Chapter 6

With a cup of tea in her hand, Simone sat in the drawing room with the ladies as they waited for the gentlemen to return from having a glass of port. The conversation was pleasant enough, but Simone did not see a need to interject her thoughts. She was, after all, playing the ruse of being a wallflower.

Lady Roswell shifted her gaze towards Simone. "What are your thoughts on our Prime Minister, Lord Liverpool?"

"I have none," Simone lied. She had many, but she didn't dare express her opinion. Not here. Not now.

With a lifted brow, Lady Roswell responded, "You have none? Not even one?"

Simone leaned forward and placed her teacup onto the table. "A lady does not express her opinions on politics."

Lady Oxley spoke up. "Well said, Miss Delacourt," she praised. "Anette would be wise to remember that."

"I am married now, and my husband encourages me to speak up," Lady Roswell remarked. "I do not believe that Miss Delacourt is truly this boring."

"Anette! That was uncalled for. Apologize to Miss Delacourt," Lady Oxley chided.

Lady Roswell put her hand up. "My apologies, Miss Delacourt, but I think you do have an opinion on a myriad of things. Quite frankly, I would like to hear them, all of them."

Simone found Lady Roswell's directness to be refreshing, but she didn't dare reveal too much about herself. But she could, at the very least, share one or two opinions about which she felt passionately. "Very well. I do believe Lord Liverpool is doing a decent enough job, but his attentions are more focused abroad rather than the suffering of his own people."

"I agree," Lady Roswell said with approval in her eyes. "The taxes that are being inflicted on the poor are unjust and something should be done to alleviate their suffering."

Lady Oxley frowned. "I do not think this is an appropriate conversation to be having in the drawing room."

"When is it appropriate, Mother?" Lady Roswell asked.

"Miss Delacourt is a guest in our home, and I do not want to make her feel uncomfortable for any reason," Lady Oxley replied.

Lady Roswell shifted in her seat to face Simone. "I daresay it takes much more to make Miss Delacourt uncomfortable. Am I wrong to assume so?"

"No, you are not," Simone admitted.

With a curious gaze, Lady Roswell asked, "What are you truly reading? And please do not say a book on poetry. No one reads poetry for their own enjoyment."

A laugh escaped Simone's lips and she brought her gloved hand up to cover her mouth. "You wouldn't be wrong. Poetry is dreadfully boring." She glanced at the empty doorway. "I am, in fact, reading the book that was written by A Lady."

"I knew it!" Lady Roswell exclaimed. "It is all the rage right now."

"Miss Sutherland gifted me the book, and I found it to be captivating," Simone shared. "I started devouring it the moment I received it."

Lady Roswell took a sip of her tea before asking, "Why are you hiding it from your father?"

Simone hesitated before revealing, "My father is not progressive at all. He is set in his ways and I am forced to tiptoe around him."

"I am most fortunate that my parents supported me," Lady Roswell remarked.

Lady Oxley bobbed her head. "Yes, most fortunate, and you would be wise to remember that," she said with a smile.

"My mother was much more progressive," Simone revealed. "She encouraged me to read whatever books I could get my hands on, and to have a voice. But my father is different. He expects me to fall into line and keep my opinions to myself."

"That must be awful for you," Lady Roswell said.

Simone gave her a weak smile. "It is all I know now," she expressed. "I do what is expected of me, and my father doesn't pay me much heed."

Lady Roswell's eyes held pity. "My parents were too attentive of me," she said lightly.

"That is far better than being overlooked," Simone responded.

A silence fell over them and Simone retreated to her own thoughts. How she missed her mother. She had always felt loved, and more importantly, understood. But now she was a mere afterthought for her father. She didn't feel loved, or valued. She almost felt like a burden at times.

Lady Roswell's voice pierced through her thoughts. "I'm sorry," she said. "I should never have pressed you."

"You did nothing wrong. I just miss my mother," Simone admitted.

"Of course you do, Child," Lady Oxley asserted. "She was a good woman, and an even better mother. On the few occasions I visited with her, her eyes would always light up when she spoke of you. It was evident that she was very proud of the woman you were becoming."

Simone felt the sting of tears at the backs of her eyes. "I just wish I had the opportunity to say goodbye. Her death was so sudden, so unexpected."

Lady Oxley leaned forward, extending a comforting hand towards Simone. "Your mother was much too young to have been taken from us."

"She said that she would never leave me," Simone said, her voice hitching on her words. "She promised."

"It wasn't her choice. You must know that," Lady Oxley stated.

Simone blinked back the tears, feeling a twinge of embarrassment at her display of emotions. "Forgive me, I don't usually cry when I speak of my mother."

Lady Roswell offered her a warm smile. "Mothers hold a special place in our hearts."

"That they do," Simone agreed.

As she released Simone's hand, Lady Oxley said, "But enough of this conversation. It has grown far too serious for my liking."

Lady Roswell reached for a plate on the tray and extended it towards Simone. "Biscuit?" she asked. "I have learned that biscuits make every situation better."

Simone expressed her gratitude with a thankful smile, then reached for a biscuit. She took a bite as she tried hard to quell her emotions. She wasn't one to be so emotional, but she felt safe around Lady Oxley and Lady Roswell.

Caleb's voice came from the doorway. "Dare I hope that you missed me?"

"Oh, were you gone?" Lady Roswell joked, turning towards her brother. "I hardly noticed your absence."

He chuckled. "I love you, too, Sister."

Lady Roswell held up the plate to Caleb. "Biscuit?" she asked.

"Didn't you just have dessert?" he questioned.

"Yes, but there is always room for biscuits," Lady Roswell remarked.

Simone was pleased when Caleb came to sit down on the settee next to her. She enjoyed his nearness since it gave her a sense of comfort.

Caleb turned to face her, concern etched on his features. "What has upset you?"

"Nothing," she lied. "Why do you ask?"

"You have been crying," he remarked.

She forced a smile to her lips, hoping to distract him. "We were just discussing my mother and my emotions got the best of me. But I am well now."

His eyes searched hers. "Are you?" She could hear the compassion in his voice, and it touched her. Greatly.

"I am," she replied.

Caleb leaned closer to her and whispered, "I should have warned you about my sister. She tends to make our guests uncomfortable with her brazen speech."

"I can hear you, Brother," Lady Roswell said.

"Good, because I said it loud enough for you to hear," Caleb bantered back.

Simone laughed, finding the banter between Caleb and Lady Roswell thoroughly amusing.

With a biscuit in her hand, Lady Roswell asked, "Where are Roswell and the rest of the gentlemen?"

"They are coming," Caleb replied. "I snuck out to ensure that you were behaving around Miss Delacourt."

Lady Roswell placed her hand to her chest, feigning outrage. "Of course I was," she declared. "I was on my best behavior."

Caleb narrowed his eyes playfully at his sister. "I doubt that."

"You did call Miss Delacourt boring," Lady Oxley pointed out.

Lady Roswell didn't look the least bit ashamed by what her mother revealed. "Yes, I did, but that is because she tried to pass off poetry as interesting. We all know that it is not."

"Just because you don't like something, doesn't mean everyone else has to," Caleb said.

Lord Roswell entered the room and remarked, "You are wasting your breath, Caleb. Anette has a strange aversion to poetry." He walked over to his wife and kissed her on the cheek. "Hello, my love. Did you miss me?"

Lady Roswell nodded. "You, I missed. My brother, not so much."

Simone's father stepped into the room and sought her gaze out. "Shall we depart?"

"I thought we were staying for some games?" Simone asked, attempting to keep the disappointment off her features.

A look of disapproval came to his face. "I have work that I need to see to, and I don't have time for card games."

Rising, Simone said, "Very well, Father."

Caleb had risen when she had and offered his arm. "Allow me to escort you to the door."

"Thank you," she said, placing her hand on his sleeve.

Lady Oxley rose. "Thank you for coming this evening. I enjoyed getting to know you better."

"Likewise, my lady." Simone shifted her gaze to Lady Roswell. "If you are still interested in learning how to throw daggers…"

"I am."

"… then you must come by tomorrow afternoon for a lesson," Simone said.

Lady Roswell beamed. "I shall be there."

Caleb started leading Simone towards the main door and asked in a hushed voice, "How is my hair? Is the brushing still acceptable?"

Her lips twitched. "It is more than acceptable."

"Good," he replied. "I shall ensure it is brushed forward properly tomorrow when I arrive for our carriage ride."

"I shall be looking forward to it."

Caleb stopped by the door and turned to face her. "Thank you for coming this evening," he said.

"It would have been rude for us to not accept the dinner invitation."

"Dare I hope that you enjoyed yourself?"

Simone pretended to consider his words for a moment, not wishing to give too much away. "It wasn't as unbearable as I thought it would be."

Caleb grinned. "That is high praise coming from you."

Her father cleared his throat. "Shall we, Simone?" he asked, the irritation evident in his tone.

Not wishing to upset her father further, Simone dropped into a curtsy and said, "Good evening, Mr. Bolingbroke."

As her father led her towards the coach, he remarked, "For a man that claims he has no interest in ever marrying, Mr. Bolingbroke seems rather taken with you."

"You are mistaken, Father," Simone said. "Mr. Bolingbroke and I are just friends."

He huffed. "Wonderful," he grumbled.

Once Simone was situated in the coach, she glanced back at Caleb's townhouse and realized that she was saddened to leave at such an early hour. It would have been rather enjoyable to beat Caleb at a game of whist, or two.

Caleb knew he was in trouble the moment he stepped into the dining room to eat breakfast before his carriage ride with Simone. His parents were sitting at the table and they both were watching him with smiles on their faces. This can't be good, he thought.

"What is it?" he asked as he pulled out a chair to sit. He might as well ask and get this over with. Whatever it was.

His mother spoke up. "You made the Society page."

"Is that all?" Caleb asked, uninterested.

"Yes, apparently the ton has taken notice that you have been paying court to Miss Delacourt," his mother continued.

Caleb sighed. "I am not courting her."

"Well, your actions suggest otherwise," his mother responded. "I, for one, would love to have Miss Delacourt as a daughter-in-law. I rather enjoyed our time spent together last night."

He leaned to the side as a footman placed a plate of food in front of him. "Miss Delacourt and I are just friends, and we are enjoying getting to know one another."

His father interjected, "That is a good start to any relationship. First comes friendship, then comes love. It is a simple equation."

Caleb picked up his fork and knife and started eating his food. There was no point in debating this with his parents. He couldn't explain the real reasoning behind why he had been spending so much time around Miss Delacourt.

"You can ignore us all you want…" his mother started.

"Is it so obvious?"

"…but you must proceed cautiously if you don't want to ruin Miss Delacourt's reputation," his mother advised. "The more time you spend with her, the more the ton will assume you two have an understanding."

Caleb put down his fork and knife. "I understand. Is this interrogation over?"

"I am only concerned about you," his mother replied.

He lifted his brow. "You are only interested in seeing me wed."

His mother gave him a look that was the epitome of innocence. "There is no shame in that. Look how happy Anette is with Roswell. Those two can't be in the same room without smiling."

"I am happy for Anette, I truly am, but I do not wish to marry," Caleb said.

"You say that now?—"

Caleb spoke over her. "I have said that always."

His mother turned towards her husband. "Will you talk some sense into our son?" she asked.

"I have made my thoughts known to him already," his father responded. "Caleb knows his duty to this family."

Duty.

There was that word again. He knew what his duty was. It was to King and Country. Shoving back his chair, he rose and said, "And with that, I am leaving."

His mother gave him a knowing look. "Do you intend to call upon Miss Delacourt?"

With great reluctance, he admitted, "I am taking her on a carriage ride, but do not read anything into it."

"Very well," his mother said. "I will respect your wishes… for now."

With a shake of his head, Caleb departed from the dining room, knowing his mother was trying hard to contain her excitement. He hated to disappoint her but he had no intention of pursuing Miss Delacourt. Or anyone, for that matter. He was a spy, first and foremost. And he would remain as one until his father passed, after which he would inherit his father's title- a day he did not eagerly anticipate.

Caleb exited the townhouse and stepped into the open carriage. Why did his mother believe he needed a wife to be happy? He was content on his own. It was much easier to be a spy without a wife underfoot.

The carriage merged into traffic and drove the short distance to Simone's townhouse. He had been against this partnership at the beginning, but it was growing on him. He found Simone to be rather intriguing. He was slowly breaking down the barriers that she hid behind, and he was starting to see glimpses of who Simone truly was.

He would need to be patient with her. He knew she hated to be vulnerable- with anyone. Which is why he had grown so concerned last night when he had seen her red-lined eyes. The thought that she was hurting greatly upset him.

Caleb stepped out of the carriage and approached Simone's townhouse. He rapped on the door to make his presence known.

The door promptly opened and the butler stood to the side to let him enter. "Welcome, Mr. Bolingbroke," he greeted. "Miss Delacourt is expecting you."

He stepped into the entry hall and waited as the butler closed the door.

The butler gestured towards the drawing room. "Follow me, sir," he directed. "I shall announce you."

Caleb followed the butler into the drawing room and saw Simone was standing in front of the settee, dressed in a pale blue gown. Her whole face seemed to light up when she saw him, or was that him? He wasn't quite sure, but the whole room seemed brighter because of it.

He bowed. "Miss Delacourt."

Simone dropped into a curtsy. "Mr. Bolingbroke," she murmured.

"Shall we go on our carriage ride?" he suggested.

"Yes, please." Simone gestured towards the lady's maid in the corner. "Felicity will be joining us, assuming you have no objections."

"I have none," Caleb replied.

Simone nodded in approval. "Wonderful," she said. "I have been looking forward to our carriage ride all morning."

Caleb approached her and offered his arm. "You are looking particularly lovely today."

She gave him an exasperated look. "You cannot seem to help yourself, can you?"

"It is merely the truth."

"Please keep the truth to yourself," Simone said. "We are partners, and you shouldn't notice such things about me."

"Then I would be blind."

Simone placed her hand on his sleeve. "Let's practice thinking about something, but not saying it out loud. Is that even possible for you?" she asked.

"Some women would be flattered by such a compliment," Caleb teased.

"I am not like most women."

Caleb bobbed his head. "No truer words have ever been said," he said. "But surely you know how beautiful you are."

Simone stiffened. "You forget yourself, sir."

"Simone—"

She cut him off. "I want to be defined by my actions, not by my appearance. That is such a small part of who I am."

Caleb started leading her towards the carriage as he replied, "I meant no disrespect."

"I know, but it is nearly impossible to be taken seriously as a woman," Simone said. "I want you to see me as an agent first, a woman second."

"I can respect that, but I will have you know that I already think of you as a proficient agent," Caleb responded.

As he helped Simone into the carriage, she murmured her gratitude.

"I do hear you, but I am trying to be charming," Caleb joked.

"‘Trying' would be the key word," she bantered back. "But I do thank you. I haven't felt heard for a long time, at least since my mother was still alive."

Once Simone was situated, Caleb went to sit across from her. "My mother hardly listens to me. She is determined that I marry."

"She just wants you to be happy," Simone attempted.

"I don't need a wife to be happy," Caleb responded.

Simone's eyes held understanding. "I agree with you, and we both know how rarely that happens."

Leaning back in his seat, Caleb asked, "Did you see that we made the Society page this morning?"

"I did, and I was not pleased by it," Simone replied. "And neither was my father. I heard him grumbling about you this morning. He is not pleased that we are just friends."

Caleb nodded. "I know. He made that rather clear last night when we adjourned to the study for a glass of port." He hesitated, not sure how much he should reveal of his conversation with Simone's father. "He did say a few unkind things about you."

Simone grew quiet. "That does not surprise me. He, too, wants me to marry, and quickly," she said. "If I want to continue to be a spy, I must maintain this ruse of being a wallflower. But with each passing day, it is becoming increasingly difficult."

"And us being seen together is not helping," Caleb remarked.

"No, it is not," Simone agreed.

Caleb met her gaze. "What can we do about that?" he asked.

With a determined expression, Simone replied, "After today, we must work hard to avoid being seen with one another."

"How do you propose we do that?"

Simone's lips twitched. "We are spies," she replied. "I am sure we can figure out how we can meet in secret. I have faith in us."

"Us?" Caleb asked.

"Yes, ‘us' because we are partners," Simone replied. "And once we finish this assignment, we will both go our own way."

Caleb found those words to be unsettling. Simone was so quick to get rid of him, but he enjoyed her company. He wasn't ready to say goodbye so easily.

With a glance at the sky, he asked, "What is our plan when we arrive at the boarding house?"

"We will meet with Juliette and determine if she is one of the French spies that we are looking for," Simone said. "As for after that, I am not quite sure."

"Perhaps we should have notified Kendrick before we agreed to meet with Juliette," Caleb said. "A few well-positioned agents outside of the boarding house might have come in handy in case we need to fight our way out."

"You are assuming we cannot handle this assignment on our own," Simone stated.

"Asking for help is not a sign of weakness," Caleb pointed out.

Simone didn't look convinced. "I have learned to make do on my own. It is far easier to go undetected when one doesn't have a partner underfoot."

"I don't know about that. Roswell and I worked well together," Caleb shared. "I never thought having a partner was a hindrance."

"But the one time you did work by yourself, you almost got yourself killed," Simone said, a playfulness to her words.

Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. "When are you ever going to let me live that down?"

Simone seemed to ponder his words before saying, "I don't rightly know. It is so much fun to tease you about it."

"You are a minx."

"I have been called worse," she bantered back.

Caleb chuckled. "I can only imagine, but in all seriousness, Juliette might not be alone. Her brother might be at the meeting and perhaps other French sympathizers." He paused. "Have you considered this might be a trap?"

"I have, but we are spies. We know the risks associated with doing our jobs, and we can't risk not going to meet with Juliette," Simone responded.

As they approached the boarding house, Caleb studied Simone for a long moment. All the humor had left her features, and it was replaced with a fierce determination. And in that moment, he knew the only way to break down her walls was to show her that he cared enough about her to climb over them.