Page 64 of Hooked

Did he find my behavior abhorrent? I hoped not. It was just so difficult to care about all the rules of propriety and modesty when my practical side knew we had higher priorities to deal with. I unfroze and made quick work of putting the dress over my shoulders and then doing up the laces across my abdomen and chest. Then I threw the cloak on for good measure, immersing myself in the fabric. “I’m decent,” I announced.

He turned around, glancing over the new clothing and giving me a small smile.

His appraisal made me feel the indecency of the situation, even though I was now fully covered. “I’m sorry for the shocking impropriety of—”

My words cut off when he stepped forward and wrapped me in his arms. “Don’t apologize to me. You’ve been through enough. You don’t owe me anything.”

“But you seem…embarrassed…by me…” I mumble into his chest.

“No, not at all. I’m just trying to be respectful. You deserve that. And after”—he swallowed—“after my rather forward action with you in the middle of the night, I didn’t want—”

I squeezed him tighter. “I was glad you were there,” I admitted, though it took all my courage.

“You were?”

“Yes. It made me feel safe. And I haven’t”—I swallowed—“felt safe in quite a while.”

He let out a shaky breath. “Good.” He pulled back. “You are safe with me,” he said with conviction. “Shall we go home now?”

I nodded.

We ate a small breakfast provided by the innkeeper, and when we went outside, I discovered that Falstone had procured a horse for me.

I was relieved to have control of my own horse, knowing that I would be more comfortable and that we could travel much faster. However, there was a small part of me that would miss being able to burrow into his back as we rode.

As we maneuvered our mounts out of the inn yard, I had to ask, “You went to Norsing?”

He looked over at me, his eyes concerned. “Yes.”

“Did you…see my mother?” I studied his face, waiting for any clue about what he might have found. Was my mother destitute? Thriving? Living life as if she’d never had a daughter?

Falstone gave me a tiny sad smile, the grief and regret on his face hitting me in the chest, knocking the breath out of me.

I choked on my lack of air as my eyes pricked. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

“I’m sorry, Cecily.”

I blinked and pressed my lips together. “When?” I asked.

“Six years ago.”

I nodded as I tried to absorb the information. I would never see my mother again. The chance to ask her all my questions or make her take responsibility was gone. Any answers I longed for had died with her. Answers about her love for me. Answers about my father and the truth about his actions, his arrest. “All right.” I nudged my horse into a trot, setting the pace for our return home, happy that the task of riding was mindless as my head and heart churned with sadness, regret and anger.

“Cecily,” Falstone called over the sound of our horses’ hoofbeats some time later.

I slowed to a walk and he followed suit. “Yes?”

“There is more that I learned in Norsing.”

My chest tightened. I’d known in the back of my mind that there would be more I should know. He’d conducted an investigation in the house I’d lived in for seven years, and in the town where I’d been born. He’d found out about my mother. He’d discovered what had happened between Huckley and my uncle. Of course there would be more I should know. My entire childhood was in Norsing; all of my family had resided there. He’d found out about my mother.

Did he know about my father?

Did I want to know if he did?

I kept my eyes on the road ahead. “Tell me.”

“Your father—“