“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.”
