Chapter 20 #2
“You must see it.” Emme narrowed her eyes at him.
“How can he have a happy ending if his estate is in jeopardy? And the more I’ve written this new story, the more I realize how I’ve been pouring my imagination into fantastical tales that failed to celebrate the simple, everyday choices—the decisions made for the good of those around us, not just for the breathtaking, pulse-pounding possibilities in some other realm.
” She let out a long breath. “You were right. There are plenty of real-life moments that can make a story come to life in ways my other novels did not. Perhaps I’m meant to write those . . . and accept that future.”
Thomas moved beside her on the window seat, his gaze intense. “And perhaps you’re meant to do both.”
She leveled him with a glance. “His thoughts are clear on female writers. And with his family’s reputation already in disrepair,
my little secret would only bring more scandal upon him and his family. I can’t do that to him.”
“Are you certain you are not underestimating his ability to accept you with your secrets as willingly as you have been to
accept him?”
“It’s not the same thing.” She looked back out the window. “I am not a viscount or a man. And those two elements make all
the difference.”
The room fell silent, the weight of her words settling like dust. A small ache pressed into her chest, and she stole a quick
glance at Thomas. She’d known he couldn’t fix the situation—she hadn’t expected him to. But a small part of her had hoped
he would offer some divinely magnificent solution, some eloquent remedy. Instead, his quiet only needled the impossibility
of it all deeper into her heart.
“My mother’s family in Yorkshire invited me to stay with them for a few months.” Emme kept her focus on the horizon. “I plan
to take them up on the offer now. It will give me a chance to see a different part of England, write another novel, and perhaps
make decisions about using my writing funds to become independent.”
At his silence, she looked over at him.
For a moment surprise flickered in his eyes, but it was quickly masked. “So you’re going to leave me here to deal with Mother’s
failure to procure you a husband, are you?” His gentle grin almost inspired hers. Ah, he’d accepted her choice without argument.
“That is not very gracious of you at all.”
“You know as well as I do that within a few weeks, she’ll be so overcome with the birth of her first grandchild, her disappointment in my romantic future will be duly eclipsed.”
“For now.” One of his brows quirked upward.
Emme smiled faintly, then turned back to the window. Perhaps her perfect match would always remain a dear memory—or a fictional
creation, but nothing else.
“Emme.” His gentle voice carried a note of reprimand. “You sound as though you’re giving up on matrimony altogether.”
Was she? Her heart ached at the thought, and she closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself. “Perhaps I should shift
my focus away from matrimony for now. My name is already tainted, and I’m certain the gossipmongers are weaving new, unflattering
tales this season. And leaving will allow Simon to focus on his future instead of being plagued by his past feelings for me.”
Thomas nudged her shoulder with his, a look of mock reproach on his face. “I feel certain ‘plague’ is not the descriptor Lord
Ravenscross would use in regard to his feelings for you.”
Her lips quivered upward at the corners. “Regardless, after the Ruthton Ball on Tuesday, I leave for Yorkshire. Sometimes,
no matter the affection between two people, we cannot get what we want. And then . . . well, we must turn to a different dream.”
Thomas slowly nodded, though his gaze remained locked with hers. “And will that different dream be enough to overthrow the
old one?”
“It must, Thomas.” She lowered her head onto her knees, a prayer for help in her mind. “It must.”
Willoughby was a scoundrel.
Simon had taken up the book after putting Fia to bed, and then he had finished some evening correspondence and business interactions, with the intention of reading only a few minutes while he awaited his meeting with Aunt Agatha.
An hour later, he sat staring at the book, wondering if Marianne would live, if Edward would follow through with his loveless marriage, and if Colonel Brandon and Elinor might end up as a pair.
Books should not cause such emotional distress. These people weren’t real! Why were they taking up so much of his mental faculties?
It was ridiculous.
A rap on the door pulled him from the pages and alerted him to the time. He’d planned to speak with Aunt Agatha about Emme
a half hour ago. He needed to send a letter to his steward in regard to Mr. Arden’s approved lease of the buildings as well
as take up Emme on her advice regarding Mr. Jenkins’s needs before anyone else reached out to him. Those would be two large
leases along with the—hopefully—growing number of tenants on his property.
How could he have gotten lost reading . . . fiction?
He gave his head a shake and stood from the desk, calling for the person to enter.
To his surprise, Charlotte and William stepped over the threshold, their faces both sober as they entered.
“Aren’t the two of you supposed to be in bed?”
Lottie shot her brother a look before stepping farther into the room. “We . . . we needed to speak to you, Simon.”
Simon’s body shot to alert, but he’d learned over the past few months to guard his reactions. These two siblings were incredibly
observant and incredibly responsive to his moods. He gestured toward the chairs nearby, taking their request as seriously
as their expressions communicated. These two siblings had grown up the most in the last months.
Perhaps because he’d grown too.
“What would you like to discuss?”
Lottie looked over at Will and he nodded for her to begin, so she straightened her posture and gave Simon a very businesslike look. “First of all, we wanted to tell you how much we like Mrs. Lane and are looking forward to her starting as our governess.”
Praise, indeed. Simon managed a small smile. “I’m glad to hear it. I certainly want to ensure that you are as invested in your future as
I am.”
Lottie gave a curt nod. Will smiled.
“And we know finances are bad,” Lottie continued.
“And you must rely on Aunt Aggie’s allowance,” Will chimed in with equal seriousness . . . and bluntness.
Information they really shouldn’t know, but Lottie’s keen observation and propensity for snooping left little to secrecy.
“And we know,” Lottie continued, “that you are under obligation to marry someone before the season is out in order to keep
Aunt Aggie’s allowance.”
Why did this sort of conversation from his two younger siblings feel both humorous and highly inappropriate? Well, there was
no use denying what they clearly knew. A reluctant chuckle bubbled up in Simon’s throat. “That is true, unfortunately.”
Lottie, ever the strategist, glanced at her brother, as though for reassurance, before continuing. “Well, we have a suggestion
for you.”
Simon leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “Do you now?”
“We don’t mind being poor,” Will offered with surprising conviction. The words struck Simon like a blow, a reminder of how
much they’d already sacrificed. They weren’t destitute, of course. They had Aunt Aggie’s allowance, Simon’s inheritance from
his mother, and what little he’d invested from his father’s remaining funds. In addition, his business ventures were each
proving beneficial enough to truly make significant changes in their financial future. Slowly but significantly.
“And we don’t mind helping you by working hard.” Lottie folded her hands in front of her. “But what we do mind is you making decisions to help all of us without considering that we have opinions on the matter.”
His brow shot high. “What decisions exactly?”
“Well, of course, the governess,” Lottie started, suddenly a bit uncertain. “Of which, you did ask our opinion.”
“And the tenants, which you’ve discussed with me,” Will offered.
Not truly his responsibility as yet, but Simon certainly appreciated the boy’s perspective.
“But there is the matter of a wife for you, Simon.” Lottie tipped her chin and studied him as if she’d brought a little of
Aunt Agatha’s spirit into the room with her.
“And that decision needs your intervention as well?” He wasn’t sure whether to grin or groan.
He loved them. More than he’d even understood a year ago. They’d all born their heartache together, and even in their mishaps
and misdirection, they were slowly rebuilding their family into something, he hoped, much healthier.
Something Arianna had needed before she’d decided to forfeit her future.
Something good.
“Well, we won’t marry her,” Will stated, as if that had been an option.
“But we will be living with her,” Lottie added, her tone carrying the weight of a serious negotiation. “And between the two
of us, we agree there is already a perfectly suitable option.”
Simon had an inkling where this was going—and wholly agreed with their recommendation—but offered noncommittally, “Really?”
“And it’s not the Selena woman,” Will burst out, his voice carrying surprising conviction. It even caught Lottie off guard.
“Miss Hemston?” Simon looked to each sibling. Why, of all people, did they mention Selena Hemston?
“But I told Will,” Lottie said, undeterred, “that you’re too smart to ever consider someone like her.”
Well, at least after all his blundering, his siblings still had some confidence in his mental faculties. “Why did you think
Miss Hemston was even an option?”
Lottie and Will exchanged a look before Will spoke up. “She came by earlier today while you were out.”
“And stayed long enough to find out where you’d gone,” Lottie continued. “But it took her a good fifteen minutes because we
wouldn’t tell her.”
“Because she wore a pretend smile and reminded me of Hamish.”