“That will all change when you marry Mr. Bolingbroke,” Emilia pointed out. “You will one day be a viscountess.”
“Not for a long time.”
Emilia glanced over at her. “I still can’t quite believe this is my life,” she admitted. “Just a short time ago, I was a lonely teacher, destined for spinsterhood, and now I am marrying an earl. It is rather surreal.”
“I am truly happy for you.”
Coming to a stop in the entry hall, Emilia turned to face her. “And I’m happy for you, albeit slightly concerned.”
“I assure you that I know what I am doing.”
Emilia sighed. “That is the problem,” she said. “You think you can control your heart, but that is impossible. You will love who you are meant to love.”
Simone smiled at her friend, knowing she was just trying to help. But it was not necessary. She may care for Caleb, but love… no, neither one of them were foolish enough to fall in love. “Love will have no place in our marriage.”
“Then why marry him at all?” Emilia asked.
For once, Simone was at a loss for words. She didn’t dare reveal that she wanted to marry Caleb, more than she had ever wanted anything before. He was her future. She was sure of that. But how did she explain such a thing without expressing the depths of her feelings?
Emilia must have taken pity on her because she continued. “Thank you for the lesson today. I rather enjoyed myself.”
“You are progressing nicely,” Simone said.
With a disbelieving huff, Emilia responded, “We both know that isn’t true, but at least I hit the target today.”
“It just takes practice.”
Emilia offered her a grateful look before she headed out the main door and stepped into her waiting coach.
Once the door was closed, Simone debated about what she should do with her time until Caleb came to call upon her. The townhouse was quiet, almost too quiet, making her wonder what Juliette and Victor were up to.
Perhaps her father would be able to enlighten her. Most likely, he would be in his office at this early hour.
Coming to a decision, she headed towards the study in the rear of the townhouse but her steps faltered as she heard her father’s gruff voice drifting out into the corridor.
“That isn’t what we planned,” her father growled.
“I know, but plans change,” Juliette said. “You, of all people, should know that.”
Simone crept closer to the door, being mindful to avoid the floorboards that were prone to creaking. She needed to hear this conversation.
Juliette’s voice grew more persuasive. “It is just one night.”
A silence ensued before her father said in a resigned voice, “Very well, but I will be the one that will tell Simone.”
“I assumed as much,” Juliette responded.
Simone risked the opportunity to peek into the study and saw her father and Juliette were sitting next to one another onthe settee. What did her father have to tell her, and why did it seem as if the decision weighed upon him?
Her father rose from his seat. “I suppose I will tell her now.”
It was time for her to leave, and quickly. Simone didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping on their conversation.
In quick steps, she headed towards the drawing room and dropped down onto the settee. She reached for her needlework and started working on the handkerchief.
It wasn’t long before her father stepped into the drawing room. “Ah, there you are,” he said. “I need to speak to you.”
“Oh,” Simone responded, lowering the needlework to her lap. “Is everything all right?”
