Page 86 of Sense and Suitability
Simon’s jaw tightened. “Jealousy, Miss Hemston, is a poor companion to civility. I suggest you dismiss it.” He barely kept his tone measured. “Your insinuations do not reflect well upon you, and I have no intention of forming an alliance—of any kind—withsomeone who behaves in such a manner. I must insist you refrain from involving either myself or Miss Lockhart in your future schemes.”
Selena’s smile barely wavered. “I’m not going anywhere, Lord Ravenscross. And neither are your problems—until you begin making wiser decisions. This is not a difficult one, but sentimentality could cost you everything.”
Simon exhaled slowly, his mind clearer than it had been in days. The certainty of what he needed—and whom he needed—settled over him with newfound resolve. Yes, it was time to revisit his plans, adjust his estate’s financial strategy, and above all, convince Aunt Agatha that his choice was the only sensible one for Ravenscross, the children, and himself.
For a moment his gaze locked with Selena’s in a silent battle. She, no doubt, was accustomed to winning such exchanges within their social circles, leveraging her father’s influence and her own cunning. But she held no power over him—not truly. Her threats were hollow, her confidence built on sand.
With a crisp touch to his hat, Simon stepped neatly around her, his tone polite but final. “Good day, Miss Hemston.”
As he strode away, determination replaced the frustration Selena had stirred. Now it was time to focus on how to make Emmeline Lockhart his bride.
Chapter 18
Emme should have feigned sickness for this evening, she supposed.
That would have done her heart better than to see Simon gliding so beautifully on the ballroom floor looking every bit the hero in his black cutaway coat and trousers.
He certainly waltzed well.
She almost grinned. Aunt Bean’s instruction on the matter came back to mind.The rogue.
To complicate matters further, this was Emme’s penultimate ball in St. Groves before she left for Yorkshire. The plan had been simple: keep to the periphery, reduce prolonged conversation, and above all, avoid Simon.
But they always seemed to find each other, even if merely a glance.
Their encounter on the street a few days prior had left her more certain than ever about her plans. His words—veiled though they were—had carried the weight of truths she could scarcely believe. He still cared for her.
His earnest expression filtered back in her mind. Deeply. She pressed a palm to her chest. Beautifully.
And now, to see him move with effortless grace, his hand steady at the waist of Miss Lucy Thompson? Her breath pinched for release. The admiral’s daughter had risen from obscurity on the swell of her father’s naval success and was now as admired for her quiet beauty as her father was for his victories.
Emme’s smile faded. A good choice for him. Kind. Quiet. Dependable. Of her wit or fortitude, Emme knew little, but such things could grow in time, because Simon would be the sort to nurture them.
The acknowledgment stabbed through her, but she braced against the ache and sought some semblance of contentment in the knowledge he was doing his duty, caring for his family.
Simon spun nearer, his attention catching hers in a way none other could. His gaze for a breath too long, a moment too deep, and the air seemed to thin.
This—this was why she had to leave St. Groves.
Her very presence in his life distracted him from what he most needed to accomplish.
And she needed to make it through only one more ball after this before she left for Yorkshire.
She turned sharply, heading for the sanctuary of solitude on some private balcony or in an unused closet. But before she could escape the crush of the ballroom, an iron cord of fingers gripped her arm, holding her in place.
“Emmeline Lockhart, I will not have you scurry away to some hiding spot for the remainder of this ball. We haven’t much time left.” The intensity in Aunt Bean’s eyes, not to mention her solid grasp, held Emme to the spot. “I know of a gentleman who has every intention of speaking to you on a rather particular matter this evening.”
On a particular matter? Oh, heaven help me!She knew exactly what that meant.
Aunt Bean’s sharp gaze latched onto a figure across the room, and her entire demeanor shifted to one of triumphant anticipation. “Ah, there he is.”
Mr. Marshall.
Of course Emme had wondered if he’d offer himself, but in alltruth, he seemed enamored with so many ladies, it was difficult to tell.
“Tonight I will fulfill my promise to you, dear girl.”
Again, the worddearfelt anything but.
