Chapter 3

Beneath the midday sun, Simone stood alongside Emilia as she hurled a dagger at the target and watched as it bounced off.

Emilia's shoulders slumped as she turned to face Simone. "What am I doing wrong?" she asked. "That is the fifth time that the dagger bounced off the target."

As Simone went to retrieve the dagger, she said, "As you release the dagger, you must flick your wrist forward. This motion should be smooth and controlled."

"Am I not doing that?" Emilia inquired.

Simone smiled. "You are doing just fine," she encouraged. "Throwing daggers is a skill that develops over time. You must practice and then practice some more."

"I can do that."

"I know you can," Simone said as she extended the dagger to Emilia. "Now allow your arm to follow through after releasing the dagger. Be sure to keep your eyes on the target."

Emilia faced the target and brought her left foot slightly forward. She took a deep breath before she released the dagger. It embedded in the target, slightly off center.

"I did it!" Emilia cheered.

"That you did," Simone said. "And you hit the target."

Emilia wore a bright smile. "I did, and now I am one step closer to being proficient at throwing daggers."

Simone walked up to the target and removed the dagger. "How are your shooting lessons going with Lady Roswell?"

"I am spectacularly bad at shooting a pistol," Emilia admitted. "I will not be a spy any time soon."

"Do you want to be a spy?"

Emilia shook her head. "No, I think I will leave that to you and Fredrick. I am much more content with cheering you on from the safety of my townhouse."

Simone laughed. "I greatly enjoy being a spy," she admitted. "I am able to pretend that I am someone else, even just for a moment. I have been a serving wench, a factory worker, and a beggar. Sometimes I even dress like a man."

"I could never be that brazen," Emilia said as she ran a hand down her pale blue gown. "Besides, I just got a whole new wardrobe. I wouldn't want to waste those."

"Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy wearing gowns as well, but there is something liberating about wearing trousers."

Emilia glanced at the townhouse. "Are you not worried about what your servants think?"

"They are used to my odd behavior by now," Simone replied. "I come and go so often that I am sure they have just given up trying to figure me out."

"What of your father?" Emilia asked. "Does he not worry about you?"

Simone pursed her lips together as she worked to keep the displeasure out of her voice. "My father is a very busy man and doesn't pay me much heed," she replied. "Besides, the servants are loyal to me and won't betray my confidences."

Emilia offered her a weak smile. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Your father being a jackanapes."

Simone blinked. "Why do you think my father is a jackanapes?"

"Anyone who would ignore a daughter that is as incredible as you deserves to be called a jackanapes," Emilia replied. "Am I wrong to say so?"

"No, you aren't wrong."

Emilia placed a hand on Simone's sleeve. "You are in good company," she said. "I only knew of my father after he was dead and left me his fortune. I wish he had made himself known to me while he was still alive."

"My father has never been an overly affectionate man, but he grew distant after my mother died," Simone shared.

"Grief affects everyone differently," Emilia attempted.

"I know, but he rarely speaks of my mother," Simone said. "He even had her portrait removed from the main level and placed in the attic."

Emilia lowered her hand to her side. "Perhaps it was too hard to look at her every single day."

"But what of me?" Simone asked. "Shouldn't he take my feelings into account when making decisions that affect both of us?"

"The easy answer is yes, but grief grays that line. Some people can't see past themselves when mourning a loved one," Emilia counseled.

Simone knew that Emilia was trying to help, but she found herself growing angry all over again. How could her father tuck her mother's portrait away as if she meant nothing to him? Her mother deserved better.

Emilia briefly glanced up at the sky. "I should be going," she said. "Fredrick is taking me on a carriage ride today during the fashionable hour."

"That sounds rather terrible," she teased.

"You are welcome to join us," Emilia offered.

Simone grinned. "That is kind of you, but I think my time will be better spent on saving England from outside threats."

"That is smart," Emilia responded.

As they started to head back to the townhouse, Simone remarked, "I heard that Calvin and Clarissa have been transported."

Emilia released a despondent sigh. "I wish things had been different between us, but Calvin and Clarissa never wanted a relationship with me. I was naive to think otherwise."

"There is nothing wrong with hoping for things."

"There is when my half-siblings try to kill me to gain my fortune," Emilia said. "I am just glad that they won't ever have the opportunity to hurt me again."

Simone's lips quirked. "I have had many people try to kill me, but none of them have been family. That must have been hard."

A footman opened the door for them and they stepped into a corridor. They continued on to the entry hall where they were greeted by the butler.

Clarke tipped his head as he announced, "Mr. Caleb Bolingbroke is waiting for you in the drawing room, Miss. He didn't want me to interrupt your time with Miss Sutherland."

Emilia turned to face her, curiosity evident in her gaze. "Do you have an understanding with Mr. Bolingbroke?"

"No, he is just an acquaintance," Simone replied.

It seemed Emilia was on the verge of further inquiry, but thankfully, she held back. Instead, she remarked, "I will leave you to it then."

Once Emilia had taken her leave, Simone entered the drawing room to find Mr. Bolingbroke standing pensively by the window. She paused to study him. His dark hair framed a face distinguished by a square jaw, and his tall stature commanded attention. He was undeniably handsome, but that was not something she should notice about her partner. He was just a man who vexed her.

"Mr. Bolingbroke," she greeted.

He turned to face her. "Caleb."

She arched an eyebrow. "I do not wish to be so familiar with you."

"We are partners, are we not?"

With a glance over her shoulder at the open door, she lowered her voice. "Do you intend to let my whole household staff know that I work as a spy?"

Caleb took a step closer to her. "You are making a big ado out of nothing," he replied. "I watched you as you taught Miss Sutherland how to throw a dagger."

"That must have been rather boring for you," Simone muttered.

"It was interesting, especially when you would hit the target from nearly twenty yards away," he said. "It was impressive."

Simone brushed off his praise with a slight shrug of her shoulder. "I have had a lot of practice."

"Throwing daggers is not a common practice for ladies."

"No, but my mother was Scottish," Simone explained. "They had a tradition in their family that everyone, male and female, would receive a dagger on their eighth birthday. I have since started using daggers that are designed for throwing."

Caleb held his hand out. "May I see your dagger?"

Simone reached into the folds of her gown and removed the dagger from the scabbard. As she extended it to Caleb, she advised, "Be careful with it."

With an amused look, he said, "I know how to handle a dagger."

"I wasn't sure since your weapon of choice is a pistol."

Caleb admired the dagger before saying, "The hilt has a rather ornate design. Where did you get such a fine dagger?"

"I had it commissioned after my mother died," Simone shared. "The design is of my mother's favorite flower. Every time I hold the dagger, it reminds me of her."

He extended the dagger to her. "Do you think your mother would approve of you being a spy?"

Simone accepted the dagger and slipped it back into the scabbard. "I don't rightly know," she replied. "She caught me once sneaking out to attend a lecture at university and I was wearing men's clothing. But to my surprise, she didn't stop me from going."

"That is a surprise."

"My mother was rather progressive in her views, and she saw nothing wrong with a woman trying to better herself," Simone said. "I think a small part of her wanted to go as well."

Caleb wore a pensive expression. "Anette may wear trousers to ride horses but I don't think she would ever be brazen enough to go to university."

"That is how Kendrick found me," Simone shared. "He followed me out of the hall and asked if I wanted to do more with my life than sit in drawing rooms. I don't know how but he saw through my disguise."

"Kendrick is a spymaster, after all."

"It hardly took me a moment before I agreed to work for him," Simone said. "He started me off small by eavesdropping on conversations. Soon I started going out on my own and completing tougher assignments."

Caleb nodded. "Kendrick found me at university as well. He recruited me and Roswell at the same time. We have been working together ever since."

"Except on this assignment," Simone pointed out. "Why do you suppose that is?"

"Frankly, I am not sure."

Simone extended a gesture towards the settees. "Would you care to have a seat and maybe a cup of tea?"

"Does this mean you aren't trying to get rid of me?" Caleb inquired, a hint of mirth lacing his voice.

"I haven't decided yet," Simone quipped.

An older maid stepped into the room, taking a position in the corner.

Simone went to sit down and was pleased when Caleb sat on the opposite settee. Surprisingly, the conversation was proving less burdensome than she anticipated and she even found herself enjoying it.

"Would you care for some tea?" Simone asked as she reached for the teapot on the tray.

Caleb bobbed his head. "I would, thank you."

Simone poured two cups of tea and offered him a cup and saucer. Their fingers brushed against one another, and she felt something. Something that she couldn't quite explain. It almost felt like a spark, which lingered like a sweet bruise. Which was impossible. That would imply that she felt something for Caleb. And she most assuredly did not. She could barely tolerate the man.

Caleb leaned back in his seat, appearing completely unaffected by their touch. What a relief. At least he had the good sense to feel nothing.

Caleb was working hard to keep the emotions off his face, but something had happened when they had touched. It was most extraordinary, and not at all welcome. He felt something, but he would never act upon those feelings.

Simone was complicated, and messy. Both things he did not need in his life. He would just pretend that nothing had happened and move on. It wasn't as if he couldn't find a young woman to court if he wanted to. But he did not want to court anyone. He preferred being on his own, much to his mother's chagrin.

He took a sip of his tea as he observed Simone. He still couldn't fathom how the ton had completely overlooked her. Her beauty alone should have made her the envy of the other young women, but she didn't flaunt it. Perhaps she didn't realize how truly captivating she was.

But he wasn't visiting Simone for a social call. He wanted to get to know her and see if she had deciphered the code.

Caleb knew he had to be discreet since they weren't alone. A maid was working on her needlework in the corner, but he had little doubt that she was listening to their conversation.

Leaning forward, he placed the teacup onto the table and asked, "Did you have a chance to read the newssheets?"

Understanding dawned on Simone's features. "I did," she replied. "I was up most of the night reading the newssheets, and the only thing that sparked my attention was the words- Noble Snapping Turtle." She paused. "Do those words mean anything to you?"

Caleb nodded. "There is a pub known as The Noble Snapping Turtle and it is where French sympathizers spend their time," he informed her. "Was anything else of importance in the newssheets?"

Simone shook her head. "Nothing. At first, I thought the paper you gave me was of little use, but eventually I started seeing a pattern in the words," she said. "Shall we start at the pub?"

With a glance at the maid, Caleb replied, "Perhaps I should go alone."

"Why would you do such a thing?" she asked, her words curt.

Not wishing to stoke Simone's anger, Caleb gently explained, "The pub is in Shadwell and is no place for a lady. Your appearance might cause a disruption amongst the patrons."

"You underestimate me," Simone asserted. "I am more than capable of blending in, if the situation warrants it."

Caleb knew there was no point in arguing with Simone. He could see the determination in her eyes, and he knew she wasn't about to give up this fight. There was no denying that Simone was a formidable young woman, but even she had limitations. Did she even realize what they were?

"Very well," he replied. "When would you care to travel to the pub?"

Rising, Simone replied, "Now."

"Now?" he asked, awkwardly rising.

"Yes," she said. "Did you bring your carriage with you?"

With a frown, he replied, "I did, but?—"

She spoke over him. "Perfect. We can go on a carriage ride," she said. "I will just bring my lady's maid with me."

Turning towards the maid in the corner, Simone ordered, "Will you inform Felicity I am in need of her?"

The maid tipped her head. "Yes, Miss."

As the maid departed from the drawing room to do her bidding, Simone gave him a smug look. "Everything is working out perfectly."

"Do you always get your way?"

Her lips twitched. "Most of the time," she admitted.

Caleb perused the length of her. "Do you intend to change first?" he asked. "I only ask because your gown is rather fine for a pub."

"Good, I want to attract attention," Simone said.

"Dare I ask why?"

Simone held her skirt out. "By doing so, it doesn't make me look like a threat. It will just appear that I am a naive young woman who is bored and is courting trouble."

Caleb crossed his arms over his chest, a playful smile on his lips. "That is a shame. I would have liked to see you as a serving wench again."

"When I am a serving wench, I am practically invisible to the patrons of the pub," Simone said. "They have no qualms about speaking freely in front of a serving wench."

"How are you able to even work as a serving wench?"

Simone grinned. "I ask nicely, and I pay a pretty penny for the honor," she admitted. "It is not a cheap endeavor."

"I guess I hadn't considered that before," Caleb remarked.

An older woman stepped into the room, wearing thick, rounded spectacles. Her eyes squinted as they settled on Simone. "I heard you are going on a carriage ride," she said, her voice unusually loud for the refined atmosphere of the drawing room.

"I am," Simone confirmed.

The woman walked closer to Simone. "I will go with you."

"That won't be necessary," Simone said. "Felicity will accompany me."

"Who?" the woman asked, tilting her left ear towards Simone.

Simone raised her voice as she replied, "Felicity. My lady's maid."

Caleb had to assume that this was the companion that Simone had told him about. The companion turned her attention towards him. "You will behave, sir," she ordered in a firm tone.

"That is my intention, Ma'am," Caleb replied.

"Good, because I know for a fact that Miss Delacourt carries a dagger on her person and she is not afraid to use it," the woman said.

Caleb offered a smile, attempting to disarm the aged companion. "I am well aware of Miss Delacourt's dagger abilities."

The companion scrutinized him in silence, causing his smile to dim. He shifted uncomfortably in his stance, unsure of what she was looking for. After a prolonged moment, her gaze shifted to Miss Delacourt. "I will expect you home shortly, and no lollygagging."

"I understand," Simone said. While her words were straightforward, her eyes betrayed a mischievous gleam.

"Very well," the companion urged.

Simone's lady's maid stepped into the drawing room and she was holding a blue bonnet in her hands. She extended it towards Simone. "I thought you would like to wear this on your carriage ride, Miss."

"Thank you," Simone acknowledged as she accepted the bonnet.

Once Simone tied the strings under her chin, Caleb offered his arm towards her. "Allow me to escort you to my carriage."

Simone placed her hand on his sleeve and he led her out of the townhouse. Once she was situated inside of the open carriage, Caleb sat across from her.

The carriage moved into traffic and Caleb inquired, "So that was your companion?"

"Yes, Mrs. Fernsby," Simone replied. "She is blind as a bat, and possibly sleeps as much as they do."

Caleb chuckled. "She is very good at intimidation. I think the agency could use her."

"She probably was staring at you to see if you were a real gentleman," Simone joked. "It has been a long time since a gentleman has called upon me."

"Why is that?" he asked. "You are a beautiful young woman."

With a huff, Simone responded, "What did I say about flattery?"

"I am merely trying to understand," Caleb replied.

Simone's eyes grew guarded. "Finding a suitor is like a game. You take the hand that you have been dealt and use it to your advantage. But I am not interested in playing the game. I sit on the sides and watch the young women fall over themselves to secure a husband. A part of me feels sorry for them that they so desperately want a husband to control them."

"Not every husband is controlling of his wife," Caleb pointed out.

"That may be true, but it is not a gamble I wish to make," Simone said. "I am doing just fine on my own."

Caleb heard Simone's words, unsure if she genuinely believed them. A hint of sadness lingered in her voice, prompting him to wonder if she was even aware of it.

"Please stop looking at me like that," Simone said.

Realizing that he had been caught staring, he asked, "Like what?"

"You are analyzing me, searching for something that is not there," Simone replied.

Caleb lifted his brow, challenging her. "Is there something that you think I might find?"

Simone rolled her eyes. "You are an infuriating man."

"Thank you," Caleb said.

"That was not a compliment."

Caleb shrugged one shoulder. "I took it as one."

Simone turned her attention towards the shops as Caleb decided to ask the one question that had plagued him. "What is it about me that you don't like?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"It is a simple enough question," Caleb said. "Did I do something to offend you?"

Simone stared at him for a moment before admitting, "I don't entirely dislike you." Her words were hardly convincing.

"What does that mean?" he asked, hoping for more clarification.

She let out a sigh. "You seem like a decent enough person, but I don't need a nursemaid on this assignment."

"Is that what you think I am doing?"

"It is what every man does," Simone replied with a wave of her hand. "They can't seem to help themselves because they think they know best. And what are women but just weak and simpering, not worthy of their time or notice."

"I have never thought of you as weak or simpering. In fact, I believe you to be a proficient agent," Caleb admitted.

"But?"

Caleb leaned forward in his seat. "There is no ‘but.' I'm beginning to see you for who you truly are."

Simone eyed him warily. "And who is that?"

"You are hiding behind a mask of your own making," Caleb replied. "You want to project to the world an image of yourself, but it is yourself who you are lying to."

She grew rigid in her seat. "I am doing no such thing."

"You want me to see you as a woman with no weaknesses, but sometimes it is those so-called ‘weaknesses' that make us strong." Caleb gave her a knowing look. "I believe that people are the strongest when they come face to face with their greatest weaknesses."

"You presume too much," Simone said, her eyes wary.

Caleb straightened in his seat and continued. "I want you to be honest around me, Simone. Trust that I won't let you down."

"That is a big ask."

"I know, but when the time comes, I know you will keep me safe," Caleb said. "It is who you are."

Simone grew silent as she shifted her gaze away from him. Perhaps he had gone too far in his bold speech, but he didn't care. He needed Simone to know that he trusted her. She had saved his life before, and she would do it again. He was sure of that.