Hearts Entwined (Victorian Love #3) - M.A. Nichols Page 0,41

is good to finally meet you,” said Miss Sophie, as Oliver made the introductions. The young lady gave them her brightest smile, but his parents met it with wary nods.

“My son and daughter have spoken of you,” said Mother. Though she hid her emotions away, Oliver sensed her unease beneath the words as she tightened her grip on Father’s arm.

“They’ve been quite welcoming,” replied Miss Sophie. “It has been a pleasure to make their acquaintance. I hope we may continue the association even after the party is over.”

“Perhaps,” said Father, though it was a tone Oliver had heard far too many times as a lad and was essentially a “no.”

But Miss Sophie’s good cheer never faltered. If she sensed the Kingsleys’ disquiet, she gave no sign of it, simply continuing to speak when his parents attempted to drag Oliver away.

“That is a lovely gown, Mrs. Kingsley. The color is so unique.”

Rather than appearing pleased with the compliment, Mother tightened her grip on Father, her features tensing.

“I cannot seem to put a finger on the precise name of the shade,” Miss Sophie continued, “though I can think of the hues to recreate it. A coral that borders more on pink than orange.”

“Quite unique,” said Mrs. Banfield as she came up beside her daughter. Oliver had no notion as to how the lady had appeared unnoticed, but there she was, inserting herself in an already uncomfortable conversation.

“But then Mrs. Kingsley has such a way with fashion,” added Mrs. Banfield. Though the lady’s compliment rang with the same earnest praise with which her daughter had spoken, there was an undertone of something else to her words that spoke of an insult, though Oliver knew not what it was.

Father opened his mouth to reply, but Mother spoke first.

“My thanks.” Her tone was not overtly rude, but neither did it display any true pleasure.

“Miss Sophie is an artist,” interjected Oliver, hoping that a shared interest might spur further discussion. “She enjoys watercolor like you, Mother.”

*

Her son spoke with too much abrupt force to be masked as a polite transition into another subject, but Mina hardly countenanced his words. In her mind, she saw him sitting beside the Banfield girl, speaking and laughing with her, delight gleaming in his gaze. There was no mistaking that look. Oliver admired Miss Sophie.

In a flash, the years pulled back like the cracking skin of an old onion, and Mina was transported to that awful time in her life when she’d watched Simon trip and fall over Mrs. Banfield. But now, it was Oliver taken in by a beguiling young lady, blind to the truth that lay behind the sweet mask. Plying Mina with honeyed words while laughing at her in secret.

Mrs. Banfield ignored Oliver’s conversational shift and turned her hard gaze on Mina, her eyes sparking a challenge. “I had thought such a color was inappropriate for a woman of your years, but it is perfect for you.”

Mina had thought herself beyond the age of blushing so readily. That once common practice of hers had faded with the years, but now, her cheeks blazed red like two ripe apples. Mina opened her mouth to set the lady down, but her thoughts fled her. She was a grown woman! Closer to her dotage than a young maiden. With decades behind her, Mina could not remember the last time she had quivered and quaked when facing a social adversary, yet here she was, wishing to flee.

“And Mr. Kingsley,” said Mrs. Banfield, slanting a sly smile at Mina before shifting her covetous gaze to Simon. “You are quite as handsome as ever. The years have not touched you one jot.”

Jaws clenched tight together, Mina fought not to glower at the woman as Mrs. Banfield’s gaze raked Simon’s frame. Her stomach burned inside her, begging her to silence Mrs. Banfield. But her mind and tongue seized while under her old enemy’s power.

“You are wasting your flattery on me, Mrs. Banfield, so I would beg you to keep your words to yourself,” snapped Simon, not bothering to mask his scowl.

Mrs. Banfield held a hand to her chest, her eyes widening. “I was merely being kind, and this is how you respond?”

Buried beneath Mina’s fury over her inaction was anger over the lady’s “compliment” of her husband. Simon had changed much over the years. Lines marked his eyes and the edges of his mouth. Gray hairs colored his temples and were sprinkled through his dark tresses. He was no longer the young man Mina had