Page 60 of Sense and Suitability
Sadly, it wasn’t the first time he’d looked at her that way.
“I don’t presume to know you... intimately,” she added, clearing her throat. That kiss lingered in her mind, undermining the statement’s veracity. “But I do understand your situation better than most, and”—her voice softened, her heart panging for the lost man before her—“I know more of your character than you might suspect.”
His attention flickered to hers and then held. “I cannot say it is the most prudent conclusion, Miss Lockhart.” His tone was neutral, his expression impassive. But his eyes—they betrayed something deeper,an unspoken connection that surged through her like a silent plea for what neither of them could give.
So, she told herself, she would channel her emotions into a safer, more acceptable direction.
Friendship. Nothing more.
It would have to suffice.
Her newest heroine—a woman separated from her beloved by war only to return and find him married to another—would undoubtedly appreciate the authenticity of such anguish. Research, indeed.
Authentic research, indeed.
She was mad.
“It’s a simple start, really.” She stood, backing away from him to give her emotions some distance. “In fact, if you’ll note from this short list, my first suggestion is Miss Eliza Clayton.” She pulled a piece of paper from her reticule. “She’s well bred, has a respectable dowry, and she’s perfectly amiable. I would even suggest you invite her to the theater this Thursday.”
Another puff of exasperated air came from Thomas at her left.
Simon’s mouth dropped open as he stood. “You’ve... drafted a list?”
“Of course. You haven’t much time.”
“Emme, have you gone mad?” Thomas stepped forward, between her and Simon. “What are you doing?”
She stiffened her resolve and met his incredulity with a steady gaze. “Not mad,” she said, willing her expression to reflect her sincerity. “Just... sensible. And good.” Sidestepping Thomas, she placed the envelope in the gift basket she’d brought. “Speaking of sensibility,” she added with a bright smile, “I’ve included some light reading for you in the basket.”
“Apart from the list, I presume?”
Ah, Simon had found his voice again. She much preferred this version of him to the one gaping at her as though she’d lost all reason.“Indeed. To broaden your appreciation for novels. You may find it hits rather close to the mark of reality.” Reaching into the folds of the basket, she withdrew a copy ofSense and Sensibility.
Before she could present it with dramatic flourish, the door slammed open, and Sophia Reeves charged in.
Today the girl wore a little red dress instead of the blue one from the other day, though the mud splattered across it remained a consistent feature.
“Blast! Come back here.”
Sure enough, a frog darted through the door and hopped at a desperate speed toward the shadows beneath the couch.
Everyone froze except Charlotte, who began to rise slowly from her hiding spot.
“Blast-It-All!” came another frustrated cry as Sophia dashed forward, heedless of the adults in the room, her hair as wild as her pursuit.
William appeared next, stumbling into the doorway, clearly giving chase. He stopped when he noticed the audience and retreated into the shadows of the hall.
The chaos of the moment only solidified Emme’s decision. This family needed help—whether Simon asked for it or not.
“Sophia!” Simon stepped forward and scooped the girl into his arms. “A lady doesn’t use such language.”
Charlotte’s eyebrows arched nearly to her curls. Emme pinched her lips against a smile, while Thomas’s gaze flicked from Sophia to Simon to the frog, now hidden beneath a bookshelf.
“But you use the word all the time,” Charlotte piped up, her voice ringing out with all the clarity of an accusation.
Every eye shifted to her.
“Have you been hiding back there this entire time?” Simon’s tone was part exasperation, part disbelief as he strode toward his sister, still holding Sophia.
