beside the pianoforte, his hand resting atop the wood cover as his fingers drummed along in pace with the notes. As Finch was quite familiar with this piece, his gaze drifted from the keyboard to his friend.
“She is well enough and just set off to pay a call to Mrs. Pratt concerning their new literary society,” said Simon. The words were reassuring, though Simon’s tone was not. Besides, Finch was hard-pressed to believe Mina’s sudden departure was nothing. Her cool dismissal was easily understood, even if it was puzzling.
Finch glanced at his fingers. “It’s hard to believe all is well when you look so fretful.”
Sucking in a deep breath, Simon let it out in a great heaving puff of air. “We’ve not had a good go of it, Finch. Not three months ago, she left me.”
The tune jerked to a halt, and Finch stared at his friend, but Simon hurried to add, “I hold all the blame. I was a fool and treated her shabbily. Mina had every reason for doing so, and I count myself eternally blessed that she forgave me after I prostrated myself before her. Things have been perfect ever since, but something has her at odds now, and I cannot discern what I’ve done this time.”
Finch started to play where he’d left off, his thoughts gathering as the melody tripped along. “She seems displeased with me. Perhaps I ought to go—”
Shaking his head, Simon cut off that thought. “No, she assured me she wishes you to stay, so it has naught to do with you.”
But Finch was not so certain of that. Surely, it was the truth as Simon saw it, but though the fellow was as good a friend as any could wish for, Simon Kingsley was not the most observant of men.
“If you are certain you wish me to stay, then I will.” Finch kept his eyes trained on the keys, hiding away how much Simon’s answer meant to him.
The thought of returning to London was enough to make his insides turn to lead. The city had its diversions, but too many were beyond his financial means, and those available to him were hardly enjoyable when Finch was forced to attend them alone. Simon would not return to London until the Season began—or perhaps he would not return at all, as Finch doubted the fellow’s wife found much pleasure there.
“Of course I wish you to stay,” said Simon, turning an incredulous look in Finch’s direction. “If anything, your arrival is quite providential, for I require your advice.”
Finch laughed. “What advice could I give you?”
Simon frowned at that. “You do not give yourself proper credit, sir. There are few whose opinions I value more than yours. If not for your input, I wouldn’t have married Mina.”
The music stumbled once more, coming to a stop, and Finch gaped at Simon. “I gave you a warning against marrying for convenience’s sake, and you married against my advice, though I’m pleased to see it has fared well for you.”
That soppy smile of Simon’s grew, his eyes brightening. “It has fared more than ‘well,’ Finch. Mina is a treasure. I couldn’t have found a better wife, and if not for you bringing her to my attention, I wouldn’t have thought to pursue her.”
Finch had no response to that, for he hadn’t been in earnest in pointing Mina out at that fateful ball. True, he’d always harbored respect for the lady, but he’d never thought Simon would marry her.
“But we are drifting from the subject at hand,” said Simon. “I have often found your opinions on finance and investments to be quite sound. As much as I value Mina’s input on matters of the estate, she knows so little about the nuances of economy, and I am in desperate need of guidance.”
Nodding towards a pair of chairs sitting beside the pianoforte, Finch abandoned the instrument while making plans to return and sift through Mina’s music at a later time.
“My steward insists we invest some of our income into other ventures,” said Simon. “And while his reasons are logical, I cannot help but feel as though it would be detrimental to siphon funds away from the estate. The weather has been so temperamental of late, and I fear we are bound for some difficult harvests ahead. With our financial reserves tied up in investments, there will be nothing to keep the estate afloat, and I cannot abide the thought of taking on debt.”
Simon pinched his nose. “Mr. Thorne has been most