Page 32 of Sense and Suitability
“Mr. Long seemed rather invigorated by the debate,” Emme replied, although the real reason she’d engaged with him with such passion was simply due to the fact she’d seen Simon dancing with the honorable, and rather rich, Miss Steele.
Yes, it was an irrational choice, but there she was.
“Precisely the problem,” Aunt Bean snapped. “A man invigorated by your intellect will only seek to conquer it. Far better to leave him enchanted by your silence.”
“And if silence fails?” Aster interjected, tapping her pencil against her smile.
Aunt Bean’s brows rose to almost touch her hairline. “Then, my dear, you must resort to the ancient art of... fainting. Nothing disarms a man quicker than a lady collapsing at his feet. He’ll be so concerned with reviving you, he won’t notice your intellect at all!”
Emme worked so hard to quell her laughter, she started coughing. Aunt Bean was quite serious. Too serious not to laugh.
With that benediction, Aunt Bean rose, her gown rustling like the wings of an indignant goose. “Remember, my dears, in the battlefield of love, sometimes you must fall back—or fall down—to win the war.”
Emme and Aster exchanged a look, barely waiting for Aunt Bean to leave the room before they broke into laughter.
Mr. Donald Tarleton gave Simon the first good news he’d had in weeks.
The prosperous tradesman proposed to buy some of the timber from Ravenscross for a price that, while not princely, would certainly grant Simon the breathing space needed for essential repairs and perhaps a new coat or two for himself and the children. After all, if hewere to charm a lady of fortune, he must look the part. In an era where Beau Brummell dictated the very threads of fashion, Simon knew the significance of a well-tailored suit.
Thanks to Nora’s meticulous list, Simon had whittled down his pool of potential brides to four promising candidates—each less tedious than the last and, most importantly, financially advantageous. But before introducing them to the rather... eclectic state of Ravenscross and his lively siblings, he needed to embark on the delicate dance of courtship.
His thoughts were interrupted by a letter perched precariously on the edge of his desk. Stokes, the venerable, ancient, and underpaid butler, must have placed it there while Simon was busy repairing Fia’s swing in the garden. The handwriting was unmistakable.
Aunt Agatha.
Simon’s shoulders slumped. His mother’s eldest sister, a widow with a fortune, had always been their family’s beacon during rough seas, especially since his mother’s passing. She had been the first to detect Arianna’s unwise affection toward Joseph Leeds and had warned Simon accordingly. However, her scrutiny often left Simon feeling like a disappointing echo of his father, though his flaws lay in arrogance and youthful indiscretions rather than harshness and financial caprice.
Perhaps she’d seen a change in Simon, though. He could only hope.
He needed at least one ally who understood their family to help him navigate this new world. Ben was an excellent sounding board, but Aunt Agatha knew the expectations of title as well as the depths of Father’s offenses and the gravity of those to the whole family.
He opened the envelope, skimming over the familiar hand. It wasn’t a long missive. A few simple lines alerting him to her arrival.
This afternoon.
He stood abruptly, the word echoing in his mind.
Thisafternoon?
He read on...
She was coming to alleviate some of their financial strain?
For the first time in months, a whisper of relief washed over him.
If anyone had the ability and interest to generously help his family without strings attached, it was his mother’s only sister. Perhaps her support could buy him time to put some of his plans into place to save the estate without a hasty marriage.
He rushed from the room in search of Mrs. Patterson, and as he passed the library, he spotted William, absorbed in a book.
“Will.”
The boy’s eyes lifted, wide and curious.
“Would you lend me a hand for a moment?”
A light bloomed in the boy’s eyes, and he closed the book, standing to attention in answer. The response paused Simon’s thoughts. Was Will’s solitary behavior less about escape and more about seeking purpose? Or not knowing where to find it?
Simon swallowed a groan. Of course he needed a purpose. Why had it taken so long for Simon to see it?
