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 valets. 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