Page 55 of Sense and Suitability
Her breath caught in her throat. It was the first time she’d voiced it, this understanding, this admission. And it shook her, because it meant that somewhere along the way, she’d truly forgiven Simon Reeves. How could she feel a twin sense of freedom and grief at the same time? Her heart knew it had to let go, yet still, a part of her wept.
Was that why she wanted to help him so much?
“Emme, in most cases, your desire would be admirable, but with him—”
“How can you say that? You’re a clergyman, for heaven’s sake.” She sent a pointed look from his toes to his hatless head. “You should applaud my decision, especially with someone whom I would have considered nearer my enemy only a few months ago. Where is all your talk about loving one’s enemies and forgiving others?”
“He has friends. He doesn’t need you getting involved—”
“But I am his friend too,” she said, cutting him off, the acknowledgment settling deep. “I heard his aunt’s ultimatum and met thechildren. And I have a very real way we can be of assistance. Besides, he may be more inclined to take advice from a man of God.”
Thomas narrowed his eyes, his skepticism clear. “My position is not a game card, Emme. Not everyone is eager for a visit from a man of God.” He leaned forward slightly, his sigh revealing the first cracks in his resistance. She thought the “man of God” bit might help her cause, and she shot a glance heavenward in gratitude.
“What exactly are you proposing I do?”
Her smile wavered wide. “Nothing outrageous. Quite the opposite, in fact. Small, sensible acts in keeping with your station.” She raised her hands in a placating gesture, as if soothing a skittish horse. Surely Thomas would see the wisdom in her plan. “Encourage him in subtle ways—gifts for his larder, which I mean to provide. And perhaps you might help me persuade him to allow his younger sisters an outing or two under my care. It would provide them a touch of a lady’s influence and grant him some relief.”
Not to mention, it might keep Charlotte from her light-fingered tendencies.
Thomas tilted his head. “These are tasks you could manage without my involvement.”
“I cannot visit him alone,” she pointed out, her gaze lifting to meet his with unspoken pleading.
His lips thinned. “What else?”
“I want you to help me convince Simon to take on a tenant farmer or two.”
“A tenant farmer? Emme, it is his business what he does with his—” Thomas’s words faltered as understanding dawned on him. “You’re thinking of Mrs. Dean’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“It would be a mutually beneficial arrangement,” she said. “They need a place to live and work, and Simon needs income and produce. His cousin’s poor reputation likely left him with few recommendations for tenants.” Perhaps her idea wasn’t so far-fetched after all. In fact, shewas beginning to feel a little giddy about it all. “And as rector, you’re aware of others in need. It’s a practical solution that benefits more than just Lord Ravenscross.”
Thomas studied her, his skepticism giving way to a wry grin. “I see your plotting isn’t confined to your novels.”
“Stories are everywhere.” She offered him a pleased smile. “Why not use them to work toward better ends?”
Thomas regarded her thoughtfully again, and then, with a resigned bend of his shoulders, he moved to the seat beside her. “You must realize, Emme, he can’t choose you for his bride, no matter what you do.”
Oh, she knew. The truth had settled over her long ago, and though it ached, it no longer cut as sharply. Perhaps her resolve to help had dulled the pain. “I’m not ignorant of the world, Thomas. Lest you forget, I am embroiled in Aunt Bean’s rather inventive campaign to find me a suitable match.” She squeezed his hand, her smile tinged with humor. “It was a fanciful notion to think a country landowner’s daughter like me could aspire to marry the nephew of a viscount. Even less so now that he’s inherited the title.”
She exhaled, the weight of reality pressing firmly against her. “I know he cannot choose me, even if he wished it. But that does not mean I cannot help.”
“I think,” Thomas said slowly, shaking his head, “you show much more Christian charity in this moment than I would.”
She chuckled. “Then perhaps extending a little benevolence toward him might ease your ire.”
“I still wish to throttle the man,” he muttered.
“Then do it with a dose of charity,” she teased, giving his hand another squeeze. “Your protective instincts are clouding your godly ones.”
“I’ve been practically a brother to you. It is my right.”
“And I’m grateful for it, most of the time.”
His grin widened as he released her hand. “Most of the time, we aren’t discussing your former suitor. It makes for far less agreeable conversation.”
“Then perhaps”—she scooted to the end of her chair, her anticipation nearly shaking her body—“you’ll find my next proposal more to your liking.”
“Oh no,” he groaned. “More magnanimity? I suspect the wrong family member joined the clergy.”
