Smitten With Sense: A Modern Sense And Sensibility Retelling (Pemberley Estates Book 4) Read online

  A Modern SENSE AND SENSIBILITY Retelling

  from his side

  Keena Richins

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Author’s Note

  Other Books by the Author

  Smitten with Sense Copyright © 2020 by Keena Richins

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Keena Richins

  Photo stock from Shutterstock.com. Used with license.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: 2020

  Keena Richins

  Visit my website at www.keenarichins.com

  Created with Vellum

  Chapter 1

  Edward reviewed the rows of numbers littering the stack of papers on his desk, the jumbled mess coming together in his head like an orchestra, indicating the mood of where the business was heading. This particular business was missing key players, causing the orchestra to limp to a whimper of a finale.

  With a frown, he pulled up several files on his computer, searching for ways to fill the missing parts. If he was lucky, he could get the orchestra in full swing again and save the business. If he failed, then his mother would suck every penny from it and toss it, not caring about all the lives that were ruined in the process.

  Two double raps echoed from his door as though heralding a grand entrance. Considering it was his brother, Robert, who always sported the latest fashion even if he was plodding around in the house, the pompous rapping fit. Edward wanted to ignore Robert and stay with the numbers surrounding him. Numbers made sense; his brother didn't. He was more like words, sliding and edging around, pretending to say one thing but actually meaning something else. Edward's sister was like that, too—never dependable but constantly hiding behind a thick code of words that Edward struggled to decipher.

  "Mother wants you," his brother announced, apparently not caring if he was acknowledged or not.

  Edward relaxed. Unlike his siblings, his mother was easy to understand. She was either grouchy or really grouchy, and everything he did tended to lead to the latter. It wasn't the result he liked, but at least he knew what to expect.

  He checked his phone, expecting an alert from her. Her summons usually included a terse email, but the phone was silent. That wasn't a good sign. To only use Robert for the summons meant she was already really grouchy today.

  "Thank you," Edward said. Though his brother's mood and loyalties shifted as quickly as the wind, there was one consistency with Robert. He loved praise. As the younger son, he had the daunting task proving his worth to a mother who believed the eldest son was the only important child to have.

  "Tell Mother I'll be there in a few minutes." Edward used to arrive promptly, but, after an accident made him late once, he had discovered a less irritable reaction. His mother, firm in her belief that he would one day be an important person, wanted to see him be extremely busy. So, the more he pretended to be too busy to answer her every whim, the less grouchy she seemed to become.

  Turning to his computer, he faked being consumed by its glow until he could no longer hear his brother's retreating footsteps. Then he counted to sixty, stretched, fixed his tie and perfected his suit before he headed to his mother's corner office. It had been his father's office, but about a year after his death, his mother had moved in, torn down the walls of the adjacent offices, and established a suite for herself. She could now live and work there permanently, visiting her many other homes only for vacations, though she hardly saw a need for that.

  Her suite-of-an-office had one partition that hid her bedroom with the king-sized bed and walk-in closet. Despite the copious amounts of room, the rest of the suite was bare, save her massive desk, a spacious chair specifically designed for her, and two tiny chairs in front of the desk that seemed to imply nothing could save one from her wrath. Worse, everything was white, giving it a futuristic feel as if she controlled the future as well as the present. Then again, she basically did. Everything worked according to how she deemed it should work. Any deviation was blasphemous.

  Unfortunately, Edward was a deviation. As the oldest son, he was destined to take her spot as CEO and carry on the empire, but he knew he didn't have the talents nor the ambition required to do so. He'd rather remain in his small inner office with no windows, surrounded by the symphony of numbers and away from the chaos that people brought.

  Hiding his dread behind a friendly smile, he strode into the spotless room to find his mother nearly blending in with her surroundings thanks to her impeccable white pantsuit. Only her untanned skin and dyed brown hair helped to differentiate her from the white walls and desk. Even her computer was white. Personally, he didn't understand why she bothered to dye her hair to hide the creepage of white since it was obviously her favorite color.

  His mother didn't look at him, her eyes remaining on the overly large monitor that consumed most of her desk, her voice crisp as she finished dictating an email, while her manicured hands rearranged a small stack of papers that dared to not align themselves perfectly in her presence.

  He stood in between the two chairs, hands clasped behind his back, and waited. His brother or sister probably would have slumped into one of the tiny chairs with a dramatic sigh, but then, they were demanding attention they never got. Edward, on the other hand, would be happier if his mother failed to ever notice him again.

  But that was not to be. Once she finished her email, she swept back her short hair and laid cold blue eyes on him.

  "Fanny claims she's been trying to reach you."

  Edward wasn't surprised. Fanny was always trying to reach someone in her family ever since her marriage. While she had found the perfect man to control, it had left a hole in meaningful conversation since her husband never dared to counter her. Adding the fact that she tended to offend anyone unfortunate enough to be near her, her only potential friends were members of her manipulative family.

  Still, Fanny was kind enough to always remember Edward's birthday and Edward remembered how warm Fanny had once been when they were kids.

  "She didn't text or call me," Edward said, though he knew his mother already knew that. In her quest to make him fit her high expectations, she'd issued him a company phone that she could spy on. His brother used to tease him, saying he should get his own phone like he did, but Edward knew he
couldn't get away with it as easily as Robert did. His brother wasn't the first son, born into a rigid role. Besides, his siblings were counting on the gluttonous inheritance their aged mother would leave them, but since it was all tied up in a trust their mother controlled, she could also leave them destitute, a threat she often threw at Edward. If he didn't follow her commands with exactness, then he'd ruin not just himself, but also his siblings. While he may not have the best relationship with his siblings, he didn't like the idea of ruining them simply because he resented the way his mother controlled him.

  "She has a job she wants you to do."

  Now that was new. Fanny made a point of staying out of the family business. Despite their mother's tight control over everything, she still believed only men should run a business and that women should stay at home. Fanny had obeyed that command, earning rare praise from their mother and, more importantly, her favor. Of the three children, Fanny was the only one who had a hope of getting their mother to do something she wanted.

  "It appears she needs you to liquefy her father-in-law's assets—"

  "He asked for that?" Interrupting his mother was never a smart thing to do, but Edward couldn't fathom why Fanny's father-in-law would request such a thing. From the long ranting sessions he endured on a weekly basis from Fanny, he understood her father-in-law to be a grumpy miser who kept all his money to himself and only showered it upon the harlot who posed as his second wife and the three insipid children produced from that union, leaving his first and only son destitute. Of course, Fanny's interpretation of things was rarely true, but Edward still doubted the estranged father-in-law would want Fanny, of all people, to liquefy his assets. Besides, the supposed destitute son had started his own business—financed by the so-called miser of a father—and was quite capable of supporting Fanny's elaborate lifestyle.

  His mother glared at him and Edward dutifully offered an apologetic smile for the interruption. She continued to glare for another teaching moment before continuing. "He's had a stroke recently. It's rendered him useless and Fanny's husband has been put in charge of everything."

  Edward resisted showing sorrow. According to his mother, pity for other people was not a trait a CEO should have. But Edward couldn't help remembering the devastating shock of his own father's fatal accident and his heart went out to the three children of the stroke-stricken man. Losing a father at any age was hard, but according to Fanny, they were young, maybe not even in their teens yet. What a nightmare of a tragedy.

  Edward wanted to know how long ago the stroke had happened, but demanding more information would only anger his mother. She determined the amount of information given, not him, so he decided on a more round-about way.

  "Is it urgent?"

  His mother arched an eyebrow, and Edward immediately regretted the question. Of course it was urgent. Everything was urgent when it came to Fanny.

  "I'm still swamped with the other accounts you've assigned," he added to salvage the situation, hoping his busyness would appease her.

  "Robert can take over those."

  Edward bit back a groan. Robert may be fantastic when it came to people, but numbers and spreadsheets were like a foreign language to him. He'd make a mess, filling in the wrong holes and ripping out needed parts, and then Edward would have to frantically fix it before his mother came in and destroyed the rest of it.

  "You'll head over to Fanny in New York this evening," his mother continued.

  Edward dared another interruption. "I'm sorry, but New York?" Fanny lived in Connecticut like he and the rest of the family.

  "The address is in the email you'll soon get." She tapped a spot on her monitor, and Edward's phone dinged with the email's arrival.

  He nodded, understanding he was being dismissed. He'd get no further information from her now. "Thank you, Mother." A rote statement his mother ignored, her attention already on her engrossing monitor.

  He dutifully retreated from the spacious white room and didn't breathe a sigh of relief until he was once again in his safe, cramped, windowless office, surrounded by papers and numbers.

  Perusing the short email, he noted he had less than an hour before a car would arrive to take him to the airport. A packed bag would most likely be included—his mother didn't see the need for him to do such trivial things as packing. Edward was glad for it since it gave him more time to work on his projects before they were ruined by his brother.

  Five minutes before his scheduled departure, Edward stepped out of his mother's skyscraper, a briefcase in his hands, hoping to get more work done while en-route to his new destination. But all thoughts of numbers and projects fled when his nightmare stepped toward him.

  Chapter 2

  Lucy Steele was the name of the nightmare. On the outside, she was a very pretty girl with the face of an angel, as though she couldn't even think of anything mean, let alone do something cruel. Edward had once believed in that lie and had learned too late that it was a facade that hid a personality more selfish and sinister than he thought possible—and he knew his mother so, that was saying a lot.

  An overly sweet smile curved her full lips. "Eddie! It's been so long since we've last met."

  Fifteen days, five hours, and if he could check his phone, he'd know the exact minute since he was last forced to endure her presence. The longest relief had been three months—too bad it couldn't be a year. Or a decade. Or forever.

  He forced a smile to hide the glare in his eyes. "Lucy, what brings you into town?"

  She giggled. It grated on his nerves like an orchestra that was so out of tune, it shattered glass.

  "You, silly." She stepped closer, narrowing the distance to less than a foot, but she made a point not to touch him. Since they were on the doorstep of his mother's business, she didn't want rumors started that Edward might be seeing someone his mother wouldn't approve. It was one of the few times he was grateful for having a ruthless mother—it kept Lucy at bay.

  She let out a long sigh—he was close enough to smell her breath. Mint with a hint of cherry. She knew he liked the smell of cherry and no doubt had planned this moment.

  "I'm so hungry," she said, batting her long, fake eyelashes at him. "Are you?"

  That meant she wanted him to take her somewhere expensive and ruin his day. Thankfully, he had a valid excuse.

  "My mother expects me in New York City. I'm waiting for the car now."

  She raised an eyebrow as if amused. It always made him feel trapped; as if there was nothing he could do that would surprise her.

  "I see I caught you at a bad time. That's so sad since I missed you so."

  He only missed her absence.

  "Maybe next time, then?" she asked, apparently wanting a reply.

  Thankfully, a black limo pulled up and the door opened for him, saving him from any more conversation.

  "Have a good day, Lucy." He slipped into the limo, relieved to be alone once more. She, on the other hand, remained on the sidewalk and he tensed, half afraid she'd climb in after him. She'd done it several times before. But perhaps since they were in front of his mother's skyscraper, she only waved and let the car take off without her. A rare blessing.

  It took an hour before he could truly relax from the encounter, wasting the time in the helicopter by staring out the window, wishing of might-have-beens, instead of focusing on his briefcase of papers. However, when he met another limo ready to collect him in New York, he rallied to deal with Fanny's so-called emergency.

  Her new house was situated along the coastline in the more affluent neighborhoods, far more affluent than her husband could currently afford. Either she had succeeded in siphoning more money from their mother's tight grasp or her husband had come into new money fast. If her father-in-law had died, Edward would assume this was her inheritance, but since he had only suffered a stroke, Edward doubted that was the cause for the massive upgrade in housing situations.

  Then again, Fanny believed she deserved the best; perhaps she had decided a mountain of de
bt was worth living like the princess she felt she'd been born to become. But if that were the case, Edward would have expected a castle instead of a luxurious mansion on the coast.

  Regardless, he strode up to the door and reached for the doorbell, but stopped. Music drifted through the thick walls of the mansion—piano music. In all the years he had known Fanny, music had not been something she enjoyed. Loud chatter in a crowded room was more preferable to her than sweet melodies from instruments.

  He checked his email, double-checking the address listed versus the one on the house. They were the same. But something didn't add up. He scooted to the window, trying to catch a glimpse inside. The interior was certainly done by someone with money, but it was too cluttered to be Fanny's style. She took after their mother, preferring wide areas devoid of anything. And a lot of white. There wasn't a single spot of white from where Edward could see.

  He backpedaled to the waiting limo. "Nearest hotel, please," he said, then eyed the mansion as if expecting Fanny to come running out, furious that he dared to flee. But she never revealed herself. If he ended up being wrong, then Fanny would simply yell at him for several minutes and then move on to her next rant. But if he was right and he had the wrong house, then he saved himself from bursting upon a random family and dealing with their dozens of questions and confused stares.