Page 70 of Sense and Suitability
Oh, why couldn’t he be a very unlikable rogue? It would make things so much easier.
Simon looked away first, clasping his hands behind his back as their pace slowed. “Thank you for providing this diversion for my sisters.”
The low timbre of his gratitude sent warmth rising up her neck, and she suddenly understood why fans were such an indispensable accessory in courtship, especially with voices like his. “It was truly mypleasure. And you should hear from Mrs. Lane within the next few days. She seems most eager to learn more about the position.”
“I look forward to meeting her. With your recommendation, I daresay she’ll be more than suitable.”
“All that remains, then, is finding a suitable bride,” Emme said lightly, tilting her head with exaggerated cheer. “Miss Clayton is an excellent option, my lord.”
If looks could render a woman breathless, his certainly did. His gaze held hers for a moment too long, the humor fading into something... far too intimate. So intimate, in fact, that her breathing stalled altogether.
He cleared his throat and gestured with his chin in the direction toward town. “To that end, I plan to attend the theater tomorrow evening.”
Why did being in Simon’s presence or thinking about him lead to a war of emotions? She blamed that covert kiss on the balcony.
And his voice.
And likely those devastating eyes of his.
So she rallied her humor to the battle. “Do you?”
Unfortunately, if the glimmer in his eyes gave any warning, he rallied his humor as well. “On the recommendation of... a friend.”
Her throat tightened, and her reply came out strangled. “Indeed. And are you taking someone?”
“I am,” he answered, grin crooked but faintly pained. “On that same friend’s advice.”
And in that moment, Emme recognized that his struggle matched her own. The conflict between doing what one wanted versus what one must. What would he choose if he had the freedom to do so? Would it still be her? After all this time?
“That friend wants to see you happy, Lord Ravenscross.”
His brow tightened and he lowered his head. “I am grateful for such a friend.”
She looked away, though her steps continued to grow slower the closer she came to the front door of her house. It was as if her body wanted to hold on to as many of these moments with him as possible because soon they’d be over.
He’d be married.
And any such connection with him would be gone.
“I understand they’re performingHe’s Much to Blame,” she offered, pausing at the front steps. “It might even earn a laugh from you, Lord Ravenscross. That could do your heart some good.”
“Hmm.” He turned as if to retreat but hesitated, his gaze finding hers again, this time with enough mischief dancing in those eyes that it mustered her wits to the ready. “I am curious about something.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think a shooting jacket is the most becoming style for a gentleman?”
Clearly, her wits were not ready. “What?”
He shook his head with mock gravity. “I suppose any man’s jacket might become irresistible, provided it’s offered in the rain after a fall.”
Her laughter shook loose as his meaning became clear. “You’re readingSense and Sensibility?”
“You challenged me. How could I refuse?”
Taking a woman’s book recommendation to heart might be one of the most romantic things in all the world. Oh, why did she have to be so poor? “And what do you think so far?”
He glanced toward the carriage, lowering his voice. “The wit is sharp, and the characters are finely drawn. But do women truly think in terms of manly beauty and gallantry?” His attention fastened on her with such intensity, her wits might have flown right out of her ears. “Do you?”
