Caleb leaned his head back against the bench and sighed. He needed to focus on the case, but the image of Simone came to his mind. And he decided to indulge in it. What harm could come from thinking on Simone and her lovely face?
Chapter Eleven
Simone sat in the library as she read a book. She was attempting to distract herself from the fact that her father’s mistress was set to arrive at any time.
She wanted to be happy for her father, but she couldn’t quite believe he had moved on so quickly. It may have been two years since her mother drowned, but to her, it felt like yesterday. The grief was unrelenting and tormented her thoughts and dreams.
But she did find great comfort in speaking to Caleb about her mother. His words were full of compassion, as if he truly understood her plight. She felt safe in sharing her feelings with him.
Felicity entered the library and met her gaze. “Miss Laurent has arrived,” she informed Simone. “She is unpacking her trunks in your mother’s… er…her bedchamber.”
“Is she truly French?” Simone asked.
Felicity nodded. “Yes, she has a faint accent and she is rather pleasant,” she said. “But if you want me to hate her, I will.”
“No, I don’t want you to hate her on my account.”
“It would be easy to do so,” Felicity said. “I would even be willing to throw fruit at her and spoil her fancy gown.”
Simone giggled. “Thank you, but I do not think throwing fruit will solve this problem.”
Felicity walked further into the room. “Why don’t you go meet Miss Laurent and decide for yourself if you will like her?” she suggested.
“What if I do?” Simone asked. “I do not want to feel like I am betraying my mother by accepting my father’s mistress.”
With an understanding look, Felicity said, “Showing kindness to another is never an act of betrayal. Besides, no one will ever replace your mother, you must know that.”
Simone sighed, knowing Felicity had spoken true. “All right. I will go meet with this Miss Laurent and I will try to have an open mind.”
“Good,” Felicity said. “My work here is done.”
As Simone rose from her seat, she placed her book down on the table. “Why did my father have to take a French woman as a mistress?”
“Does it matter?”
“I suppose not,” Simone replied.
Felicity gestured towards the door. “I think you should stop procrastinating and go greet Miss Laurent yourself.”
Simone gave her lady’s maid a weak smile. “Was it so obvious?”
“It was, but only to me,” Felicity said, returning her smile. “You never know. You might find a friend in Miss Laurent.”
“I doubt that, but I will try not to hate her until I have given her a chance,” Simone said. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need any luck,” Felicity responded. “Just be kind.”
Simone tipped her head before she departed from the library. Each step towards her mother’s bedchamber felt like a burden, her feet weighed down as if made of lead. Doubtcrept in and she wondered if she could truly face Miss Laurent with a smile while her emotions churned within.
Pausing outside the door, she drew in a deep breath. It was time to confront this. Since her mother’s passing, she hadn’t dared to enter the bedchamber. Now, however, it was time to remedy that.
Simone knocked.
“Enter,” a French voice said.
As Simone opened the door, her eyes landed on the last person she expected to see.
Juliette.
