Chapter 20 #3
Simon narrowed his eyes at Will, attempting to match the reputedly beautiful Miss Hemston with their old, rather grumpy hound.
Clearly, Will hadn’t grown enough into manhood to be distracted by peripheral things, because there were some qualities in
Selena that reflected, quite well, Hamish’s personality. Ill-tempered being one.
“When Mrs. Patterson wouldn’t tell her and neither would we, she became angry,” Lottie continued, her arms folded across her
chest in a most adultlike fashion.
“And Blast did jump on her dress,” Will offered, looking oddly unbothered by the entire incident.
“Then she screamed at Fia, who was just trying to catch him,” Lottie added with a touch of indignation.
Simon’s blood pressure spiked. “She did what?”
Both children’s eyes widened at the sudden growl-like words that erupted from Simon’s throat.
“Where is Fia?” he demanded, half rising from his chair.
“She’s fine now,” Will replied quickly, clearly sensing Simon’s rising fury. “Aunt Aggie came to the rescue.”
“And nearly throttled Miss Hemston.” Lottie grinned, enjoying the memory. “Gave her such a tongue-lashing that the lady left
in a hurry.”
Simon’s pulse returned to normal, and he lowered himself back into his chair. “I wish I could have seen that.” He chuckled. “And what would make the two of you think I planned to marry Miss Hemston?”
“Aren’t you?” Lottie’s eyes grew wide. “She seemed set on it.”
“I told you Simon wouldn’t be so daft.” Will rallied in Simon’s defense.
Simon’s smile brimmed.
“He was daft enough not to marry Emme.”
And . . . the smile completely disappeared. “Are the two of you settling my future then?”
“Aunt Aggie said you liked Emme before.” Lottie’s look brooked no denial. “And I think you like her still.”
“Which only proves he’s not daft.” Will nodded, giving Simon a reassuring look.
Lottie shot him a look of no confidence. “That all depends on what he does next.”
Ah, had these two jumped inside his head and tinkered with his thoughts, or did they see in Emme what he’d fallen in love
with long before? Did they recognize what a good fit she’d be for . . . all of them?
“First of all, I appreciate the two of you coming to me with your concerns, and I want you to know that I have no intention
of marrying Miss Hemston.”
Will sighed, but Lottie remained vigilant. “But you must marry someone. We know what Aunt Aggie said about the allowance.”
Far too many people knew the particulars of his life, and even more projected about his future. “And why do you suppose I
should marry Miss Lockhart?”
“Because you like her,” Will answered, quite plainly.
And it was the truth. Simon didn’t only like Miss Lockhart—he loved her, ardently.
“Because she’s kind and smart.” Lottie spit out the words like a challenge. “And she likes you back, which is why we are trying to tell you quite plainly that we don’t care about the money.”
The realization pressed through Simon’s stubborn mind—Lottie and Will wanted to rescue him as much as he longed to rescue
them. Even Fia, with her sweet “diamond” offering that day at the stream, had shown him that his little ramshackle family
was perhaps not as broken and disconnected as he had feared. They all wanted the same thing for one another, and it wasn’t
to restore Ravenscross to its former magnificent glory.
It was to find love.
His throat tightened as he looked from Will to Lottie, struggling to work the words through his emotions. “There’s a very
real chance Miss Lockhart may not wish to marry me.”
“She’s too clever for that,” Lottie replied without hesitation. “I know she likes you. I saw the two of you—”
“Yes, quite,” Simon interrupted, his voice smooth as he stopped her from recounting the near kiss in the garden. “But I’ve
hurt her.”
“You’ve done things to hurt us, and we’ve forgiven you,” Will said, the guileless look in those earnest eyes closing off Simon’s
throat.
“And I’ve done things to hurt you, and you’ve forgiven me,” Lottie confessed, still in her defensive stance. “And Emme . . .
well, she seems to be the sort who would forgive you too.”
And she had. But like a fool, he’d hurt her again.
How could he experience such profound gratitude for these children and such fearful loss of Emme all at the same time? Was
his heart even big enough to hold it all? He shot a glance heavenward, his heart sending a half cry, half thanksgiving, before
he gathered his wits to address those in the room.
“Well, then.” Simon stood, attempting to find his voice. “I . . . I suppose I must find a way to prove I’m not as daft as
you think.”
Both children grinned. Lottie even giggled, and the sound hit him in the chest.
And then, as if the only response for the moment demanded it, he opened up his arms. With only a slight hesitation, Will ran to one side and Lottie to the other, both burrowing into him as if they’d been waiting for this moment as much as he had.
All ability to speak was stripped from him.
This . . . this was what Ravenscross needed most of all.
Before Simon could compose himself, with Will and Lottie still clinging to him, there was a knock at the door. Aunt Agatha
entered in a dark blue dressing gown. Her brows rose as she took in the sight of the three of them, attempting to blink the
scene into comprehension.
For a moment silence stretched, and then she cleared her throat and stood taller. “Children up at this hour? It is past ten
o’clock.”
Simon gave the children a final squeeze. “I usually enforce bedtimes, Aunt, but”—he shot his siblings a wink—“Charlotte and
William were sharing some important information with me, and I thought I’d make an exception this once.”
Aunt Agatha looked unimpressed, but there was a faint softening around her lips.
With a turn to his siblings, he gestured toward the door. “Off to bed now.”
Lottie and Will gave him another long look, Will even sliding in another hug, before they slipped past Aunt Agatha and disappeared
into the darkened hallway. Aunt Agatha pulled her dressing coat around her and took a seat in the spot Lottie had just vacated,
her chin at almost the exact tilt as her niece’s.
It was no wonder from where Lottie inherited her particular feistiness.
“The children told me of your unexpected visitor today,” Simon began, eager to address the matter directly. “I’m sorry for
her intrusion and presumption.”
Aunt Agatha studied him, her dark brow arching. “Does she have reason to presume?”
“No, but that doesn’t stop her from taking every opportunity to do so.”
One corner of Aunt Agatha’s lips quivered. “It sounds as if the only way to stop her wrongful assumption is to take on the
right bride.”
Simon drew a deep breath, steeling himself for this confrontation. He had faced his emotions before, but now his heart was
set. Though the road ahead would be difficult, filled with months of uncertainty as he worked to restore his family’s fortune,
it was a price he was willing to pay. For Emme.
And, as Will and Charlotte had made rather plain, for the children.
But he couldn’t do it alone. Without Aunt Agatha’s support, all his plans would falter.
An estate didn’t run on goodwill and affections alone.
“I must return to London tomorrow,” Aunt Agatha continued, as if she were in complete control of the conversation. “To attend
to some pressing matters at my house. But I leave you in much better shape than when I arrived.” Her gaze lingered over him
with that appraising look.
“I believe things are much improved,” Simon replied. “You’re aware of the business ventures I’ve taken on.”
“Hmm.” Aunt Agatha gave a slight nod. “And you’ve also secured a governess, who I trust will prove capable. I also appreciate
your involving me in the interview process, which reflects well on you. That shows humility—a valuable trait in any man of
the gentry.” She paused before adding, “And since she arrives in only a few days, I feel confident that my absence will not
be felt too keenly.”
“Your absence is always felt, Aunt Agatha,” Simon said, attempting to lighten the mood.
Aunt Agatha’s eyes narrowed, but the faintest twitch of a smile gentled the look. “Flattery will not work on me, Simon.”
“I would never presume, Aunt.” Simon hazarded a grin at the playful tension between them.
Her lips twitched again before she mastered her expression, her voice dropping to something more serious.
“You’ve made good progress in several areas, I’ll admit.
You’ve stayed clear of scandal, for the most part.
” She studied him a moment, clearly referring to his interactions with Emme.
“But the season is nearly over, and I’ve heard no word of a bride. ”
Here was the moment. The chance to change his own future.
He drew in a deep breath, accepting his fate. He would not be Willoughby. Let rumors and difficulties fall as they may. “I
should like to offer you such news about a bride, but I should like clarification first.”
Both her brows rose.
He continued. “What do you consider . . . suitable?”
“I should think you are old enough to sort that out yourself.”
“I am, indeed.” He held her gaze. “But my definition of ‘suitable’ may not align with yours.”
Something flickered in her eyes—an awareness, perhaps, and then she sighed. “How so? Do you wish for someone to make Ravenscross
a home instead of a crumbling stone pillar? Do you want someone who will raise the reputation of your family because of their
character and family status? Do you wish for someone who will care for your siblings and protect them and the family’s name
with as much intention as you?”
She didn’t mention money. Not once.
“Those are exactly the qualifications I’m seeking as well.”
She tilted her head, studying him, expression softening. “Simon, your attachment to Miss Lockhart and hers to you is plainly
evident, but . . .” She paused, lowering her gaze for a moment before meeting his again. “Financially, she can offer you so
little.”