Page 80 of Sense and Suitability
He wanted to marry Emmeline Lockhart.
And up until Selena Hemston planted the idea of Emme having feelings for Mr. Bridges, he’d thought she may still harbor some affection for him. He lowered his fist to the windowsill. But why? Why should he seek her attention? He had nothing to offer her. He’d broken her heart once. He had no money to marry her now, or at least not enough to save his estateandmarry her. No, Emmeline deserved someone unencumbered by financial woes or family scandals. Someone like Thomas Bridges—witty, intelligent, wholesome.
Unshackled.
Blast!
His interview that morning with Miss Lane for the governess position only kept Emme even more forward in his thoughts. Miss Lane had impressed him with her intelligence and disposition, meeting every qualification he sought in a governess. She was sharp-witted, good-humored, and precisely what his siblings needed. He’d hired her immediately.
And she was set to begin within the week!
One task checked off Aunt Agatha’s infernal list.
One month remained to secure a bride.
He frowned. He already knew who he wanted for a bride, but Aunt Agatha’s standards—and his own circumstances—rendered Emmeline unsuitable. Perhaps, he thought grimly, the wordsuitableneeded redefining.
A glance at the copy ofSense and Sensibilityon the side table deepened his mood. Willoughby’s character only grew more suspect with each chapter, and Edward Ferrars seemed to be teetering on the brink of some wretched secret. The steadfast Elinor Dashwood and dignified Colonel Brandon were the only reliable souls in the narrative. Everyone else was as unsettling as Simon’s own predicament.
Why did he care so much? Yet he couldn’t put it down. It felt too familiar—the tension, the longing, the quiet suffering. It was as if he were peering in on the inner workings of St. Groves. Perhaps that was it. The story felt real. Especially right now. With Emme possibly making a connection with someone else. He felt very much the plight of Colonel Brandon, except Simon deserved his disappointment. Brandon didn’t.
“Still brooding, are you?” Ben strolled into the room, heading straight for the drinks tray.
Simon spared him a look.
“Oh, indeed.” Ben poured himself a glass, his tone dry. “That furrowed brow of yours could frighten the rain away. Or is it a certainsomeonetroubling your thoughts?”
Simon’s jaw tightened. “I wasn’t brooding until you barged in.”
“Ah, of course.” Ben took a deliberate sip. “Nothing to do with the fact that your heart and your head seem to be engaged in a duel, I’m sure.”
Simon glared. “It’s just—” He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s just—it’s so blasted infuriating.”
“I can imagine.” Ben leaned casually against the table. “But perhaps you’re making it harder than it needs to be.”
Simon let out a weary sigh. “What do you want me to say, Ben? Yes, she’s... everything. But Ravenscross needs more than affection. It needs funds, repairs—”
“You’re not destitute, Simon.” Ben waved his glass toward theGreat Hall. “If you fail to resolve Ravenscross’s finances through some neat marriage contract, you may have to endure a few lean years, but you won’t be utterly ruined. And as for the ancestors’ dour faces glaring at you from their gilded frames—well, they’ve had centuries to perfect their disapproval. I daresay you’ll survive it.” His tone softened as he straightened, setting down his glass. “My father married for money and status, and I grew up in a home where my mother neither respected nor cared for my father or her children. We endured years of quiet misery, especially Father. Wealth isn’t worth a lifetime of regret.”
Simon arched a brow. “Wasn’t it you who delivered your sister’s infamous list of potential suitors at the season’s first ball?”
Ben shrugged, entirely unbothered. “I’ve said many things I’d never act upon. You, of all people, should know me well enough to ignore my worst advice and enjoy my best mischief along the way.”
Simon rolled his eyes heavenward.
“There is no guarantee that my efforts with tenants and businesses will make the needed difference for this estate without a rich wife, Ben.” His hard work had proven successful so far, but he had much more work to do to become independent enough to not rely on Aunt Agatha’s help. “I need to know I’ve secured the estate and my siblings’ futures.”
“And you need more than a convenient marriage,” Ben interrupted, his tone pointed. “There’s more to a family’s future happiness than ready cash and a title. What would it look like to have a wife who would stand beside you—not just in the ballroom, but here, in the work? A woman willing to help you save this estate?”
Simon began to shake his head, but Ben pressed on.
“You’re stubborn, but you’re not blind. I’ve seen how you look at her. It’s not mere admiration. It’s something more.”
Simon’s chest tightened, warmth threatening to betray him.“It doesn’t matter what I feel. She deserves better than to be tied to a man drowning in debt. I won’t deceive her into believing our marriage could fix what is broken here.”
Ben was silent for a moment, then spoke softly. “Perhaps she doesn’t need to save your estate, Simon. Perhaps she only needs to saveyou.”
Simon’s breath caught. Ben’s words struck deeper than he cared to admit. For a moment he allowed himself to imagine it—Emmeline at Ravenscross. Not merely as a comforting presence for his siblings but as a partner, a force of strength and steadiness.
