Page 105 of Sense and Suitability
“Simon—”
“Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife, Emmeline Lockhart?”
The music came to a stop, along with her hope. “Simon, I will not... I cannot continue this conversation in the middle of a ballroom. It’s... there’s too much to say.”
“Yes.” He nodded, looking up to search the room as he linked her arm through his and led her toward the edge of the ballroom. “Weneed privacy.” His grin flashed wide again, so much joy dancing in those beautiful eyes of his that her heart ached all over again.
Perhaps she didn’t need to tell him about her books. In fact, she could stop writing altogether if it meant being with him. She loved him, as much as ever, and if he was willing to sacrifice the money for her heart, couldn’t she sacrifice her talent for his?
She could still write, for herself and the children. Tell them the stories, couldn’t she?
But how long could she live with the shadow of this secret looming over them in the form of what she’d already published? Even if he shared in the secret, there was no guarantee the truth wouldn’t come out someday—and then... what?
He’d have no escape from being linked to her. No way to salvage the damage her profession might do to his name. No, no, no. She’d lost him once by no fault of her own.
And now, would she lose him all over again?
“I’ll meet you in the garden,” he whispered, nodding toward the glass doors. “This time, darling, I won’t leave you waiting.”
Darling.Her eyes withered closed as the endearment hurt.
And he did love her. It was the entire reason she’d planned to go away.
She saw it. Felt it. Nearly stepped back into its familiarity as if they’d never been apart. But love only grew as strong as the truth that bound it.
And—she turned toward the garden doors—sometimes, as she’d come to accept, love alone wasn’t enough for a happy ending.
Sometimes love demanded the hardest sacrifices of all.
Chapter 22
He’d asked her.
The words had been clogging Simon’s throat for almost two years. Now, he’d finally voiced them. He felt as if he could vault the room, his grin entirely untamable as he approached his friend. Ben stood back, surveying the dancers with the air of a man contemplating his next chess move—or perhaps his next victim.
Simon knew exactly who he’d be asking for the rest of his life.
“Well, what sort of mischief has you looking like the cat who got the cream?” Ben raised his glass, one brow quirked in mock suspicion. “A certain dance partner, I should guess.”
“And you would be correct.” Simon took a glass from a passing tray and tipped it slightly forward, as though to toast the entire room. “You once told me, in one of your more sentimental moments—”
“I have those?” Ben’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure it was me?”
“Entirely.” Simon grinned, his gaze flicking to the doorway leading to the garden. “In one of your rare lapses into wisdom, you advised me on the matter of marriage. You quoted your father, who said to at least find someone you could stand to be in the same room with.”
“Ah, yes. That sounds like him.”
“And then you added, in your own words, no less,” Simon continued, his smile widening, “‘But I’d say it is even better if you can find someone who makes you forget there’s a room at all.’”
Ben pulled a face of exaggerated disgust, though the twinkle inhis eye betrayed him. “I said something that maudlin? I must have been foxed.”
“Foxed or not”—Simon raised his glass to his lips again—“you were right.”
Ben sent a glance toward the garden doors and gave his head a disappointed shake. “Well, you certainly danced with her as if you’d forgotten everyone else in the room. We all had to bear witness to your unveiled expression of love—and her startled realization.”
Startled?Simon’s smile faltered a little. Perhaps hehadbeen a bit too... direct. He’d fairly attacked her with the relief at finally voicing what he’d been fighting for months. He should have given her the courtesy of privacy. But when he’d walked into the ballroom and noticed Mr. Rushing hovering near her, all his carefully laid plans had evaporated. He’d been able to think only one thing:Rescue her.
Once she took his hand, once he drew her close, every ounce of restraint had abandoned him. “Ben,” Simon said quietly. “I love her.”
