflattering opinion of her. Sophie is far more forgiving and kind than I would’ve been in her place.”
Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love Book 3) Page 19
