Page 31 of Sense and Suitability
He couldn’t move fast enough with his plans to salvage it.
Except through marriage.
A warning twinged through him, pricking at his pulse. How desperate was she, and how desperate did she think he was? If Hemston or his daughter was aware of even a fraction of his predicament, could they maneuver him into a marriage or the loss of his estate?
“Today’s lesson, my dears, is one of utmost importance,” Aunt Bean announced as she seated herself in the drawing room, her gown spreading around her like a conquering flag.
Emme and Aster exchanged a humored glance. Rather than resist these absurd lessons from Aunt Bean—to no avail—they had agreed to treat them as the entertainment they’d become. The sunlit room, with its floral wallpaper and cheerful morning light, seemed an ill-suited backdrop for the lecture at hand. Aster, ever the strategist, positioned her sketchbook in front of her, likely to refine the map she’d been secretly working on for weeks.
Emme folded her hands in her lap and braced herself, especially since most of Aunt Bean’s instruction seemed rather pointedly fixed on her.
“Charm,” Aunt Bean began, the word lingering in the air like the scent of overly strong perfume. “A lady must wield charm as a soldier wields a sword—deftly, with precision, and always to disarm.”
Emme suppressed a smile. Aunt Bean’s metaphors were often on the edge of the ridiculous, yet poetically so. As an author, Emme couldn’t help but appreciate the exaggeration.
Which was to say, all of it.
“Now”—Aunt Bean lowered her voice for dramatic effect—“there are three categories of charm every lady must master. The first: the art of listening.”
Aster, who had perfected the art of appearing engaged without truly listening, did not look up from her sketch, giving off the illusion that Aunt Bean’s words were so compelling that they demanded to be recorded.
From the tilt of Aunt Bean’s chin, she was clearly pleased with the reverence.
“To listen,” Aunt Bean elaborated, “is not merely to nod and murmur. It is to flatter. You must hang upon a gentleman’s every word, as though his opinions are both novel and profound—even when, as is often the case, they are neither.”
“Even when they are utter nonsense?”
“Especially then.” Aunt Bean fixed Emme with a sharp glare. “A man must never suspect he is anything less than brilliant in your eyes. It is his first and greatest weakness.”
Emme bit the inside of her cheek to stifle her retort.
“The second category of charm,” Aunt Bean said, forging ahead, undeterred, “is the subtle yet effective compliment. You must be precise, yet vague enough to let his imagination do the work.”
“Such as?” Aster glanced up from her paper, her tone too innocent to be sincere.
Ah, her sister was catching on to the idea of engagement too.
Aunt Bean waved her hand dramatically, as though brushingaway their collective ignorance. “For example, you might remark upon his excellent posture, the strength of his stride, or the pleasing resonance of his voice. Men are highly susceptible to praise that suggests physical superiority.”
Emme couldn’t resist. “So we should compliment them on attributes they have little control over, like their natural height or the timbre they were born with?”
Aunt Bean’s eyes flashed. “Exactly, my dear! It’s not the truth that matters but the flattery. Men are simple creatures—a few well-chosen words, and you’ve won half the battle.”
Aster’s pencil stilled, her lips quivering. “What if his posture resembles that of a wilting flower? Or his stride is more of a stumble?”
“Then you admire his determination in overcoming such obvious challenges, but never speak of those unfortunate defectsbeforemarriage. After you’ve secured him, you are at leisure to dissect to your heart’s content, but never before,” Aunt Bean snipped. “A real lady is clever enough to adapt.”
Emme pressed her fingers to her lips, pretending to stifle a cough.
“And lastly,” Aunt Bean declared, her attention fixed on Emme. “The third and most critical category: restraint.”
“Restraint?” Emme echoed, feigning ignorance.
“In speech, in action, in expression,” Aunt Bean clarified. “You must never reveal too much of your true thoughts. A man should see you as an enigma—desirable but unattainable, until, of course, he has committed himself to you entirely, and then you are at liberty to hold nothing back. It is his fault, of course, for not doing better research.”
Emme drew in a deep breath. “So we are to be simultaneously captivating, complimentary, and incomprehensible?”
“Precisely,” Aunt Bean said without hesitation, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “And do not think I haven’t noticed your particular failures in this regard.” She narrowed her gaze on Emme. “The incident with Mr. Long at the ball, for instance—arguingabout women riding horseback unchaperoned! Do you imagine such talk endears you to a gentleman?”
