Page 41 of Sense and Suitability
“Wait a moment!” Emme pointed at Lottie. “Mrs. Dean’s thief is... your sister?”
Mrs. Dean? Surely Lottie wouldn’t have stolen from her! Fire flew through him. “You stole from Widow Dean?” His tone was low, but Lottie flinched as if he’d shouted.
Lottie held up the sack clutched in her hands. “I overheard Cook say we only had a few eggs, and you mentioned selling trees for repairs. Mrs. Dean has plenty of chickens, so I thought...” Her voice trailed off as she tried to hide the sack behind her back. “It seemed reasonable. She couldn’t miss them.”
“First strawberries from the Sutherlands’ field and then apples from the Lennoxes’ orchard... now chickens?” Heat rose into his face for a whole new reason, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting for control. “We will discuss this later, but on your ride back to the house, I want you to devise a proper apology for Mrs. Dean that youwilldeliver in person.”
Lottie’s face paled to such a degree, the faint freckles across her nose stood out. If he was going to be forced to face the embarrassment of her choices, then she should feel the sting as well.
Lottie’s eyes pleaded. “We could take the chickens back and she’d never know.”
“Go to the house.” He snatched the bag from her hands and turned to William. “And ask Mrs. Patterson to have tea ready. I’m certain Miss Lockhart will appreciate something to warm her.”
Warm her? And their balcony kiss flashed to mind.
Simon marched to Cleopatra and raised Lottie to the horse’s back, then patted its haunches to usher it along. Emme’s black mare had exited the water and kept close by the shoreline, its ears still poised as if waiting for another mishap. Its entire body edged for retreat.
Well, her horse was not ready to be ridden at the moment.
With a whistle, Zeus left his grazing position by the forest’s edge and approached.
Emme reached out to him, and in uncustomary style, he nuzzled her palm.
“Such a magnificent animal is much more fitting for you.” Again, her lips pinched into a frown, as if she’d forgotten her anger toward him.
Another shiver shook her body. September hadn’t turned cold yet, but it had lost the warmth of August.
Simon stepped up beside her and retrieved a coarse blanket from Zeus’s saddlebag, Emme’s sweet apple scent slipping within range. His throat closed and he took a measured stepped back. “Charlotte tends to overestimate her abilities.”
“That isn’t very surprising, considering...” Emme seemed to catch her words again.
He studied her, brow raising in challenge for her to finish her sentence, and then he reconsidered.
Her lips crooked before another tremor rippled through her.
Smothering a groan, he stepped closer and draped the blanket around her shoulders, holding the corners longer than was strictly necessary. Yet the sudden awareness of how near she was—close enough to see the golden ring encircling her irises—froze him.
He’d helped her with her shawl once when the wind had caught it during one of their walks near town. Just as now, he’d looked into those lovely eyes and time had stilled. It had been that moment when he knew he wanted to marry her.
But now, as she stared back at him, the current wariness in her gaze gave way to something he didn’t fully understand.
Another shiver from her broke the spell, and he relinquished his hold on the blanket. “We must get you somewhere warm.”
The words came out sharper than he intended, and she flinched slightly. He gestured toward the path leading to the house. “Please. Your father would never forgive me if you fell ill under my watch.”
But she hesitated. “Simon, what about the chickens?”
Simon! She kept calling him Simon, each instance chipping away the distance he was attempting to maintain.
“The chickens?” He coughed out the words.
“We really ought to try and catch them, if we can.” She waved her hand from beneath the blanket back toward the forest, where one chicken pecked at the ground. “The poor things might feed a local fox, and then both you and Mrs. Dean would gain nothing. But would you mind going after the larger one with the black speckles? He’s rather nasty and has always had an unjust vendetta against me.”
Simon blinked a few times, trying to comprehend her request. “You... you want the two of us to chase after Mrs. Dean’s stolen chickens?”
He narrowed his eyes. Did she hear the ridiculousness of it?
“We can’t just leave them out here.”
