Chapter 10

Simone stared up at the ceiling as she chided herself on how vulnerable she was with Caleb the night before. She wondered what she had been thinking. She was starting to let Caleb in, and that terrified her.

If he ever saw the person she truly was, he would never approve. The way he looked at her was with such compassion, causing her to believe that he might truly care for her. No. He couldn't. That was impossible. How could he care for someone that struggled every day to put one foot in front of the other? Her thoughts, her feelings, everything about her was imperfect.

The only person who had ever understood her was her mother. That is why she still mourned her every single day.

A knock came at the door before it opened, revealing Felicity. "Good morning," she greeted. "Your father has requested that you join him for breakfast."

Simone sat up in bed. "He has?"

Felicity closed the door as she replied, "I was just as surprised as you were when Clarke informed me, but it is a good thing, is it not?"

"I don't rightly know."

Felicity gave her an odd look. "Do you not want to spend time with your father?"

Simone put her feet over the side of the bed and rose. "I searched my father's study last night and I discovered something interesting."

"Which was?" Felicity asked.

"My father intends to sell my grandmother's estate," Simone replied.

Felicity gave her a look that alluded sympathy. "I'm sorry. I know how much you loved visiting that estate as a child," she said. "I can't imagine how difficult that is for you."

"It is, but the contract states that I am the one selling the estate," Simone revealed.

Now Felicity looked baffled. "I thought your grandmother left the estate to your mother."

"I thought so as well."

As she walked over to the wardrobe, Felicity asked, "Have you spoken to your father about this?"

"I have not, but I feel as if he is intentionally trying to keep this from me."

Felicity retrieved a pink afternoon gown and held it up for her inspection. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"I don't know, but I intend to find out."

Walking over to the settee, Felicity placed the gown over the back before asking, "How exactly do you intend to do that?"

Simone blew out a puff of air. "It will come to me. It always does."

"You will find a way," Felicity encouraged. "Until then, let's style your hair. You don't want to keep your father waiting."

"You are right, of course," Simone said as she went to sit down in front of the vanity.

Felicity picked up the brush and removed the cap from atop her head. "Did Mr. Bolingbroke search your father's study with you?"

"He did."

"Interesting," Felicity murmured.

Simone turned in her seat to face her lady's maid, unsure of her meaning. "Why is that interesting?"

"You two just seem to be spending a lot of time together," Felicity replied.

Not liking where this conversation was headed, Simone responded in a dismissive tone, "That is what partners do."

Felicity didn't look convinced, but rather she appeared amused by Simone's remark. "I just can't help but wonder if you have started to develop feelings for Mr. Bolingbroke."

Simone shook her head, vehemently. "I think not. He is not the type of man that I would fall for."

"Do you take issue with handsome men?" Felicity joked.

"I take issue with men that are entirely too cocky for their own good, which he is. Irritatingly so," Simone defended. "I have not met a more disagreeable man than him."

Felicity placed the brush down and started to style her hair. "Forget I said anything," she said, her lips twitching.

"I will." Simone paused for a long moment before she asked the one question that had kept her up most of the night. "Did you ever find my mother's death to be suspicious?"

With a shake of her head, Felicity replied, "No. Why do you ask?"

"Caleb just put a thought in my head."

"Caleb?"

"Mr. Bolingbroke," Simone corrected.

Felicity lifted her brow. "You two are calling each other by your given names now?"

"We are partners," Simone reminded her, "and it is perfectly acceptable to do so."

Taking a step back, Felicity asked, "Shall we get you dressed as I try to discover who you are trying to convince? Me or yourself?"

Simone rose from her seat. "I will admit that Caleb and I are friends, but that is all."

"All right."

She continued. "After all, we are both determined not to ever wed because we are agents of the Crown."

Felicity bobbed her head. "I believe you."

Simone took a breath before adding, "If I ever did decide to marry, I would never marry Caleb. He vexes me."

"So you say," Felicity remarked.

"Lastly, Caleb and I would never make each other happy," Simone added. "He makes everything unnecessarily difficult by teasing me. He is relentless at it."

Felicity walked over to the settee and picked up the gown. "How unfortunate you must deal with him then," she said, her voice light.

"It is awful, just awful," Simone remarked.

As Felicity helped her dress, she asked, "Dare I ask why Mr. Bolingbroke thought your mother's death was suspicious?"

"He found the timing to be odd, especially since it was so close to my grandmother's death," Simone explained.

"But your mother drowned, and your grandmother died from cancer," Felicity said. "Those two are in no way connected, and did you not conduct your own investigation?"

"I did." Simone turned to face Felicity. "Besides, my father did not benefit from my mother's death. There was no reason for him to kill her."

Felicity dropped her hands to her sides. "True, but your father might kill you if you don't hurry and meet him for breakfast."

Simone laughed. "That was terrible."

"I got the point across, did I not?" Felicity asked.

"You did," Simone replied before she headed into the corridor.

She walked with quick steps towards the dining room on the main level but stopped when she saw Clarke standing in the entry hall.

Clarke tipped his head at her. "Good morning," he greeted.

Stepping closer to him, Simone revealed in a hushed tone, "I saw Lucy yesterday."

"You did?" he asked, surprise etched on his features.

"I did, and she warned me not to trust my father. Do you know why she would say such a thing?" Simone asked.

Clarke gave her a baffled look. "I'm afraid not. Your father may not be an overly affectionate man, but he does love you. I am sure he has your best interests at heart."

"I'm not quite sure if that is true anymore."

"Why do you say that, Miss?" Clarke inquired.

Knowing her father was still waiting on her, Simone gave him a weak smile. "It is just a feeling I am having, but I must run along. My father is waiting for me in the dining room."

Simone headed down the corridor until she arrived at the dining room. She was pleased to discover that her father was still eating his breakfast.

He rose from his seat when he saw her. "Simone," he greeted. "Good, you came."

Simone waved him back down as she went to sit down to the right of him. "Is everything all right?"

Her father gave her a blank stare. "Yes, why wouldn't it be?"

"I was just surprised you wished to dine with me for breakfast," Simone replied. "Not that I am complaining."

"There is something I wish to discuss with you, and it is of a delicate nature," her father said.

Simone assumed he wanted to tell her that he was selling her grandmother's estate, but she couldn't let on that she knew. "What is it?" she asked as a footman placed a plate of food in front of her.

Her father met her gaze. "As you know, it has been almost two years since your mother died and I have been rather lonely," he started. "Which is why I have asked my mistress to move in with us."

Her mouth dropped, but she quickly recovered. "You have a mistress? And you want her to live here, with us?"

"That is right."

Leaning back in her seat, Simone asked, "How long have you had a mistress?"

"Honestly, it is none of your business," her father replied, dismissively. "Miss Laurent and I have been very happy, and I want to include you in that part of my life."

"Then why not marry her?"

Her father stiffened. "My reasons are my own."

"Father, you can't be serious," Simone said. "The ton will not be kind to your mistress. She won't be welcome at any social events that we attend."

"You must let me deal with that."

Simone decided to try a different tactic, one that might sway her father. "If you are in earnest about Miss Laurent moving in with us, it might affect the ability for me to pick a suitor. I could very well be ostracized by the ton due to the scandal it could cause."

Her father's face grew hard. "You have had your chance to be happy. It is my turn now."

"But, Father?—"

He cut her off. "It is done," he shouted. "Miss Laurent will be moving in later today and she will be residing in your mother's old bedchamber."

"Mother's bedchamber?! Surely you cannot be serious!" Simone demanded. "How is it that you can replace Mother so easily?"

"I do not see it as her being replaced," her father responded.

Simone shoved back her chair and rose. "I didn't complain when you removed Mother's portrait from the drawing room, but now you have gone too far."

Rising, her father said, "You are emotional. We will continue this conversation when you stop being so hysterical."

"I will never stop fighting for Mother."

"She is gone!" he exclaimed. "It is time for you to accept that and move on. I have."

Simone could feel the tears pricking in the back of her eyes and she knew crying would do her no good. If anything, it would prove her father's point.

While she blinked back her tears, her father's voice turned calm. "I know this is hard to accept, but you have no choice but to learn to live with it."

"Do I not even get a say in this?"

Her father returned to his seat. "I didn't think you would object so heartily."

"You didn't think I would object to a stranger taking over my mother's bedchamber?" she demanded.

"This is my townhouse, and I will do with it as I please," her father replied. "Now, let us finish breakfast before our food grows cold."

Simone shook her head. "I am not hungry."

"You are being stubborn, just as your mother used to be," her father said. "You need sustenance. Sit and eat."

She reluctantly returned to her seat and reached for her fork and knife. As she pushed the food around her plate, Simone felt her emotions whirling inside of her. She felt betrayed by her own father. But was that fair of her? It had been two years since her mother's death, and it wasn't uncommon for a gentleman to take a mistress.

But that didn't mean she had to accept this woman into her home with open arms.

Simone snuck a glance at her father and felt annoyed that he appeared perfectly collected. How could he be so calm with what he had just told her? Her whole life had turned upside down, and she was angry.

However, she did have a question for her father. And she saw no reason to wait any longer. "Whatever happened to Grandmother's estate?"

Her father looked uninterested in her question as he picked up the newssheets. "I'm not quite sure," he said. "A distant cousin inherited the estate. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Simone replied. Her father was lying to her, but why? She didn't dare press him. At least, not right now.

Clarke entered the room and met her gaze. "Mr. Bolingbroke has come to call," he informed her. "Are you accepting callers?"

Simone turned towards her father. "May I receive Mr. Bolingbroke?" she asked. She wanted to leave, and this was the perfect excuse to escape this conversation with her father.

"You may," her father said as he continued to read the newssheets. "I shall send in Mrs. Fernsby to act as a chaperone."

Simone rose and headed towards the drawing room. She found that she very much wanted to see Caleb. He would understand, and he was very good at making her feel heard. As if she had a voice. Whereas her father was constantly trying to take it away.

Caleb stared out the window as he waited for Simone. He was pleased with the progress that he was making with her, and he found that he was rather eager to see her. Yet, with every passing conversation, every touch, his feelings for her deepened- a disconcerting development considering their partnership. He didn't dare act on them since it would ruin everything between them.

Simone entered the room, and he could tell something was wrong. She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Good morning," she greeted. Her words sounded cordial enough, but there was an underlying sadness to them.

Caleb closed the distance between them and asked, "What is wrong?"

Her eyes grew guarded as she asked, "Why do you suppose something is wrong?"

He lifted his brow. "Do we truly have to do this song and dance?" he asked. "We both know that something has upset you."

It was as if his words allowed Simone to relax because her shoulders slumped. "It is my father. He just informed me that he intends for his mistress to live with us, and she will reside in my mother's bedchamber."

"I'm sorry," Caleb said, unsure of what else he could say.

"I am angry, and frustrated, knowing this stranger is going to take the place of my mother," Simone stated.

Caleb reached for her hand, hoping his touch would comfort her. "No one can replace your mother."

"I should have assumed my father would eventually move on, but it has only been two years," Simone said. "And just think of the scandal that will ensue when the ton catches wind of this."

"It will not be ideal," Caleb agreed.

Simone glanced down at their hands. "Am I left to mourn my mother alone?" she asked, her voice soft.

Caleb's heart lurched at the pain that he heard in her voice and he hoped he could find the right words to ease her suffering. "I do believe a part of you will always mourn your mother. It proves that she was a woman worth loving."

Bringing her gaze up, Simone's eyes were moist. "I just wish I could change the past."

"Don't we all?" he asked. "But our past is what defines our future. You are extraordinary because of what you were forced to endure."

"I don't feel extraordinary," she said.

Caleb smiled. "I have never met another person like you. You didn't allow other people to decide who you were. You decided that for yourself," he said.

"You are too kind."

He was pleased that Simone hadn't chided him yet so he continued. "The battles that you have fought, the ones that you have faced alone, make you truly remarkable."

Simone considered his words for a moment before asking, "Why are you so kind to me?"

"You are rather easy to be nice to."

A smile formed on her lips. "We both know that isn't true," she said.

"I listen to you, but I also listen to what you aren't saying," Caleb responded. "And what you aren't saying speaks volumes."

Her expression grew thoughtful. "What am I not saying?"

Caleb held her gaze as he replied, "You don't need to be accepted by others. You need to be accepted by yourself."

Her eyes widened, just a touch, and it was barely discernible. But he knew his words had hit their mark.

Simone slipped her hand out of his. "You are terrible at reading people."

"Am I?" Caleb asked. "I don't trust words. I trust my instincts. People can tell you anything, but my instincts can tell me everything."

"And my instinct is telling me that you are vexing," she said with amusement in her voice. "Regardless, you did not come to discuss my problems. We still have two French spies to contend with."

Caleb nodded. "You are right," he said. "I spoke to Lord Pendley and I was able to secure two more invitations to the ball."

"Do you think that is wise?"

"What choice do we have?" Caleb asked. "We have to at least play along until we discover what their true purpose is for attending the ball."

Simone grew solemn. "Have they made contact with you?"

"No, they haven't."

"I wonder why that is," Simone questioned. "After all, the ball is only four days away. If securing an invitation was so important to them, why haven't they sought us out?"

Caleb shrugged. "We have been rather occupied with your father."

Simone glanced back at the empty door and lowered her voice. "My father lied to me. He told me that my grandmother's estate was inherited by a distant cousin."

"That is disconcerting."

"Perhaps it is time that I speak with my father's solicitor, Mr. Frickle," Simone said. "He might be able to shed some light on this."

Caleb gave her a pointed look. "What if this Mr. Frickle is loyal only to him?" he asked. "He might very well be the person that your father was speaking to last night."

"I thought about that. I have only spoken to Mr. Frickle on a rare occasion so I am not sure if I could have distinguished his voice, even if I wanted to," Simone admitted. "Which is why there is only one solution. We need to break into Mr. Frickle's office."

"I do enjoy a good break-in, but what purpose will it serve?" Caleb questioned.

"We can look for the contract for my grandmother's estate," Simone replied.

"And if we find it?"

Simone arched an eyebrow. "We take it, of course. I do not want my grandmother's estate sold if there is even a chance that we can save it."

Caleb tipped his head. "Very well," he said. "Shall we break into Mr. Frickle's office tonight after everyone goes home for the evening?"

"That is a splendid idea," Simone replied.

"I am full of those," Caleb joked.

Simone shook her head. "And you ruined it," she said, but there was a lightness to her words.

Caleb chuckled. "I am just here to entertain you, my dear."

The term of endearment slipped out before he realized what he was doing. He saw Simone grow visibly tense and he wished he could take back his words. What had he been thinking? He should never have said something so bold to Simone.

Before Simone could respond, Mrs. Fernsby entered the room and announced, "You two are entirely too close to one another."

Caleb took a step back. "My apologies."

"What?" Mrs. Fernsby asked, placing a hand to her right ear. "I did not catch that."

He cleared his throat. "My apologies," he said, his voice rising.

Mrs. Fernsby approached him, adjusting the glasses on the top of her nose. "Why do you need a ball of cheese?" she asked.

Simone spoke up. "He didn't say ‘ball of cheese,'" she started, "he said ‘my apologies.'"

"Oh, that makes much more sense," Mrs. Fernsby said. "Although, I do love a good ball of cheese. Perhaps we shall have the cook make us one."

Caleb knew it was time to leave. "I should be going. I have work to see to," he said, performing a slight bow.

"Must you go so soon?" Simone asked.

"I'm afraid it is for the best," Caleb replied. "I shall be working late this evening, perhaps even until midnight. Then I shall take my walk, just as I always do."

Caleb was speaking vaguely and hoped that Simone would understand what he was trying to say.

Simone nodded her understanding. "A walk at midnight is not safe. Perhaps you need a walking companion."

"I hope to persuade someone to join me," Caleb said.

Mrs. Fernsby interjected, "The streets of London are a dangerous place. I would not take a walk at such a late hour."

"You are right," Caleb responded with a wink at Simone.

Simone's lips twitched. "Allow me to walk you to the door," she said.

"I would like that very much." He offered his arm.

As they walked towards the main door, Simone lowered her voice and asked, "Could you have been any more obvious?"

"I thought I was being rather devious."

"You thought wrong, but you did get your point across," Simone said. "I shall see you tonight at midnight."

Caleb glanced at her. "We will have to take my coach since no hackneys run that late at night. Will that be an issue?"

Simone pressed her lips together. "I suppose I will survive."

"That is the spirit," he teased.

Lord Hungerton's booming voice came from one of the doorways off the entry hall. "What a pleasant surprise, Mr. Bolingbroke." His words were anything but cordial.

Caleb dropped his arm and bowed. "My lord."

Simone's father walked closer to him. "I see you came to call upon my daughter."

"I did," Caleb said, feeling no need to explain himself.

"That is an odd behavior for someone who wishes to just remain friends," Lord Hungerton growled.

"Father, you are being rude to my guest," Simone chided lightly. "Mr. Bolingbroke and I are friends, nothing more."

Lord Hungerton crossed his arms over his chest. "Very well, but do not even think of compromising my daughter."

Simone blinked, clearly taken aback by her father's accusation. "That was uncalled for. Mr. Bolingbroke has only ever been a gentleman around me," she declared.

Caleb understood Lord Hungerton's enmity for him, considering he did spend time with Simone and they didn't have an understanding. But that was only until this assignment was completed. Then it would go back to normal.

But was that what he wanted? Normal?

Lord Hungerton huffed. "You may go now, Mr. Bolingbroke," he ordered.

Caleb bobbed his head. "Good day, my lord." He turned towards Simone. "Good day, Miss Delacourt."

Simone dropped into a curtsy. "Mr. Bolingbroke."

As he departed from the townhouse, he headed towards his waiting coach. He stepped inside and realized that he wasn't alone.

Kendrick.

Caleb gave the spymaster an expectant look. "I did not realize you made calls to coaches."

"I was in Mayfair and I saw your coach positioned outside of Miss Delacourt's townhouse," Kendrick remarked. "You two are spending an enormous amount of time with one another."

Seeing no reason to deny the truth, Caleb replied, "We are, but that is what partners do."

"I do not recall you spending so much time with Lord Roswell," Kendrick said with a knowing look. "A word of warning- do not hurt Miss Delacourt or you will have me to answer to."

Caleb was surprised by the rare showing of emotion from the spymaster, but his fear was misplaced. He had no desire to hurt Simone, for any reason. She meant far too much to him, and that is what frightened him.

"Yes, sir," Caleb responded.

Kendrick looked pleased by his response. "Good, because we have more important things to discuss," he said. "The agents that were assigned to guard the French spies at the boarding house have reported that they managed to elude them."

"That is not surprising," Caleb muttered.

"They are in the wind again," Kendrick said. "Find them before they wreak any havoc on English soil."

Caleb nodded his understanding. "I secured invitations for them to Lord Pendley's ball. They will reach out to me or Miss Delacourt. I am sure of that."

"Good." Kendrick tapped the top of the coach and it came to a stop. "Report to me once you have something."

"Before you go," Caleb started, "can you look into the death of Lady Hungerton, discreetly, of course?"

Kendrick gave him a baffled look. "Is there a particular reason why?"

"Call it a hunch," Caleb replied.

"Very well, but I do believe you are being foolhardy," Kendrick said. "Miss Delacourt is still struggling with her mother's drowning."

"I know, which is why I am hoping you will keep this between us."

"Secrets?" Kendrick asked, amused. "I am very good at keeping those."

After Kendrick exited the coach, he disappeared into the crowd of people on the pavement.

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?