Chapter 5

Simone sat at her dressing table in her bedchamber as Felicity styled her hair. She was not looking forward to this evening. Not one bit. She wondered why Caleb had invited her to dine with him this evening. She had no desire to spend additional time with him. They were partners, not friends. Although, she had to admit that line was starting to blur.

Felicity took a step back and asked, "Are you pleased with your hair?"

Simone turned her head to the side to look at her reflection in the mirror. "I am," she replied. "But I do not know why you were insistent that you put pearls in my hair."

"You are going to dine with Mr. Bolingbroke and his family. I daresay that you need to look your best, if not for your sake, then for your father's."

Simone shifted in her seat to face her lady's maid. "I can't believe my father agreed to go this evening. It is just so unlike him."

"It surprised me as well."

"What if he thinks Mr. Bolingbroke intends to court me?"

Felicity shrugged. "What if he wants to?"

Simone shook her head. "No, Mr. Bolingbroke and I can hardly stand one another. He has no intention of courting me. Which makes this invitation to dine with his family that much more perplexing."

"You two did not look at odds with one another in the carriage," Felicity pointed out.

"I will admit that Mr. Bolingbroke does have a pleasant demeanor about him, but we are just partners on this one assignment."

Felicity eyed her curiously. "If you are sure…" Her words trailed off.

"I am."

Her lady's maid didn't look convinced. "I shall drop it, for now."

"Thank you," Simone said, rising. "I should be going. I wouldn't want to make my father wait for me."

"I wish you luck."

"I don't need luck, do I?"

Felicity smiled. "A little luck never hurt anyone."

Simone acknowledged her words with the tip of her head before she departed from her bedchamber. Once she arrived in the entry hall, she saw her father was waiting for her with his usual solemn expression.

"Good, there you are," her father grumbled. "Let us get this over with."

Simone shared her father's sentiments, but she just bit her tongue. It would be nice to spend some time with her father, even if it meant that she had to dine with Caleb and his family.

Her father led her towards the coach, and they stepped inside. The journey to Lord Oxley's townhouse was brief. Upon arrival, they exited the coach and made their way to the main door, which was promptly opened by the butler.

"Do come in," the butler said as he stood to the side.

As they came to a stop in the entry hall, the butler continued. "Allow me to show you to the drawing room."

They both followed the butler into the elegantly furnished drawing room and saw that they were the first ones there.

"The family will be down shortly," the butler informed them before he departed from the room.

Her father's eyes roamed over the drawing room with its blue-papered walls. "This place has not changed much since the last time I was here."

"When was that?"

"We attended a soiree here once before your mother died," her father replied, his eyes growing reflective. "I did have a whole other life before that fateful day."

Not sure what she could say, she just murmured, "I'm sorry."

"There is no reason to be sorry," he replied. "It was a different time, and I am a much different man now because of it."

Simone could hear the pain in his words but she knew that no truer words had ever been spoken. The day her mother died, her father had changed. And not for the better.

A silence hung heavily in the air but Simone wasn't sure what she could say to help her father. He was hurting, but so was she. Losing her mother in such a dramatic fashion had taken a toll on her. She hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to her.

Lady Oxley entered the room with a bright smile on her face. "Lord Hungerton, it is so good to see you again," she said in a pleasant voice.

Her father bowed. "Lady Oxley," he greeted.

"It has been ages since we have last seen one another." Lady Oxley turned her attention towards Simone, her eyes exuding warmth. "And this must be Miss Delacourt. You are most welcome here."

Knowing what was expected of her, Simone dropped into a curtsy. "My lady," she greeted.

Lady Oxley perused the length of her. "You look so much like your mother," she said. "It is almost uncanny."

"It is a blessing and a curse," her father remarked, his voice curt.

"I can only imagine," Lady Oxley remarked.

Her father glanced at the doorway. "Will Lord Oxley not be joining us this evening?"

"He will be here shortly," Lady Oxley replied. "He is just finishing up his meeting with his man of business. It used to be that I couldn't keep him away from the House of Lords, but now he devotes all his time and energy to our country estate."

Caleb stepped into the room and his eyes landed on Simone. In his gaze, she saw something. An apology, perhaps?

He bowed. "Miss Delacourt, you are looking enchanting this evening."

Simone dropped into a curtsy. "You are too kind, Mr. Bolingbroke."

Caleb turned his attention towards her father. "Lord Hungerton," he said. "Thank you for coming this evening."

"It was our pleasure," her father responded. His words were cordial enough but they seemed to lack sincerity.

Lady Oxley gestured towards the mantel and addressed her father. "Did you see the vase that we just acquired from China? I recall how you love antiquities."

As Lady Oxley and her father conversed about the vase, Caleb approached Simone and said in a hushed voice, "I'm sorry about this."

Matching his low tone, Simone asked, "Why did you invite us to dine with you?"

"I didn't invite you. My mother did. She is under the impression that I am attempting to court you."

"Why would she assume such a thing?"

"Because my sister saw us on our carriage ride," Caleb explained. "My mother is relentless about me finding a wife."

With a glance at her father, Simone asked, "What are we to do about this, then?"

"I will deal with it," Caleb replied. "Just try to be nice to me this evening."

"That will be rather difficult," Simone said, softening her words with a smile. "I would have you know that I can be rather pleasant."

Caleb grinned. "I have yet to see that side of you."

"That is because you only say things that vex me, constantly," Simone joked.

"I do believe everything out of my mouth vexes you," Caleb said.

Her smile grew. "You wouldn't be wrong."

Caleb perused the length of her, and in his eyes, she saw approval. "I was in earnest earlier. You are looking especially lovely this evening."

"Flattery, Mr. Bolingbroke?" she asked.

"It is merely the truth."

Simone was secretly pleased by his compliment, but she would never admit that. She didn't want him to think she cared about what he thought.

Caleb's grin transformed into a smirk. "Did I do the impossible and make you speechless?"

"You did no such thing," she asserted. "I was just thinking about all the ways I could insult you, but I do not wish to do so in front of your mother."

"Should you practice complimenting me?" Caleb asked.

Simone arched an eyebrow. "What would I even compliment?"

Caleb waggled his brow as he tugged at the end of his waistcoat. "You could tell me how devilishly handsome I look this evening."

"I thought you wanted truth between us," Simone quipped.

"Humor me," he said with amusement in his eyes. "Just offer me one genuine compliment."

Simone pursed her lips together, feeling rather foolish. "This is absurd," she muttered.

"Can you not do it?"

With a glance at her father, who was admiring the vase in his hand, Simone attempted to think of something that would appease Caleb. There were many things she admired about him, but she didn't dare admit that. Not to him. He would become even more unbearable than he already was.

Simone turned her attention back to Caleb and studied him from head to foot. After a long moment, she said, "I like the way you brushed your hair this evening."

He chuckled. "Are you truly complimenting me on how I brushed my hair?"

"Yes, it is more brushed forward than normal, is it not?"

"I don't rightly know," he replied. "I do not keep track of such things."

"Pity," she said.

Caleb leaned closer to her. "There are surely other things that you have noticed about me," he remarked. "My smile or perhaps my chiseled jawline."

"I haven't noticed those things but clearly you have," Simone said, secretly enjoying his nearness. He smelled of orange and musk. It was the most intriguing combination of scents, and it was as unique as he was.

"You disappoint me," Caleb said, his words light.

"And you, sir, are supposed to be charming," Simone retorted.

A subtle smile played at the edges of his lips as he remarked, "I like how you styled your hair this evening, as well. The pearls are a nice touch."

"Thank you. I shall pass along your compliments to my lady's maid," Simone said.

Caleb's eyes darted towards the open door and informed her, "Wonderful. My sister and her husband just arrived." He winced slightly. "I'm sorry. I am not quite sure what my sister will say or do on any given occasion."

Simone watched as Lord and Lady Roswell approached them with smiles on their faces.

Lady Roswell came to a stop in front of her. "Hello, Miss Delacourt," she said.

As Simone gracefully descended into a curtsy, she greeted, "Lady Roswell. It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard much about you, all good things, I assure you."

Lady Roswell gestured towards her husband. "Are you acquainted with my husband?"

"I am," Simone replied, exchanging a look with Lord Roswell. "We were introduced at Miss Sutherland's ball."

Lord Roswell tipped his head towards her. "Miss Delacourt," he said.

Lady Roswell's lips twitched, as if she were privy to a secret. "Miss Sutherland is a dear friend. I believe her to be a delight."

"I agree, wholeheartedly," Simone responded.

"I am teaching Miss Sutherland how to shoot a pistol," Lady Roswell shared.

Clasping her hands together, Simone said, "She informed me of this when she came to call. I have had the privilege of teaching her how to throw daggers."

"Daggers?" Lady Roswell repeated.

"Yes, I am rather proficient in throwing daggers," Simone replied.

Lady Roswell shifted her attention to her husband and inquired, "Do you think I should learn how to throw daggers?"

"No, I think that is a terrible idea," Lord Roswell replied, his words softened by a smile directed at his wife.

"I would be happy to teach you, but I should warn you that it takes a lot of practice before one becomes proficient," Simone said.

Lady Roswell's face brightened. "I shall take you up on that. I have never had a desire to toss daggers until now, but it sounds exciting."

The butler stepped into the room and announced supper was ready.

Caleb stepped closer to Simone and offered his arm. "May I escort you to the dining room?" he asked.

"Thank you," Simone replied, placing her hand on his sleeve.

While Caleb led her towards the dining room, Simone snuck a glance at him. He truly was an intriguing man. She enjoyed his playful side, and how he bantered back and forth with her. But it would do her no good to develop feelings for him. They were partners and both were smart enough not to complicate their relationship with something as trivial as emotions.

Caleb ate his soup as he listened to the conversation that was going on around the dinner table. He felt no need to speak up and interject his thoughts, considering everyone was speaking on polite conversational topics.

He glanced at Simone and noticed that her demeanor had changed. She seemed much more timid and her eyes remained downcast. It appeared that her ruse of being a wallflower was one that extended outside of the ballroom.

Simone turned her head and caught him staring. Instead of looking away, or feeling embarrassed, he asked, "Are you not enjoying your soup?"

"It is delicious, but I have had enough," she replied.

"But you hardly ate any of it."

Her lips quirked. "Do you monitor all of your guests' intake of soup?"

"Only yours," he teased.

As the footmen collected the bowls, his father stepped into the dining room and said, "I do apologize for being late, but my meeting with my man of business went longer than expected."

"It always does," his mother remarked lightly.

His father sat down at the head of the table as he acknowledged his guests. "Miss Delacourt. Lord Hungerton," he greeted. "Welcome to our humble home."

Lord Hungerton tipped his head. "We appreciate the invite to dine with your family this evening."

"You are always welcome," his father said. "You and your lovely daughter."

In a soft voice, Simone spoke up. "Thank you, my lord."

His father smiled kindly at her. "I'm afraid it has been some time since we saw you last. You were just a child then."

"Simone is not so young anymore and is in her third Season," Lord Hungerton said, his voice gruff.

"Time certainly does go by quickly, especially when it is not one's own child," his father remarked.

Anette interjected from the other side of the table as she addressed Simone. "What occupies your time?"

With a brief glance at her father, Simone replied, "I enjoy working on my needlework, practicing the pianoforte, and reading books."

"Are you reading anything of importance?" Anette asked.

Reaching for her glass, Simone replied, "I am reading a book of poetry right now."

"Poetry?" Anette made a face. "How boring."

Roswell chuckled. "Not everyone has an aversion to poetry as you do, my dear," he said. "Some people actually enjoy bettering themselves."

With a loving glance at her husband, Anette continued questioning Simone. "Have you read the book that was written by A Lady?"

Before Simone could reply, Lord Hungerton answered for her, "My daughter would not read such dribble. Can you imagine the ramblings of a madwoman?"

Anette's displeasure was etched on her features. "Why do you suppose she is mad?"

"What kind of woman would have a desire to write a book?" Lord Hungerton asked. "I daresay that no sane woman would."

Caleb opened his mouth to argue with Lord Hungerton, but Roswell spoke first. "I hope more women write books. They have stories that need to be told, and I for one, want to hear them."

Anette looked at her husband with approval. "Thank you, Roswell."

Lord Hungerton put his hand up. "I do apologize. I did not mean to start a debate," he said. "We clearly do not see eye to eye on this issue, and that is all right. But as for me and my house, we do not read books written by women."

Caleb knew Anette objected to Lord Hungerton's words most profusely and he held his breath to see if she was going to continue arguing. However, she turned her attention back to Simone and asked, "Besides throwing daggers, do you have any other interesting hobbies that I should be made aware of?"

"I'm afraid not," Simone replied. "I am not that interesting."

Anette didn't look convinced. "I am not quite sure that is true."

"Simone speaks true," Lord Hungerton said. "She has aligned herself with the wallflowers, much to my chagrin, and the ton hardly notices her."

The footmen started placing plates in front of them and Caleb reached for his fork and knife. It was fascinating to him that Simone had managed to fool her father into believing that she was something that she wasn't. How was it possible that he lived with her and didn't see what was right under his nose?

His father's eyes held compassion. "Everyone blossoms at their own pace. It is not Miss Delacourt's time to shine yet, but I have no doubt that she will."

"Thank you," Simone acknowledged.

A silence descended over the table as they started eating their food. After a long moment, Lord Hungerton shifted in his seat to face his father. "Did you have a chance to review the bill that was being proposed by Lord Chatsworth?"

With a glance at Caleb, his father replied, "I have not, but I have heard that it is garnering more attention."

"That it has," Lord Hungerton agreed. "If Lord Chatsworth can push this bill through, it could make a real difference for the poor."

"I doubt it will pass," Anette remarked.

Lord Hungerton lifted his brow. "Are you familiar with the bill?"

"I am, and the House of Lords will never agree to lowering the taxes, especially during a time of war. If anything, the Tories will push to raise the taxes," Anette replied.

"With all due respect, young lady, you know nothing about politics," Lord Hungerton stated. "Lord Chatsworth believes he has the support of the Tories and Whigs."

"He would be wrong," Anette said.

Lord Hungerton wiped the sides of his mouth with his napkin before responding, "I am not quite sure where you get your information, but I suspect it isn't coming from the Social pages of the newssheets."

"I tire of reading the Social pages," Anette expressed. "Why should I care about what color ribbon someone wore when our poor are suffering?"

"This is why women cannot be in politics," Lord Hungerton said. "You deal in emotions, whereas men deal in facts."

His father pushed back his chair and rose. "I believe we should continue this conversation over a glass of port in my study."

With a glance at his plate, his mother asked, "Are you not hungry?"

"I am not." His father patted his stomach. "And I think it would be a good thing if I skip dessert this evening."

Lord Hungerton rose. "I think a glass of port is a fine idea," he said. "Mr. Bolingbroke? Lord Roswell? Will you be joining us?"

Caleb nodded as he placed his cloth napkin onto the table. "I think I shall."

Roswell remained seated and said, "I would prefer to stay and finish dinner with my wife."

"Very good," his father responded. "Gentlemen?"

As his father and Lord Hungerton departed from the room, Caleb leaned closer to Simone and asked, "Will you be all right without me?"

She tilted her chin, a smile playing on her lips. "I have managed to do so my entire life. Why do you think tonight would be any different?"

Caleb chuckled. "I will miss you, too."

The smile disappeared. "I never said that," Simone said, most ardently.

"No, but I can tell you are thinking it."

"You would be wrong."

Caleb playfully raised his eyebrows. "I will return later to beat you at a game of whist. I am quite good at that particular card game."

"As am I, and I do not intend to go easy on you," Simone said.

"Nor would I expect you to, which will make beating you that much more satisfying," Caleb remarked, rising.

Simone held his gaze, a mischievous glint to her eyes. "I will be looking forward to taking you down a peg or two."

Caleb placed a hand over his heart. "You wound me," he joked.

"I doubt that. I have never met a more cocky man than you," she retorted.

"I would prefer the term ‘confident.'"

Simone rolled her eyes. "You have found yet another way to vex me."

"Then my work here is done," Caleb said as he performed an exaggerated bow.

After he exited the dining room, he walked towards the study that was in the rear of the townhouse. He stepped into the room and saw his father and Lord Hungerton already had a glass of port in their hands.

"It is about time you showed up," his father teased as he went to sit on the settee that faced the hearth.

Lord Hungerton looked at Caleb with a solemn expression. "What exactly are your intentions towards my daughter, Mr. Bolingbroke?"

Caleb knew this question was coming, but he was no more prepared for it. He needed to proceed cautiously or else he would risk stoking the baron's anger.

"I have immense respect for your daughter, but I am not interested in getting married at this time," he replied.

Displeasure marred Lord Hungerton's expression as his brow furrowed. "Is my daughter not good enough for you?"

With a shake of his head, Caleb replied, "That is not what I meant."

"But that is what you said."

"No, I merely said I was not ready to marry," Caleb argued.

Lord Hungerton tossed back his glass of port before he grumbled, "Her dowry is fifteen thousand pounds and I still can't marry her off."

His father held up his drink. "She is only in her third Season. Give her time, and she might surprise you."

Lord Hungerton huffed. "I doubt it. She is rather dull."

Caleb looked at him in disbelief. "You believe your daughter to be dull?" he asked.

"Is that why you aren't interested in her?" Lord Hungerton asked. "All she does is sit around our townhouse and practice her needlework with her companion. I try to encourage her to go call upon people and I am met with resistance."

Lord Hungerton dropped down on the settee and continued. "I blame her mother," he said. "Rebecca filled her head with nonsensical nonsense when Simone was younger and now she isn't here to guide her."

"It is hardly Lady Hungerton's fault that she died," his father remarked.

"I should have taken more interest in Simone's upbringing," Lord Hungerton said. "Perhaps if I had, she would already have taken a suitor."

Caleb worked hard to keep the annoyance off his features. It did not sit well with him that Lord Hungerton was criticizing his daughter, especially since he was wrong to do so. Simone was nothing like how he described.

"I might just have to pay someone to take her off my hands," Lord Hungerton declared.

Caleb walked over to the drink cart and picked up the decanter. As he poured himself a drink, he asked, "Do you truly think Miss Delacourt would go along with an arranged marriage?"

"Not at first, but she will do as I tell her," Lord Hungerton replied. "Although, she has this absurd notion that she can live on her own."

"Why is it madness?" Caleb asked.

Lord Hungerton looked at him as if he were a simpleton. "Simone hardly leaves the townhouse. How could she possibly care for herself? She is just a weak, defenseless woman and someone would take advantage of that."

Caleb gripped the glass tightly in his hand. He wanted to correct Lord Hungerton's perception of Simone, but he knew it was not his place to do so. He just did not like the way the baron was disrespecting his daughter.

His father leaned forward and placed his glass onto the table. "I used to worry about Anette, but she found a fine match in Roswell. Sometimes we must give our children the space they need to find themselves."

"Your daughter does have some unique views," Lord Hungerton commented.

His father's voice filled with pride as he stated, "I raised her to have a voice, and I am pleased that Roswell is encouraging her to use it."

"My wife was similar, and I do miss having riveting conversations with her," Lord Hungerton shared. "Heaven knows I can't have those same conversations with Simone."

Caleb went to sit down on an upholstered armchair. "I do think Miss Delacourt would surprise you, given the chance."

Lord Hungerton's eyes held annoyance. "I know you mean well, but I am more familiar with my daughter than you are."

Putting his hand up, Caleb said, "I did not mean to imply otherwise."

While Lord Hungerton and his father engaged in conversation, Caleb resisted the urge to excuse himself and seek out Simone's company. She was far more entertaining than her father. And he knew the truth about her. Simone was obstinate, headstrong, and utterly delightful. She was someone that he could fall for, but he was not foolish enough to do so.