“Not yet,” he admitted.
“What is holding you back?”
Caleb leaned back in his seat as he pondered Lady Hungerton’s words. What was holding him back? He had never needed anyone before, but he realized that he needed Simone in his life. But before he could confess how he felt, they needed to finish this assignment. That was their priority.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t dwell on Simone for a little while longer. He felt such contentment when he was with her. How he longed to feel like that all his life.
Chapter Nineteen
Simone stepped into her townhouse and let out a sigh. She couldn’t quite believe how brazen she had been by kissing Caleb on the cheek, but she had to express her gratitude for what he had done for her mother.
Her mother.
She was alive, and safe. Simone had no doubt that Caleb would ensure she arrived safely at Kendrick’s cottage, where she would be protected from her father.
Her father.
How could her father have done such a thing to his own wife? What kind of man was he who would force his wife to live in such horrific conditions, all while carrying on as a grieving widower? He would get his comeuppance. She was sure of that. Once Kendrick arrested him for being a spy, he would disappear. She was aware of what his fate would be, but she didn’t seem to care at the moment. Perhaps she would feel some sorrow for him, but it wouldn’t be anytime soon.
As she walked up the stairs, she heard her father’s booming voice echoing throughout the main level. “How could the contract have just disappeared?”
Simone suspected that her father was referring to thecontract for her grandmother’s estate. She spun on her heel and headed towards his study.
When she arrived at the open door, she peered inside and saw Mr. Frickle standing in front of the desk as her father leaned forward in his chair.
Mr. Frickle’s face was red and splotchy. She watched as he wiped the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief. “I don’t know how it happened?—”
Her father jumped up from his seat and slammed his fist on the desk. “I can’t believe you are this incompetent. Now we will have to start this process all over again.”
“Yes, but the buyers are still interested,” Mr. Frickle assured him. “It will just take some additional time.”
“I won’t pay you for your mistake,” her father grumbled. “You will fix this and don’t come back until the deal is done. I need those funds, and I need them now!”
Mr. Frickle bobbed his head. “I understand.”
Her father swiped his hand in front of him. “Get out of my sight. I can hardly look at you right now.”
A visible sign of relief came to Mr. Frickle’s face as he ducked his head and hurried from the room. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, Simone hurried into the parlor, ducking out of view from the corridor. She waited for the solicitor to pass by the door before she came out of her hiding spot. She should go up to her bedchamber and prepare for the upcoming ball. But she couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone and decided to go speak to her father.
She approached the open door of the study and knocked. “Father?”
Her father had returned to his seat and was reviewing the ledger. Not bothering to look up, he asked, “What is it?” His voice was curt, and not at all engaging. He clearly was not pleased by the interruption.
“Is everything all right?” Simone asked, innocently. “I heard shouting.”
“You do not need to concern yourself with that,” he said.
Simone walked further into the room, unwilling to be dismissed so easily. “May I ask what contract went missing?”
“It doesn’t matter, at least not to you,” her father said, his eyes still reviewing the ledger. He couldn’t even give her the courtesy of looking up at her.
She wanted to confront him with what she knew, but she was well aware this was not the time or the place to do so. But as she gazed upon her father, she didn’t feel hatred for him, like she thought she would. No. It was most definitely not hatred. She felt a profound sadness, knowing the choices he had made had brought him to this point. Now that they knew that he was a French spy, there was no saving him. And she doubted she would have done so, regardless.
Her father glanced up at her with annoyance on his features. “What is it?” he demanded.
Simone forced a weak smile to her lips. “I was just thinking about how different our lives used to be before Mother died.”
“Times were different, yes,” he agreed, showing no slip in his mask. “I have work that I need to see to. You may go.”
