Page 51 of Sense and Suitability
The remark threw Emme entirely off course. Two years ago?
“At the Conways’ garden party?” She blinked, unraveling her wariness over this conversational shift. “You must mean my sister, Aster. She’s the more adept player. I’m the one who nearly knocked Miss Hemston’s hat clean off.”
A twitch betrayed the corner of Mrs. Thornbury’s lips. “Exactly.”
What?
“And you had your cap set at my nephew at the time, I believe.”
Oh, Mrs. Thornbury had led Emme into this discourse like a mouse to a trap. If she hadn’t felt so woolly-headed about it all, she may have taken note for her next matriarchal character. Mrs. Thornbury was positively resplendent.
“Si—” Emme swallowed. “Lord Ravenscross and I did become acquainted then, yes.”
The twitch at the woman’s lips took a more prominent stretch upward. She’d caught her mouse, and Emme wrestled through myriad answers for possible questions to derail any further inquiry.
“Blast!” Fia’s exclamation burst from beneath the bed, echoing Emme’s internal sentiments all too perfectly.
“Women of your rank often pursue titled men, so your efforts to secure an advantage are hardly surprising,” Mrs. Thornbury mused, stepping closer. “Whatissurprising is that I expected you to be more levelheaded and conscientious than... grasping.”
Was there a compliment buried in that quagmire? Emme stared back, refusing to kowtow. “I am not seeking Lord Ravenscross’s title, Mrs. Thornbury.”
“No?” She rounded Emme like a cat on the hunt. “You’ve come to save him then?”
The barb struck as intended, though Emme refused to flinch. Everyone in St. Groves knew the Lockhart family’s modest means. “I should hope I have the good sense to know my dowry could not accomplish that, but the good heart to wish him well in his efforts to rescue his home and family.” Her smile tightened as she added, “Do not mistake me for a grasping debutante in search of a title.”
“Then why sully your reputation—and his—by arriving at Ravenscross unescorted? Only desperate women stoop to such tactics to ensnare a suitor.”
Emme’s jaw slackened at the accusation. “I am neither desperate nor audacious enough to throw myself at Lord Ravenscross.”
“Oh?” One brow arched northward. “You genuinely like him enough to risk your reputation?” Her frown deepened with warning. “If you truly wished to help him, you’d employ methods less... scandalous.”
“I had no intention of risking either his reputation or mine. I was merely visiting a widow in the community when I—” Emme caught sight of Charlotte’s wide-eyed alarm. “I noticed Miss Charlotte there, unescorted. Naturally, I brought her home.” The line between truth and evasion was perilously thin.
And it was still true. In fact, Emme watched Charlotte rather closely all the way to Ravenscross.
Mrs. Thornbury’s attention shifted to Charlotte, her gaze narrowing. “Saw her home, did you? And, pray tell, what was my niece doing at this widow’s house?”
Charlotte’s eyes grew impossibly wider, her lips parting but no sound escaping.
“She was... seeing to Mrs. Dean’s chickens,” Emme offered quickly.
“Seeing to Mrs. Dean’s chickens?” Mrs. Thornbury repeated, another twitch pinching up one edge of her lips.
“Blast!” came Fia’s triumphant cry from under the bed as she emerged, her hands clasped tightly around the wriggling renegade frog. “Look, Aunt Aggie, I caught him! He’s here to meet you.”
The woman’s face softened enough to reduce her age by a decade. “Darling child, what have you been rolling in to have mud from boots to hair ribbons?”
“The garden is her favorite place,” Charlotte said, voicing her first words since walking into the room. “It’s where she and Mother passed the mornings.”
Emme pressed a hand to her chest, suppressing the ache the words stirred. Oh, how well she understood the longing to revisit places where memories of a mother lingered, trying to feel her near in some way.
“Yes, well, Sophia could do with a bath,” Mrs. Thornbury announced.
“And I have already overstayed my unexpected visit.” Emme dipped her head politely and began edging toward the door. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Thornbury.” Her gaze landed on Charlotte, offering her the faintest smile of reassurance.
“I believe Simon has already called for the carriage to take you home.” Mrs. Thornbury nodded, the steel from her earlier gaze momentarily absent.
Emme dipped her head again in acknowledgment and left theroom. As she turned into the hallway, she caught sight of the young boy she’d seen earlier with Simon. William? She smiled gently at him, but he quickly looked away, retreating into the shadows of the corridor.
