Page 5 of Sense and Suitability
“A woman grows wiser and stronger when thwarted in love,” Aunt Bean added, as though dispensing great wisdom. “And the further we stay from scandal, the better your prospects. A faded rose is still a rose.”
Encouragement clearly wasn’t Aunt Bean’s natural gift.
“Mother,” Thomas drawled, “I do believe you’re verging on sentimental. None of us are prepared for such a shift.” With a sly glance at Emme, he added, “However, if I must indulge this rare moment, I’d say Emme’s finest qualities are her quick wit and her good heart.”
Thomas’s gaze searched Emme’s, voicelessly seeking her mood, so she offered a small smile in return. Her good heart proved all too naive, leaving her wiser only in the art of heartbreak. However, her experiences had at least lent a certain realism to her fictionaltales of rakish heroes, dashed hopes, and clandestine liaisons turned disastrous.
She sighed. While her modest ventures as a novelist fell short of true disgrace, the revelation would hardly enhance her standing, especially in the wake of her first season’s embarrassment. Aunt Bean, she suspected, would be positively apoplectic if the truth ever emerged.
With Thomas’s help, she had kept her little profession hidden by granting him full control of her business affairs. No one thought twice about a man negotiating contracts and royalties, after all. She didn’t even know how much she’d earned from her three books, only that the reviews had softened considerably since her debut effort.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Thomas,” Aunt Bean declared with the finality of a gavel. “Her best feature is her two thousand pounds. It may not be as enticing as some other ladies’ fortunes, but I feel we can use her first season’s... misstep... and last season’s reticence to evoke the proper amount of sympathy for her marital plight. It is understandable that Emmeline should fear stepping back out after the blemish to her reputation, which will only increase compassion from the mothers of sons in want of a wife. Her excellent family”—she raised her chin with pride at full tilt—“should elevate her to a competitive standing with at least one marriageable gentleman of the gentry.”
Nowshefelt like the mare in a horse race.
“I have made a list of some of the most suitable candidates,” Aunt Bean continued, extracting a carefully folded slip of paper from her reticule and handing it to Emme with the air of a royal decree.
“Alist?” The word burst from Thomas. He cast his mother a sharp glance. “Really, Mother, is this necessary?”
“Emmeline did not have my guidance the last two seasons and look how those turned out,” she replied with unshakable conviction. “I shall steer her toward men who are not only upstanding but also well within her means. One of the difficulties with your firstseasons, Emmeline, was that you aimed too high above your station, dear girl.”
Emme did not feel very “dear” at the moment. “He was a gentleman, Aunt Bean... Albina,” Emme corrected. “We are of the same station.”
Though the wordgentlemanwas perhaps a generous stretch. Simon Reeves had charmed her with kind words, unexpected attentions, and stolen moments: a carriage ride alone and—heat rose to her cheeks—a near kiss in the garden.
He had made her believe he cared.
Cared enough for... forever.
Then he’d left her to deal with the consequences: whispers of impropriety, the sting of being deemed “tainted,” and the bruising weight of a broken heart. She should have known better. Simon’s reputation as a flirt was well documented, his name even linked with the likes of the infamous Selena Hemston on one occasion. It seemed he lived up to the charm without any intention of hurting or truly pursuing the ladies involved. And yet, she had foolishly believed he’d been different with her.
That he’d... loved her.
Aunt Bean, of course, referred to Simon’s newly altered position. When he had courted Emme, their social difference had been present but not insurmountable. He was simply the heir to a modest estate. Yet everything had changed with the tragic deaths of his father and cousin. Now Simon was the Viscount of Ravenscross, the inheritor of an ancient title, an expansive estate, and, if rumor held true, significant debts. His responsibilities—and expectations—had grown exponentially.
“A man in Lord Ravenscross’s position will only trifle with the heart of a girl with a mere two thousand pounds,” Aunt Bean declared, punctuating her words with an imperious wave of her finger. “He will marry someone much richer. So keep your head this season, Emmeline, and do not let yourself be drawn into another... dalliance.”
“You have no worry on that score.” Emme’s words escaped with more force than she intended, her face flaming. “If I never see him again, it will be too soon.”
Aunt Bean’s dark eyes narrowed. “Do you not read the society pages?”
All heat drained from Emme’s face as she looked from Thomas to Aunt Bean. “What do you mean?”
“Rumor has it that Lord Ravenscross is back in St. Groves and in search of a wealthy wife.”
Chapter 2
“Well, there it is in black-and-white. You must find a wife.”
Simon Reeves’s body braced against the invisible blow from his so-called friend, Benjamin Northrop, as the man set his glass on the table with as deafening a finality as his words. His reference to the newest tattle in the social pages somehow incited a pain just above Simon’s right eye.
A wife.The very word felt like a shackle, the weight of it pressing sharp against Simon’s already overburdened chest. It was a notion he had avoided considering for as long as possible, clinging instead to the naive hope that he might find some other way to salvage the future of his estate and family.
But of course the world offered no such reprieve. Not for him. Especially in a set of consecutive tragedies that started not two years before.
“Marry?” Simon placed his own glass down, rolling the word around on his tongue like a bitter draught. “Because the local tattle says so?” He raised a brow and fixed Benjamin with a look. “A fine proposition it would be for some unsuspecting bride: marry into ruin, inherit a family in chaos, and call it happily ever after. A welcome haven for any of Lady Ruthton’s protégées.”
Yet even as he mocked the idea, Simon couldn’t entirely dismiss it. If one of Lady Ruthton’s protégées came with a dowry large enough to restore his crumbling estate, perhaps the idea wasn’t as preposterous as he pretended. His pride bristled at the thought, but hissituation left no room for such luxuries as pride. Ravenscross needed funds, and it needed them urgently.
