Page 91 of Sense and Suitability
Of course she had a story to tell. Fia always did.
“Midas brought me a bird,” she announced with the solemnity of a royal decree. “But it was very asleep, so I took it to Mrs. Patterson.” She nodded, her eyes wide with the weight of her tale. “But she said it was a very special sleeping bird and needed more rest, so she put it outside again.”
Poor Mrs. Patterson. Simon bit back a laugh. “Very wise of Mrs. Patterson. I’ve heard those sleeping birds are not very good at managing either cats or the indoors.”
Fia tilted her head, considering this, her curls bouncing with the movement. “Then I do hope Midas stops catching that sort. They’re no fun to play with at all.”
“Indeed, I imagine they aren’t.” His lips twitched as he glanced at the paper clutched in her small fist. “Was there something else, lamb?”
She beamed at him, her dimples carving into her cheeks, her golden curls framing her face like a cherub in a painting. With that combination of a toothless grin and earnest eyes, she could melt the heart of the sternest curmudgeon.
Fia skipped over to him, unceremoniously releasing Midas, who bolted for the safety of a nearby chair. Then, without so much as a by-your-leave, she climbed into Simon’s lap. “Lottie asked me to give you this very special letter.”
And just like that, Simon’s smile faded.
A letter.
Arianna’s farewell had come by letter too. Its brevity had been as cutting as its contents—irrational and emotional, its cruelty sharpened by the whispers of a flatterer who’d preyed upon her grief.
He shook the thought away and forced himself to focus on the scrap of paper Fia now held aloft like a prize. With a steadying breath, he unfolded it.
The words were written in a childish scrawl, their content equal parts innocence and impudence:
I’ve gone to Miss Lockhart’s house to learn about strawberries. I didn’t ask because I knew you would say no, which would have been a very bad idea as Miss Lockhart has been so kind to us. Perhaps someday you’ll remember how to be a gentleman, but I don’t care to wait until then.
Simon suppressed a groan, his jaw tightening.The little imp.
“Thank you, Fia,” he managed, though his voice sounded strained even to his own ears.
He stood, setting Fia gently on her feet. Would he have refused Lottie’s request if she’d asked? Likely not. The idea of building a stronger relationship between Emme and his sisters might have felt dangerous—not only because he hadn’t secured any acceptance from Aunt Agatha, but also because every additional moment he spent with the woman only made him want to spend dozens more without a certainty of their future—but for Lottie’s sake, he might have relented.
Now, it seemed, she had taken matters into her own hands.Typical.
Tucking the note into his pocket, Simon sighed. His little sister’s audacity had certainly been inherited from somewhere—though at the moment, he wasn’t particularly inclined to take credit for it.
He glanced at Fia. “Anything else you’d like to confess, lamb?”
She shook her head solemnly, then beamed up at him again, her smile entirely guileless.
“Good. Now I must ride to one of our neighbors’ houses.” Simon reached over to ruffle her curls. “Do you think you can manage to stay out of the water puddles while I’m gone?”
Fia nodded, though her expression wavered as though the promise might cost her dearly. “But sometimes, they’re so big, they find me.”
“Understandable.” Simon pressed his lips together as thoughweighing her predicament. “But perhaps you could stay inside, just for a little while, and search for”—he glanced around the room, desperate for an idea, until his eyes alighted on the carved ravens perched over the doorway—“ravens. How many ravens do you think there are in the house? Count them all, and when I return, you can tell me the number. If you’re very thorough, I daresay we’ll have strawberry tart to celebrate.”
Fia’s face lit with delight, her previous hesitation vanishing. She followed his gaze to the carved ravens, her brows knitting with determination. “I am very good at finding things.”
“I know.” Without a doubt, and many times things he’d wished she hadn’t.
With that, she scampered off and Simon marched to find Mrs. Patterson. Who knew whether Emme had actually invited Lottie or if his sister had concocted the scheme entirely on her own?
After notifying Mrs. Patterson and Aunt Agatha of his plans—“a quick ride to a neighbor’s estate, back by dinner,” he assured them—he saddled his horse and set out toward Thistlecroft House.
And yes, he could have stayed home. He could have waited for Lottie to return, heard her story, and avoided yet another interaction with Emme Lockhart.
But what would that accomplish?
Yes, calling on her at her home was ludicrous. Borderline improper, even, considering his supposed search for a different sort of bride.
