Page 46 of Sense and Suitability
She stepped away from the room, steadying her resolve with a tipto her chin. Why should the thought of him marrying someone else unsettle her? She’d already grieved the loss of a future with him.
Her chest squeezed at the internal admission.
Besides, she had no desire for an aristocratic life. Or the responsibility of caring for a gaggle of siblings. Or a brooding, novel-hating, dangerously infuriating, and impossibly handsome man.
Her cheeks warmed. She sighed. No, she was entirely unsuitable.
“Pardon me, miss?”
Emme jumped back, her heart leaping as she turned to find a petite woman with a disapproving gaze and impeccable posture. A raised brow added silent reprimand to the tableau.
The woman’s plain black dress and white cap marked her as one of the household staff.
“Yes, hello, Mrs....” Emme grasped for the name she’d overheard earlier. “Patterson?”
The other brow lifted, joining the first. “Yes, miss.”
“Miss Lockhart,” Emme provided, keeping her voice low. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Mrs. Patterson inclined her head, though her expression remained cool. “If you’ll follow me, I shall escort you to a more suitable part of the house.”
Ah,suitable.That word again.
Emme glanced down at her soaking gown, suddenly aware of the clammy fabric clinging to her skin. In her momentary lapse into eavesdropping, she had completely forgotten her damp discomfort.
Her face heated.
Yet more proof that Emmeline Lockhart needed to keep her romantic entanglements confined to fiction, and certainly not attached to a viscount. When Simon had been merely a gentleman’s son, she could have fit a little better into his world. Besides, a second heartbreak at the hands of the only man she’d ever dreamed of marrying was entirely out of the question.
Marry by the end of the season?
Simon stared at his aunt as if she’d spoken in a foreign tongue. Finding a “suitable” bride was daunting enough without a timeline, but to strangle his choices into a few months? Impossible.
And yet, not entirely impossible.
His thoughts strayed, unbidden, to two seasons ago. He had met Emme Lockhart by sheer chance, and by their second encounter, he had already considered her as his bride. By the third, he had known it.
She had unraveled everything—his plans, his expectations, his carefully constructed future. Her regard had redirected his very existence... until that future had spun entirely out of his grasp.
“You need funds and stability, Simon,” Aunt Agatha continued, her tone unyielding. “And perhaps some favorable gossip for a change, which brings me to my final stipulation.”
As if the bride requirement wasn’t vexing enough?
He squared his shoulders, meeting her stare.
“No scandals.”
“What do you—”
“At the first hint of a scandal, I will withdraw my support.” She drew in a breath as she stood, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle in her gown. “This family has suffered enough disgrace to last a lifetime. If we are to rise above the ruin your father and cousin left behind, your every step must be unimpeachable.”
Simon’s jaw slacked. Most of the scandals plaguing his life were caused by others, not him. True, he had indulged in the occasional youthful folly, but he had hardly destroyed estates or eloped in secret. How was he meant to enforce a scandal-free existence?
“I understand you cannot control the actions of others,” Aunt Agatha continued, stepping closer. Her sharp gaze swept over himfrom brow to boot. “But I will be watching yours. Should you follow in your father’s disgrace or your cousin’s extravagance, I will cut all support and seek custody of your younger siblings.”
The blow landed with the force of a cudgel. “You haven’t the right—”
“I have friends in very high places, Simon.” Her brow arched with imperious finality. “But make no mistake—I take no pleasure in the prospect of removing your siblings from their home.” Her voice softened, her expression searching his. “Or from you. However, I will not have the youngest three tainted by association if you waver. We have already seen the effects on Theodore and Arianna.”
