Chapter 2

With the morning sun streaming in through the windows, Simone sat in the library of her townhouse as she read the newssheets. She had to do so in private because her father would never condone her actions.

Her father was no different than most of the gentlemen of the ton. They didn't want a woman to hold an opinion on serious topics, such as politics or religion. But she could have as many opinions as she wanted on ribbons or other frivolous subjects.

She had long suspected that her father was disappointed that she had been born a girl. He didn't have his heir and his title would be passed to a distant cousin. But Simone didn't mind being born a girl. It enabled her to hide in plain sight as a spy. No one would dare suspect that a lady would be an agent for the Crown.

For the most part, Simone enjoyed being a spy. She was able to wear a mask of her own making and kept a part of herself hidden from the world. It was a way to protect herself from the harsh realities that she had to face. Alone.

A knock came at the door before a young maid stepped into the room and announced, "Miss Emilia Sutherland has come to call."

Simone folded the newssheets and placed them onto a table. "I will be down shortly," she replied.

The maid departed from the room, just as quickly as she arrived, to do her bidding.

Rising, Simone couldn't help but wonder why Miss Sutherland had come to call. The last she had seen of her was after she had helped save her from death at the hands of her half-siblings. But that had been nearly a week ago. Now Miss Sutherland was happily engaged to Lord Chatsworth and the banns had been posted.

Simone arrived at the drawing room on the main level and saw Miss Sutherland was holding a large, overflowing basket of goods in her hands.

Miss Sutherland's eyes lit up when she saw her. "Miss Delacourt," she greeted. "Thank you for agreeing to see me."

"You are always welcome in my home," Simone said.

Miss Sutherland extended her the basket. "I brought you something. I wanted to do something nice, considering you saved my life."

Simone accepted the basket and glanced inside to see a random assortment of items. "Thank you."

"I wasn't sure what to get you so I compiled items that I particularly enjoy," Miss Sutherland explained. "There are biscuits, ribbons for your hair, dry sweetmeats, some delicate fabric for needlework, and a book that was written by A Lady. I don't want to give anything away but it was a splendid book."

"You are kind, but this was unnecessary. I am just glad that I was there to help."

Miss Sutherland smiled. "When you first arrived on the path that night, I thought you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had no idea you were so proficient at throwing daggers."

"It is a talent that I have perfected over the years," Simone admitted.

"Do you think I should carry a weapon?" Miss Sutherland asked. "I only ask because Lady Roswell carries a pistol in her reticule and you carry daggers on your person. Are the streets of London so terribly unsafe?"

"They are unsafe," Simone replied. "But can you shoot a pistol or know how to properly handle a dagger?"

Miss Sutherland shook her head. "No, but I can learn."

"I can teach you how to throw a dagger, assuming Lord Chatsworth approves. I do not wish to make an enemy of him," Simone responded.

"He will approve," Miss Sutherland said matter-of-factly.

"Then we shall start right away," Simone stated. "Throwing a dagger isn't overly complicated, but it will take a lot of practice to become somewhat proficient."

Miss Sutherland stepped closer and lowered her voice. "What is it like being a spy?"

Simone blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. "Why would you think I am a spy?" she inquired.

With a knowing look, Miss Sutherland replied, "It wasn't hard to deduce since you are acquainted with Fredrick and Lord Roswell." She hesitated. "Was I wrong to assume so?"

Simone had a choice. She could lie, just as she was accustomed to, or she could confirm what Miss Sutherland had so easily deduced. Very few people knew of her secret, but she knew enough about Miss Sutherland to know that she was trustworthy.

"No, you weren't wrong," Simone replied, keeping her voice low, "but no one knows about me here."

Miss Sutherland nodded her understanding. "Say no more."

Simone gestured towards the settees. "Would you care to have a seat?" she asked. "I can request a tea service to be brought up."

Miss Sutherland made a face. "No tea, please," she said. "All I seem to do is work on my needlework and drink tea."

"What about spending time with Lord Chatsworth?" Simone asked.

A very telling blush came to Miss Sutherland's cheeks. "I do enjoy spending time with him when he comes to call."

Simone sat down on a settee and placed the basket onto the table in front of her. "I am glad since you two are engaged."

"I don't think I will ever tire of being in Fredrick's presence," Miss Sutherland shared as she sat across from her. "He completes me in a way I didn't even realize I needed."

"I am truly happy for you," Simone said.

Miss Sutherland clasped her hands in front of her. "I must admit that I had an ulterior motive in coming today."

"You did?"

With a bob of her head, Miss Sutherland continued. "I was hoping we could become more acquainted with one another, and perhaps, if you are willing, become friends. I could use some more friends. I have three now."

"Three?"

Miss Sutherland held up three fingers. "Lady Roswell, Lady Lizette and Lily, my lady's maid. I know some might not count a lady's maid as a friend?—"

"I would, wholeheartedly," Simone said, cutting her off. "My lady's maid is one of my dearest friends, as well."

"Lily and I became friends when we both started working at the same boarding school," Miss Sutherland revealed. "I convinced her to come work for me as a lady's maid and now she works as a teacher at the boarding school I just opened."

"Yes, I heard about the boarding school. I think it is a remarkable feat on your part. You should be proud."

Miss Sutherland dismissed her praise with a wave of her hand. "It is rather easy to do good things when one has the funds available to do so."

"Unfortunately, not everyone feels the same as you," Simone said.

"Regardless, I only finished what my father envisioned."

Simone leaned against the back of the settee. "How are you adjusting to life in high Society?"

Miss Sutherland shrugged. "People have been much more accepting of me now that I am engaged to Lord Chatsworth."

"Marrying a lord will do that, especially one that declared he wasn't going to fall prey to the parson's mousetrap," Simone joked. "People are curious as to how you ensnared him."

"I did not ensnare him," Miss Sutherland declared.

Simone laughed. "I know. You two are so clearly in love. Which no doubt irks the ton even more," she said.

"I love Fredrick with my whole heart."

"Then I am glad that it worked out for you two," Simone responded. "Not everyone gets a happily-ever-after."

Miss Sutherland eyed her curiously. "Are you one of those people?"

"I do not intend to ever marry."

"Fredrick said that same thing," Miss Sutherland teased.

"In my case, I am in earnest," Simone asserted. "I do not want to give up the freedoms that have been afforded to me."

"I understand," Miss Sutherland said. "By marrying Fredrick, I am no longer in possession of my fortune. It belongs to him."

"Does that worry you?"

With a shake of her head, Miss Sutherland replied, "Not at all. I trust Fredrick, wholeheartedly."

"That is a rarity amongst the ton. You must know that," Simone said. "There is always a certain level of mistrust, even among spouses."

"Did your parents have mistrust?"

Simone grew silent. "My mother was rather opinionated, and sometimes I believe that my father barely tolerated her. He claims that he loved my mother, but I have my doubts."

"Why is that?"

"After my mother died, my father was insistent that we weren't to mourn her," Simone revealed. "She was here one day and gone the next. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye."

Miss Sutherland's eyes held compassion. "That must have been hard."

"It is all I know," Simone admitted softly.

"My mother lingered at the end and I wanted her to be at peace," Miss Sutherland shared. "It made her passing much easier knowing she was no longer in pain anymore. Not that it was easy to say goodbye."

Simone felt the tears prick the backs of her eyes and she blinked them back. It would do her no good to cry and show emotion. Her mother was dead and nothing could be done about that. She could only fix what she was able to.

Miss Sutherland offered her a weak smile. "Perhaps we should move on to another topic," she suggested. "The weather?" A glint of humor came into her eyes, informing Simone that she was just teasing.

"I abhor talking about the weather."

"As do I." Miss Sutherland paused before saying, "I asked around about you. I was taken aback by how many people knew of you, but how few people actually knew you."

"That is not surprising since I tend to keep to myself," Simone admitted.

"Why is that?" Miss Sutherland questioned. "You shouldn't be standing back with the wallflowers when you are so evidently meant to stand out."

"You are kind."

Miss Sutherland arched an eyebrow. "You aren't going to answer my question, are you?"

Simone glanced at the open doorway before saying, "I don't want people to take notice of me. It allows me to slip in and out of halls and ballrooms without garnering any attention. To the ton, I am a nobody. I am merely someone who just takes up space in the corner of the ballroom."

"But we both know that isn't true," Miss Sutherland contended.

The long clock in the corner chimed, alerting Simone to the time. She was to meet Mr. Bolingbroke in Hyde Park soon and she didn't dare be late.

Simone rose from her seat. "I apologize but I'm afraid I must depart soon for a meeting in Hyde Park."

Rising, Miss Sutherland asked in a hushed voice, "Is this spy related?"

"Yes, but I cannot say anything more than that."

"Then you must go and save England," Miss Sutherland said with such a dramatic flair that it made Simone giggle.

"I shall try," Simone promised.

Miss Sutherland dropped into a curtsy. "I shall see my way out, Miss Delacourt."

Simone found that she rather liked conversing with Miss Sutherland and was looking forward to getting to know her better. "If we want this friendship to work, you must stop with the formalities and call me Simone."

"I will, but only if you call me Emilia."

"Thank you for coming to call, Emilia," Simone said. "You are truly a delight, and I see why Lord Chatsworth is so enamored with you."

Emilia smiled so broadly that it spilled into her eyes. "It has been my pleasure, and I am pleased that I now have four friends."

Simone watched as her newfound friend departed from the drawing room, and she knew she was going to enjoy getting to know Emilia.

Sitting on a bench in Hyde Park, Caleb could sense the perspiration trickling down his spine. There was a faint breeze, but it did little to ease his discomfort.

He adjusted the top hat on his head as he waited for Miss Delacourt to arrive. He had come early to their meeting so she wouldn't chide him for being late. She seemed to always find fault with him, no matter what he did. Which was odd. He had never had to work so hard to win a young woman's favor before.

He was his father's heir and would one day inherit a large, thriving estate. Young women would always bat their eyelashes at him and cast him coy smiles. But not Miss Delacourt. She seemed to find his mere presence to be insulting.

Caleb watched as Miss Delacourt approached the bench, a maid trailing behind her. When their eyes met, her eyes seemed to flash with the usual annoyance. At least she was consistent. If she suddenly was nice to him, then it might worry him.

Miss Delacourt positioned herself on the opposite end of the bench, her gaze fixed straight ahead as she addressed Caleb. "I am here, per your request."

He glanced at her and noticed her face obscured by a large straw hat. "Did you have to wear that hat?"

Miss Delacourt gave him an innocent look. "Do you not like it, sir?" she asked.

Caleb had a suspicion that she had deliberately chosen the hat to annoy him, a tactic that had indeed succeeded. How were they supposed to have a meaningful conversation if he couldn't see her face?

"I would have preferred to see your face," he admitted.

"And I would prefer if I didn't see yours," Miss Delacourt responded. "I guess we both don't get what we want."

Caleb looked heavenward. Why did he even try with Miss Delacourt? She was maddening. But he did have one thing that she wanted. Perhaps he might even bring a smile to her lips.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper. "I have something for you," he said.

"Which is?" she asked, feigning little interest.

"It is the French code that you requested," Caleb replied.

Now he had her attention. She turned towards him and reached for the paper, but he moved it out of her reach. "I will give it to you on two conditions."

She let out a frustrated sigh. "Of course you have conditions," she muttered.

"The first condition is that you will inform me if the code works," Caleb said.

"I can agree to that." She paused. "And the second?"

Caleb smiled, hoping to disarm her. "You will allow me to take you on a carriage ride through Hyde Park."

"No," came her quick reply.

"Whyever not?" Caleb asked. "Surely there is no harm in taking a carriage ride with me."

Miss Delacourt shifted back on the bench so her face was concealed. "Just being here with you, right now, could cause people to talk."

Caleb's eyes roamed over Hyde Park. "No one appears to be giving us much heed. Are you afraid that being seen with me could damage your reputation?"

"No, but I do not want people to gossip about me," Miss Delacourt explained. "If the ton starts to take notice of me, I'm afraid of what they will see. My cover depends on anonymity."

"You are much too beautiful to be a wallflower," he praised. Perhaps if he charmed her, she would be more cooperative.

But it didn't seem to work.

Miss Delacourt visibly stiffened. "I would prefer if you didn't use flattery to achieve your purposes."

"It was merely the truth," Caleb defended.

"Well, do try to keep your opinions to yourself," Miss Delacourt said. "My appearance does not affect my ability to be an agent."

"I never said that it did."

Miss Delacourt gave him a pointed look. "Did you ever tell Lord Roswell that he was beautiful when you worked with him?"

"I see your point," Caleb admitted. "But we digress. If you are opposed to a carriage ride, may I at least call upon you?"

"For what purpose?" Miss Delacourt asked.

Caleb resisted the urge to groan. "I am trying here," he replied. "Please at least try to meet me halfway."

Miss Delacourt pursed her lips, appearing as though she might reject his plea. However, her expression softened, if only slightly, but it was enough. "Very well," she conceded. "I suppose you may visit me, assuming you do not overstay your welcome."

"Thank you," he acknowledged.

She tipped her head. "Now may I have the code?" she asked.

He extended it towards her. "You will tell me what you discover, won't you?" he asked.

"I said that I would, didn't I?" she responded as she accepted the paper.

Caleb watched as she studied the paper in her hand and couldn't help but admire her lovely face. For it was indeed lovely. Not that he should be noticing such a thing.

Miss Delacourt abruptly rose. "Thank you for this, but I should be going," she said.

Rising, he asked, "May I see you home?"

"That is not necessary," she replied. "I am more than capable of seeing my way home."

"I know you are capable, but it would be my privilege."

Indecision flashed on Miss Delacourt's features before she said, "I will allow you to walk me to my coach."

It might not be much, but he would take it as a small victory. "I would like that very much," he said as he held out his arm.

Miss Delacourt glanced down at his arm before she reluctantly placed her hand on his sleeve. "Did you often escort Lord Roswell around Town?"

"No, but he wasn't as beautiful as you," Caleb replied as he started leading her down the dirt path.

"Mr. Bolingbroke, you go too far…" she started.

Caleb put his other hand up. "I know. You seem to have an aversion to compliments."

"Not an aversion, but I would prefer it if we maintained some boundaries between us," Miss Delacourt said. "We are not friends, but merely agents that are assigned to the same case."

Caleb chuckled. "You mean we are partners."

"Yes, but it is under protest."

His curiosity was piqued. "Why are you so opposed to having a partner?"

"I do not like answering to anyone," Miss Delacourt replied. "It is the only thing in my life that I have control over."

"Are you terribly stifled at home?"

Miss Delacourt glanced away as she admitted, "My father hardly pays any attention to me now that my mother is gone."

"That must be hard."

"It is all I know," she said.

Caleb could hear the sadness in her voice, and he assumed that admission cost her a great deal. "That doesn't make it any easier."

"My father is a very busy man, and it has allowed me to come and go as I please," Miss Delacourt said. "If anything, I should be grateful for his aloofness."

"My parents are very attentive, almost too attentive," Caleb admitted. "My mother is adamant that I find a wife, and quickly."

"Are you opposed to marriage?"

Caleb nodded. "My life is not conducive to having a wife. I do not wish to cause that complication in my life."

"I agree," Miss Delacourt replied. "Although, my father wishes for me to marry this Season. He has even offered to arrange a marriage for me."

"That is most gracious of him," Caleb teased.

Miss Delacourt grinned, just as he had intended. "I would rather be a spinster than have to answer to a husband. Furthermore, I would have to give up working as a spy and that is not something I wish to do."

"Oh what a tangled web we weave," Caleb said, referencing Sir Walter Scott's poem, Marmion. "We both would rather work for the Crown than pursue our own happiness."

"I am happy," Miss Delacourt asserted.

"I did not mean to assume otherwise," Caleb said.

With a curious glance, she inquired, "Are you not happy?"

Caleb brought a smile to his lips. "I am." It was the same lie that he had been telling himself for months now. He wasn't happy, but he didn't quite know why that was. He had everything that he wanted, but he seemed to long for more. But what he longed for, he couldn't say.

As he led her out of Hyde Park, he was grateful for the lull in their conversation. He didn't want to reveal too much of himself to Miss Delacourt. As she so graciously pointed out earlier, they were not friends.

Miss Delacourt pointed towards a black coach that was waiting down the street. "That is my coach," she said.

"Out of curiosity, how is it that you elude your companion so easily?" Caleb asked.

"Mrs. Fernsby is mostly blind and deaf in one ear," Miss Delacourt explained. "She is my father's second cousin and came to live with us after my mother died. I hardly knew her then, and it hasn't gotten much better. We are such different people."

"Does anyone in your family know that you are a spy?"

With a glance over her shoulder at the maid, Miss Delacourt replied, "Felicity does, and I am confident that she will never betray my trust." She cocked her head. "What of your family?"

"My sister knows the truth, but that is only because she was abducted and was told of my unusual profession."

Miss Delacourt reached up and adjusted her straw hat. "Kendrick told me that Lady Roswell's actions were nothing less than heroic when she shot Mr. Barnard."

"Yes, and she is constantly reminding me of such," he said lightly.

They arrived at the coach and Miss Delacourt removed her arm from his sleeve. "Thank you for escorting me to my coach, sir."

"You are welcome," he said. "Until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she asked.

Caleb lifted his brow. "I was going to call upon you so we could become better acquainted with one another."

Miss Delacourt worked hard to keep the displeasure off her face, but she was unsuccessful. "Wonderful," she muttered.

Leaning in, he whispered, "Careful, Miss Delacourt. It almost seems as if you don't enjoy my company."

A laugh escaped her lips, and she delicately covered her mouth with a gloved hand. "You aren't as terrible as I once thought."

"And with that, I shall walk away before you change your mind."

A footman stepped off his perch to open the door for Miss Delacourt. As she held Caleb's gaze, she said, "Thank you." There was a quiet sincerity in her voice.

"Whatever for?" he inquired.

Though subtle, her gaze softened just enough to captivate him. "For making me laugh," she responded.

He bowed, replying, "It was my pleasure."

As Miss Delacourt settled into the coach, Caleb started walking down the pavement, feeling a sense of accomplishment. He had made some progress with Miss Delacourt, albeit small. He was determined to break through the walls she had built around herself until she could trust him.

That is what any good partner would do, he thought.