Chapter 4

Simone felt a sense of relief as they finally reached The Noble Snapping Turtle. She appreciated what Caleb was attempting to do, but she didn't want to let him in. She couldn't. It was much safer to keep him at arm's length.

Caleb spoke of weaknesses as if they could be strengths but she disagreed. She couldn't afford mistakes; any error might lead others to doubt her ability to handle the challenges of being a spy. She had to surpass her male counterparts, working harder and being better- an unfair reality she had come to accept.

"We are here," Caleb announced as the carriage halted in front of a two-level, red-brick building nestled between two larger structures. A modest sign displayed the establishment's name.

A footman opened the door, assisting Simone onto the dirt-encrusted pavement. Caleb joined her there and asked, "What is our plan?"

She looked at him in surprise. "You are asking me?"

"Who else would I ask?"

"I just assumed you would tell me what our next move was," Simone replied.

Caleb looked displeased by her remark. "I would be more than happy to take the lead, but something tells me that you have already come up with a plan in your head."

That much was true. Perhaps Caleb knew her better than she thought. "My plan was rather simple. We will go in and listen to what is being said around us. With any luck, someone will say something that will help aid in our investigation."

"All right," came Caleb's quick reply.

"You are in agreement, then?"

Caleb shrugged. "I think we will need to modify your plan once we get inside, but for now, it is good enough."

Felicity approached her and asked, "Would you like me to accompany you inside the pub?"

"That won't be necessary," Simone replied. "Remain with the carriage and the footmen. They will keep you safe."

"Yes, Miss," Felicity replied before she took a step back.

Simone adjusted the bonnet on her head before turning her attention towards Caleb. "Shall we?"

Caleb offered his arm. "Did you notice the boarding house that was just up the street?" he asked. "If the French spies spend their time here, one might assume that they are residing at the boarding house."

"That would be a good assumption, but we tend to work in facts."

"We do, but in good time," Caleb said as he stepped over to open the wooden door that was decorated with brass handles.

They entered a cozy hall with low ceilings adorned by wooden beams. The back wall was dominated by a sizable hearth, and round tables occupied the space. The atmosphere was lively as the patrons engaged in conversation, while a few men focused on card games.

Caleb guided her towards an unoccupied table, helping her into her chair before taking his own. "This place is almost pleasant."

"It is," Simone said as her eyes strayed towards a door that was along the side wall. "Where do you suppose that door leads to?"

"I don't know, but I am assuming you want to find out."

Simone grinned. "You know me well."

"I'm starting to," Caleb said, returning her smile.

A barmaid approached the table, wearing a simple brown gown with an apron tied around her neck. "What can I get you?" she asked.

"I would like an ale," Caleb replied.

The barmaid turned her attention towards Simone. "And for the lady?"

"Nothing for me, but I was hoping for some information," Simone said as she retrieved a gold coin from her reticule. "Where does that side door lead to?"

The barmaid perused the length of her. "Nowhere that will interest you."

"Humor me, please," Simone said.

With a glance over her shoulder, the barmaid lowered her voice. "It leads to a private room but it is not for the casual observer. The conversation that dominates the room is of a serious nature."

"What kind of serious nature?" Simone asked.

The barmaid took a step back. "I have said too much. Excuse me," she said before she walked away.

Caleb lifted his brow. "I think you scared her off."

"I did, but she is not the only one we can get information from," Simone said. "You can go ask the barkeep."

"I was thinking as much," Caleb replied as he shoved back his chair. "Will you be all right while I am gone?"

Simone shot him an irritated glance. "I will be fine."

Caleb tipped his head in acknowledgement before he headed towards the bar area.

Her eyes swept over the room, and she noticed a few of the patrons casting curious glances in her direction. Ladies seldom frequented pubs so their reactions weren't completely unexpected.

Simone turned her head, observing Caleb engaged in conversation with the barkeep. He laughed at something the man said and she begrudgingly admitted it wasn't an unpleasant sound—it held a certain charm. There was something about his laugh that brought a smile to her face. How could he laugh so freely, especially considering the weight of their chosen profession? It was odd, really.

Leaning casually against the polished bar, Caleb looked at ease in this place. He accepted a tankard from the barkeep and took a sip.

A commotion in the corner caught her attention. A group of patrons at a table engaged in an increasingly heated conversation about politics, expressing their discontent with England's treatment of the poor. It was a familiar discourse, one she had heard many times before, and she doubted it would be the last. The war had taken a severe toll on the less fortunate, with the exorbitant cost of food being just one of their many challenges.

From behind her, a woman's voice inquired, "Dare I ask why you are here?" The words carried a hint of a French accent.

Simone turned in her seat to face a dark-haired woman of slender build. She was older than her, but she hadn't reached an age where wrinkles had marked her features. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a low chignon, and she wore a simple cotton gown. Suspicion lingered in her eyes, a subtle detail Simone couldn't ignore.

"I have come to participate in a lively debate," Simone replied.

"Women do not debate politics," the woman remarked.

Simone nodded. "True, but I heard that this place was different," she responded. "I was under the impression that a woman had a voice here."

"Does a woman have a voice anywhere?" the woman questioned.

"I hope so," Simone said. "There is nothing more damning than a Society that turns a blind eye to the suffering of women."

The woman seemed to study her before gesturing towards a chair. "May I?"

"Please," Simone replied.

As she moved around to sit, the woman said, "My name is Juliette, and I find you to be rather intriguing. Women of your class do not usually frequent pubs. Nor are they escorted by such a handsome gentleman."

"He is just my friend," Simone replied.

With a glance at Caleb at the bar, Juliette said, "This is a dangerous place for you two. I would recommend you leave and never come back."

"I thank you for your concern, but we are more than capable of taking care of ourselves," Simone responded.

Juliette tsked. "You could just as easily be robbed in here than served the watered-down ale."

"I don't drink the ale," Simone said. "Why, pray tell, are you here if it is so dangerous?"

She put her hands up. "These are my people. They wouldn't harm me."

"Your people?" Simone inquired. "But you are French, are you not?"

"I am, but we are like-minded individuals, making them ‘my people,'" Juliette explained. "Go home to your fancy townhouse and be tended to by your servants. Leave the serious business to the people who can handle it."

"Like you?"

Juliette nodded affirmatively. "I am one of those people."

"What if I told you that I was one of those people, as well?" Simone asked.

Leaning her head back, Juliette released a laugh. "Thank you. I needed a good laugh today." She rose from her chair. "Go home, my lady."

"I am not a lady," Simone said.

"You look like one and act like one," Juliette observed.

Simone maintained her gaze. "Looks can be deceiving, but I would prefer if you called me Simone."

A smile came to Juliette's lips. "I can't help but wonder if you are delusional, but I'm intrigued," she said. "What is it that you want?"

Glancing at the closed door, Simone replied, "I wish to go into the back room."

"Why?" Juliette asked. "There is nothing for you there."

Simone had an idea of what was being discussed in the back room. No doubt it was treasonous in nature. "I want to do more than sit in a drawing room and practice my needlework. I can do more to help the people that are suffering," she asserted.

"What are you willing to do?" Juliette asked.

In a firm voice, Simone replied, "Whatever it takes."

"And your friend? Does he feel the same way as you?"

"He does."

Juliette returned to her seat and leaned closer. "I need to know whose side you are on. Are you loyal to Britain or France?"

Simone raised an eyebrow and asked a question of her own. "Why do you think I came all this way to be with French sympathizers if I didn't believe in their cause?"

"Interesting," Juliette muttered, as if seeing her for the first time. "I do believe you might be of use to me, but I do not wish to explain it here. I want you to meet me at the boarding house up the street tomorrow morning."

Rising, Juliette continued. "And bring your handsome friend. I do not think I could get tired of looking at him."

"He isn't that handsome," Simone remarked.

Juliette grinned. "I disagree, my lady."

Simone opened her mouth, but Juliette spoke first. "I know. You aren't a lady, but I think I shall call you that. It fits."

After Juliette walked off, exiting the pub, Caleb approached the table and sat down. "What was that about?"

"I don't know, but I think I might have found one of our French spies," Simone said. "She wants us to meet at the boarding house up the street tomorrow morning. I think she has a job for us."

Caleb placed his tankard down on the table. "If the barkeep is to be believed, he said that woman comes and goes from this place but spends most of her time in the back room with the more ardent French sympathizers." He paused. "And she doesn't always come alone. Her brother is often seen with her."

"If they are the French spies that we have been looking for, we need to proceed with caution until we find out their purpose for being here," Simone said.

"I agree." Caleb pushed his tankard away from him. "I think it is time we depart before I even think of drinking more of this ale."

"Is it terribly watered-down?"

"I think that water is the main ingredient," Caleb joked.

Simone pushed back her seat and rose. "Let's depart before my companion comes searching for me."

Caleb chuckled. "We do not wish for that."

"No, we most assuredly don't," Simone said.

As they exited the pub, Simone was pleased that everything was falling into place. But an uneasy feeling came to her stomach. It all seemed too easy- almost unnervingly so. If Juliette was, in fact, a French spy, why had she sought her out?

One thing was certain, they had to be cautious.

Keeping his gaze straight ahead, Caleb said in a hushed voice, "We are being followed. How do you want to play this?"

"I think it would be best if we gave them a tour of Town until we can lose them," Simone responded.

"Then a tour of Town it shall be," Caleb declared. "It shouldn't be too difficult to lose them in the crowded streets."

The carriage came to a stop in front of Simone's townhouse and Caleb promptly stepped down onto the pavement. Extending his hand, he assisted Simone out of the carriage.

Simone withdrew her hand once she stood beside him. "Thank you for the carriage ride."

"Allow me to escort you inside," Caleb said.

"That isn't necessary—" Simone began.

Caleb interrupted, "Let me be a gentleman, please."

Simone pressed her lips together before she reluctantly conceded. "Very well," she muttered.

As he led her inside, Caleb said, "I shall return tomorrow morning for our carriage ride." He kept his words intentionally vague since there were prying ears around.

"I shall look forward to it."

Once they were in the entry hall, Simone removed her hand off his sleeve and gave him an expectant look. "Is there anything else, sir?"

"No," he replied, seeing no reason to tarry. It was evident that Simone didn't want him there. He bowed. "Good day, Miss Delacourt."

Simone dropped into a curtsy. "Good day, Mr. Bolingbroke."

Caleb exited the townhouse and entered the carriage. It was a short drive back to his townhouse and he knew he had a lot of work ahead of him. Not just as an agent, but as his father's heir. He was to review the accounts and meet with their man of business. He didn't mind working on the accounts since one day it would all belong to him. But he hoped that day didn't come for many years. He loved his father and didn't want to imagine life without him.

Once he stepped into the entry hall, he was met by his mother and his sister. Both wore solemn expressions, and he grew concerned. "What has happened?"

"Something terrible has happened, Brother," Anette replied.

He rushed closer to them. "What?" he asked, his voice rushed. "Is it Father? Did something happen to him?"

"No, it has nothing to do with Father, but everything to do with being deceived by you," Anette replied.

Caleb furrowed his brow. "Pardon?"

Anette gave him a pointed look, her gaze unyielding. "I was driving by Miss Delacourt's townhouse this morning and I saw you escorting her into the carriage," she said. "In my opinion, it was the ultimate betrayal."

"I hadn't realized you took issue with Miss Delacourt," Caleb said.

"You misunderstand me. I have no issue with Miss Delacourt, but I do take issue with you not telling us that you are courting her," Anette clarified.

Caleb frowned, the realization dawning on him. So that is what this was about, he thought. "I am not courting Miss Delacourt," he asserted, his voice carrying a hint of frustration.

"It certainly appeared that way," Anette responded. "You two appeared to be a rather lovely couple."

"Looks can be deceiving," Caleb said.

His mother spoke up. "Why have you been keeping this a secret?" she asked. "I was acquainted with Lady Hungerton, and I could not be more delighted you are pursuing her daughter."

Caleb put his hands up in front of him. "I am not pursuing anyone, much less Miss Delacourt. We just embarked on a pleasant carriage ride this morning."

"What is wrong with Miss Delacourt?" his mother asked.

"Nothing is wrong with her, but I am not interested in getting married at this time," Caleb replied.

His mother tossed her hands in the air. "You are impossible, Son. You need to marry, and I need grandchildren."

"Anette will give you a bushel of grandchildren," Caleb attempted. "Just pretend that I am not here."

"You know I can't do that. It is my job… no, my duty, to ensure you are properly wed and are blissfully happy," his mother said.

Anette interjected, "You must know that the gossips will catch wind of this and Miss Delacourt's name will be tied to yours."

"I am hoping that won't happen," Caleb said.

"If I saw you two together, other people did as well," Anette expressed. "I must admit that Miss Delacourt is an interesting choice. I am not acquainted with her."

Caleb didn't want to have this conversation. Not with his sister or his mother. He didn't dare break Miss Delacourt's confidence by sharing that she was a spy. So, for now, he would have to skirt the truth.

"It was one carriage ride. Can we leave it at that?" Caleb asked, attempting to quell further discussion.

His mother, undeterred by his objections, persisted. "I do find it odd that Miss Delacourt is a wallflower, considering her mother was anything but when she was in high Society. Lady Hungerton was opinionated, stubborn and an utter delight to be around."

Caleb bit his tongue, knowing that Simone sounded precisely like her mother. How she convinced the ton otherwise was beyond him.

His mother continued. "Fortunately for you, I have taken it upon myself to invite Miss Delacourt and her father for dinner this evening."

"You did what?!" Caleb exclaimed.

"There is no reason to raise your voice," his mother said. "I am hoping to become more acquainted with Miss Delacourt."

Caleb stared at his mother. "You have no right to interfere with my life."

"I have every right; I am your mother," she asserted. "Besides, it is just one dinner. I am not quite sure why you are getting so worked up by this."

"You have gone too far with this one, Mother," Caleb fumed.

His father's voice came from the corridor. "What is all the shouting about?" he asked.

With a look that exuded innocence, his mother replied, "Caleb is upset that I invited Lord Hungerton and his lovely daughter, Miss Delacourt, to dinner."

"Are you intending to play matchmaker, my dear?" his father asked, knowingly.

"Perhaps, but Caleb doesn't need a gentle push anymore to find a wife. He needs to be shoved," his mother defended.

Caleb turned his attention towards Anette. "You went along with this, willingly?" he asked.

Anette had the decency to look ashamed. "I didn't realize Mother was going to invite them to dinner, but it isn't such an awful idea."

"No, it is a pretty awful idea," Caleb responded. "Mark my words. I do not intend on courting Miss Delacourt."

"You seem rather adamant about that," his mother said.

Caleb let out a frustrated sigh. "I am done with this conversation," he stated. "I need to go work on the accounts before our dinner guests arrive." He didn't even bother to keep the annoyance out of his voice as he headed towards the study.

How dare his mother and sister interfere in his life? He had no desire to marry, but they didn't believe him. They thought they knew what was best for him, but they were wrong to do so. Why couldn't they have left well enough alone?

He entered the study and walked over to the desk, dropping down into the chair. How was he to work when he was so upset?

His father stepped into the room and said, "You must know that they mean well."

"They are meddling in my life," Caleb grumbled.

"Your mother is just worried about you."

Caleb leaned back in the chair. "There is no reason to be worried about me," he argued. "I am doing just fine on my own."

"Are you?" his father asked. "I don't know what you are involved in, but I know it is dangerous. I have seen it firsthand."

"I can't discuss that?—"

His father spoke over him. "I know, and I am not asking you to," he stated. "I haven't told your mother any of this because I do not want her to worry about you."

"Thank you," Caleb said.

Walking closer to the desk, his father shared, "I have spent more time on our accounts than on politics, per your recommendation."

"It wasn't my recommendation," Caleb remarked. "But I am glad that you heeded my words. By doing so, certain people were willing to overlook what you had to do to keep our family safe."

His father sat on a chair that faced the desk. "Dare I ask who those people are?"

"It is best that you don't know."

"Very well," his father said. "But your mother is right. You need an heir."

Caleb groaned. "Not et tu?"

"If you do not have an heir, then my title will be passed to your cousin, David," his father said. "He is an imbecile."

"David is not an imbecile," Caleb attempted.

His father lifted his brow. "Surely you can't say that with a straight face," he remarked. "I blame it on when he fell off his horse and hit his head."

"That was when David was ten, and it was just a bump on the back of the head," Caleb said.

"Which no doubt caused his simple-mindedness," his father pressed. "Do you truly want David to be responsible for our thriving estate?"

"This is assuming David is still alive when I die," Caleb pointed out.

Putting his hands up, his father said, "You are right. The title might pass to the imbecile's son."

Caleb grudgingly acknowledged that his father did have a point. David might not be the most astute individual, often ignorant, but he wasn't inherently a bad person. The question lingered- was mere ignorance reason enough for marriage?

His father stood up. "Just think on what I said," he urged. "There are hundreds of people that are dependent on us for their livelihoods. We have a duty to not let them down."

After his father departed from the room, Caleb reached for a ledger and started to review it. However, his focus wavered, repeatedly revisiting the same line.

Frustrated, he slammed the ledger shut. Blast it all. He understood duty, more so than anyone else. His duty was to his King and Country. He wouldn't enter into marriage solely for the sake of producing an heir. They all deserved better; he deserved better.

And now he was forced to endure a dinner with Simone and her father. He had little doubt that Simone was equally annoyed by his mother's matchmaking attempt. She had made her thoughts on matrimony rather clear to him.

Anette stepped into the room and asked, "Are you still upset with me?"

"Yes," Caleb replied.

"You have only yourself to blame," Anette said. "You have never shown favor to a young woman before."

"It was just a carriage ride."

"So you keep saying, but I think it is something much more," Anette said, approaching the desk. "You were smiling when I saw you with Miss Delacourt."

Caleb shot his sister an exasperated glance. "Should I have been scowling instead?" he asked in a frustrated tone.

"No, you wouldn't want to scare the poor girl," Anette said.

Her innocent remark caused him to let out a dry chuckle. "I doubt that would scare Miss Delacourt."

Anette, lowering her voice, leaned in. "Is she a spy, too?"

Caleb maintained a composed expression, carefully choosing his words. "Why do you ask?"

"If you aren't courting her, then that is the only explanation that I can come up with," Anette responded, her tone carrying a hint of curiosity. "I thought the agency didn't employ ladies."

"Does this conversation have a point?" Caleb asked, his eyebrows raised.

Anette narrowed her eyes, the curiosity intensifying. "You aren't going to answer my questions, are you?" she asked.

"No, I am not."

"By not answering them, you are answering them," Anette stated.

Caleb looked heavenward. "I do not have time for your misguided logic, Sister," he said. "I need to get ready for a dinner party this evening."

Anette took a step back but held his gaze. "Fine. Do not tell me, but I will root out the truth. I always do."

Rising, Caleb replied, "Not this time."

"All right. You win, for now," Anette said. "If you will excuse me, I need to return home and prepare for this evening."

Caleb watched his sister's retreating figure and he knew tonight was going to be an utter disaster.