Page 81 of Sense and Suitability
Could she bear the strain of rebuilding alongside him? Would she shoulder the inconveniences of a salvaged estate, the gradual work of making Ravenscross whole again? A part of him believed she would. Yet he couldn’t allow himself the indulgence of hope. Not when she might have already turned her heart toward another.
He forced her smile, her laugh, from his mind. “She’s not an option,” he muttered, almost as if convincing himself.
Ben stepped forward, clapping a hand on his shoulder, his voice low. “I think the real question is, do you want her to be?”
Simon didn’t answer. His gaze returned to the rain-slicked lawn, the droplets sliding down the glass panes like his own thoughts—scattered, relentless. Want and need were two very different things.
And yet, for the first time since he’d returned to St. Groves as Lord Ravenscross, he began to wonder if the best hope for him and Ravenscross was the one person he’d been refusing to consider all along.
Chapter 17
Simon hadn’t intended to be in town this morning.
He hadn’t planned on witnessing Emme and her sister, Aster, strolling alongside the new rector, all engaged in an animated exchange punctuated with smiles. If not for the errand to collect a package from the post, he might have missed this... charming tableau entirely.
His frown deepened. How delightful.
Did they often walk together? Did Mr. Bridges enjoy the privilege of Emme’s smiles on a regular basis? Could there truly be merit to Selena’s insinuations that an attachment was forming between them?
Before Simon really understood what his feet were doing, he’d quite intentionally redirected his path to walk directly into theirs.
The trio came to a halt as he approached, and though heat rose uncomfortably to his face at his unplanned intrusion, Simon removed his hat and offered a courteous bow, focusing his attention on Mr. Bridges, of course. “Good morning.”
Mr. Bridges raised his brows briefly, his expression settling into a polite smile. “Lord Ravenscross.” He dipped his head. “A fine morning to you, sir.”
Simon turned his gaze to the ladies, inclining his head again and catching Emme’s wide-eyed reaction.
“I wished to congratulate you, Mr. Bridges, on your first month as rector of Lemmingston. Your reputation for compassion and eloquence has already reached me.”
“High praise, my lord. Thank you,” Mr. Bridges replied, thecorner of his mouth curving with amusement. “Yet I must ask—why rely on hearsay when you might experience my unparalleled oratory firsthand? Your attendance would doubtless be a boon to the community and might even encourage some of your tenants to return to church.”
“Not to mention, greatly enhance his spiritual life,” Aster added, her large eyes a darker hue than her sister’s, but with the same intelligence.
A soft snicker came from Emme’s direction, though she quickly covered her mouth with her gloved hand, her expression one of mock innocence.
Simon cleared his throat and offered Aster a smile. “Miss Aster, your counsel is duly noted. I shall endeavor to attend on Sunday in eager expectation of being transformed.”
The halts and stops of air coming from his left increased in volume and Simon’s chest tightened. Her laughter—at his expense, no less—had always been as infuriating as it was endearing. Her humor, her light, and her comfort enough in their friendship not only to laughwithhim butathim only dug into his desire to make her a permanent part of his life.
Surely, with her kindness and selflessness, she’d make an excellent clergyman’s wife. But—he cast a glance at Mr. Bridges, who was really too handsome and charismatic to be a rector—would she really be happy? Would he engage her wit? Comfort her in her sadness? Make her laugh?
The thought settled uneasily in Simon’s chest.
Giving her up had seemed possible and necessary when the distance of months and his own stupid rationalization of the situation kept his mind fully occupied, but the longer he spent time with her, the more his arguments teetered into forcing possibility.
Could he? What sacrifices would he have to make? What promises?
“Ah, well, I don’t know that I’d place my abilities into the transformative category, Lord Ravenscross,” Mr. Bridges offered, his gaze measuring Simon as it had during their first meeting. “But perhaps the Good Book would provide the proper impetus for the right encouragement.”
Whether it was the fact that the man was a clergyman or a possible suitor of Emme’s, Simon wasn’t certain, but something about Mr. Bridges kept Simon guessing. He was friendly but carried himself with a quiet confidence few men of his age possessed.
An attractive quality in any man, but particularly so for an intelligent woman like Emme. His shoulders slumped.
“Have the new tenants settled in, Lord Ravenscross?” This from Emme, whose smile drew him a step forward.
“Bit by bit, I believe.” He cast his nod to the trio. “The two families who have already moved into the cottages have made quick work of starting things well, and I mean to have two more cottages ready for occupation by end of next week.”
“Excellent, sir.” The rector’s praise somehow made Simon stand a little taller. Perhaps it was merely because the man had some sort of special connection with the Almighty. “I shall continue to send more names as you need them, if you wish.”
