Chapter 4 #3
want him—though her words had made that painfully clear—but because her modest dowry couldn’t begin to address the chasm of
debt left by his cousin and father.
For years he’d believed he could choose a wife, a future, based on his own desires.
But his newfound responsibilities stole such a liberty.
Now he had to choose between his heart and the future of his family—a choice that wasn’t truly a choice at all.
“Simon!” Fia’s cry startled him upright.
He turned to find the youngest Reeves entering the stables, dirty, with brambles from the top of her head to the bottom of
her petticoat. Scratches marred her cheeks, and tears left streaks through the grime on her face.
She ran straight to him and buried herself into his waist, whimpering against him.
His entire body caved around her, pulling the little girl into a protective hold without a thought.
Of all the siblings, Fia had been the one most ready to transfer her sweet affections, embrace the care he wanted to give.
Perhaps she needed as much consolation from all the changes as he did.
Simon looked up to find Mrs. Patterson holding on to the doorframe, breaths coming in spurts. “She went chasing the cat into
the brambles, sir.” The woman waved a handkerchief, stopping to catch her breath. “And she wouldn’t do anything but come to
you about it.”
The words hit Simon with unexpected force. He nodded stiffly, swallowing against the lump rising in his throat. “It’s fine.
Thank you, Mrs. Patterson.”
The housekeeper heaved a weary sigh and shook her head. “I’ll prepare some salve for the scratches.”
“I’ll bring her to my study.” The woman gave a curt nod and disappeared from view. Simon scooped Fia into his arms and settled
onto a nearby hay bale, cradling her on his lap. “Where does it hurt most, little one?”
She sniffled and looked up at him with wide eyes watery, the scratches welting. Poor lamb. “My cheeks.”
He removed his handkerchief and dabbed lightly at one cheek, then the other. “What were you thinking charging into the brambles
like that?”
“Midas got caught.” Her little bottom lip wobbled. “I had to save him. Blasted brambles.”
Correcting her would prove futile at the moment. That cat had more lives than sense. Appropriate that it happened to be Teddy’s
cat. Two matching personalities.
“Next time, perhaps you ought to ask for help before launching a rescue mission.” He tipped her chin up to dab at a scratch
across her nose. “Rescues usually work better when there are more hands to help.”
How he would appreciate a few extra hands in his life right now. Then his mind went to the blasted marriageable ladies list,
and he paused on the thought. Or the right hands, anyway.
Fia sniffled again and reached into her pocket. Simon braced himself. With Fia’s penchant toward finding animals, he wasn’t sure what to expect, but then she drew a pink rose forward. “Midas found this in the bushes. It’s one of Mama’s roses.”
“It is.” Simon’s throat pinched. His mother had loved roses. Fragile yet beautiful, they reminded him of her—a beauty too
delicate to endure the thorns set against her in such a harsh reality. They’d overtaken her.
With the way of the world and the current status of his life, he had to secure a bride with more strength of character than
his dear mother, if nothing else but to survive his siblings.
“Can we put it on her grave?”
The loss stung afresh. A year ago, they’d buried their mother. And he’d spent all that time shoving his grief beneath the
necessity of the next thing. He nodded, biding himself time to rediscover his voice.
And then Simon began to doubt Midas’s instigation of this plan into the brambles. Most likely, Fia had seen the rose buried
beneath the thorns and set her mind to “rescuing” it.
“I need to put away these tools.” Simon stood, lowering the little girl to the floor. “Why don’t you run ahead to my study
so Mrs. Patterson can put some salve on your scratches, and then we can take the rose to Mother’s grave.”
Her eyes lit, tears still poised on those long lashes of hers. Without a word, she dashed away, nearly colliding with Ben
as he entered the stables.
“What happened to that one?” Ben gestured toward the direction Fia had disappeared. “The cat?”
Simon placed the hammer back in its box. “Actually, it was more of a rose rescue gone awry.”
“Ouch.” His pale hair bobbed in time with the shake of his head. “Have I mentioned how badly you need a governess?”
“If you’ve come to state the obvious, feel free to leave,” Simon muttered, brushing past him.
Ben fell into step with him. “Actually, I came for you to tell me something I don’t already know.” When Simon gave no response, Ben continued, “Why did you leave the ball so early last night? I’ve heard of at least a half dozen ladies eager to meet you.”
Simon’s stomach plummeted at the thought. A half dozen more?
“Some of them were excessively pretty,” Ben added with a teasing smirk. Simon shot him a glare, which only brought out Ben’s
laugh. “I expected more fortitude from you, Ravenscross. Running scared from a ball?” His friend tsked. “After everything
you’ve endured over the past months to build your character?”
“There are some things for which one cannot prepare.” The memory of Emme’s lips secured his statement eternally. “Or recover.”
He growled out the words more to himself, but the scoffed laugh from his friend proved he’d not spoken quietly enough.
One day, Simon might truly lose all self-control and give Ben a solid throttling.
“What on earth happened?”
Simon increased his pace.
Ben rounded him to block his progress, the man’s usually jovial expression sobering. “You talked to her, didn’t you?”
The question brought Simon to a stop. How did Ben always know? It was uncanny and, quite frankly, infuriating.
“You did.” Ben crossed his arms, studying him with unnerving perceptiveness. “I knew you were avoiding her, but how did you
find your way to talk to her?”
Simon drew in a breath and started walking again, this time slower.
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t pursue anything with her, and she made it perfectly plain she wanted nothing to do with me.”
Except for the kiss. And the kiss suggested otherwise.
Ben had been the only person outside his own parents who’d known Simon’s plans to propose to Emme. The only person who likely understood the extent of Simon’s feelings. And one of the few people who knew the full, devastating impact of Simon’s change in position.
Ben arched a brow. “Did she, though?”
Simon ignored the jab, but his mind betrayed him, replaying the kiss—the way she’d softened against him, the way her breath
had hitched, the vulnerability and interest in those eyes.
Ben clapped him on the shoulder. “Affections like that don’t just vanish, Simon. Even after all this time. Not entirely.”
“Perhaps not, but affections can be conquered.” He raised his gaze to the house and the grounds stretching back toward the
forest, solidifying his claim. “They must.”
For the future of Ravenscross and the good of his family, they must.
So he needed either to find a wife as soon as possible so that he could stop attending balls, or never to find himself alone
with Emmeline Lockhart again. Affections could be mastered, but Simon was no master of them yet.