Page 65 of Sense and Suitability
The words hung in the air, and truth be told, Simon wasn’t certain how to respond, so he offered no immediate reply, allowing her sentiment a chance to settle.
Agatha eased into the chair, sitting near its edge as though poised for flight. “You were gone so long in search of Arianna. I feared...” She glanced toward the bookshelves. “I feared you had lost your way.”
At times he almost feared it too. “Like Father?”
Her chin dipped in acknowledgment. “It is a concern I’ve voiced before. But I see less cause for it with each passing day. Your care for the children, your work—it speaks to a resilience I had thought lost to you.” She drew in a steadying breath. “We have suffered much as a family, Simon, and the Ravenscross name has borne its share. The road to recovery has not and will not be easy.”
This was the Aunt Agatha he remembered from before their world fell apart: thoughtful, sharp, and deliberate, with an undercurrent of care. There had always been an edge to her, like a cat basking in sunlight but ready to strike at the faintest provocation. Yet compassion had once tempered that edge—until the loss of her sister seemed to have stolen it away.
“I want to see you succeed.” Her gaze fastened on him. “And find happiness. As I do for the rest of your...myfamily,” she corrected. In fact, the Reeveses were all the family she had left. He knew she felt that deeply. “But the quickest path to securing some semblance of restoration and stability is through an advantageous marriage—to an equal who can elevate both your finances and your reputation. I can only provide a basic sum, but you need more.”
Simon’s shoulders tensed, bracing for the inevitable.
“Which is why,” she continued, her gaze sharp, “I must know the nature of your relationship with Miss Lockhart.”
It was not the question he had anticipated, though neither was it a surprise. Of course Aunt Agatha had noticed. After all, the womanhad appeared in his pond one day, only to surface days later with a rescue plan in place.
Simon’s intentions with Emme had been delicate from the start, which was why he’d protected the information, only sharing his plans with his cousin (out of necessity), his parents, and Ben. He’d never intended to fall in love with someone so far outside his rank and position. Yet Emme had fit him so well, so naturally, that he’d prepared to battle every expectation and argument to make a union happen.
He hadn’t needed to see her with his siblings this week to know how perfectly she belonged in his family. Nor did he need to picture her in the halls of Ravenscross to realize she would make the estate a home again. He didn’t need to hold her in his arms to understand that her strength and heart would leave an indelible mark on future generations.
He’d known it all already.
But the moment the title fell upon him, everything had unraveled.
How much should Aunt Agatha know?
“I courted her the season the title fell to me with the intention of marrying her.”
Agatha’s sharp intake of breath cut through the room. “You courted her?”
He nodded, though the admission stuck in his throat. “I had every intention of proposing on the day I received news of Cousin Rupert’s and Father’s deaths. When the full extent of everything became clear, I knew... I couldn’t follow through.”
“Does she harbor false hope?” Agatha stared at him, still surprised. “Does she believe you might offer her some lesser position?”
“No.” The denial came swiftly, almost violently. “Never. She knows I cannot marry her, and I would never insult her by suggesting anything less than honor.” He slowly shook his head, attempting to explain. “She... she wishes to help, that is all. It’s who she is. But her compassion is more for the children now, I think.”
Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Take care, Simon. Compassion is well and good, but if either of you still carries a flame for the other, rest assured people will be watching. Scandal is what they’ll hope to find.”
Emme quickened her steps along Avalon Street, one hand clutching a bundle of ribbons from Matthews’ Haberdashery, the other gripping a pair of gilded hair combs she’d admired in Crown and Comb’s window. The combs, embossed with delicate leaves, would make the perfect birthday gift for Aster. No doubt her sister would liken them to some Grecian ideal she’d uncovered in her geographical studies.
Having some extra pin money, especially funds she earned herself, certainly made purchasing gifts more delightful.
She had barely made it past Cole’s Grocer when someone called her name. Turning, Emme found Thomas approaching at a near run, his typical smile restored from his previous agitation with her. She loved that about him. He rarely held grudges. It was an excellent characteristic for a clergyman.
“How providential to encounter you this morning, Miss Lockhart,” he teased. “I had imagined you at home, preparing for your grand strawberry-picking adventure.”
Her smile flared. “Lord Ravenscross’s carriage isn’t meant to collect me for a few hours yet, so I thought I’d indulge in a little shopping beforehand.”
“Making wise use of the spoils of your success, no doubt?” He fell into step beside her, his dark hat casting a shadow over his fair hair.
“There’s a certain satisfaction in making purchases with my own money, I must say.” She couldn’t repress her smile. It brimmed to the point of pinching her cheeks. “Not something bestowed upon me as an inheritance, but wholly mine.”
“And there’s much more where that came from, cousin-dearest. You are on your way to becoming an independent woman, should you wish it.”
She stumbled slightly, the words jarring her. Independent? Such a notion required substantial resources. She had dreamed of it in some distant, uncertain future, but surely not yet. “How... how much do I have?”
“Ah, so youdowish to know,” he said, his eyes gleaming. For nearly a year, she’d refused to let him tell her, preferring to imagine the modest profits of her books without confronting specifics. It felt less humbling.
