Page 108 of Sense and Suitability
What was she saying? She pulled her hands from his and stepped back. “So the timing for my departure is quite providential.”
“What?” The word burst from him as her words made it to comprehension. “Departure? You’re leaving?”
“I planned to go before I ever knew there was a chance for us.” Her hand pressed to her chest as though it might still her trembling. “I thought distance would free you to find a bride—someone without a secret that could harm your family. And now...” Her voice faltered, but she pressed on. “Now my presence will only wound you by association. My profession will follow us everywhere.”
“Emme.”
“You need the chance to find someone else,” she continued, a sob catching in her throat. “A woman who brings you security, not scandal. A woman with wealth. I can’t be that for you.”
“No.” He caught her hand, holding it fast. “You are the woman I want. The only one. You’re the one I love, Emme.”
She sniffled but did not pull away. Another tear traced the curve of her cheek. “I wish love were enough, Simon. But it won’t shield your family’s name or keep food on your table. Imustleave.”
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if to tether her to him. “There has to be another way—another solution.” His voice grew hoarse as he studied her face, memorizing every beloved line, the curve of her lips, the shimmer of tears in her eyes. Deep down, he knew the truth: There were no solutions. Not yet.
For one moment, she rested her head on his shoulder, her softsobs blending with the distant murmur of the ballroom. He pressed his lips to her hair, breathing in the familiar fragrance of roses. The heat behind his eyes betrayed him, and he shut them tightly, his arms securing her close in a futile attempt to stop time.
With a wipe to her eyes, she pushed back from his arms, her watery gaze searching his face. If he’d ever doubted her love, the look she gave him stripped away all uncertainty. “Goodbye, Simon.”
His shoulders sagged, his head falling forward as he exhaled a long, pained breath. “I don’t want to let you go.”
“You don’t have a choice.” Her voice wavered, but her chin lifted in defiance of her tears. “You’ll find someone—someone who can give you what you need most. Someone who won’t risk your future, who will love your family as dearly as—” Her voice broke, and she stepped farther back toward the garden path.
She paused only once, her gaze lingering on him with devastating finality. And then, with a turn, she vanished into the shadows.
The silence of the garden engulfed him, pressing on his chest. He stared into the darkness where she had disappeared, his breath ragged.
“There is no one else for me but you,” he whispered, his words lost in the night.
He raised his gaze to the starry sky, a silent cry clawing for release. Wasn’t love supposed to be enough?
But the answer mocked him, echoing in the void she left behind. Life was rarely so simple. Love couldn’t mend the burdens of legacy, nor could it conjure wealth from empty coffers. And as the weight of reality settled in his chest, Simon realized the bitter truth: Love alone was not enough to overcome the demands of duty.
Chapter 23
God granted Emmeline a rare mercy by having Aunt Bean whisked away from St. Groves the day after the ball. Not only had the entire ballroom discovered her secret by two in the morning, but by noon the next day, all of St. Groves was positively humming with it.
Much to her chagrin, Emme had become the talk of the social season for the second year running—never a promising sign. To punctuate her demise, Aunt Bean delivered her parting words with all the subtlety of a blunt axe:“Only a miracle could lead to matrimony now.”
Perhaps her future as an independent, unmarried woman had chosen her after all. Her mother’s family in Yorkshire would welcome her, and there she could recuperate, let the rumors die down, and focus on writing another novel. Perhaps, with enough time and distance, she could even learn to let go of Simon Reeves.
Oh, but how his words taunted her still, lighting a flicker of impossible hope.
He loved her.
And the way his eyes had gleamed with admiration at the thought of her writing—it had been nothing short of astonishing. Almost as if he were proud of her. She tipped her gaze heavenward.
Dear God, how could I ever give up such a man?
“I still can’t believe it.” Aster’s voice broke into her reverie. She stood by Emme’s bed as Emme placed her garments into the trunk. “All this time you’ve been an author and never told me?”
Emme laid her favorite gown carefully atop the others, her throat tightening with another wave of tears. But she had cried enough through the night—enough to wake with puffy eyes and a sore nose. There was no point indulging further.
“I thought, in some convoluted way, I was protecting you and Father.” She sighed, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed. “But now I see I should have told you long ago. Perhaps then we could have written a different ending to this tale.”
Aster joined her, settling close and covering Emme’s hand with her own. “I don’t care what they say. I’m proud of you.” Her smile was warm, her voice unwavering. “You pursued a dream no one else dared, and you succeeded. That’s remarkable, Emme.”
The praise in Aster’s words soothed her, if only a little. But reality was never so easily dismissed. “I only worry how this revelation will affect you and Father. Little Alfie is still unaware of such troubles. But I’d never forgive myself if it hurt any of you.”
