Page 27 of Sense and Suitability
“Or exasperation.”
She offered her sweetest—and falsest—smile. “Well, I suppose God uses everything.”
His lips twitched as if to smile but flattened into a frown. “Why are you here?”
“Same as you, it seems. Fleeing unwanted company.” His musky scent invaded all the air around her, so she tried to breathe through her mouth. “Though I’d wager your admirers are more persistent.”
As if to confirm her words, the door opened, spilling a burst of laughter into the room. Emme covered her mouth with her hand and edged deeper into the curtains.
“He’s not here,” a shrill voice declared.
“Mr. Thompson,” came another female response. “You promised we’d find Lord Ravenscross in the library.”
Emme raised a brow at Simon, who grimaced.
“I thought for certain he walked this way” came Mr. Thompson’s smooth reply.
“Caroline has already had a chance to dance with him, but I’ve not, and don’t you think I’m the prettiest of the three of us?”
“The Levering triplets?” Emme mouthed.
Simon’s glare may have felled a lesser woman.
Or a woman who knew him less.
The internal admission hinged on her thoughts for only a second before she dismissed it. She must simply feel sorry for him, that was all.
The triplets—well, except Caroline—were known as the loudest and crudest young ladies of the town. Not even their vast dowries thus far had won them matrimony after two seasons.
“I’m determined to win him.” This from... Frances? “Conquering a rake has long been a goal of mine.”
Emme lost all control of her grin then.
He sent her a warning look.
“Not if I win him first,” Margaret answered.
“Any man would be honored to have such fine ladies as prospective wives.” Mr. Thompson’s voice took on the weight of his arrogance. “If I were still a single man, I can’t imagine doing any better.”
Emme cringed at the very idea of the sixty-year-old man flirting with these young ladies. Preposterous.
“We should search the gardens,” one of the ladies said, with the others giving their hearty agreement. And within the next moment, the door closed.
Emme’s chuckle shuddered free into the quiet, leaving nothing but the yawning silence behind to sober her. Simon shifted behind her, rustling the curtains as he moved to give her a bit of space.
The silence crackled with memories, unspoken words, and myriad questions. But rather than succumb to them, she chose a safer topic.
“If you’re going to select among the triplets, I’d recommend Caroline,” Emme whispered, careful not to look his way. “She’s the least insufferable.”
He growled under his breath.
Her lips crooked a little. “Imagine Ravenscross filled with that laughter all day long.”
“I thought I saw you enjoying Mr. Potter’s company earlier,” he countered, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Am I to congratulate you on an impending match with the charming octogenarian?”
“Certainly not!” Emme turned toward him then, just so he could see her annoyance. “Marriage is usually between two people, so there is no room for anyone else except Mr. Potter and his eternal devotion to his dead wife.”
His lips quirked, the faintest flicker of amusement that she resolutely ignored.
