“It always does,” his mother remarked lightly.
His father sat down at the head of the table as he acknowledged his guests. “Miss Delacourt. Lord Hungerton,” he greeted. “Welcome to our humble home.”
Lord Hungerton tipped his head. “We appreciate the invite to dine with your family this evening.”
“You are always welcome,” his father said. “You and your lovely daughter.”
In a soft voice, Simone spoke up. “Thank you, my lord.”
His father smiled kindly at her. “I’m afraid it has been some time since we saw you last. You were just a child then.”
“Simone is not so young anymore and is in her third Season,” Lord Hungerton said, his voice gruff.
“Time certainly does go by quickly, especially when it is not one’s own child,” his father remarked.
Anette interjected from the other side of the table as she addressed Simone. “What occupies your time?”
With a brief glance at her father, Simone replied, “I enjoy working on my needlework, practicing the pianoforte, and reading books.”
“Are you reading anything of importance?” Anette asked.
Reaching for her glass, Simone replied, “I am reading a book of poetry right now.”
“Poetry?” Anette made a face. “How boring.”
Roswell chuckled. “Not everyone has an aversion to poetry as you do, my dear,” he said. “Some people actually enjoy bettering themselves.”
With a loving glance at her husband, Anette continuedquestioning Simone. “Have you read the book that was written by A Lady?”
Before Simone could reply, Lord Hungerton answered for her, “My daughter would not read such dribble. Can you imagine the ramblings of a madwoman?”
Anette’s displeasure was etched on her features. “Why do you suppose she is mad?”
“What kind of woman would have a desire to write a book?” Lord Hungerton asked. “I daresay that no sane woman would.”
Caleb opened his mouth to argue with Lord Hungerton, but Roswell spoke first. “I hope more women write books. They have stories that need to be told, and I for one, want to hear them.”
Anette looked at her husband with approval. “Thank you, Roswell.”
Lord Hungerton put his hand up. “I do apologize. I did not mean to start a debate,” he said. “We clearly do not see eye to eye on this issue, and that is all right. But as for me and my house, we do not read books written by women.”
Caleb knew Anette objected to Lord Hungerton’s words most profusely and he held his breath to see if she was going to continue arguing. However, she turned her attention back to Simone and asked, “Besides throwing daggers, do you have any other interesting hobbies that I should be made aware of?”
“I’m afraid not,” Simone replied. “I am not that interesting.”
Anette didn’t look convinced. “I am not quite sure that is true.”
“Simone speaks true,” Lord Hungerton said. “She has aligned herself with the wallflowers, much to my chagrin, and thetonhardly notices her.”
The footmen started placing plates in front of them and Caleb reached for his fork and knife. It was fascinating to himthat Simone had managed to fool her father into believing that she was something that she wasn’t. How was it possible that he lived with her and didn’t see what was right under his nose?
His father’s eyes held compassion. “Everyone blossoms at their own pace. It is not Miss Delacourt’s time to shine yet, but I have no doubt that she will.”
“Thank you,” Simone acknowledged.
A silence descended over the table as they started eating their food. After a long moment, Lord Hungerton shifted in his seat to face his father. “Did you have a chance to review the bill that was being proposed by Lord Chatsworth?”
With a glance at Caleb, his father replied, “I have not, but I have heard that it is garnering more attention.”
